CHAPTER TWO
Corey
Ah, Mondays. The reality check I didn’t ask for.
My chair spun in circles by my office window as I tapped a pencil against the notebook in my lap.
Cars zoomed back and forth across The Sydney Harbour Bridge like tiny ants, unaware they could have their dreams crushed any moment.
Mine were crushed eleven years ago when I graduated high school and set foot into this hellhole.
I rolled my chair back to my desk where my laptop sat with a photo from sixteen years ago of me and my best friend, Paddy.
My traditional chocolate birthday cake in front of me, a strawberry cheesecake in front of him, thirteen candles in each as two friends made a birthday wish.
If only I could go back in time; I’ve finally got a wish worth making.
‘In here.’ Paddy, now my assistant, led a young guy in a fluorescent yellow vest to my office. ‘You’ve got a delivery, Corey.’
The young guy placed a fruit basket on my desk then held an iPad in front of me. ‘Corey Flemmington?’
‘That’s me.’ I frowned at the package.
‘Can I grab a signature?’ he asked.
I scribbled on the screen and he hurried out of the building for his next delivery.
A moment later a bald head with eyes as dark as a black hole appeared in my doorway, ready to suck the joy from my office. ‘Dammit, Corey. Elliot expected your call this morning. He needs the finalised policy before he signs on the dotted line.’
I twisted my arm to check my watch. Barely ten in the morning. Much too early for a sixty-year-old working from his yacht to be worried about a phone call to update his insurance policy.
‘It’s not even—’
‘Just do it.’ His eyes shot to the basket on my desk. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘A gift, I guess.’ I shrugged.
‘From a client?’ he asked.
‘No. No card,’ Paddy answered for me.
He winced under my glare as a low growl rumbled in my father’s throat.
‘Give the girls your personal address if you want love baskets.’ He stormed off.
I sighed. Of course that would be his first assumption. ‘He’s such a fucking delight.’
‘You’re lucky, you know?’ Paddy picked some lint from his navy pants.
‘It’s amazing how luck and misery can roll into such a tight ball, I can’t tell which thread belongs where.’ My head dropped to my desk.
Paddy’s hand gripped my shoulder in a reassuring squeeze before he took a seat in front of my desk. ‘Forget your father. Once you make the call to Elliot, he’ll find a new problem to focus on. Probably your hair – because what is going on there today?’
I lifted my head and patted the curly mess.
I’d spent most of the morning considering calling in sick, wishing I could replace the words ‘I’m sick’ with ‘I quit’ and finally look forward to waking each morning without dread clawing my stomach.
The family photograph next to my phone made me reconsider when I saw my three brothers’ happy faces, one with their arms wrapped around his wife’s and daughter’s shoulders.
I’d rushed out the door to avoid my father’s wrath if I was late, only to manage to disappoint him just now, instead. It’s inevitable, really.
‘Rushed morning,’ I said.
‘Drinks at mine tonight?’ Paddy pushed his glasses up his nose.
My shoulders softened at the simple mention of his place, where I could let my guard down with only him to see my flaws and weaknesses.
Not to mention, there’s no better way to remind myself of my inner spoiled brat than by spending time in his shoebox apartment.
Last weekend it went black during our movie due to an unpaid electricity bill.
Too many strokes of bad luck mixed with too much pride to accept my money meant this job was a life jacket for him.
Not that I’d ever let him think I’d hired him from some sort of saviour complex.
He accepted me before he understood anything about grownups and money, and sometimes I pretend we’re still just two kids without soul-destroying jobs when I’m at his.
‘Can’t, I’ve got class.’
I shuddered at the realisation I’d be facing Nora for the first time since our run-in at the hotdog stand three days ago.
No doubt she’d been brewing a plan to hand out cupcakes with poison baked into mine.
Her scowl’s been embedded in my mind since the day she found out I worked as a finance manager.
She’d huffed and told me I’d only landed the role while still studying because I was a man.
I’d laughed, not because she was wrong, but because of how close to the mark she was.
My amusement only infuriated her further, and I’d been overcome with the need to prove myself because she wasn’t wrong that I’d landed the role because I was a man, it’s just that I was a certain man – a certain son – and I’d been trained for years to sit in this office.
‘God, I never remember that,’ said Paddy.
