The fifth The Weeknd song is about to play before we stop outside of the Branson estate. Great. I take a deep breath, thank Charles, and climb out of the car, dusting off my suit.
I throw my head back before adjusting my collar and start up the gravel pathway. Growing up here was a dream. A ridiculously privileged and insane dream. We had weekly charity events in the backyard, we spent Easter’s doing huge treasure hunts around the whole house, Christmases with a tree almost as big as the one in Rockefeller. It was perfect for fourteen glorious years until my mom left. Then shit got really bad. Everything became about money, B & Co, power, and more money.
All the stupid family traditions ceased to exist when my mom couldn’t handle it anymore and she left. Since then, coming back home has felt like a chore just to be caught in another petty argument with my dad.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say he’s a great dad; he’s funny and he’s kind, but beneath it all, I can tell he’s not happy with me after the stunt I pulled two years ago. The man knows how to hold a grudge.
I was transferred from Drayton Hills to NU in the first few weeks of my first year after a very public break up with my ex-girlfriend and high school sweetheart Catherine Fables. Without the excessive details that I’m constantly replaying in my mind, let's just say that there was a public screaming contest on campus which ended up with me on the doorstep of her dorm, sobbing into an empty packet of Oreo’s.
Although some girls dig the idea of the soft, cry-baby side of me, for the business, it was a PR disaster with popular gossip sites taking the issue into their own hands. It also meant that I was stripped from my usual privileges from the company and thrown into NU to gain some responsibility and to learn how to present myself better, meaning I keep my head down and I keep myself to myself. I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job at that so far.
When I slip into the sleek, black three-storey house the first thing I can hear is my dad’s voice echoing down the hallway. He’s on the phone.
I don’t get much time to process it before our family Labrador runs up to me. She’s a chubby girl named Mila. She’s pretty low maintenance after growing up with her, but she still tries to intertwine herself with my legs like she’s still a puppy while I try to get closer to my dad’s voice.
“Not now, Mila,” I whisper to her, scratching her ears before shoving her off to the side and she listens, whining softly.
As I inch closer towards the noise, I figure out who he’s talking to. It’s Damon. He’s only a few years older than me and has been my dad’s assistant for the last five years. Assistant is a bit of an understatement. Damon is the whole reason why my dad’s house is still on all its legs and the only reason he’s still breathing. He does a lot more than assist my dad on a day to day basis. Like right now, as he gets called a motherfucker for something that probably wasn’t even his fault.
I lean against the wall in the family room behind the kitchen. If I press my back against it hard enough, it can turn in on itself and it’ll swivel around to face the larger-than-life kitchen area, but I try and keep my weight off it.
“I told you to do one thing for me, Damon. One fucking thing. If you can’t do that, I’ll find someone else to do it and you know I can,” my dad threatens over the phone. There’s a muffled response from Damon which he grunts and sighs to before continuing. “If you don’t come back to me by the end of the week with a solid plan, I will cut you off and you can kiss that Lamborghini you wanted goodbye.”
His phone slams onto the table and I jump, almost knocking over the bronze statue on the mantelpiece to my right. I let out a sigh of relief when the statue teeters before falling soundly back into place.
“If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least be less obvious, boy,” my dad says cooly on the other side of the wall. He always catches me out somehow. I don’t have the energy to continue this stupid game, so I turn and push my hands against the wall until it opens to the kitchen.
My dad is sitting with his back to me, his greying blonde hair cut short at the nape of his neck which pinches as he throws back a glass of bourbon before slamming it down onto the bar. I walk cautiously towards him, trying my best to uphold any sort of composure that I used to have before I got kicked out.
“Eavesdropping has become my last resort as I have to find out all of the news from TMZ or a very cryptic message from Charles. And you know how he is with technology,” I say with ease as I stand across from my dad, taking in his tense features and furrowed eyebrows. He shakes his head.
“I’m glad you find this situation so amusing, Evan. Truly. When really you should be ashamed of yourself for getting yourself in this situation,” he responds, pouring himself another drink, but I snatch it up and drink it before setting it back down. He doesn't flinch. Instead, he pulls himself a clean glass, pouring yet another drink.
“Whatever,” I say. “I have two questions, dad. One: what have I done to be summoned here again? And two: what did Damon do for you to rip him a new one?”
He blinks at me for a second, sipping his drink before placing it back down. “Damon is acting a fool, as per usual, but surprisingly you’ve done nothing particularly wrong.”
“‘Surprisingly?’ What’s surprising about me being the perfect kid I’ve always been?” I beam, pushing a hand through my hair for extra emphasis as I puff out my chest proudly.
He laughs a little at this before painting on his serious expression. He’s susceptible to my charm more often than not nowadays. Only because he doesn’t have to deal with it as frequently.
“You havenotalways been perfect, Evan.”
“I have. You were just too dumb to realise it, old man.” I push off the counter and rest my hands on the bar table, trying to regain control of the conversation. “But, really, what am I doing here? I’m sure you didn’t force me to come just to eavesdrop and have a good drink. I actually have classes and shit to do.”
He hums, sipping back the last of his bourbon as he thinks. “You have good grades, don’t you?”
“Perfect grades.” Straight A’s in fact. As much as people my age don’t give a shit about school, it’s one of the only things I’m actually good at.Plus, my classes are pretty easy.
“Right,” he replies cautiously. “I have something I’d like you to do, as long as it doesn’t mess with your studies. This is a perfect opportunity for you to earn your way back to B & Co since Damon is too damn slow.”
My heart almost leaps out of my ribcage. I have to take a step back and grip my chest for a beat before letting my heart rate settle. I’ve been trying to get my dad to trust me again to get back to how my life used to be. When I’m done having a mini freak-out, I finally focus back on my dad.
“Yes. Yeah, sure. I’ll do anything,” I say quickly, feeling the way my face burns. I clear my throat as my dad’s mouth lifts up in a smirk before smothering it with his glass.
“I heard the youngest of the Voss kids still go to North. Is that true?” he asks, his eyebrow arched.
Fuck me.
