51. Sport
A lot of different people called him a lot of different things. Detective, Lassie, sir, Booker, you bastard, Lassiter, Binky. Occasionally someone would even go a little crazy and call him Carlton.
When he walked into the rundown dive that night, the last thing in the world he expected was to hear another name that hadn't been on that list for decades. The older man sat down next to him at the bar, but Carlton ignored him until he spoke, his voice rough and almost but not quite familiar.
"It's been a long time, sport."
All it took was that one word and it was like being transported back in time. For a second his head spun and he felt as light and free as he had as a small child. Only for a second, though, because then he came crashing back down with all the memories of his mother crying and every missed event and his carefully maintained anger. Carlton turned slowly on the stool and looked at an aged, barely recognizable face.
"Dad."
Kristin: It's sooooo short, but I posted twice yesterday, so I feel pretty okay about that. I'm sure I took this prompt in a completely different direction than I was intended to, but I feel pretty okay about that too. This will possibly have at least one more part added on to it. You know, as soon as I figure out what's about to happen.
PeanutTree-Thank you! You're a flatterer and I love it. ;)
26/100