‘Well, only three more weeks and it’ll be over.’ I rolled up the sleeves of my blue shirt.
At the insistence of my father, my next five years were filled with courses to ensure the future CEO of Zealy Insurance was well prepared with a long list of qualifications.
This Advanced Diploma of Financial Planning would sit snug under my Bachelor of Economics and Master in Business and Logistics, when really, I was desperate for an art degree and to illustrate picture books.
I wanted nothing more than to scrunch up his list and throw it into a fire.
What was the point in a head of knowledge if you didn’t have a heart of passion?
‘All right, well, I’d better let you make that call.’ Paddy walked his faded suit out the door and back to his desk.
I gazed at my phone with a tightening in my chest. I could either live like Paddy, never knowing if this would be the week I could no longer afford my apartment, or I could continue the soul-draining task that awarded me a luxurious penthouse with harbour views.
My fingers grasped the phone and I prepared to talk numbers with one of the most powerful CEOs in Australia.
If I was going to drain my soul, I might as well do it with a thick wallet.
Besides, if I didn’t, one of my brothers would be dragged in to bear the burden I’d worked so hard to save them from.
And that was something I damn well wouldn’t let happen.
Nora dragged her feet into the classroom half an hour late.
The teacher, Brad, questioned if everything was okay, but instead of her usual perky greeting, she released a noise somewhere between a snarl and a constipated groan.
Without her smiling high cheek bones – even if they were never directed at me – she didn’t look herself.
I shifted my gaze to the window while her slumped shoulders passed to avoid her locking eyes and breathing fire.
Based on her current mood, the one usually reserved for me would be even worse.
All because I’d dared to tell the teacher what I did for work, so he’d know I had a solid understanding about what we were doing on our first day.
She’d followed each question I’d answered with a humph, which only made me more determined to prove myself capable and better than her.
There was no way I’d let her resentment make me look weak.
‘All right, let’s go over these projected revenues one more time.’ Brad turned back to his computer at the front with a confused frown.
I twisted my head sideways for a subtle glimpse of her, but accidentally locked eyes with Latham, a know-it-all dickhead who kept trying to rub shoulders to get in my good graces.
‘We should go over the project some time.’ His eager smile showed so much hope.
‘Nah, man, I’ve got work to catch up on. Sorry.’
That kid was no more than twenty-one working a junior role in accounts. If it was that easy to get in with the rich, the entire city would be sipping cocktails on private jets. I pretended to stretch my neck, twisting behind to Nora’s murderous gaze.
‘What’s your problem?’ Her words were like venomous darts.
Shit.
‘Just stretching.’ I spun back to the front.
Last week, she’d stepped into class with toilet paper trailing from the bottom of her shoe.
I’d opened my mouth to tell her, but she’d immediately raised her palm and said, ‘I don’t have the energy to argue tonight.
’ Then, when someone else pointed it out, she’d turned to me with a bitter glare as though I’d stuck it there.
Couldn’t do a damn thing right in her eyes.
‘Can’t take anything seriously,’ she mumbled.
My head snapped back to her. ‘What did you say?’
She cleared her throat and shook her head. ‘Nothing, I’m trying to listen.’ She pointed to the screen at the front of the room.
‘No, I’m pretty sure you said something.’
‘Is there a problem back there?’ Brad stood and hooked his gaze on us.
‘Sorry, we were discussing the layout of your revenue sheet compared to the ones we use at work. Yours are much easier to analyse from a quick glance,’ I lied.
Brad puffed his chest as big as his smile.
Flattery. When doesn’t it work? He gave us a thankful nod before sitting back at his computer and continuing to teach what I already knew.
I couldn’t even count the number of reports I’d created, collated, and analysed over the years.
This class was nothing more than a formality for my future to ensure my brothers could continue living the life they deserved.
Not… this thing I called a life, stumbling through the clutches of my controlling father.
‘Suck up,’ she muttered.
I wouldn’t turn back this time; she wasn’t worth it with her annoyingly long hair and judgemental brown eyes. Then it hit me. The citrus smell that seemed to coat her body like a second skin.
Despite summoning every ounce of self-control, my body betrayed me and twisted around. ‘Do you have to wear that perfume?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She batted her eyelashes.
‘You know it gives me a headache.’
‘I can’t control your body. Besides, I couldn’t smell like a hotdog, someone keeps taking them.’