I chuckle but intervene before things get too heated.

“I’m fine. Just let me get out there, and I’m sure I’ll loosen up quick.”

Harold’s standing next to the facility supervisor, confirming that our court reservation starts at two like it always has. Really, he just wants to make sure the young guys on the court clear out as soon as we’re up.

The first game is always full court.

The subsequent games are almost always half court.

That’s the nature of the beast when half the players have undergone at least one knee or hip replacement.

“Heard from your old man lately?” Marty pants as he takes a break beside me after the first game.

He always asks about our father. And the theme of every response I give is the same.

“His secretary forwarded me a press release about the new Columbus build. So yeah, I guess you can say I’ve heard from him.”

Marty gripes under his breath, far more put out about the state of my relationship with George Haas than I am.

The lack of communication doesn’t bother me. My father is not a good person.

He was decent enough when we were little, showing occasional interest in Fielding and me when it came to academics and sports. For the most part, he was like the other billionaire dads I knew: distant, aloof, and put out by any situation or need that he couldn’t ask his secretary to handle.

I lost all respect for him when he moved our family to Hampton. Fielding and I had our pick of the top private schools in the country, and we were prepared to enroll as boarding students at Archway Preparatory Academy.

But the summer before we were set to leave, our mom’s drinking became noticeably worse. Our dad took matters into his own hands, and the rest is history. He said our mom would be better out of the city. He said it was the right decision for our family.

He moved us into a mansion on the outskirts of Hampton, overlooking the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

It turns out he just wanted a place to dump her so she was out of his hair.

Our parents divorced when we were in high school. My dad hasn’t been back to Hampton since we graduated from Arch.

Neither Fielding nor I want anything to do with the man. We chose alternate career paths on purpose, neither interested in working for him nor with him in real estate development.

Not that it matters. Between the trusts from our grandparents and our mom’s money, I’m almost certain our net worth is as much, if not more than his.