~Sorry it took so long to get this in, but with the holidays and family, I hardly had anytime at all to get on the computer. I'm sure you understand. But here it is. I'm rather happy with the way it turned out, really. If you're reading it for the first time, please read Parts 1 & 2 so this one will make more sense. Hope you enjoy it!~
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Keith limped around the living room floor restlessly, his hands pulling at his newly donned shirt. Somewhere on campus, his terror of a father was walking around. What could he possibly want? He had called just yesterday. Generally that small amount of communication was enough to make his father leave him alone for several months. Had something happened that no one had told him about yet?
"Keith, you alright?" Mike asked from the couch. He'd watched Keith pace like a caged tiger for the better part of an hour. "It's just your dad, man. Not like some firing squad come to take you out."
Keith gave a half-hearted laugh, but kept pacing. Mike didn't understand. Of course not, how could he? He hadn't grown up with the tyrant.
A strong knock sounded on the door.
"He's here." Keith looked at the door, but made no move to get it.
Mike sighed and rose from couch. He headed for the door, patting Keith on the butt as he passed. He could practically feel Keith glaring at the back of his head.
Opening the door, he got his first glimpse of the man Keith refused to talk much about. Kelly had been right about the way the guy dressed. It looked as though he should be on the cover of some Italian businessman's magazine. His impeccably clean loafers, pressed suit, and royal blue tie definitely gave the impression of wealth and power. This was not a man you wanted to get on the wrong side of.
"Hello," Mike said opening the door. "You must be Keith's dad, Mr. Damon. Please come in!"
Mr. Damon looked at Mike as though he was some bug he couldn't decide weather he wanted to squash or not. With a simple nod in greeting, Mr. Damon walked in past him, his eyes scanning the small living space with distain.
"Father, it's good to see you," Keith said, stepping forward. It still surprised him that he could feel so nervous around his own father.
"Do I give you an allowance so you can live in squalor?" Mr. Damon looked at his only child, taking in the disheveled cloths and bare feet. "You disappoint me, Keith."
"Now wait a minute," Mike started, but cut off when Keith jumped in front of him, distracting his father.
"I don't believe you have met my roommate, Mike, have you, father? Jason is out at class right now. Don't you have class, Mike?"
Mike looked at Keith, barely restraining from glaring at the man he called father. "No, but I'm sure I can find something to do."
"Thanks."
Silence descended on the room as Keith watched Mike leave. He wasn't overly surprised by Mike's reaction to his Father. None of his friends ever liked him. The feeling was often mutual.
"That boy is heading nowhere but jail if he has the temper I saw in his eyes. You would do best to stay away from him, Keith." Mr. Damon sat down in one of the table chairs, somehow making it give off the impression it was a throne instead of the fifteen-dollar Wal-Mart special that it was. "You should have followed the family tradition and went into my old fraternity. It would have served you better. Made you a man!"
"Mike is my best friend, Father. I get along quite well with him." Keith's mind went back to the previous night and resisted the smile that threatened.
"I don't care if you get along with him or not. He is not of your class and therefore is beneath you."
Keith sighed. It was an old argument. "Why have you come here?"
Anger flashed in his father's eyes and then was gone. "You're grades are slipping. Your teachers are concerned so they called me."
"What do you mean, they are concerned? My lowest grade is a C!"
"In your business class! You're most important class! You are a Damon, and Damon's are not average. You will bring that grade up to an A. How else do you expect to take a hand in the family business?" He rose from the chair and began to pace thoughtfully. Keith could just picture him doing the same thing in the boardroom. "You just might have to get rid of that ridiculous art class so you will have more time to study."
"I will not get rid of my art class. I'm getting an A in it, and I happen to love that class."
"Don't be foolish. You can't do anything in the real world with art," Mr. Damon said with distain.
"You're wrong. Painting was one of the few things that brought Mom happiness. She always loved my art." Wishing he'd never brought up his mother, he continued on. "I hate that business class. I wish I could just drop it! The only reason I've kept it this long is to make you happy, which we both know is futile! You're never happy unless I'm not!"
Keith never even saw it coming. His head snapped back, twisting his body to the side to absorb the blow. Falling backwards, he landed on the stairs, his ribs breaking his fall. Tears stung the backs of his eyes at the pain his body now found itself in.
His father looked at him with pity, rubbing his sore knuckles. "Why do you make me do that, Keith? You know I only want what is best for you, don't you?"
Keith kept his head low as he slowly climbed back to his feet, resisting the urge to have his hand creep up and cradle his cheek. Weakness was not expectable to his father. "Yes, Father. I know you do. I-I'm sorry."
His father sighed. "I will allow you to keep your precious art class, but you must pull up the grade in your business class."
"Yes, Father, of course."
Mr. Damon started for the door before turning back again. "Ah, yes. You almost made me forget the reason I came today."
