protective parental units
If Andrew ever wondered, back when he was a teenager, where he would end up in his thirties, it wouldn’t have been doing a school run. At all, never mind with his kid.
Life is unpredictable, it turns out.
On Thursdays he picks Kevin up from school after work and drops him at the local outdoor Exy court for practice. Neil will pick him up later on the way back from his own afternoon gym session with his teammates, which gives Andrew an hour or so to do nothing before he has to start dinner.
He’s been in for maybe twenty minutes watching something mindless on HGTV about redecorating kitchens when the buzzer goes off. Andrew isn’t expecting anyone and debates ignoring it for a moment, but then gets it anyway.
“Hi, Mister Minyard,” Jason, the doorman, says from the other end. “I’ve got a Tetsuji Moriyama here to see you?”
Well. That’s interesting.
“Send him up,” Andrew says, and hangs up.