Dane
He was in his father's office, at his father's request. Earlier that morning Dane had had a knock on his apartment door and a young woman in a beautiful suit, but with twitchy eyes had informed him that his father was asking to meet with him.
"He couldn't come ask me himself?" He'd been to the apartment daily.
"He… asked me to ask you. Eleven o'clock?"
Dane shook his head. His father was playing games. He'd said he would give him three days. Dane supposed he should consider two days a bit of a win. This request was probably because he wanted to see if Dane would come—whether he'd given in to the weakness, as his father would see it, of emotion. He hadn't left the apartment for two days, and it was an act of sheer will to do it now, but he knew if he didn't, his father claim it was a sign that Dane wasn't really in, and who knew what he'd do then?
