Chapter 7 Emerson
Emerson
I should be treated like a god by these people.
Honestly? I am a god. Other people recognize it. Other people see my vast potential. Those people know that, one day, I’ll be more powerful than even my father. They treat me accordingly.
But not here: When I extend the hand of generosity and kindness to these people, I receive nothing in return.
Not even a scrap of gratitude. The bare minimum of acknowledgment.
The injustice of it all burns through me as I dig inside my duffel, and I keep going over all the things I could—and should—throw back in their faces.
All I did was speak the truth. I’m the only one brave enough to do that, to tell the truth and own it completely.
Still, maybe I took it slightly too far.
Not because what I said wasn’t the obvious reality, but because Javi and Marlene clearly aren’t willing to address said reality.
They want to cancel people rather than have reasonable dialogue.
It’s bullshit, but it’s bullshit I shouldn’t be wasting my time on.
I pace the room a little longer, working off the anger, reminding myself that this is their loss—not mine.
I pull on my cardigan and take a deep breath, ready to show them all how easy it is for me to put this behind me.
When I step into the hallway, I nearly run headfirst into another person. I stop myself short to see—
“Javi,” I say, jolting away from him. He smirks at my reaction.
“Don’t worry, dick,” he says. “I’m not here to beat your ass.”
I glance over his shoulder, looking for Golden Boy Grant, but Javi’s come up here alone. I wonder if he’ll be dumb enough to hit me. I almost wish he’d try. It’d be an easy win for my dad’s lawyer. But I’m also not in the mood for a dislocated jaw.
“Do you need something, Machado?” I ask. “Directions, maybe?”
He tilts his head. “You left something on the couch.”
He holds out his hand and drops something into mine. I close my fist around it before anyone can see what it is, in case someone followed Javi up the stairs. I try to read his expression to see if he realizes what he found.
“I’d be more careful if I were you,” he says, keeping his voice low. At the end of the hall, I hear Jay and Lucas in the office still ogling the props. Props they wouldn’t be seeing if I hadn’t booked this place.
I should’ve known better than to expect my efforts to be appreciated. Dad’s always telling me that people just don’t think the way we do. They haven’t been raised the way we have, to see the world as it is, to pull ourselves out of the mud.
“Some people like to wallow in it,” Dad likes to say. “They come up with excuses for why they aren’t where we are. They want to blame everyone but themselves. But not us, son. Not us.”
And yet, I’m still always surprised. Even, I admit it, a little hurt.
Ever since I joined this club over the summer, I’ve hoped that they would appreciate me, confide in me.
But instead, I’ve been met with nothing but coldness and, in Javi’s case, open hostility.
Like now. He has the audacity to smirk at me. To laugh at me.
“Maybe you should be more careful,” I warn him. “I’m not the one with the temper, am I, Machado?”
I don’t wait for him to answer. I just smile, knowing I’ve won, knowing he’ll follow me down the stairs.
Laughing at me has consequences, and it’s time everyone learns that lesson.