And sure, my father had lots of money and the power that came with it, but he was far from the only one here who did. This place was oozing with money. They kept the membership rates high enough to ensure it. The bottom tier membership cost more than most of the employees made in a year. It was not for the middle class. This was the top one percent and done.
Except me, that is. But there was always an exception. “I’m glad to be your son, Mom,” I whispered, low enough for only me to hear.
I wasn’t under the delusion that my mom could hear my words. It had become my habit, though. There was a comfort in sharing my life with her.
A person I didn’t recognize was whispering to my father. Next thing I knew, Father was commanding one of my brothers to come get me. The two of them had a staredown, and a few seconds later, Roy got up and walked over. I wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost the staredown based on his facial expression.
“My father wishes to see you.” Notourfather or even Father, buthisfather. Did he think that I no longer considered him my sperm donor? Because if it were possible to accomplish that, I’d have done so a long-ass time ago.
“He can have his assistant call and arrange it.”
I parroted back the directions my father had given me multiple times over the years. I wasn’t allowed to just call my dad. No. That was for the peasants and his “good” children. I had to call and make an appointment. It felt amazing giving it back to him, even though I knew full well I’d have my bum over at that table within the minute. My father would see to that.
And sure enough, he did. I should probably stop poking at the wolf, but that wasn’t going to happen. If I didn’t fight back, at least in these little ways, I was going to sit with my feelings. I was so not ready for that.
“You needed to speak with me, Father?” My heart pounded in my chest, and I hated that he could hear it and how he impacted me.
“Why are you here? You know you aren’t welcome. You’re a blight on this family’s legacy.”
I closed my eyes, pushing down my wolf who was ready for a fight. Losing control of my beast here would accomplish two things; give them a reason to revoke my membership, one that I couldn’t fight, and I’d get my ass mauled by my father. His animal was fierce.
“I’m here because this place is a part of my legacy.” And now that I knew it pissed my father off this much, I might make it a daily stop. “If you have a problem with that, I heard the bears have a club you could join.”
Unlike wolves, bears weren’t all into the hierarchy bullshit that wealth brought. Their club was a fishing one, and they were world famous on the fishing circuit. Who knew that was a thing?
“You do not have a legacy. I stripped you of that. Do not pretend otherwise.”
Gods, I hated the man.
“The new painting in the main lobby suggests otherwise. Have you seen it? I donated it from my collection.”
It was my mother’s final piece. If you didn’t know her life story, it looked like a bunch of wolves chilling in the woods with a mansion in the background. But if you were familiar with her life, it was the equivalent of a tell-all book of our life, the symbolism so blatant, I was surprised no one had noticed. Or maybe they did and pretended not to.
“A painting does not a legacy make.” He stood up. “We must get to the dining room for our reservations. I’m sorry you won’t be able to stick around long enough to join us.” Because aget the fuck outwas too bold for this setting.
I watched as they walked in, turning the opposite direction of the main dining room as they got inside. I hurried to follow them, loving the sound of the grumble building in my father’s chest as he took in the painting for the first time.
Note to self: Find more paintings to donate to the country club.
Chapter 5
A Broken Promise
Heston
“I’ll be home soon.”
Working all night cleaning offices and going straight to an early shift at the coffee shop, I was eager for a shower and bed, but I had an important errand that I couldn’t postpone.
I ended the phone call, and guilt niggled at me like a bellyache. It wasn’t a lie. I would be home soon, but I was worried about Dad after last night when he couldn’t catch his breath.
But it was for Dad that I was taking a detour on the way, one that led me to Father’s place. It’d been a while since I’d been there.
After Father’s burial, Sebastian had invited everyone to the house for drinks to celebrate his life. Not us, though, but I dragged Dad along, saying we were entitled to be there. We were family, his first discarded family, but I was damned if Sebastian was going to pretend we didn’t exist as he had at the gravesite.
Besides, I maintained Father would never have been a success if Dad hadn’t worked when they were married, allowing Father to work day and night as a realtor.
The huge irony was that after the divorce, when Father sold our family home, he rented us an apartment, saying he wasn’t sure what the future held regarding finances. He promised Dad he’d buy us a place if he could afford it.
