After dropping Marcus off, I reluctantly drive to one of my family's penthouses, in the Upper East Side. A steady flow of raindrops fall from the sky, blanketing the busy streets in darkness. I look up to the building. Every week was the same. I dreaded going, waited in my car for 10 minutes, ignoring the honks and beeps behind me before understanding that there was no way to escape these dinners.
This week was no different. I cleared the girl that had been constantly in my thoughts this past week from my mind and stepped out of my car. Before my foot could even hit the pavement, Daniel, the squeaky and nervous doorman rushed to take the car keys from my hand.
"Welcome home, Mister Verner." He said, passing the keys to another man dressed in uniform. Daniel was around fifty and had been working here for as long as I could remember. Despite this, he still didn't call me Thomas or act with any less nervousness around me. "It's been too long, sir."
Not long enough is what I wanted to say but instead I settled on, "Yes, it has. Is my whole family here?" By that I meant my parents and my brother, not my sister.
Daniel hesitated. "Your mother and John are here." He gave me a look. Of course my brother wasn't here.
Just as I was about to open the door to the lobby, I heard a familiar voice say, "Thomas!" My brother stumbled over to where I was standing. As soon as he came over, I could smell the stench of alcohol seeping out of him. He was drunk. As per usual for my brother, Henry.
"Thomaaaaasss." He hiccupped then slapped me on the back. I grimaced from the impact. "Here for Mummy and Step-Daddy?" He sneered.
"You are too." I pointed out, preparing myself with having to drag him in with my own bare hands. Again.
"Tooouche." He slurred, laughing.
"It's touché." I grumbled, putting his arm over my shoulder. As we made our way to the door, I assessed the situation.
My brother was drunk a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot. He was three years older than me but acted nothing like it. I was the mature one, the serious one. He was the laid-back one. It was ridiculous. It had always been that way though. My brother never took anything seriously, even when we were kids. I was known for hating everyone and he was known for loving everyone and everything. Unfortunately, this loving extended to alcohol and drugs. After all, he had the money for it. Out of everyone on Earth, I am probably the least push-over out there but when it came to my brother, it was completely different.
And when it came to one girl. It was true. Valerie had constantly been on my mind since we first met. It was terrifying. And nothing scared me. I had never much paid attention to women. Every now and again, they would get a small glance from me, we'd fuck, and I'd part ways, making it clear of my intentions. I hadn't given Valerie a glance, I'd given her a double-take. Maybe even triple. This was bad. Very bad.
Especially considering that she hates me. The one girl I have genuine interest in hates me. The worst part was, I kind of liked it. It was refreshing to have the roles reversed.
Drawing myself back to the present, I took a long look at my brother. I smelled the alcohol on his breath, but I realised that after about half an hour, he would be decent enough to be seen. After doing this so many times, it became second nature to me.
As we walked into the lobby, I swerved to the left, taking him with me, to the bathrooms. I motioned for one of the security guys to stand by and he did.
"Hey, hey, hey where are we going?!" Henry demanded.
"We're just going to sit down for a bit." I pushed him onto one of the chairs in the overly decorated bathroom.
"I don't want to sit down." He said, trying to get up.
"Yes you do." I replied, pushing him back down. Even though he was older, my brother was three inches shorter than my 6'3 and was not nearly as strong so he did not complain when I forcefully shoved him back down.
"When do you not tell me what to do?" Henry mumbled.
"When you aren't shitfaced." I replied, coolly. Which wasn't very often. My brother got drunk a lot but usually he composed himself before these dinners. I didn't even think our mom and step-dad knew. I liked it that way. I know he shouldn't, but Henry disgusted me.
"I'm tipsy, not shitfaced." He defended, staring off into space.
"Sure." I said flatly.
My brother moved to hug my legs but I quickly moved out of the way.
"Oh yeah. Forgot. Mr 'I don't like physical contact'." This was true. "Is there anything you do like?"
I like glossy brown hair and deep brown eyes. Jesus, where did that come from?
I made no answer.
"I know your secret." Henry whispered.
I raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?" I asked, coolly.
"You like reading." He laughed like it was some big joke. It was true. I liked reading thrillers and murder mysteries. Hated romance novels with a passion. Most people get extremely shocked when they find out my major is English Literature. I can't explain it. It's just one of the few things that makes me happy. Escapism or some bullshit like that.
It doesn't stop Marcus from relentlessly making fun of me though. Pain in my ass.
I decided to ignore my brother and instead of sitting in the chair next to him, I stood up, knowing all too well that my brother was prone to running away in these situations. I was on high-alert. To be honest, that seemed to be my default these days and it was exhausting.
---
Half an hour later, we were walking out of the bathroom, my brother somewhat composed.
