“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand and giving him the Chadwick smile. I was taught it before I could even speak. It’s a partial smile, lips closed. It’s meant to be cordial but businesslike. According to my father, a full smile makes you look like you’re trying too hard for the person’s approval. The half smile keeps them guessing and gives you the upper hand.
“Briggs has just returned from rugby practice,” my father says, “but he’ll go clean up and be joining us soon.”
“Your father said you’re the team captain,” Forsythe says. “An athlete and a scholar. That’s very impressive.”
Not to my father. He constantly reminds me how much more he was doing when he was my age, like working for my grandfather at the firm and getting involved in civic organizations to network with people who might be potential clients. He expects me to be doing all that and more, but I haven’t, telling him I need time to study. He says I’m stupid if I need that much time to study, and I just let him think that,knowing it’s the only thing keeping me from having to work for him.
My father turns to Forsythe. “Let’s give Briggs some time to get cleaned up. Tell me, Gerald, are you a bourbon man?”
“I am, indeed.” He grins.
“Let me show you to my private collection. I think there’s one, or perhaps a few, you’d like to try.”
As they walk off, I race up to my room and straight to the shower. I feel like I need to wash off after playing along with my father’s performance downstairs. He goes from evil dictator to doting father in less than a second. It’s disturbing and wrong, and yet I can’t do anything about it. And in a few minutes I’ll be back downstairs, taking part in the performance and hating myself for it.
I close my eyes and tip my head back as the hot water falls over me, soothing my tired muscles, which will soon get tight again when I go downstairs. For now, I set those thoughts aside and try to breathe. I push out my chest, extend my arms, and try to get air in my lungs.
An image of Ella pops into my head.What the hell?
I blink a few times and try to get rid of it, but it’s still there. Ella, with her big, brown eyes and long, dark hair, staring back at me as I pinned her against the wall behind the school. It was just her and me. I’m twice her size. I could’ve done whatever I wanted to her. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. As much as I hate her, it’s not who I am.
It’s not who you are.When she said that, it shocked me to the core. She doesn’t know me, not the real me. She only knows the guy I let people see. The one every girl wants. The one other guys wish they could be. Ella knows me as a bully because that’s all I’ve ever been to her. I’ve tortured her because I can. I wouldn’t call it torture. I’d call it putting her in her place becauseshe tends to forget she lacks power, and those who forget need to be reminded.
Ella should be kissing my damn feet the way I’ve treated her the past year. Aside from some name-calling and making fun of that rusted-out truck she drives to school, I’ve left her alone, and I would’ve continued to leave her alone if it weren’t for this valedictorian shit.
Why can’t she just do what I asked? I’m sure she’s already been accepted to college, and I’m sure she’ll get scholarships to pay for it, so what the hell’s her problem? It’s not like she needs to do this for her parents. Her mom’s dead, and I’m sure her dad doesn’t care. He’s one of those fathers who loves his kid no matter what. Ella could flunk out of school and he’d still love her.
I ram my fist against the stone shower wall, cringing at the pain it leaves behind. I try to take a deep breath, but can’t. It’s like someone’s squeezing my chest, taking all the air out.
My phone dings from the counter. I wipe the steam off the glass shower door and see the text is from my dad, telling me to hurry up. He has these client dinners all the time but I haven’t been required to be there until just recently. It’s because I’m about to graduate. He expects me to become more involved in the company and learn how to interact with clients.
It’s not going to happen. I’m not working for him, and I’m not taking over the company. Running an investment firm is not what I want to do. I don’t care if I could make a billion dollars a year doing it. It’s not what I want. And when I get my freedom, I’ll finally tell him that.
Ten minutes later, I’m dressed in my suit and tie, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror and realizing how much I look like my father. I wish I didn’t, because every fucking time I look at myself, it’s like looking at him. Maybe when I’m finally free of this place, I’ll dye my hair blond or shave it and get some tats toline my neck. My father would hate that. Just imagining the look on his face if he saw me like that makes me smile.
My phone dings again.
Get down here!he texts.Now!
“Go fuck yourself, asshole,” I mutter as I leave the bathroom and walk through my room to the hall. I slowly go down the stairs, trying to put this off as long as possible, knowing how horrible these dinners are and just wanting it to be over.
As usual, the dinner guests are all over seventy, all men, all white. Every one of them looks the same. They’re probably even wearing the same suits from the same store and the same designer.
“Son,” my father says, coming over to me as I walk in the study, the room he uses for cocktail hour. It’s big and open, so people can mingle. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases, and off to one side is a sitting area with chairs covered in a hideous, maroon-colored velvet. The chairs belonged to my great-grandparents, so they are considered family heirlooms that I’ll be inheriting one day, although I’m guessing those, and everything else I was supposed to inherit, won’t be mine once I break free from this horrible family.
“Hello, everyone,” I say, giving the old men a nod and trying not to cringe when my father clamps his hand around my shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine, son,” my father says. “At least you made it in time for dinner.”
He’s off to a good start with his performance. Pretending he’s not mad that I’m late? I’m sure he had to muster up all his acting skills for that.
The old men come up to me and shake my hand. There are eight of them, and a couple look like they might be in their nineties. Good job, Dad. Get their money when they’re old and senile so they won’t realize how much you’re taking out forcommission. My father takes huge percentages from his clients, then tries to hide it by making up fees that don’t even make sense. I don’t know how he gets otherwise brilliant businessmen not to question it. He’s basically stealing from his clients, and yet he says it’s how all businesses work. If you provide customers with a service that benefits them, you’re entitled to reap the rewards. I guess that’s somewhat true, but it’s the fact that he lies about it that makes my stomach turn.
“So tell us about your studies,” Mr. Winthrop says. I haven’t met him before, but I’ve seen him in the business magazines my father reads. He owns a nationwide chain of movie theaters.
Why couldn’t that be the family business? I’d rather own movie theaters than invest people’s money.
“My classes are going well,” I say, knowing that’s the answer he wants. The truth is, I’m already struggling in AP Chem. I read through the first few chapters and was already feeling lost. But with Ella as my partner, I’ll at least get a good grade on the labs. Despite what she thinks, I didn’t actually arrange to make us partners, at least not directly. Nathan was already thinking of dropping the class. I just gave him the extra push he needed to do it when I found out Rachel wasn’t coming back.
