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After my sophomoreyear in college, I packed my things and left my old life.
Irefusedto bend to my parents’ wishes to be part of Cooperson Corporations.
And yet, when they call me, I fly home to please them. Like this week, against my common sense, I boarded a plane from Seattle to Greenwich, Connecticut, to follow my parents’ wishes.
On Thursday, I attended the board meeting, just as Father requested. They only need my vote for some stupid expansion. If I gave a fuck about the company, I’d look closely into the organization’s financial state, but I don’t.
I simply vote in favor, as my father wanted. Following the meeting, I play the part of being a peon for my father by having lunch, dinner, and then breakfast with clients. With the excuse of having to see a colleague in New York, I disappear.
There’s some truth to my excuse, I go to the city. I don’t have any acquaintances there, but I spend almost all night barhopping. At three in the morning, I get a room at the Merkel hotel in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I’m not surprised to receive a call from Mother first thing Friday morning.
I let it go to voicemail. After stretching, ordering my breakfast, and checking my emails, I finally listen to it.
“We have lunch at the O’Donnell’s at eleven-thirty. I expect you there.”
I scratch the back of my neck, wondering who the O’Donnell’s are and why I have to be there.
Logic dictates I ignore her, but this week’s theme is to ignore my common sense. I join my mother and her committee of trophy wives. We move from one painful event to the next.
Dinner at the house with Dylan, his bride-to-be, Mildred Rhoades, and his future in-laws.
Where’s Lottie, his high school sweetheart?
Who knows?
The official statement is “we wanted different things.”
I’m pretty sure that the truth is Mother never liked her, and Mildred’s dad is a famous plastic surgeon.
Oh, and by the way, he changed specialties from family practitioner to plastic surgery. Because “that’s where the future of medicine is,” Mom chimed when Dylan gave me the news.
Maybe she’ll get a discount on her monthly Botox. My family is part TNT—we know drama—and part Comedy Central. I never know what the day is going to bring, but it’s not going to be pretty.
Saturday morning, I wake up to a fight between my parents. The caterer claims the check bounced and Father denies it.
Of course, it’s Tristan to the rescue. I end up paying for the ridiculous music quartet, the food, and the crew who’s coming to serve and clean up afterward.
After the early show, I debate on leaving. But, like an idiot, I stay.
Now I stand in the middle of the large patio within our home, avoiding Victoria at any cost. I already endured her for twenty minutes when she ambushed me along with my parents.
I don’t care to learn more about her. So far, what she said didn’t impress me. Maybe she’s not so bad, but if she is anything like my parents, she’s not the person I want to be attached to for the rest of my life. Nonetheless, my father has been dropping hints about me using my grandmother’s engagement ring and making today a double engagement party.
He has also spent time reminding me that once we consummate the marriage, the position of CEO would open up for me.Is he for fucking real?Consummate the marriage? Is this the Middle Ages?
I want to remind him I already own a business, but I keep my mouth shut.
No matter what I say, Father won’t let the subject—or me—go.
No.
Last night, he was pretty clear about it. “You’ve reached the end of the line.” His voice could be heard through the entire house.
My father squeezed my arm and tried to spin me around the way he used to when I was younger. I did turn but pushed him away from my body. His raging eyes darkened a few shades, and his face turned red. “What was that, Tristan? I’m your father, I deserve respect.”
“I’ll respect you when you respect me. Don’t you dare touch me again,” I said, controlling my breathing and my rage. “I won’t allow you to ever hit me again. We’ve established that already. This is the last time I say it. I’m not coming back. No, I won’t take over your company and there won’t be a Cooperson-Hudson wedding.”
It remained on the tip of my tongue that I have a man in my life. That information would push him over the edge, and I don’t know what he’d do.
