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“He is, but he’s also my best friend. I don’t necessarily agree with him getting drunk, but it’s his life. He’s young, and I’d rather know he gets home safely than wandering the streets where God knows what will happen.”
Masen nods, adopting a sullen look. He runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, unable to look my way.
“We said this was it,” I remind him, turning away as well. “I should go get him.”
I expect him to say something about Cruz, but instead, he walks to the other side of the car and opens the driver’s door.
“I’ll see you around,” he simply says, void of any emotion.
A small pang stabs my chest. What did I expect? An amicable parting from a man who disappears every time we disagree over something.
I’ve learned my lesson. Masen Cooper is all about himself.
And I’m done playing this game.
Ready to get out before I become the victim.
Ten
Masen
“Masen, I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight.”
Mom is standing inside my bedroom with four different tuxedos, all of which look the same. She hangs them up for me to choose one, so I point to the far left to get her off my back.
I’m sitting up in bed, dressed in my sweats and white tee with my laptop beside me. When she called me early this morning, I didn’t expect her to turn up an hour later for a last-minute fitting. The last thing I want is to mingle with people I don’t care for. It’s the pitfall of the corporate world, smile but keep a watch on your rivals.
“When have I ever caused trouble?” I question her.
Mom stills her movements, placing her hand on her hip. “How about the award ceremony in Vegas?”
The corner of my lips quirks up at the memory. “I think you can blame your husband for that. He started the shots at the bar.”
A small huff escapes Mom. “You’re right. Your father is always the instigator of trouble at these events. Given Lex and Noah will be there, I guess tonight will end up no different. Oh, and Adriana is coming but no Julian because he’s in Haiti interviewing for a documentary.”
Dad is notorious for ordering shots when there’s an event he deems boring. I don’t mind. His antics leave everyone in laughing fits. All but Mom, she usually leaves him to find his own way home then gets him back when he’s battling the hangover from hell.
“Oh, and before I forget, your brother will be joining us.”
“Great,” I mutter with boredom.
“He’s bringing a date. Maybe you should too?”
This time, I let my annoyance be heard. “C’mon, Mom, why do these events always require a date?”
Mom ignores my question, running her hand along the tux to make sure there are no creases. I assume the conversation is over so I focus my attention back on my emails. As I begin to type a heated message back to a supplier who has been dodging our calls, Mom turns around and glances at me with a serious expression.
“Masen, I’ve never once asked you to change your lifestyle. You remind me a lot of your father, and I recognize you’re young and still sowing those wild oats of yours.”
If only she knew.
“But… I’m waiting,” I grumble.
“It doesn’t hurt to show others you’re capable of being more than a man who sleeps around for his own pleasure.”
With a flat look, my eyes narrow at her unjust treatment. I’m failing to understand why I should care about what others think of me. It goes against everything she taught me.
“I’m not getting into this argument again with you,” I warn her, trying to suppress my anger.
