Chapter 6 #2
“Son,” my father says, coming over to me as I walk in the study, the room he uses for cocktail hour.
It’s big and open, so people can mingle.
The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases, and off to one side is a sitting area with chairs covered in a hideous, maroon-colored velvet.
The chairs belonged to my great-grandparents, so they are considered family heirlooms that I’ll be inheriting one day, although I’m guessing those, and everything else I was supposed to inherit, won’t be mine once I break free from this horrible family.
“Hello, everyone,” I say, giving the old men a nod and trying not to cringe when my father clamps his hand around my shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine, son,” my father says. “At least you made it in time for dinner.”
He’s off to a good start with his performance. Pretending he’s not mad that I’m late? I’m sure he had to muster up all his acting skills for that.
The old men come up to me and shake my hand.
There are eight of them, and a couple look like they might be in their nineties.
Good job, Dad. Get their money when they’re old and senile so they won’t realize how much you’re taking out for commission.
My father takes huge percentages from his clients, then tries to hide it by making up fees that don’t even make sense.
I don’t know how he gets otherwise brilliant businessmen not to question it.
He’s basically stealing from his clients, and yet he says it’s how all businesses work.
If you provide customers with a service that benefits them, you’re entitled to reap the rewards.
I guess that’s somewhat true, but it’s the fact that he lies about it that makes my stomach turn.
“So tell us about your studies,” Mr. Winthrop says. I haven’t met him before, but I’ve seen him in the business magazines my father reads. He owns a nationwide chain of movie theaters.
Why couldn’t that be the family business? I’d rather own movie theaters than invest people’s money.
“My classes are going well,” I say, knowing that’s the answer he wants.
The truth is, I’m already struggling in AP Chem.
I read through the first few chapters and was already feeling lost. But with Ella as my partner, I’ll at least get a good grade on the labs.
Despite what she thinks, I didn’t actually arrange to make us partners, at least not directly.
Nathan was already thinking of dropping the class.
I just gave him the extra push he needed to do it when I found out Rachel wasn’t coming back.
My dad’s hand tightens around my shoulder. “I’ll let you all in on a little secret.” He looks at me, then back at the men. “Briggs is going to be valedictorian of his class.”
The room erupts in the sounds of congratulatory phrases accompanied by smiles and head nods, and of course, praise for my father, because apparently, I couldn’t do this without him.
He’s the reason for my success, and he wants everyone to know it.
That’s why he made that announcement. That, and because he wants to make it public record so I’m forced to follow through.
His reputation is on the line, and if I dare damage it, there’ll be hell to pay.
“That’s excellent news!” Mr. Thayer says, coming up to me. He owns one of the biggest tire manufacturers in the world. I don’t find tires interesting, but I’d still rather run a tire company than an investment firm.
“Thank you,” I tell him, forcing out a smile.
“Have you chosen a college yet?”
My dad chuckles. “As if he has a choice.”
Thayer’s thick white brows rise. “And why is that?”
“The Chadwick men always go to Stanford. It’s tradition. Briggs has already been accepted and will be starting in the business program in the fall.”
“Very good,” Thayer says to me with a slight smile. “Although I’m partial to USC, my alma mater.”
“Also a good school,” I say, smiling back.
It’s another fake smile, but different from the one I used earlier.
That was for greetings. This one is for polite conversation.
I’ve perfected it over the years for occasions like this in which I’m forced to play along with my father’s obsession with having perfection in every part of his life — perfect family, perfect wife, perfect son.
It’s all a lie, but no one can ever know.
My father finally takes his hand off me and walks to the middle of the room. “Gentlemen, if I could have your attention, I’d like to invite you all to follow me to the dining room where we will continue our evening.”
He leads the men out of the study. I go last, as my father instructed, to make sure no one stays behind to snoop or steal from us. My father trusts no one, and yet he expects everyone to trust him .
“Go ahead,” I say to Mr. Winthrop as we both arrive at the door at the same time.
“Thank you.” He goes past me, and I follow him out, then shut the door behind me.
As we’re walking to the dining room, Mr. Winthrop nudges my side. “Got a little something for you.”
“Okay,” I say, laughing a little. Mr. Winthrop’s not as serious as the other men. He was cracking jokes in the study, but nobody found them funny except me. The jokes themselves weren’t funny. It was the way he told them — his tone and the faces he made.
“Here.” He reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a plastic card. “This will get you in for free at any of my theaters.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the card.
“I know you don’t need it,” he says, motioning to the mansion I live in, “but sometimes it’s still nice to not have to pay.” He winks at me. “Use the money you save by taking out a pretty girl. Buy her some flowers. Girls like flowers.”
I nod, smiling. “Got it.”
“I suppose a young man like yourself has a girlfriend?”
“I do.”
“Take her to the movies. It’s a good place to...” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “kiss her without your father finding out.”
I try not to laugh. My father doesn’t care about me kissing girls.
He’s walked in on me having sex and didn’t care.
It happened last summer when I thought he was away on business.
He ended up coming home early and caught me having sex out back by the pool.
He didn’t yell at me for it. He didn’t even say anything. He just went back inside.
I’ve caught him having sex too, and not with my mom, but with one of his clients.
It was right after my mom moved to Italy.
I’m sure he cheated on her when she lived here, but he was more discreet about it, doing it at his office instead of the living room, which is where I caught him.
He doesn’t know I saw, and I never told him.
I don’t care who he fucks. I don’t think my mom does either.
She can’t stand him. Their marriage is a business arrangement and nothing else.
“Everyone take a seat,” my father says as we go into the dining room. He sits at the head of the table. I take the other end, as instructed, to show everyone I’m next in line for the throne at Chadwick Investments.
“Mind if I sit here?” Mr. Winthrop asks, pointing to the chair next to mine.
“Of course not. Go ahead.” I’m glad he’s sitting next to me. He’s the only interesting person in the room and the only one with a sense of humor.
Dinner starts, and my dad goes into his sales speech, which he hides by pretending it’s just normal conversation about the state of the economy, the value of the dollar, market trends.
It’s so damn boring I could fall asleep, but I force myself to stay awake, knowing it’ll all be over in an hour.
My dad doesn’t like people to linger after dinner.
He knows they’ll have questions, but instead of answering them, he’ll send them an email tomorrow, telling them he only has limited spots for a few select clients, and they better act soon or they’ll lose their chance to work with him.
It’s just a scare tactic. He’ll take all of them if they all sign up.
Just before eight, the men are escorted to the door, and my father and I say our goodbyes.
“Best of luck with the girl,” Mr. Winthrop says, shaking my hand.
I immediately think of Ella instead of Aubrey, which makes no fucking sense unless I was thinking he was wishing me luck in convincing Ella to give up being valedictorian. That must be it, although I don’t know why I’d be thinking that. He was clearly referring to my girlfriend, not Ella.
I need to finish this shit with Ella so I can put her out of my head.
She talked me into giving her a week to think about it, but I have no fucking clue why I agreed to that.
She’s just stalling. She’s not going to change her mind.
Maybe I should tell her time’s up and put my plan back into action so we can end this.
She’s never going to win, so why bother trying? She doesn’t understand that this stupid valedictorian title is my ticket to freedom. And I’ll do anything to be free.