Stories I Never Finished

Champagne Daddy

Ashton rolled his eyes, "Yes, dad. I know."

"Make sure you take the Benz if you're going out. And make sure you call Michael before you go running into trouble."

"Yes dad." The nineteen-year-old slouched, standing in the doorway of his dad's office.

His dad was the cliché suit and tie businessman. He worked for the money, always busy in his office or working out of town for his conglomerate of corporations around the globe.

He sat at his desk, eyes locked on his laptop screen that showed a live feed of the stoke trade ratings.

Ashton wanted to snatch the money from his dad's hand right then and there, but he knew better than that.

"And don't go hanging out with those thugs downtown." His dad strictly instructed.

Ashton sighed with agitation, "I won't."

His dad smiled, sparing his son a glance, "Good. You know I only want to protect you. Remember the last time you got lost downtown, and those hooligans tried to mug you?" He huffed, "Those thugs don't know anything about earning their own cash."

Ashton rolled his eyes again, holding out his hand, "Can I have my money now? I want to go shopping today."

His dad chuckled, handing it over, "Sorry princess. There you go. Don't go spending it all in one place."

"I won't." Ashton grinned, leaning forward and kissing his dad's cheek, "Thanks, you're the bestest!"

He tucked the money into his wallet, curling it closed and stuffing it back into the front of his ripped denim shorts.

Sliding his phone into his hands, he popped a bubble with the strawberry gum in his mouth and dialled Michael's number; making his way out of the office.

Michael Clifford was a bit of a jerk, well at least that's what Ashton thought.
Michael was about three years older than Ashton, and worked for his dad as security. He was kind of like Ashton's personal butler with a foul attitude.

Michael worked the streets, selling drugs and shit. Since Ashton always got in trouble with the bad boys downtown, Ashton's dad hired Michael to keep his son out of trouble.

Michael barely got to answer the phone before Ashton was speaking rudely to him, "Daddy says I have to call you 'cause I'm going out shopping-"

Michael could be heard on the other end, clearly busy driving, "Do you have to go shopping now?"

"Yes! Louis Vuitton is having a sale!-"

"So? I'm kinda busy with a delivery the moment. Can't you wait until they have another sale?"

Ashton gawked, standing out on the front porch of the large beach-side mansion his dad owned, "Are you mad?! Do you even know what Louis Vuitton is?!"

"No. And I don't particularly care either." Michael's car tyres could be heard screeching around a corner, the vehicle speeding past a downtown shoot out as gunshots died out in the background.

"Besides-" He continued, "-Didn't you go Gucci shopping yesterday?"

"That was yesterday! Those clothes are already old!" Ashton stomped his foot, "Are you gonna come get me or do I have to tell daddy you're not doing your job?!"

"Fine! Whatever!" Michael gave in, "You dumb spoiled brat. I'll be there in five." He then sternly added, "-And don't go anywhere."

"Ugh, fine. Just hurry up, Michelle."

"It's Michael."

"Whatever." Ashton scoffed, hanging up and pocketing his phone again. He crossed his arms over his chest, huffing in annoyance as he tapped his wedged heel against the ground.