Page 4 of Catfish

He just hasn’t read the memo yet.

“You wield your power around like a naive fool,” I snarl, glaring at the top of Holden’s bald spot as he still cowers, his hands on his knees. “Power you could use to make a difference. But you’ve been in this game too long, old man. It’s time to step down.”

“You’re not any better than me,” he retorts through staggered gulps of air. “You feed off people to gain your goals. You hustle your victims. At least you do it yourself and without muscle.”

“I feed off dumb motherfuckers who need an out. You’re a dime a dozen and became a victim when you made yourself one.”

Holden sluggishly straightens, mirroring me through slitted eyes. “So, we’re not so different.”

I slowly shake my head. For such a high-profile figure, I’m determined Holden got his law degree out of a cereal box. That he’s becoming senile because I’m not my father.

I don’t forget.

I don’t compromise.

I don’t forgive.

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” I recite. “We’re not even in the same wheelhouse, let alone financial status.”

“You’re an asshole,” Holden sneers through his teeth. “I wish I would’ve never gotten involved with you. Your father said you were a good kid—kind and giving. I guess the last part was right.”

The corner of my lips heave into a smirk. “I might be an asshole, Holden, but I’m also your future president of the United States.”

? Strangers In The Night — Frank Sinatra ?

“I drank wayyyy too much,” Chase slurs, stumbling into our suite as soon as I open the door. “But that tequila, dude, holyyyy shit.”

“And it’s only nine at night.” I watch his legs try to support and balance his weight while I lock the door behind me. One small gust of air, and he’s going to be having a conversation with the floor.

“First night.” He fist pumps the air. “Our first night of fucking freedom from the swells of privileged dickheads and gold-digging skanks.”

I throw our key card on the nearby small table. “Calm down, killer. Those kinds of people pay for trips like this.”

Chase chuckles and slaps his hands together. “Too late.” I suddenly catch him under his arms as he trips over nothing, almost face-planting into the coffee table.

“C’mon, brother—” I wrap his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get you into your room.”

“The couch is fine.” He looks around the space for it when it’s right in front of him.

“You paid for a room and a bed, so that’s where you’re going to sleep. I don’t want to hear you bitching about your neck being fucked up when we’re finally on vacation.”

He tsks. “Vacation? You can only be gone for three days. I can’t even tire my dick out in three days.”

“Good for you.” I start to guide him down the narrow hallway towards our rooms while he continues to bitch about my life.

“You’re the fucking governor, bro, don’t you make the rules?”

“I have a schedule.” My best friend huffs, tripping once again on his own feet and almost taking me with him.

“Alright, alright, we’ll sleep in my bed tonight.”

“You’re going to be sleeping in your bed tonight. I’m not into you like that.”

“That’s what I said,” Chase rebukes at his doorframe, fumbling to find the light switch that isn’t there.

Readjusting him, I usher him through the doorway of the large bedroom and flick on the lights for him.

The shade of aqua blue blinds me for a moment, my own line of tequila shots impairing my vision before it slowly starts to focus again.

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