"Thanks for that, Tommy, it won't happen again." Yes it would, and he knew it. He ruffled my hair, despite me being taller. My brother was the only one that called me Tommy and it was among the many things I hated. He knew this too but continued anyway.
We got into the elevator and I clicked the button for the top floor. "We're late now." I pointed out.
"Fashionably late, Tommy." My brother replied, looking at himself in the reflection of the metal walls in the elevator. He adjusted his hair slightly and checked for food in his teeth.
"You might want to check the smell of your breath." I muttered. He just smiled at his reflection and smacked me on the back.
A small ding sounded in the elevator, signalling that we had arrived at the Penthouse. I strode out first and was greeted with, "You're late." My Step-father, John Pierce.
I said nothing, I just walked over to the made table and sat down. My mother was already sitting there, smiling at her two children.
"Hello boys." She smiled, warmly.
"Hello Julie." I replied. Her smile faltered but she said nothing. As to be expected. My whole family seemed to hate confrontation and acknowledging unpleasant truths. It frustrated me endlessly. I couldn't help thinking about Valerie and what she had said. I'm not afraid of confrontation. I liked that.
"Hi Mom." My mother's favourite, Henry said. She beamed at him. No surprises there. Even John smiled at him, both of them adoring him. I couldn't summon the feeling of giving a fuck. I turned up to these weekly family meals, then tried to put my family out of my mind for as long as I could. It was a struggle but I made do, distracting myself with hockey, school and reading.
A stream of waiters filed into the room, carrying an arrange of dishes on their arms. One waitress came and put a plate in front of me and gave me the look. I just ignored her. It was rude, but I just wasn't in the mood.
An uncomfortable silence descended onto the room, chewing and the clink of cutlery against China being the only noises.
"So," My mother started. "How's school, Thomas?"
"Fine." I grumbled.
"Hockey?" She attempted.
"Fine." I repeated.
"Remember Mom, Tommy hates everything." Henry piped up to say. My mother gave him a look but said nothing, as per usual. He could do no wrong in her eyes. If only she knew.
"Any girlfriends?" This time it was John who spoke.
"Nope." I said, keeping my answers short.
"Good. You shouldn't get tied down to a girl."
As if that could ever happen.
"John." My mother said.
"Why don't we stop the small talk and get right to it. What do you guys really want to say?" Henry said. It shocked me, to say the least.
"Henry." Julie said, in a warning tone. This peaked my interest.
"What's going on?" I asked, sitting up a bit straighter in my leather chair.
John sighed and put down his cutlery. I did the same. I repeated my question.
"As you are aware, Thomas, your twentieth birthday is in two weeks." John explained. I nodded. This was no new information.
"As per your late father's request," I drew in a breath at the mention of my father. "He wanted his will to be read when you came of 20 years of age." He finished.
Instead of feeling excited at the possible influx of money, I was... hesitant.
"In this will, it details where all of his assets will go and," He paused, "who inherits the family's business." Verner Hotels. My father's pride and joy.
Henry perked up at this.
"We were thinking," My mother said instead, "that we hold a party for your twentieth as well as a will-reading." She smiled at me. I did not return it.
My original plan was to go out with Marcus. I didn't know quite how to react to this.
"All family will be invited as well as friends to celebrate you and your father." She sounded like she was very proud of this idea.
"Can Marcus come?" Was all I asked.
Julie opened her mouth to say something but was cut off with "No. He can't." From John. "Family friends only."
"Do you count?" I countered. "I don't remember inviting you into my family."
"Thomas!" My mother hushed. I couldn't be bothered to give a fuck. It was my own birthday and yet I couldn't even invite my own fucking best friend.
"Tommy." Henry warned.
"Don't call me that." I replied, calmly. It was very rare that I lost my shit but this dinner was really testing me.
"What about Rose?" I asked but was met with silence. "You know, my sister?" More silence. "Or have you already forgotten about her."
Julie sighed, putting her head into her hand. "Of course I haven't."
"Then can she come?" I repeated.
"You know that none of us know where she is." John said. I narrowed my eyes. I did not trust this slimy fucker for a second.
"So do you agree to the party or not?" John asked impatiently.
"I'll do your party."
"It's your party, Thomas." My mother said in a small voice.
"Is it?" I replied, sceptical.
I couldn't deal with a second longer of this stupid dinner so I pushed my chair back and started to walk away, not bothering to push my chair back in or say goodbye.
"Thomas!" My mother called.
"Same time next week?" I replied. Without waiting for a response, I strode into the elevator and made my way downstairs. Fuck this.
---
There's a bit of insight into Thomas' family. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter :)
Word count: 1947