One night stand with my daddy's best friend

The place looked scruffy as hell and the leaves had clearly not been raked in weeks. Meanwhile, the garage had spilled its guts and there were bits of cars and gym equipment littering the drive. As I climbed out of the car and stretched my legs, I sighed heavily.

"Don't look so happy to be here," Dad's sarcastic voice called from the porch. He was standing in the doorway with a beer in his hand and his gym clothes still on.

"Dad!" I ran up the steps and threw my arms around him. "Aw, it's good to be back."

"You're looking great, kiddo," he said, kissing my cheek. "Yeah, well, I can't say the same for this place. Looks like

a bomb went off."

"Yeah, I keep meaning to tidy up but..." He took a sip of his drink and motioned for me to enter the hall. "Since when do you care about cleaning up?" "And since when did you start drinking beer? I thought you only liked a single malt on special occasions."

"Yeah well, since Matthew's been free and single, he's kinda been gettin' your old man back out in the bars again. Think I'm getting a taste for this Budweiser shit."

"Well, don't get too much of a taste for it. Mom hated Budweiser. She said it tasted like pee."

He laughed and wrapped his arm around me. "God you sound just like her," he announced. "And you look more and more like her each time I see you too."

We walked into the lounge and fell silent. Her picture was framed on the fireplace, looking at us. For a second, I imagined she was in the kitchen cooking dinner. When I was younger, I used to stand in front of that photo and talk to it as though she was there. But she wasn't. She hadn't been since I was seven, when she had succumbed to the breast cancer that had ravaged her body.

I took a seat on the armchair by the window and looked up at her photo. Oh, Mom, if you could see the state of this place.

Just like my dad, she had been a fitness fanatic and had meticulously high standards in everything she did, from working out to cleaning the house to cooking a dynamite dinner.

She would not have been impressed with the house and what Dad had let it become in her absence. I reached over to the coffee table and ran my fingers through the thick layer of dust.

"First thing tomorrow, we're cleaning the shit outta this place," I said to myself, but Dad heard me from the doorway.

He had set down his beer and replaced it with a coffee for him and a hot chocolate for me.

"Wow, that was quick," I smiled, taking the cup gratefully from his hand. "You must have had it waiting for me."

"Hey, I remember how my little girl likes her hot chocolate. Especially after a long journey."

He sat on the couch across the table from me. Beside him, the television screen flickered on his face. There was an old ball game playing, a re-run from the nineties and I paid it little attention. I was too busy looking at the electric light shine across his face and how old he seemed to me.

He had always been one of the cool, young dads, the kind that let you stay up late and eat all the candy at Halloween. And he was always the first guy to help out with school activities. But now, he looked exhausted, just a shadow of what I remembered.

"Dad, are you okay? You look tired."

"Been putting in extra hours down at the gym."

Just like Matthew, he had also become a personal trainer, but instead of being the multi-millionaire fitness and nutrition tycoon Matthew had become, he'd opted for a humbler career path. After my mom passed, he took on a small, run-down boxing gym and took just about every position in the place from janitor to boxing coach to tax man. At first, keeping busy had benefited him. It gave him something to focus on and distracted him from the grief, but now I was starting to wonder if he should take some time out

and relax.

"Anyway," he said, sipping his milky coffee. "I don't wanna talk about me. I wanna hear about you! I can't believe you're back, Becca."

"Neither can I," I replied with a roll of the eyes.

"Don't be like that. It'll be great for you here. Boston's where your roots are. It's where you belong."

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.com is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away!

"I know. I know. I really love the place. Really think I can make a go of it," I said, smiling slowly. "As long as I can get a job."

There was a weird glint in his eyes as if he was holding back a secret. "And where are you thinking of working?"

"A gym, obviously. I'd love to work my way up from personal trainer to business owner, just like you, Dad."

He smiled and his cheeks flushed with warmth. "Any gym in mind?" I shrugged. "What about that one gym you always talked about when you were younger?" There was that mischievous look in his eyes again. "What? Matthew's gym?" I asked.

He nodded. "Remember what your dream used to be?"

I looked into my chocolate and thought of Matthew. Would I see him again now that I was back? I was bound to at some point.

Was he still as hot as I thought he was?

Was he still as cheeky and fun to be around? Or had he aged badly like my tired dad? "My dream..." I mused.

"You used to say you'd love to make it into corporate at Matthew's company so you could be in charge of making all the big decisions. You used to say you'd like him to expand away from all his celebrity clients and target everyday people. Do you remember that?"

"Sure, I remember. But that was just some silly dream I had," I said, trying to play it down. "It's not like it's going to actually happen."

The look on his face intensified until it looked as though he was ready to burst.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked. "Like what?"

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.com is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away! "Like you're going to explode."

He stood up and walked over to me, the light from the television flickering on the newly formed gray hairs on his head.

"Becca," he said, sitting on the arm of the chair beside me. "I was talking to Matthew last night. He knows you're coming back and that you need a job, so..."

"So?" My heartbeat began to quicken.

"So, I asked if he could help you out. Lord knows I've helped him out over the years."

"And what did he say?" I asked with a touch too much enthusiasm.

"He said the least he could do for me was give my little girl a job interview. "

At first, I thought he had to be joking. Could I really be so lucky to land an interview for a position in Matthew's o ce? "Anyway," Dad said, slapping his hand onto my shoulder. "He's known you your whole life and he knows how smart you are."

I sat dazed for a second. I'd had interviews in the past for temp jobs while I was at college, and they always made me anxious. But an interview with Matthew? That was something else entirely! It was both nerve wracking and exciting. I'd get to see his o ce, and I'd get to be face to face with him for the first time in years.

Immediately my mind fell into the gutter. I imagined walking into his o ce only for him to ask me a series of naughty interview questions.

"Honey?" Dad interrupted my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

I realized I'd been staring at the TV with my mouth dropped open like a fish. "Yeah," I replied. "I'm just a little nervous."