Page 4 of Rhet

“There you have it. Congratulations son, propose to her tonight. We can have you married by next month.” My father places his cigar in the astray and walks over to the mini bar to pour himself a drink.

Mr. Remington raises his glass in my direction. “A toast to Rhet and Charlotte. May you have a wonderful future.”

My father raises his glass. “May she fuck like a whore and love you like a wife.”

“Cheers!” Everyone shouts except Barrett, Mr. Carson and me.

My father glances over to a stoic looking Carson. “Stop being a pussy old boy. You and I both know with our money combined we will attain more power. This marriage makes sense.”

“If Rhet doesn’t want her, I will have Dax marry her,” Mr. Prescott jokes. A few of the men in the room laugh.

“Think of the legacy we will create through our children. Oil and shipping industries together as one,” My father states as he and the rest of the men look in Carson’s direction.

“Give it up, old boy. We all know that once Henry sets his mind to something it’s done.” Mr. Remington places his drink on my father’s end table.

We all wait for Carson’s reaction.

He walks over to me and shake’s my hand. “Treat her well.” He then walks to the door and leaves.

The room erupts into cheers. Mr. Fairisles rises from the chair and pulls me in for a hug.

“Congratulations! You are one of the best prospects we have for the Quarter Masters this term.” He thumps my back and leaves.

One by one they all congratulate me and leave.

“See you at St. Mary’s on Sunday,” Barrett says as he leaves the room.

My father puts his jacket on and walks up to me. “You will be a Quarter Master as soon as you get married.”

“Thanks Dad.” Joining an organization like QM means more power and money. Things I would need for my future.

“Go get Charlotte and make our family even richer.” He laughs as he opens the door and we both leave the office.

ZEETA

“I can’t believe I allowed you to pull me into this,” I say as I stand in line with a large black tray in my hand.

“They are paying us $2,000 each for this event. Plus, you know we both need the money,” Penny, my best friend, replies.

She’s right. I do need the money. It will be enough to get my mom to the doctor for an Alzheimer’s test.

I tug at the black tie around my neck. The heat coming from the kitchen is making me sweat under this white button-down shirt. Thankfully, my black waistcoat will be covering my back. We sprint to the kitchen as we hear the kitchen manager begin to speak.

“Group A you are serving all canapés, Group B wine and soft drinks, Group C collect all empty dishes,” The kitchen manager shouts. His neck looks red from the shouting he’s been doing all afternoon.

“Let’s go,” Penny says, and we each pick up a tray of canapés.

We rush out of the kitchen and into the crowd of guests reaching for food.

An hour passes and Penny and I take a break outside behind the kitchen.

“When can we leave?” I ask as I sit on a wooden crate. I pull at my tie, wanting to take it off it’s so hot.

“In an hour. Can you believe a lady told me my locs were not hygienic?” Penny touches her locks wrapped up in a high bun.

“She most likely doesn’t wash past her knees. Don’t worry about her,” I reply as I rub my calves.

Penny and I laugh together.

---