Page 51 of The Fake Family Deal

As everyone chats merrily, I push my food around my plate with my fork, poking at it in the hope that it will improve my appetite. It doesn’t.

Joseph, one of my long-term business partners and probably the closest thing I have to a real friend, is sitting next to me. He leans in and says, “Hey, Ellis, what’s on your mind?”

I shrug. “Just formulating some plans.”

He narrows his eyes at me, disbelieving. “It’s not like you not to eat.”

“I had a big lunch,” I lie.

He backs off at that, sensing that I’m not going to give him any more. But I can tell he doesn’t believe me. It’s a miracle thatanyof these people believe me. It’s all lies. It’s not real.

“Ellis!” calls Anna from the opposite end of the table. She’s an accountant, very good at her job. I’ve known her for years. “Listen to this.” She clears her throat and runs a hand through her short hair. If she’s about to pitch something stupid to me, I’m not going to be responsible for how grumpy I am afterwards.

Everyone always thinks they have the next big thing. They always think I want it.

I don’t even bother trying to pretend to smile as she launches into it. “We’ve figured it out. The next app. You’ve got BeautifulFitness and Beautiful Baby, yeah? Next you need Beautiful Senior.”

A ripple of laughter goes around the table, but Anna shakes her head as if she’s being deadly serious. She knocks back yet another flute of my very expensive champagne and slams the glass down with the four or five others in front of her, all of which have been emptied by her in the last hour.

She clears her throat again. “No, no — listen. You’ve done babies. You’ve done younger people. The seniors are the only category you haven’t cashed in on yet.”

“Okay,” I say absently, deciding it’s best to humor her rather than start a fight. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey, cheer up,” she shouts. “If you weren’t already a billionaire, this app would have made you famous all over again.”

“Whatever he does next, it’s sure to be a hit,” says Joseph, nudging me gently. “You’re unstoppable, man.”

I muster the best smile I can give, which isn’t great.

I don’t want to doanythingnext. For a long second, I close my eyes and imagine running away to a mountain, maybe somewhere in Scandinavia, and starting all over again. In a small town, maybe, where I could take my fortune and buy a chateau, and live there, happily and quietly, minding my own business for the rest of my life.

It’s not something I would ever actually want. But it feels more honest than any of this.

“To success!” calls Anna, reaching out for another drink. I feel like someone should probably stop her, but I haven’t gotthe energy to even suggest it. I haven’t got the energy to doanything.

“Ellis,” someone else shouts. I look over in the direction of the voice, and whatever it says to me washes over my head.

There’s more laughter. There’s more drinking. There’s festivity and celebration — and I’m looking at it all as if through a stranger’s eyes.

Once, this was my dream: an expensive party with guests who all pretend to love me. Once, my ego would have been so swollen from this that I would have been unbearable for the next three weeks.

I can’t even think ahead that far right now.

Every day is the same. Work. Emails. Meetings. Faking that I care about anything.

I’ve lost a part of myself, one I’ve always thought was crucial to who I am. The one thing I’ve dedicated my life to has suddenly stopped meaning a thing to me, and it’s left me a shell. I sit here, looking at all these people, dressed in clothes that cost more than an average person’s rent, eating a meal most people couldn’t even begin to think about affording.

Shouldn’t we be more ashamed of ourselves?

I stare blankly at my plate until it gets taken away, still full of half-eaten food. What a waste. This is all such a waste.

The party keeps going long after the meal is over. After all, there’s drinks to be had and bragging to be done.

Fortunately, my reputation goes a long way, and I can get away with sulking in the corner, barely saying a word to anyone.Seeing this, people won’t think anything is wrong. This is just how I am — grumpy and antisocial.

I need a change. But I don’t know how to make that happen.

Eventually, the woman sitting next to Anna decides she’s had enough to drink, and they both get up. “We’re going to call a cab,” she smiles. “Thanks for doing this, Ellis. It’s been a great night.”

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