Page 3 of That First Night
“She does, girl. Like how the fuck is that even possible?” She throws her hand in the air. “Someone said the word seven and my mind went right tothatscene.” She laughs and throws her hands around in the air to prove a point. “You know, the scene! And no one understood what I meant. I felt so out of place.”
“Trust me, I know, Ave.” I laugh at her. “TrueFriendsfans know what you mean when you throw your head back, close your eyes, lift seven fingers and repeatseven, seven, seven, over and over again.”
Avery throws her head back and laughs. “You get me, babe. You get me.”
“The Uber should be here any minute,” Kali interrupts, typing away on her phone.
Looking in the hallway mirror, I apply the bold red lipstick Avery gave me that is so not me, but I trust my two friends.
Taking a step back, I look at the full-length mirror giving myself a once over. I run my hands down the dress to smooth it out to perfection before I fluff out the loose curls cascading down my back.
I can’t believe I am doing this tonight.
“Alright, let’s get this night over with.”
“I can’t get enough of this shit,” I say to my brothers and best friend. “Free whiskey, gorgeous women, and appetizers being passed around all night? Sign me up!”
I’m sitting at the bar of the Edison Ballroom in New York City with my brothers for a charity gala that supports children with pediatric cancers. Being born into money has given us the luxury of being able to give back to so many charities like this one. Our father founded Ford Investments, and as I am the oldest child, I took it over at the age of 22, when he passed away suddenly, four years ago.
Dad was in great health when he developed pneumonia that took a turn for the worse. He was always a stubborn mule who hated doctors and believed he was fine even when he was the sickest in his last days, but his respiratory system failed, and we ultimately lost him.
My father always donated to these events, and I always said I would continue to donate on his behalf when I took over.
Everything I do in this business, I think, ‘What would Tom do?’ I looked up to Dad so much and the loss hit me hard. Every day, I strive to make him proud of the man I am today.
Proud of the multi-billion-dollar business owner I am at the age of 26.
Proud of the older brother I am to Marc and Oliver and my little sister, Emiline.
Proud of the son I am to Ann Marie and being there for her. My mom is just as stubborn as he was, though. She coped with his loss by traveling the globe with her friends to keep her mind off losing the love of her life. I used to try to call and check in on her often, but finally I just let her be the one to check in because she lives a busy life. I hear from her every couple of months which works for our busy schedules.
“Dude, the women at these events are always unreal,” my best friend, Logan, says next to me, taking a sip of whiskey.
Logan comes to these events with me strictly for the whiskey and women. Typical fucking playboy if I have ever seen one. Come to think of it, I have never seen him in a relationship in all the years I have known him. We are basically the same person, which is probably why we are such good friends. He’s a police officer in the city and always makes sure to book time off for these events so he’s not stuck working them. From the stories he tells us though, I think he picks up more chicks when he’s working. Women seem to love a man in uniform, but I don’t get it.
“These fucking dresses,” my brother, Oliver, pants like a dog in heat as a blonde passes by him in a bright red dress that looks like it was painted on her. “Be right back, ” he says, getting up as quickly as possible to go after her.
“Fucking Oliver,” I scoff and shake my head at his antics before turning my gaze to Logan, “Bro, how did last night go with that blonde?”
“Dude, you have no idea. She rode me like I was a fucking porn star. I was all about her spending the night for round two, but she had to get home to her kids.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “Moms are fucking hot, dude.”
“She was a mom?” my brother, Marc says, almost spitting out his drink that he was sipping.
“You would never know with that tight ass body,” I comment.
“Don’t talk about my MILF like that,” Logan spits back.
“Woah,yourMILF?” Marc laughs. “Have you heard from her today?”
“Well, no. We didn’t exchange numbers.” He shrugs.
“Fucking dumbass,” I mutter, as I throw my head back and laugh.
My brothers and I are some of the most eligible bachelors in New York City. I love women and I love fucking them. But I am not a relationship man and have no interest in being tied down to one woman for the rest of my life. I don’t see kids in my future, and I don’t see a house in the suburbs with a stupid white fucking picket fence.
Listen, I know that I’m far from Prince Charming. We fuck and then I never see them again. It just works for me. My younger brother Marc; he’s looking for all of that. He wants a wife and kids. I’ve seen him in plenty of relationships and he’s the Prince Charming type. But he gets attached too easily and I think the girls run when they realize that. Can you imagine being tied to the same woman all your life? Sex with the same woman all your life? No thanks. I like a little variety.
My youngest brother, Oliver, won’t ever get married or even date for that matter. He’s the free bird of the family and a total wanderlust. He wants to have sex around the globe, backpack through Europe and doesn’t seem to stay in one place for more than a month.
