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Mr. Tyler.”
    â€œBye, Tisha.”
    I was glad my girlfriend had left. I needed to speak with my dad in private. “Papa, he’s not stealing our company. He’s putting it under new management pending our divorce being final. He can’t sell without my consent.”
    â€œBut he doesn’t need your permission to fire me.”
    Zach spit on Papa’s suit jacket. My dad stared at me, then said, “Women. If Tisha hadn’t moved him he would’ve puked on himself. You know how much this suit cost.”
    â€œHe’s a baby. Have your suit cleaned.”
    â€œThat’s not the point. Now I have to go home and change clothes.”
    Heaven forbid he went home and missed an appointment at the office to get his dick sucked by his personal assistant. When I found out Papa was cheating on my mama, I lost respect for him.
    Papa kept the blanket, handed Zach to me, pulled a tissue from the box on the table, then dabbed the throw-up. “Damn. If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? Sit around the house all day with your mother?” He stopped trying to clean his jacket and took it off. “If I’m forced to be with Rosalee all the time, we’ll be next to get a divorce.”
    â€œObviously you don’t love Mommy anymore but I do. Are you worried about not having a PA? Or are you seriously concerned about the company?”
    Regardless of how Papa felt about Mama, he wasn’t going anywhere. After I walked in on my father at his office having sex with a young girl he’d put on payroll with our company, I was in favor of his replacement. What if one of those girls got pregnant? I was not raising my son with my father’s kid.
    Papa paced the full length of my oriental area rug. Back and forth he marched as though whatever he came up with would work. “You can stop him.”
    I could, and I would, but not for my dad. “Papa, would you agree that women are more intelligent than men?”
    He stopped pacing. Frowned. Nodded. “Most, not all.”
    â€œDo you believe I can outthink you?”
    I wasn’t challenging my dad. He didn’t come from money. He grew up in Port Arthur. His parents were poor. But I can proudly say when my papa was a young boy he had a field full of dreams and a heart filled with love.
    The harder Papa tried to get one of those “good jobs” at one of the three refineries in town, the more they gave him the runaround. “Come back tomorrow” or “We’re not hiring right now.” They lied to his face and hired workers from Houston, Lake Charles, even New Orleans, the same day. Nonresidents were given a golden opportunity to earn a decent salary while some of the locals continued to pay twenty dollars for a loaf of bread off the back of a truck.
    Papa had told me when he was little there were no restaurants or grocery stores on the black side of town in Port Arthur. Today, not much had changed. There still weren’t any restaurants.
    When I turned five, Papa decided to move Mama and me to Houston and start his own company. That was thirty-one years ago.
    â€œSweetheart, my ego says men are smarter. My head knows better.”
    â€œYou think you owe me an apology for leveraging my house, selling my car, and pawning my engagement rings? You act as though those things never happened.”
    I only had one papa. No amount of money could make me disown him no matter how ruthless he was at times. That didn’t mean I agreed with what he’d done. If it weren’t for Roosevelt, our baby and I would be living at home with my parents.
    Papa sat on the sofa beside me and patted Zach on the back. My dad shook his head, stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But—”
    â€œNo buts.”
    â€œLet me finish—,” he said.
    â€œIt’s not necessary. I’m going to speak with my attorney. I’ve got a plan to change Roosevelt’s mind about