26. Priestley
PRIESTLEY
Iwait in the living room where we used to watch movies as a group.
The changes are subtle since I left, but noticeable enough to make me pause.
That gross beanbag from the club house has a permanent place now in front of the TV.
There are new photographs on the mantle of the current generation of fraternity brothers doing some sort of volunteer work.
One of Nate posing shirtless at a charity car wash.
I hear the front door open and straighten my back. Ben freezes when he sees me sitting there.
“Priestley, hi.”
I try for a warm smile, though I’m not sure it does much to put him at ease.
Whatever Nate’s told him about my reformed character, it’ll take more than second-hand news to repair Ben’s opinion of me.
I spent four years on his back about every little thing.
If he’s going to start seeing me in a different light, it has to come directly from the horse’s mouth.
“Is everything okay?” Ben asks.
Elias bumps into him in the doorway. He’s carrying overstuffed grocery bags like they weight nothing. The second he sees me, he glowers. I have to stop myself from glowering back.
“Yes, I’m just here for a visit.”
“Jamie isn’t here,” Ben says uncertainly as I stand.
“I’m here to see you, actually.”
“Oh.”
Elias steps around him so he’s shielding him with his body. Surely he knows I’m not violent? I rarely even raised my voice when I was president. That was not my father’s style of leadership and I learned everything I know from him.
“I came to apologize.”
Ben blinks at me with those big, guileless, brown eyes. He nods and Elias’ impressive shoulders relax a little.
“Let’s go in the office.” Ben turns to Elias. “You okay to put away the groceries?”
Elias nods and then shoots me a warning glance. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.” Turning back to Ben, he adds, “Shout if you need me.”
My heart pounds as I follow Ben into the executive office. Unlike Nate, he doesn’t take a seat behind the desk. He perches on the edge, biting the inside of his lip.
“Congratulations on becoming VP,” I start.
Ben’s face softens a little. “Thank you.”
“I always knew you had the potential to run this place.”
He looks down at his hands.
“Nate’s told me how I made you feel while I was president.
” I let that statement settle for a moment, waiting to see if he wants to add anything.
When he doesn’t, I go on. “I’m sorry, Ben.
I don’t want to give you excuses, but I need you to know that if I was ever hard on you, it wasn’t because you were bad at your job.
It’s because I saw your potential and was impatient for you to reach it. ”
He swallows, nods.
“I’ve learned recently that my leadership style is based off a flawed system.”
Ben frowns.
“I learned how to boss people around from my father.”
“Ah.” Recognition washes over his features and he smiles. “If your dad’s anything like my dad, then nothing is ever good enough.”
I actually snort and Ben laughs.
“Maybe we should have been bonding over being the spawn of tyrants all this time instead of butting heads?” I suggest.
Ben’s smile is warmer when he looks at me now. “Yeah, maybe.”
“I never meant to make you feel small, Ben. You are anything but small. You’re the smartest, most organized, most hard—”
Ben holds his hand up. “I know.”
“Good.” I nod. “And you and Nate will do an excellent job with the frat.”
“I know that, too.” He grins, then his face gets serious suddenly.
“Listen, Priestley, I’ve fantasized about giving you a piece of my mind for years.
You really made me feel small for most of the time you were president, but …
I stopped caring what you think this year.
I know Nate and I are good at running the frat. ”
I lower my eyes.
“And I know you were trying to make this place the best it could be. You took us to two championship trophies and kept this place the best frat on campus. Your methods were just a little …” He grimaces.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I am learning.”
Ben smiles softly.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Ben calls.
Elias pops his head around the heavy wood. He glares at me before asking Ben if everything’s okay.
“Yes, thanks. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Elias nods before disappearing back behind the door.
“He’s a little on the protective side, isn’t he? Did you tell him I’m Darth Vader or something?”
Ben chuckles. “Oh my god, Priestley. If you like Star Wars and have an asshat dad, we should have been getting along way better all this time.”
I scoff. “I wouldn’t wear a Yoda costume or anything.”
Ben’s grinning at me.
“What?”
“Nate said you’re dating a hockey player.”
My face gets hot.
“It sucks I didn’t get to meet him at my party.”
“You will. If you don’t mind me bringing him around here more often.”
