Otherworld: A Son of Two Realms

Chapter 2: "The 403-B Club"

"Finally!" Preston said, looking up from his textbook. Jack shrugged off his uniform blazer and collapsed into a chair at the heavy wooden table situated in front of the study hall's bay window, joining the other four already studying. "You couldn't have escaped Robinson sooner?"

"He wouldn't let me leave until he finished his rant about pride or something," Jack said, spreading books and papers around his seat. "Honestly, I don't even know why he tries."

"He's a product of public school," Preston said sourly. Preston Carlisle was in line to be one of the sons in Carlisle & Sons, a major Manhattan hedge fund. He was also the president of the school's prestigious Business Club. Jack had joined a few month ago, after passing a credit check, of course. "They just don't understand how the real world works."

"He tried to talk me into Dartmouth," Micah, the club's secretary, said. "He didn't understand the importance of beachfront availability."

"How did you get out so fast?" Preston asked.

"He thinks I should go into the family business," Jack said. "I told him no."

"Not like there's anything wrong with that," Thomas added. His father owned an oil and gas business that had just opened a fifth drilling platform in the Gulf of Mexico. "It's all about who you know."

Preston eyed Jack in between graphing equations. "What does your dad do again?"

After a semester of that question, Jack had long since perfected the art of the vague answer. "He works in publishing overseas. He used to edit young adult books in England but I think he's moved on to the business side. We don't talk much."

Preston seemed content with the answer and turned back to his work. Jack tried to swallow his annoyance as he took out his notebook. The truth was Jack could barely stand his friends in the Club. They all thought of themselves like royalty, predestined to take over their family empires. For once, Jack was grateful that he and his father didn't get along. If Marcus had paid a little more attention, Jack could have grown up just like Preston.

But as much as he resented them, Jack needed these friends for just a little longer. Since its inception, the Club had always been a sure ticket into the nation's most elite schools. Ever since transferring to Texas to get as far away from Marcus as possible, Jack had set his sights on a career in business, the furthest passion from writing he could find. So, at least until admission letters were mailed, the member of the Business Club were his friends.

"Don't feel bad," Thomas said. "Last time I saw my dad was the company Christmas party. Which reminds me, our vacation home will be free this Christmas if you guys want to come visit over the break."

"The New England home?" Preston asked.

"The Miami home."

"Seriously, Thomas? Miami for Christmas?" said Reina, the Business Club's historian and heiress to a real estate empire.

"It's better than the Marriott," Preston said, glaring at Reina.

"Burn!" Thomas jeered as Reina's face glowed red. After volunteering to organize the Club's Christmas party, Reina had disappointed Preston by booking the DFW Airport Marriott's Conference Room B.

"I can't tell my dad and half the Ivy League admission officers to Uber to the Marriott," Preston said, his words dripping with disdain.

"They could Uber to Reunion Tower," Jack said, not trying to hide a confident smirk.

Preston looked across the table, his interest piqued. "And what would they do at Reunion Tower?"

"They'd take the elevator up to the ballroom that I reserved last night."