Buford was back in his hotel room, snacking on chips and playing video games. He paused the action to call his father.
“Daddy?” Buford asked.
“Whaddya want, boy?” the Mayor asked. “I’m about to do another commercial and I’ve already spent enough time bailing out your sorry ass. If you’d been any kind of a real man you would have been able to have handled those cops on your own.”
“I know, Daddy,” Buford said. “I’m sorry.”
“The hell were you doing out at your Momma’s trailer at that ungodly hour anyway?” the Mayor asked. “Trying to move in with her instead of becoming a damn adult like I told you?”
Buford figured in this instance, a lie was better than the truth. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it.”
“Yeah, well,” the Mayor said. “I know Roxy was your Momma and hell, out of all Big Ray-Ray’s strippers, I always found her to be the most fun so I know this is a painful time for the both of us. But don’t go thinking that means I’m gonna let you back into the house so you can postpone adulthood. You need to stop being a man child, Buford.”
“I know,” Buford said. “I just called to tell you I love you, Daddy.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Well, that’s sorta gay son but alright. I suppose if there ever was a time where that should be said, it’s now. I love you too, boy.”
“Thanks Daddy,” Buford said.
“Not in a gay way, mind you but in a father-son way, mind you,” the Mayor said.
“I figured,” Buford said.
“Alright, son,” the Mayor said. “I don’t have time for any more of this touchy-feely bullshit. I got work to do.”
“OK,” Buford said. “Bye Daddy.”
Buford hanged up his phone. He laid down in bed and closed his eyes, his mind drifting off into thoughts of Skippy, the pet he’d once considered to be his one and only true blue friend, though now he was having doubts.