Chapter 8 Caleb
CALEB
Over the weekend, I went to my parents’ house to spend time with the family, as my mother had requested.
Passing the staircase on the left after I entered, I stopped without realizing it, memories pulling me back.
A memory surfaced uninvited: hide and seek, my siblings and I shrieking with laughter, the thud of my small feet racing down those steps.
I’d tripped on the last five once, flying headlong because I was too eager to see the gifts my parents had brought back from Australia.
I could almost feel the sting on my knees again, the way Mum had rushed to me while Dad stayed back, arms crossed.
Back then, I had felt wanted. Important.
Now, even surrounded by family, I felt like an outsider.
As I played with my nephews and nieces, lifting them, spinning them, letting them climb all over me, my mind kept drifting back to Friday.
Even though the night had ended well with a long-legged blonde, the day itself had been brutal.
I had tried again to be productive, to implement something worthwhile, and once again my idea had failed—at least in Nyah’s eyes.
I hadn’t meant to be cruel to her, but the way she had paraded the employees in front of me, humiliating me like that, had triggered something ugly.
I regretted some of what I’d said, even if I still bristled at how it had been handled.
Her words echoed uncomfortably because part of me knew she wasn’t entirely wrong.
I told myself I had accomplishments. I needed to believe that.
At lunch, I barely touched my food. My silence didn’t go unnoticed.
My father tried to engage me, but my answers were short, clipped, and the conversation fizzled.
My siblings didn’t push. Maybe if Cat was here…
things would have felt different. She was off at the family cottage with Connor, her fiancé, and I missed her more than I wanted to admit.
After lunch, I headed toward my old bedroom and overheard my brother and sister talking.
“He’s still the same,” Sophia said.
I stopped, heart pounding, and peered into the room. Their backs were to me. Sophia was pulling swimsuits out of a bag for her kids.
“He just doesn’t change,” she continued. “He refuses to accept any responsibility.”
Are they talking about me?
“I know,” Simon replied. “And Mum enables him. I hate that.”
“Caleb has always been her favourite,” Sophia said. “She let him get away with everything. No wonder he’s turned out like this. Bruce can’t stand him, and now I hate coming over when he’s here.”
The blood drained from my face. I stumbled back, barely catching myself.
Hearing that my siblings disliked me hurt, but hearing that Bruce did too, cut deeper.
At one point, Simon and I had been close.
After the incident at the lake, everything had changed.
I’d felt it back then, but never fully understood why.
Now it made sense. Mum’s attention had driven a wedge between us.
Still, Simon and Sophia had always been Dad’s favourites, and I’d never complained.
I just wished I could earn the same respect from him.
I’d tried—even followed Simon’s path—but nothing I did ever seemed to matter.
Cat was different. She was my baby sister. I’d always been protective of her. We’d always been close, inseparable even. And right then, I missed her more deeply than I could say.
I looked back in and saw Simon holding floats.
“I know what you mean. The only reason Sandra and I come is for you and Cat,” he said. “If it were just him, I wouldn’t bother. He still acts like a teenager—partying and womanizing as if nothing else matters.”
So much resentment. I closed my eyes, shame pressing down on me. Does Cat feel the same way?
“The kids love him,” Sophia said. “I don’t want to keep them away from their uncle, but I can’t even have a normal conversation with him. He’s so immature. So arrogant.”
I couldn’t take any more. I slipped into my room just as their footsteps approached and sat on my bed, my thoughts spiralling. They shouldn’t blame me for how Mum treats me. I wonder if Sandra hates me, too. I barely knew her. Maybe that was the problem. What about Connor? Did he hate me as well?
At dinner, I barely spoke. I watched everyone, wishing I could read their thoughts. Aside from my mother’s attempts at conversation, no one engaged with me. When I finished eating, I stood up and left without saying goodbye.
I took the next week off. I told myself it was a reset, a chance to prove—if not to everyone else, then at least to myself—that Nyah was wrong. I hadn’t chosen to be born into wealth, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t build something of my own.
I didn’t understand why her opinion mattered so much.
