Resident Rival

Young Master --- Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Neri Crusoe's POV (Please read "Author's Note" at the end of the chapter for more info)

I drove in silence before I realized that it was too quiet for my liking. I switched my car stereo on to have music play, with no particular reference in mind. "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" started playing. I normally would have moved my head to the rhythm but this is not one of my normal days. To be honest I feel quite shitty at the moment, I don't really feel like giving a damn about anything else. I'm drained: physically, mentally, emotionally. All my cares are down the drain and, gosh. Really. All the fucks I have to give are all dead.

The music was interrupted when my phone rang (because I was playing music through it). I glanced at it and saw that it was Tracy. I rejected the call and sighed. "Not today. baby" 

She called for around 2 more times, all rejected. Well, I can't talk and drive! Okay, pathetic excuse. Of course I could, and I normally would but I just don't trust myself to be able to talk to her now, not while things aren't okay just yet. 

"Asshole boyfriend" I can almost hear Peachy hissing. I so know that this is what she's going to yell at me the moment she learns about what I'm doing. But girls should sometimes understand that we guys don't usually want someone to talk to when we have problems. Not while it's brewing anyway. Or maybe it's just me. Or whatever. Screw overthinking. 

Only Paige knows that I'm dealing with some heavy shit right now. Darn that woman, she can make a biography of my life if she wants to and I might not even find a single mistake. I can't even lie to her that's why I had to make a run for it, which she was too quick to catch up on and I ALMOST spilled the beans like a teenage drama queen, or king, for that matter. 

2 hours of driving absentmindedly, only drifting back to life from occasional honking and a lot of swearing at drivers who drive like they can pay the damages of my car (HUH.), and I finally made it to my destination.

I took in the view of this all too familiar place. The expansive and perfectly manicured lawn with a huge structure towering ahead that looks like a mini Buckingham Palace. It made one helluva playground though, if I remember it correclty. 

"Welcome home, Young Master." I muttered to myself.

And as if on cue, the gates opened. Perhaps one of the guards took notice of me in the driveway. Impressive. He was clearly awake. I half-smiled. I remember the number of times we had to fire people just because they were sleeping. Either this guy is new, or we have finally found the right person to do the job. 

While entering the mechanically controlled gates, I slowed a bit in front of the camera, which is no doubt connected to the control room, and gave a salute and a wink. Mr. Efficient had to know he hasn't gone unnoticed.

In the darkness, I made out the cars parked in the garage. Ah, so dad's home, too. It's been too long since I last had some family time with the old man, and to say that I missed him may be an understatement. It's hard, you see, to bump into your dad in the workplace yet must have this super self-control to not mix personal lives with work. Dad's often busy everytime he drops by at the hospital. Always surrounded with old men who may or may not be the board of directors or whatever. I'm not saying he's a cold-hearted man at work, no. He tries to peek at my progress at the ER, talks to Schmidt (err.. okay. Dr. Schmidt), and gives a short "How are you, son?" talks. But nothing more than that. I know that as much as possible he does not want people to think that I was placed there just because I am his son. I do, too. I also want to build a good reputation for myself and, I very much understand where he's coming from. But, man, that doesn't erase the hollow feeling I get because I really really do miss my dad. He sends me emails and stuff, text messages or what not but I'd really rather have to talk to him face to face.