I blinked at him. My brain short circuited for a moment. I was so drunk I completely forgot about having to deliver that stupid speech about the company. That was the last thing on my mind during the party, plus I had bigger issues to worry about that night. Andre Gilbert being one of them.
"Well are you going to answer? Where were you Diaz?" I flinched when he used my first name. It's been a while I heard that name mumbled from his thin lips.
I don't think there was a word invented yet that could describe the look on my father's face. He was red in the face, face the color of an over-ripe tomatoes, red as brick, eyes squinted when he glared at me reminded me of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. It was fascinating, actually. I never thought someone with skin as olive as his could ever burn bright red.
When I only looked at him and shrugged my shoulders the look of anger on his face even worsened.