Ben’s eyes light up. “Not at all.” He shakes his head. “Priestley Rosenthal is in love.” He’s speaking to himself, like he’s telling himself a fairytale.
“Is it really that hard to imagine?”
Ben looks me over and I do my best not to check my shirt for stains. “This Priestley standing in front of me? Nope, not hard to imagine at all.”
Ben walks me out into the hallway. Elias is watching us from the kitchen as he unloads the groceries on the counter.
“What are you doing now?” Ben asks me. “We’re watching a movie when everyone gets home, if you want to stick around.”
“Thanks, but I have a meeting with my father.”
Ben pulls a face.
“Want to bring Elias with you? He’s pretty good at putting men like our dads in their places.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Elias has told your dad off?”
Ben grins. “Reminded him that I’m in the ITA top twenty when he was trying to suggest I’m not as impressive as my brother.”
I get a twinge of guilt over all the times Father has done that to Jamie, compared him unfavorably to me.
“I’m sorry your dad’s like that, Ben. Truly.”
Ben shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face.
“We’re a family, right? Alpha Sigma Psi?”
I smile and clap him on the shoulder. “Yes, brothers for life.”
This time, Father makes me wait in the lobby before calling me in. The same receptionist sits behind the desk, glancing at me every now and then like he knows what’s about to happen.
I resist the urge to check my watch. Try not to bounce my foot impatiently. Remind myself that I can handle the repercussions of my actions. I made my decision and I’m sticking to it. I’m prouder of who I am becoming than who I was at the start of the school year.
The Priestley who sat in this office waiting for his father’s approval back before classes started is not who I want to be anymore. If Father can’t handle that, then I’ll just have to accept it.
Instinctively, I try to read his expression when he finally opens the door and calls me in. He isn’t giving much away, but experience tells me he isn’t happy.
There’s no one in the room when he ushers me inside. He didn’t have a meeting; he was just making me wait. One of my father’s many mind games, used to exercise control. To remind people who is in charge.
“Sit down, Priestley.”
I resist the urge to smooth down my tie or check my hair in the reflection of the glass wall behind Father’s desk. I’m not mentally calculating the chances of me having a stain on my shirt or dirt on my shoe.
Father remains standing, leaning on the desk, his hands pressing into the green leather padding over the wooden surface.
“I called you in here today, Priestley, to give you one last chance to change your mind.”
I swallow, clear my throat. “Change my mind about what?”
His nostrils flare. “You know what—this ridiculous notion that you won’t be working here over the summer.”
“No, Father. I haven’t changed my mind.”
He huffs, pushing off from the desk. He turns his back to me and faces the glass window and the view of the New York Harbor.
“You know I can’t let you ruin the Rosenthal name.”
My stomach drops, thinking about Jamie. Thinking about all the ways in which I want to help Will and his family.
I could just tell my father I’m sorry and take the job at RAM.
It would be guaranteed financial success.
But Will wouldn’t respect me if I did that and I wouldn’t respect myself, either.
It would mean bowing to my father for the rest of my life.
Being the old Priestley, the one I’ve worked so hard to shed like an old skin.
“I have an internship lined up at Morgan Stanley.”
Father scoffs. “It’s a conveyor belt. You’ll be nothing more than a grunt, getting coffee for upstarts who don’t even have an Ivy League education.”
I force myself to hold his intense gaze. “Here, you will be more than an intern. This is a boutique company with close client relationships. People trust us with their money because we’re the best.”
Is he giving me the sales pitch? Why is he so desperate for me to buy it?
“If you’re the best, then you should have chosen the best person for the job.”
He frowns. “I did.”
“No, I was second in my class. Will O’Reilly—”
Father pushes back from the desk and interrupts me. “Will who?” he scoffs.
“He’s a Princeton man, top of his class. Why is that not good enough?”
“He isn’t of our world, Priestley. Best to leave America’s finances to those who know what they’re doing.”
I can’t help but guffaw. Father’s face goes bright red.
“Because you’ve done such a great job so far. Billions of dollars of medical debt, over thirty trillion national debt, retirement fund depletion, massive wealth inequality—shall I go on?”
Father squints at me the way he does when he plays chess. He’s planning out his next move. It’s calculated. He may have blown up just seconds ago, but he’s an expert at taking control back from the situation.
“Wealth inequality? Are you a communist now?”