Cal Newell had silently thanked the heavens that day when his daughter had told him about her new boyfriend, Brent Mistler. He immediately recognized the last name as being a powerhouse in the Boston real estate game. Having read about their large property portfolio in a Sunday write up in the Globe, he knew the Mistlers were eyeing the city of Cambridge for their expansion, where Cal had a huge empty lot ready for construction. He just needed the capital to get the project completed and make his money back threefold. No banks would touch him after the mishap with the first building, so he needed to find financing elsewhere. A deal with the Mistlers was just what he needed to solve his financial troubles.
When Lauren had come home from college one weekend to do her laundry and told her parents about Brent, Cal had already started composing his strategy. He knew his daughter was a beautiful girl. His colleagues would constantly try to set her up with their sons, but Lauren always refused, citing their lack of intelligence as a major turn off. "But you haven't even met the guy!" Cal would say to his daughter, incredulous at her stubbornness.
Despite not having a boyfriend, Lauren was never lonely. She always had a large group of friends, male and female, with whom she would go to concerts or play sports. There was always a party to attend, where she would brush off the advances of some men as she continued to play drinking games with her friends. She never brought anyone that she was dating home to meet her parents.
Cal was elated and surprised when his daughter finally had a boyfriend. Since their financial troubles had started, there had been a haze of sadness in their home. His wife, Kitty, had disconnected emotionally from her husband and children, which worried him to the point where he couldn't sleep and was always on edge. He knew that he had disappointed his father, but seeing how he let his family down had shattered him. He vowed to do everything in his power to fix things. He saw how his youngest child, Pete, had been having a hard time. It broke his heart to hear Pete's footsteps in the middle of the night, pacing the lower floors because he couldn't sleep either. Like father like son, Cal thought, wiping a tear from his eye. He wanted to reach out to his son and envelop him in a hug, telling him that it was all going to be alright, that he was going to start making money again, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Newell men had never shown such affection to each other, maintaining a shell of machismo and confidence. They would show their love in other ways, like always having private school tuition paid in full or bringing home the newest luxury cars. Instead of giving hugs, they'd give diamond earrings and designer handbags.
"Don't get so excited, Dad," his daughter would say while rolling her eyes at his enthusiasm about her new boyfriend. "We're only 18 years old. I'm not walking down the aisle tomorrow."
Cal would smile at her, giving her a nod of acceptance, but he knew the effect she had on the young men around her. She had a presence of beauty mixed with the perfect amount of aloofness, which made her a mystery. Men loved mysterious women who were slightly out of their reach. He knew that Lauren was his best asset in a business negotiation with the Mistlers and he was fully intending to use her to get them to agree to partner with him on the Binney Street project.
Brent had arrived late to The Capital Grille. His family was already waiting for him at the table, having been ready to order for 30 minutes. Dressed in a wrinkled dress shirt under a navy blazer and a stained pair of khakis, he jogged into the restaurant and was out of breath by the time he made it to the table.
"Sorry, the T was delayed," he lied, hoping to be forgiven for not being on time to his little brother, David's, 16th birthday dinner. The truth was that he had been so hungover from drinking too much at the Kappa party the night before that he fell asleep after lunch and forgot to set an alarm. When he woke up at 5:50pm, knowing that dinner was at 6:00pm, he rushed to get dressed and didn't even brush his hair before running to the train station.
"You smell," David complained, waving his hand in front of his nose with a look of disgust on his face.
Brent sneered at his little brother. He scanned the boy's outfit. His dress shirt was perfectly ironed and his silk pocket square matched his sweater vest under his window pane pattern blazer. If he could see his socks, he was sure that they also matched the pocket square. His little brother was always very put together, his appearance putting Brent to shame.
"Shut up, pansy," he snickered at David's insult. "At least I don't run like a girl," he added.
Brent's father, Roland, shook his head and closed his eyes. He didn't interject between his sons' banter. It was no use. The two boys never got along and were like night and day in everything from personal hygiene to academic performance and everything else in between. Roland could sense early on in David's childhood that he was not like the other little boys. Instead of sports, he liked to sit in his father's walk-in closet, touching all of the different fabrics. He'd spend hours in there, laying out different outfit configurations. Ronald, disappointed in his youngest son's hobby, would walk into his closet in the morning and shake his head when he found three outfits arranged for him on hangers. As he finished getting dressed and looked at his reflection in the mirror, though, he'd raise his eyebrows, realizing that David had laid out a really great outfit for him.
"Oh, that's a really nice way to treat me on my birthday!" David said in a dramatic tone. "First you're late and now you're gay bashing me!" he added.
Brent threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. He looked at his parents for help.
"Cut it out, you two!" his mother, Linda, commanded. "We are not having this conversation here." She whispered as she swept her hand around the room. The boys kept quiet after that, knowing not to disobey her. She had always been the more strict parent and wouldn't hesitate to spank the boys with a belt when they were younger, a punishment passed down from her Polish grandparents.
Roland watched the exchange, silently comparing his two sons. Brent was a big, girl crazy guy with no fashion sense and a low IQ. He had spent a fortune getting him accepted into BC. David was shorter than his older brother and a lot leaner, always impeccably dressed with perfectly styled hair and clean fingernails. He was not girl crazy.
Changing the subject at the table, Roland turned to his oldest son and asked, "So, Brent, tell us about college. Are you liking your classes?"
Brent, with a mouth full of bread, answered, "They're alright. Kinda boring."
He shoved another large piece of bread into his mouth. "Can I get a Coke?" he said, leaning back in his chair, to a passing waiter.
Roland continued his questioning. "How about the fraternity? Tell me about that."
Brent shrugged his shoulders, answering, "It's fun. Initiation wasn't half as bad as everyone said it would be. I actually enjoyed it."
David guffawed at his older brother. "Of course you would like those barbaric rituals! You're such a twisted masochist!" He refolded the cloth napkin on his lap.
The waiter came with the glass of Coke and set it on the table in front of Brent. He took two long sips and finished the entire drink, stifling a burp. He turned his attention back to his father and said, "I met a girl. She's in Alpha Epsilon."
Roland and Linda exchanged happy looks of approval.
"That's wonderful, honey!" His mother excitedly clapped her hands together.
David jeered at the gesture and looked down to inspect his manicured fingernails.
"That's great!" Roland agreed. "What is she like? Tell us about her!"
Brent sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "She's super skinny, but not like anorexic skinny. She's still got curves and stuff. She's really pretty."
He looked to his father then his mother. He didn't bother to look at his brother, not caring what he thought.
Roland furrowed his brow, a smile still on his lips. "Okay, she's very attractive. Good! Anything else you like about her?"
Brent leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling trying to come up with more of Lauren's good qualities. "She has really long hair and blue eyes. She's super hot," he added.
Linda, less amused at this point, began twisting her diamond bracelet around her wrist.
Roland, noticing his wife's frustration, began again. "Good, Brent, good. Does this super hot, curvy girl with the long hair and blue eyes have a name?"
Brent smiled and said, "Lauren Newell".
Roland looked at his wife, silently asking if she had ever heard of the Newell family. She slightly shook her head. He turned back to his son.
"Great, Brent. We're really happy that you're seeing someone. We can't wait to meet this girl."
Roland knew that out of his two sons, Brent was his only hope to continue the Mistler name and he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that the family legacy did not die with him.