Page 33 of A Man of Prestige

“I’m better, thank you for caring.”

“I heard about your promotion. Congratulations.”

There are so many things I could say right now, but I refrain.

“Thank you,” I mutter. I want to ask him if he got a promotion in his world of organized crime.

“It’s an impressive position for someone of your age. You should be pleased,” he says. His words have me pausing and remembering what Ella said about all of us being “placed” in positions for the gains of the brotherhood. The vows I took come crashing back to me in a new light.

“What do you think this is about? We already got inducted into the TOD,” Conner whispers as we are led inside a building. I can only tell by the sounds of the door opening and closing and the outdoor breeze disappearing as stillness takes over.

“I don’t know,” I admit. They had come for us in the night. We had only been initiated the previous day, but some of us at the encouragement of our big brothers had spent the night at the fraternity’s main house. And at the stroke of midnight, a group of figures in black cloaks that hid their faces entered the room and extended us a verbal invitation, announcing that we were hand-selected to join a secret society within the TOD. But in order to proceed, we would all need to sign NDAs. I remember we looked around at each other. There were nine of us out of our pledge class of fifteen. Six of our fathers had been alumni of TOD. And the other three were from wealthy or prestigious families. Those of us who were legacies had briefly discussed our fathers, but mostly we were college students focused on having fun.

We were kept blindfolded until we arrived at our final destination. One by one our blindfolds were removed. We were in some sort of chapel. It was clearly old and also looked to be seldom used as cobwebs cluttered the high corners of the room, visible only through the moonlight from stained glass windows at the far end of the room and the candles in front of us. Around us stood about one hundred men. I assumed men, based on their size and stature, but it was hard to tell as they were all cloaked in black, only their hands visible in the dim light of the room. One of them stepped forward toward us.

“You have been hand-selected to join the brotherhood. By signing the NDA, you have chosen to stay. By taking the vow we are about to present to you, you are choosing a life of power, wealth, and prestige. These are the elements that divide the haves and the have nots in our society. They make us the kings of our kingdom.

“The brotherhood is comprised of individuals who were selected to join Theta Omega Delta, and then through their pledge process were deemed worthy to take one step farther into one of the oldest secret societies in Washington, D.C. Only a handful of TOD brothers at select schools may join this brotherhood. The brotherhood is governed by a council of twenty-five members, and a group of elder brothers called the elite. The elite may never reveal their status. In exchange for your vow this evening, you will have doors opened to you that would not otherwise occur. You will be considered the youngest and most successful in your chosen fields. You will never want for money. You will always have power and prestige.

If this interests you, then step forward. If it does not, then you may choose to leave now, but know that you have chosen the hard life, the difficult path, the road that does not lead to success.”

The room was quiet as one by one, we all stepped forward. We did it for different reasons, but all of us were young and ambitious. We wanted to rule this city just like we ruled our university. We wanted to be the kings and the kingmakers.

“Repeat after me, I, state your name, hereby vow to protect my brothers at all costs, to sacrifice my comfort and my discretion for what the elite choose as the path for me, and do what I am told when I am told to do it by the brotherhood. I vow to never reveal the inner workings of the brotherhood. I vow to deny my involvement in the brotherhood. I vow to reference only to TOD when discussing the brotherhood in public or in front of those not part of the brotherhood. I vow, from this day forward, that my life no longer belongs to me, but to the brotherhood. And if I break the vow, I understand that I am forfeiting my future, in mind, body, and soul.”

The room is silent as we finish repeating the vow. The figure takes down his cloak.

“My name is Charles Richards. I will be your pledge class liaison. Each initiated class of the brotherhood is guided during their first six months by a liaison. After which, you will receive anonymous messages only. If there is ever an issue, you may come to me for guidance. You are also going to be assigned a mentor. Your mentor will be your lifelong membership confidant. Your ‘big brother’ if you will. Some of you are legacies. Your mentor will never be your family member. We find that a better way to structure the organization. Family squabbles are not acceptable in the brotherhood. You keep all family drama inside your homes at all times. Squabbles aired publicly are subject to the vows you just spoke. Additionally, if you believe you have ethical or moral concerns with what is being asked of you, then you may speak with your mentor. If the elite believe a different solution is possible, the task at hand will be altered. If not, you may comply, or be terminated. You may never speak of this to anyone, not a wife, not a child, not a lover. No one outside of this room right now shall ever know what has transpired here tonight. If you are ever put under duress, you may use the code word ‘Babylon’ to denote that you are in need of help from the brotherhood. The brotherhood will always do everything in its power to protect you, so long as you do the same. Quid Pro Quo.”

Charles pulls out a book that looks old, like well over a hundred years old. He cracks it open and sets it on a table next to an actual quill and ink well.

“This is the last step. Step forward as I call your name. You will sign it in our book. Your signature here is the binding contract for the vows you just spoke and the rules as I just explained them to you. Once you have signed here,” he says as he taps the book, “all the privileges of brotherhood are yours.”

I look around at the other cloaked figures as each of my pledge brothers is called to sign. I wonder if my father is here. He’s a TOD brother. And he’s said things that make me wonder if there’s not more to the fraternity.

My name is called, and I step forward. I don’t pause as I sign my name. I want to have the prestige that my father has. I want to be even better than him. I want to be more successful, so I can rub it in his face. I’m tired of being second best to his always first ego. Let the games begin, Daddy Dearest, I think as I scroll my name on the ancient paper.

After I step back, Paul and Paxton Young are called up to sign. And then, Charles closes the book.

“Welcome to the brotherhood,” he says with a warm smile as he claps his hands.

Every man in the room pulls down the hood of their cloak. I see my father across the room. For the first time in my entire life, he looks proud of me. I want that so badly that I don’t consider why he’s proud. He walks over to me and embraces me.

“Welcome, son. I am proud of you,” he says for the first time in my life.

After some brief conversations and introductions, Charles, who asks us to please call him Chuck, comes over to announce that he is my mentor in addition to our pledge class liaison.

After some toasts, brothers begin to leave. I note the few members of TOD that are here and wonder how many pledge brothers get indoctrinated into this secret society of the brotherhood each year.

I also note that only the brothers from the most powerful and wealthy families are present. Some of their families are notorious, whereas others are descended from presidents and CEOs of major corporations.

Our TOD pledge dad, Spencer Barrington, who was in charge of us until we were initiated yesterday, steps forward. “Let’s head back, guys.”

We file out like the good new brothers that we are. We’re all too excited to sleep when we arrive back at the TOD house. All of us stay up until daylight creeps through the blinds. And as Conner, Sebastian, and I walk back to our dorm rooms, we stop by the amphitheater on campus.

“We need to make our own vow,” Sebastian states as he looks at us. We have formed a tight pack, the three of us. Spencer often refers to us as the three amigos. We can relate to each other. We all have horrible relationships with our living parents. We’ve all lost loved ones. We all like similar things from sports to drinks. We were all raised a certain way. In fact, our childhoods in many aspects are eerily similar.

“What’s that?” Conner asks.

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