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CHAPTER1
MITCHELL
I never thought I'd be drunk texting a realtor to purchase my old childhood home, but here we are. I don't question why I am doing this; I don’t allow myself to think about this impulsive purchase. I simply squint at my phone to make out the words of the realtor, ignoring the chastising voice in my head that sounds very much like my father's.
This is where I was happy once. This is where I feel I’ll find myself again. I always loved my family, but lately, something changed and I don’t identify with them anymore. I wish we could go back to the old days, the easier days. I wish life was different. I wish we could go back in time. That is why I’m about to make what is the best or the worst decision of my life. But this one is all on me. Drunk me, but still…
Everything is a blur and the music thumps in my veins. There’s a pleasant buzz, an alternative to the mind-numbing sadness that has plagued my bones the past week.
The bar is packed. Since it’s the weekend, it’s quite common for people to want to let off steam. There are dozens of bodies milling around, dancing, talking, all just having a good time.
Looking around, I take in the scantily clad women who dance with a recklessness that is refreshing, a welcome scene from the snobby, uppity women who grace the sort of events my family usually gets invited to; events where I’ve never felt like I truly belong.
As I scan the room, my blurry eyes land on a brunette across the far side of the room who seems to smile at me like I’m some sort of chocolaty goodness she’s dying to get her hands on, and in my drunken stupor, I can’t help but be convinced that this is, in fact, my scene.
“That woman wants to eat you alive,” Aaron says beside me.
Tearing my eyes away from the sensuous-looking woman, I grin at my childhood best friend.
“She’s hot,” I comment.
Chuckling, Aaron looks over at the woman and then back at me.
“You should make a move now before someone else snaps her up.”
My world wavers a little as I shake my head mildly. As hot as the brunette seems to be to my drunken brain, sex is surprisingly the last thing on my mind tonight. Aaron stares at me weirdly, as if I’ve sprouted two ugly heads.
“You don’t wanna make a move on her?” he questions confusedly, almost as if he does not understand why I’d turn down the offer of sex on a silver platter. Of course, Brunette is basically making sex eyes at me, or at least that’s what it seems like for my blurry eyes.
“Not tonight,” I say.
“Something on your mind?”
Indeed, there’s a lot on my mind, and Aaron, who’s the only person I’ve completely trusted, deserves to know what a rollercoaster my life has been.
“A whole lot, actually,” I reply.
“Tell me.”
The fourth glass of the night is empty before I even realize it. The moment my glass hits the counter, the bartender ambles over to give me a refill.
“My fucking family,” I say through gritted teeth. Even though I feel tipsy, my words do not slur, and it comes out with a lot more heat than I wanted.
Aaron watches me, waiting.
“They want to rule my life, tell me what to do. Look at me,” I say, gesturing at myself. “I'm in my mid-thirties, but my father does not understand that; he doesn't even see that.” I chuckle bitterly.
I know if I wasn't under the influence of alcohol, I wouldn't have been able to work these words out of my throat. The alcohol lowers my inhibitions and allows me to pour out my heart in a manner I never have. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow regretting how much I spilled, but at this moment, I allow the words to flow past my lips freely.
“His business has thrived and has been at its peak for years. Father wants us all to be connected to the company. Whether we want to or not. He is practically forcing me to work there. I want nothing to do with his business, dude,” I say, and this time, my words do slur a little. “Why can’t he understand I wanna pave my own way?” I whisper more to myself than him, but Aaron still hears anyway because he lays a placating hand on my arm and the warmth comforts me a little.
“You can pave your own way. I mean, you gotta choose what works for you, yunno? That’s what he did, so he should allow you to do the same,” he says as he retrieves his hands and downs his fourth glass. And just as had happened for me, the bartender refills his glass again. “There’s so much misery and heartache in this world already,” he adds and pauses for a split second, his voice becoming a little raspy. “There’s no need adding another pile to that list. You gotta do what makes you happy.” He nods once, firmly, as if punctuating his statement.
Ever since Father’s back surgery and retirement, he’s changed. Roscoe, the eldest of us, Bridges boys, did an incredible job taking the reigns over the company. In fact, if you ask me, he’s doing an even better job than Father. He’s happy, starting a family with his wife, Tess. A far cry from the cold-hearted playboy he was a year ago. Father, on the other hand, has become controlling, dictating what he wants me and my younger brother, Harrison, to do and the type of women we should be with. And above everything else, he doesn’t believe I can find success on my own. “The Bridges name has a reputation to uphold. I will not accept failure,” he would often embed into my head. This new version of Father is one I no longer recognize. No longer identify with or relate to.
As children, Harrison and I had most of our mother’s attention. But Father was always preoccupied with Roscoe, grooming him to be a business tycoon to hopefully take over his future empire. He succeeded in that, I suppose. But the company can only have one CEO and I don’t want to live my life following someone. I have my own dreams to follow.
“The app I am developing does make me happy,” I say, turning my attention back to Aaron. Slipping out my phone when it pings, I stare at the screen reading the words of my realtor. He has sent a quote and I stare at it in surprise, blinking a few times and squinting to make sure I’m not blending numbers together.
