Chapter 7
VICTOR
Jesus Christ. I can’t believe that barista rejected me. I asked for her number and she actually freaking refused.
Wow.
I have to say that I am totally taken aback by her actions – well, her inaction. It is crazy a girl would even do that. It’s been a hell of a long time since something like that has happened to me.
“Get me the fuck away from this place,” I tell the driver as I slide into the seat in the back of the limo. I moved fast through the coffee shop as I made my escape, avoiding customers who stopped and stared in surprise at my face. I moved fast enough to not get anyone rushing up to me and mobbing me like before. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, that’s for damn sure.
With my barking command, my driver obediently puts a foot on it and pretty soon we are thankfully out of the main town of Crystal River and heading up the winding roads that lead away from the built-up area, surrounded by dense forests on either side of the speeding vehicle.
And then we reach the front gates of the Penmayne mansion on the outskirts of the small town. This, here, is my childhood home – the highly secure compound where I grew up and where I always feel a pang of nostalgia when I do dare visit. I barely ever come back here, much to the chagrin of my mother. This time I’m merely staying here for a few days to see my parents before I fly off to start a new film in Europe. I figured I might as well play the part of a dutiful son for a day or two.
The gates into the mansion complex are imposing, and deliberately so. This is my parents’ favorite home out of all the many properties they own around the world. This is where my family has come from – in a generational sense. This is where our memories have been forged. We pass through the secure gates and into the main compound itself. Well-paid guards with loaded rifles patrol these grounds. There is a simplicity to the design here – the main building has been built in a Colonial Revival style. Dark red brick. White columns. It’s... classy. Just like Mother and Father.
We are not new wealth. We are not flashy wealth. We Penmaynes have the wealth that is managed through generations as a responsibility to pass on.
We do not show off.
Well, I like to. Back in LA. But that’s with my own money.
As we drive up to the front doors of the main building, I notice Mother is standing there on the steps ready to greet me – posing in her immaculate style. Security would’ve known I was coming from over a mile away, giving her plenty of warning to make a grand entrance.
Alda Penmayne is every inch a stern, commanding matriarch, and she looks it even as a figure far away. She’s statuesque, elegant, and distinguished. She holds herself with the grace of someone who knows they’re worth the GDP of a small nation. Her dark brown hair is elegantly coiffed in a sophisticated manner. Her hands are held by her side in a royal fashion. On her and Father rests the reputation and power of the Penmayne family, and don’t they know it.
She’s wearing tailored trousers and a cashmere sweater - no elegant dress for her for once. She’s very casual today.
I open the car door before we come to a complete stop. I’m on my feet and walking toward Mother. It’s my very own kind of grand dramatic entrance.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say to her in lieu of a greeting. “I got mobbed by fans in town. Had to make a daring escape in a disgusting alleyway.”
“Oh, did you?”
“You would’ve loved to have seen me in hero mode. Your very own son being a real-life action hero.”
Mother reaches out to me with an icy smile and gives me a kiss on each cheek.
“That’s why I always travel in a private helicopter, dear,” she says. “It’s the best way to avoid normal people.”
I roll my eyes. “A private helicopter for every trip? You’ll never change, Mother.”
“Victor...”
“You are the very stereotype of wealth, aren’t you?” I question her with a twinge of mischievousness.
She likes my gentle teasing. She can take a bite. And she can certainly give it, that’s for sure.
“I regret nothing,” she replies. “Come for a walk with me, Victor. Come for a walk with your frail Mother.”
“You are anything but frail, woman.”
I take her hand on my arm, and we stroll through the perfectly manicured gardens of our mansion.
“Welcome back home,” she says, probing me ever so slightly.
“Thank you for having me back,” I reply.
“It’s just a shame that you aren’t staying longer,” she says. “You are always in and out like a whirlwind. Never enough time to stick around with your dear old mother.”
“Duty calls,” I reply. “I’ve got to go off and film my next project. Got to win that award. Achieve my life’s dream.”
“I worry about you, Victor.”
I continue walking in defiance of her probing. Her hand is loose around my arm.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Mother,” I say through gritted teeth.
I love my mother, but she does have a knack for transforming every conversation into some sort of vicious verbal tennis competition with strong words that rally back and forth.
“Flying around the world and filming all the time,” Mother says. “Being in the public eye. No companion to share the load. That’s more than enough for me to worry about.”
“I am perfectly fine, Mother.”
“I think about you a lot, Victor.”
“Well, please do less thinking and more enjoying of your billionaire life...”
We pass by a fountain. Water spurts into the air. My brother August used to love walking around here, studying his medical textbooks. I used to dress up in costumes and run around these gardens, pretending to be a prince in a fantasy land. He grew up and became a real-life respectable doctor, and as for me...
Now I do the same thing but in front of very expensive cameras.
“So, tell me,” Mother starts. I already know whatever is about to come out of her mouth will not end well for me. “Are there any girls in your life, Victor? And I’m thinking about long-term, not about the ones you take home to your hotel suites.”
“Where did you hear about that?” I ask her, feigning a flabbergasted look of horror.
“I know a lot of things about my boys, Victor. Don’t doubt my abilities to source reliable information.”
“There are no girls, Mother. There’s never any girl for me. You should know that with all your abilities.”
“I’ll have to push back on that,” she replies. “There must be someone in the works. There must be someone who catches your eye...”
“I’m dating no one,” I say to her firmly. There’s no dramatic flair with this statement. No cheekiness. It’s clear and direct.
And she gets it.
Mother’s jaw slightly clenches. It’s only the barest of movements, but it’s enough for me to notice. She never reveals her true emotion, so when the mask does slip, even for a fraction, it’s a big fucking deal.
“I can find someone for you, Victor,” she whispers. “Someone respectable. Just say the word and things will be put into motion.”
Yeah, I truly do love her, but Mother is the very last person I would ever want to let in on my love life.
“You can find someone,” I whisper back, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll pay them a moment’s thought.”
“Tough boy you are.”
“It’s the truth,” I reply. “I’m not looking for anyone. I’m having too much fun living the single bachelor life.”
Mother lets go of my arm and nods back toward the mansion. I can feel the disappointment dripping from her, but I try not to let it affect me.
“Well, make yourself comfortable in your old room,” she says. “I had the maid make it up for your arrival.”
“Thank you, Mother, for letting me stay.”
Her eyes dart away from mine and up toward the overcast sky.
“It’s hard having so many boys,” she purrs. “They always find it hard to love their mother and do what is best for her.”
“Sometimes you make things hard for us,” I shoot in return.
She turns back to me. Her fleeting moment of vulnerability evaporates. She winks – God, that cheeky Penmayne wink.
“I know I do,” she whispers.
She always knows exactly what buttons to push and when. It’s like she lives off the reactions from her sons.
“I won’t head straight for my old room,” I tell her. “I’m going to go to the gym downstairs and work out.”
“Of course.”
And then Mother simply... glides away in that smooth way of hers.
She loves the dramatic. I never need to wonder where I got it from.