Page 27 of The Billionaire's Teacher

“Ah. Right. I was going to email you about that. She’s great. I met her at a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago and we just clicked. It was fate.”

I couldn’t count how many women my dad had considered fate. I also wasn’t going to try. “It’s nice that she’s encouraging you to go to church. Maybe the two of you could try out some of the places on the list I sent you a few months ago.”

“Come on now, Wes. Don’t be a drag.” Dad’s tone of voice made me frown. Why did it always seem to feel like I was the adult in our relationship?

Oh, right. Because mostly I was. “Just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be happy that I was even bothering with your Jesus stuff.”

I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my tongue. I didn’t know if a prosperity gospel church was better than no church at all. Did they even preach salvation there? Because that was where Dad needed to start.

“Anyway, it all kind of ties together with the reason behind my call.”

“You weren’t just calling to check in? Or to talk about the Christmas cruise idea I floated?”

Dad scoffed. “Hard pass on the cruise. I don’t want to be trapped on a boat with that woman and the weirdo she married. But if you’re bailing for the holidays, maybe I’ll plan to take Glenna somewhere nice. Just the two of us.”

“Okay.” It was the safest response I could dream up. I didn’t have any delusion that Dad and Glenna would still be an item at the holidays. That was six months away. Dad’s relationships just didn’t last that long. “Thanks for understanding.”

“You’re a grown-up, Wes. You get to do what you want. But if you did want to make it up to me, I have an idea.”

Oh boy. Left the door wide open for that, didn’t I? “Oh?”

“And it’s really why I called. I’ve got a line on a startup company that’s going to do big, major things. They just need some cash influx, you know? And since you’ve got all that money sitting around, I figured you could hook them—and me—up. What do you say?” Dad was back to his friendly salesman persona.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to shout it loudly in hopes that he would, finally, understand that I wasn’t his personal ATM. But I also didn’t want to burn a bridge with him and ruin any possibility that at some point I might be able to get him to see how much he needed Jesus.

I cleared my throat. “Do they have a prospectus or something that they’re using for their other venture capital applications?”

“Come on, Wes, it’s not that formal. Not yet. Just some friends with good ideas who need cash to get started.”

“I see.” And I did. “Maybe I could meet with them—and you—when I’m back in town. You know I don’t do business without a good understanding of what I’m investing in.”

“Investing…oh, no, I wasn’t thinking like that. It was more like you gift me the money and I invest it. You wouldn’t be associated with it at all.”

“You don’t want me to benefit from it down the line? If it’s a great idea, I definitely want to be part of it. I just need—”

“Not happening.” Dad’s voice was firm. “Not with these people.”

“I don’t understand, Dad.”

He sighed. “Yes, you do. You’re just so high and mighty you always have to make me explain. Get me to grovel.”

“I don’t want you to beg. That’s not what I’m after at all.”

“Right. That’s why you can’t just give me money when I ask.” Sarcasm dripped off Dad’s words. “I need cash, son. Two mil, three would be better.”

I shook my head and sank down onto one of the cushions. “No. I can’t.”

“Won’t.”

“Fine. Won’t. How did you already blow through the five million I gave you last year?”

“Not your business what people do with a gift they’re given. Didn’t I teach you anything?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Dad always felt obligated to all the details of my life—spending included. Guess he didn’t feel it went both ways. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you money.”

“Wes.”

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