Part of it was guilt over that apocalyptic pick-up line when we first met.
Part of it was knowing my father had infected her view of me.
And a large part—one I tried to downplay—was the attraction.
She was staggeringly beautiful, any idiot could see that, but it was her competence, her self-respect, the way she spoke truth to power—attributes I’d never encountered all in one woman—that unhinged me.
I’d always been told what a catch I was.
Discovering how little I actually brought to the table for a woman like her was deeply uncomfortable.
Her words replayed in my head. She thinks I can’t do anything on my own. I stared at the table in my room and patted Cooper absently. “I’ll show her,” I muttered.
After zoning out with video games, I passed out into a dreamless sleep.
Saturday night, I went out with a Brazilian model. When I realized I’d left my wallet at home, she suggested opening up a tab.
I signalled to the server, who came over immediately. “I’m afraid I’ve left my wallet at home,” I said, dabbing with a napkin at the corner of my mouth. “If you’d be so kind as to open a tab for me, I’ll phone through with my card later tonight.”
“Of course, sir,” the server replied, not missing a beat. He took a pencil and a notebook out of his waistcoat. “I’ll just need your name...?”
“My name?” I said, blinking in astonishment that the man didn’t recognize me. “...is Caleb Evans.” I waited a three-count for the apology, then, to fill in the silence, I added, “Randall Evans’ son.”
Almost instantly, I shut my eyes and recoiled, wanting to take those words back. This was not how I wanted to start my journey of independence.
The server instantly recognized the name and smiled. The manager, who was standing close by, hurried over to the table. “My apologies, sir. Your father is a valued customer, of course. If you want, we can add you as a signatory to his business account.”
I shook my head. The weight of my father’s name felt like an elephant on my chest. Thanking them for understanding, I took the manager up on his offer, making a mental note to come back later and sort this out.
By Sunday night, I was out with my usual ‘party’ friends crowd at a newly refurbished club on the same strip as Temptations—an evening I’d planned to write off on tax as market research. At the end of the night, the four-figure bill was placed on the table.
My friend, Scott, took the billfold and passed it to me. “Dude, you got this, right?”
“Why don’t you get it this time?” I said, prickling at the entitlement of my friend.
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “The only reason I come out with you is that I am your wingman, and you’re my sponsor.”
“Well, that’s charming,” I said, not expecting to hear it put so plainly. “It’s lucky the rest of the guys don’t feel the same way.” I looked around at the four guys that I’d always partied with. “It’s high time one of you picked up the slack, don’t you think?”
The other three now avoided eye contact.
My emotions vacillated between disbelief, hurt, and rage.
I thought they were my friends, but they were using me for my money…
for my reputation. My toes curled up, and I dry-washed my hands.
These guys weren’t worth the effort. I took out a wad of notes from my pocket and threw them on the table.
This was the last time I would see them—the last time I would ever hang out with them.
No wonder Greg never wanted to hang out with them.
I miss him. My best friend from high school had known everything about me from the time we’d wrestled for the last chocolate milk in the school cafeteria.
He had been with me through thick and thin, always having my back and being my sidekick among the ladies.
We’d gone hand-in-hand, like two peas in a pod.
It had been a while since we’d last spoken.
Greg had married and settled into a much quieter life, while I still enjoyed partying.
We stayed in touch, but not as often as I would have liked.
Somewhere along the way, the distance between our lives quietly grew.
This incident had taught me another lesson.
.. a lesson about friendship. Walking out onto the street, I got my cell phone out and dialled Greg’s number.
My real friend. The one who’d known me before money defined me.
It occurred to me that Nyah possibly had a point about my achievements. Yes, I owned a successful club, but it hadn’t cost me anything except the business registration fees. Admitting that to myself felt like swallowing glass.
Technically, it was my father who owned the building and who had outfitted it, from the kitchen to the bathrooms, to over a million dollars’ worth of high-end liquor stacked behind the three bars.
I had always skirted around that truth, dressed it up when people asked questions, but stripped bare, it looked exactly like what it was.