AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They’re wrong.All of them. My dad had my mother’s name tattooed on the left side of his chest and he was not bad. He was wonderful.
But as Topper dreamily stares after Prescott, I realise that there’s only one man left. They’re a group of six, and that leaves…
“Chester Boyd. He buys and sells companies like they are Himalayan air … freaking expensive.” When my eyes fall on the tall man with the wavy dark blond hair pushed behind his ears, I have to do a double-take.
Because the handsome man with the dark green suit and the black dress shirt underneath is my neighbour. Because the man with the blue-greyish eyes and the dark scruff is the entertainment of my days but also the bane of my existence.
Chester Boyd’s the reason our money disappeared. Frederic hates the Boyd name more than he hates taxes. Chester is the cause of my family losing everything and turning Frederic even more bitter.
And he’s also one of the reasons why I’m forced to marry for money.
“Fuck my life,” I whisper before I down my glass of champagne.
Chapter Two
Chester
With a deep sigh, Sebastian sits down and joins us around the perfectly set table. The glass of whiskey he snatched from a waiter’s tray is already half empty while the rest of us are patiently waiting for our drink order.
“Boring fuckery,” Sebastian says, not bothering to lower his voice while his eyes scan over the number of people present. The message is heard by nearby strangers, as they search for the one who dared to say the F word at a public gathering.
Sebastian was never one to hide the truth, but it’s his wife’s dirty look that has him on high alert and ready to spill even more. My eyes catch Prescott’s, who’s already grinning my way. I know what time it is when Moreen’s glance makes you want to yell for Mum.
“What, Moreen?” Sebastian snarls. “Sometimes you love my crude tongue.” Moreen’s mouth falls open, as if she can’t believe what her husband just said. She turns herself to face Sebastian before her index finger pushes into his chest repeatedly. These two go from zero to hundred in the blink of an eye.
“You shut that mouth of yours before I seal it shut. Don’t think for a second that I won’t do it because I will. You’re a disgrace, Sebastian, and thank God you are because it reminds me why I bloody hate you. But shut up now because if you keep talking like that, you’re going to be the downfall of our family.”I always feel the urge to give Moreen credit for not jumping out of her skin and yelling at her husband more often. Though Sebastian is about as close as a best friend I’ll ever have, it doesn’t mean I won’t call out the man for what he is. A cold-hearted bastard.
“Lovely speech, sweetheart.” Sebastian downs his glass.
“Go suck a dick, Sebastian,” Moreen growls before she pushes her chair back and walks to Jocelyn, who has been standing on the sideline, whispering to her assistant.
“Free entertainment when you two are around,” I say, unable to hide my amusement in the tone of my voice. Sebastian scoffs before raising his hand for a refill.
“Should have known this marriage thing was going to be a disaster from the start. It’s a miracle we haven’t murdered each other yet,” Sebastian says, shrugging his shoulders.
An older man approaches our table in a black suit with a gold tie. One by one, he sets our drinks down and I’m quick to thank him before turning my attention back on my friend.
“You could always try to keep the insults at bay for just one evening,” I add my two cents.
“Impossible,” Sebastian mumbles, shaking his head like itisas impossible as a unicorn shitting rainbows. But I’m already fidgeting in my chair and wiping my clammy hands on my trousers. My stomach is twisting and turning because this ordeal hits a little too close to home.
“Well then, I thank you, my friend, for showing me why I should stay single,” I say.
“You’re welcome.” Sebastian salutes me with his empty glass.
These two, along with a multitude of other failed marriages, made me realise a long time ago that it wasn’t in the cards for me.
My friends and my parents’ marriages have shown me just how easy it is for anger and hate to consume them, wishing each other dead. And the idea that you could want someone to die, simply because you dislike the other person so much, leaves me baffled.
Hate became the thing my parents lived on, fed on, while my eight-year-old self had to witness them destroy their own lives. Both live with a permanent frown on their face, and divorce will never be in the cards for them because of the amount of money involved.
So, I decided to never follow in those footsteps. I vowed to take a different route. Now, I live the life I dreamed of having. I have a job that keeps me busy, and I fucking love it. It’s entertaining at best. My friends live a highly demanding lifestyle, but it matches mine so wonderfully that the parties we go to are often fuelled by needs for a release.
I couldn’t wish for anything more.
“How’s the homelife going?” Prescott asks.
Prescott has had some steady girlfriends in the past, but he hasn’t made it to the altar yet. The last few years, he's been celebrating life as a bachelor. The only thing Prescott is up to at the moment is opening clubs left and right, while searching for the best whiskey in the country, which is a disgrace for the family as their legacy lies in one brand of whiskey only and not bars or competitive brands.
