EIGHTY-FOUR.

We enter his office, and I wait as he pulls the blinds up, allowing the sun's beams to flood the room.

He takes off his biker gear, placing his helmet on the small table that sits by the small bookcase in the corner of his office

“Do you want a coffee?” He looks at me with amusement as he settles behind his desk.

I bet he's recalling the shenanigan about us not having any coffee inside the house when popped over unannounced..

“I'm good, thanks.” I smile, as I continue to stand by the door.

I watch him as he boots up his computer, taking out three phones from his backpack, a pager, and his ID badge.

“How old are you?” I ask him off guard.

His fingers briefly glide across his keyboard while his eyes are trained on the screen in front of him.

“What does my age have to do with your father's health care?” The tapping sound that engulfs the room suddenly stops.

He peers up at me with his brows raised.

“It doesn't. I'm just trying to make small talk.” I exhale loudly out o