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A Failure to Stand Up

"Dad," Venti said, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but let me handle this situation with my father, okay?"

The response didn't surprise him. "I don't think so, son. You might as well drop this line of thinking, because I will see the deadbeat."

"Dad, you don't even know if he's a deadbeat."

Venti's father shook his head as he folded his arms. "It's too much a coincidence. You show up on one of those magazines and he suddenly enters your life? He thinks you have money, son."

Venti's hackles bristled. "Who says I don't have money?"

"Of course you don't have money, son. You work as a barista and whatever you do at the library."

"I also do--" Venti's protests died on his tongue. His father didn't know about his proclivities with the webcam, and he wasn't about to let it slip to the man who raised him. "Nevermind. If he's after my money, he's going to be in for a rude surprise."

"That's why I'm going to have a talk to him, man to man."

"Dad, I don't care how many tricks you have, the guy's as big as me and could arm wrestle you with his pinkie and probably win."

Venti's father snorted. "I'd like to see him try."

"Dad, why is this so important to you? Why can't you let me handle this?"

"I've always been there for you, and I'm not about to start being absent when you need me."

Venti crouched down in front of his father, placing his hands on the slender hyena's shoulders. "Dad, as much as I love you, I don't need your help with this. I'm not going to give him any of my money, I promise."

"I still want to figure out his intentions for my son."

Venti squeezed his eyes shut and began counting to ten. He reached the count of five when he muttered "Screw this," and gathered up a handful of his father's shirt. He then stood up, lifting his father effortlessly into the air. "Alright, let's say he picked you up like this and threatened to punch you. What would you do? Just dangle there, helpless?"

Venti's father regarded his son with cool eyes. He didn't act like he was in any danger, pretend or otherwise. He placed a hand around Venti's thumb. "I'd do this, and I'm sorry in advance, son."

Venti wasn't sure exactly what his father had done, but the pain forced him to his knees, and he released his father, who landed quietly on his feet while keeping his grip on Venti's thumb. "Say uncle," his father said.

Venti didn't hesitate. "Uncle! Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! Uncle!" He gulped in huge amounts of air when his father let go, and cradled his hand against his chest to check to see if his thumb was broken, but it seemed all right. "Where the hell did you learn that, Dad?"

"Once a marine, always a marine. Let that be a lesson to you, son. Never fuck with a marine. Now, let's set up that meeting."

"Just promise you won't embarrass me in public."

"Funny, I was about to make you promise the same thing, as well as promise to never again embarrass yourself like that. Really, son? You thought you could intimidate me?"

"I guess I forgot the lesson of David and Goliath, Dad."