Best Friend's Sister

by R. R. Banks

  “Leave the shades where they are,” my father grunts from his spot at the head of the table. “They’re fine. If he has a problem with the sunlight, he can go back to his room.”

  Elisa nods and gives me an apologetic shrug of her shoulders as I take a seat at the opposite end of the table as my father. She’s been my father’s house manager since I was a kid and is used to the back-and-forth that sometimes breaks out. She always does a good job of navigating the middle ground between us.

  House manager is just a fancy way of saying maid, but my father insists upon the honorific. It doesn’t really mean anything, or change what she does around the house, but he believes it makes her do her job better or something.

  I don’t know if it does or not. The one thing I do know is that Elisa has been loyal to this family for a very long time. And if there’s one thing my father values more than a strong work ethic and intelligence, it’s loyalty.

  She leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a plate piled high with food, setting it down in front of me. I inhale the aroma of her homemade blueberry pancakes for a moment before slathering them in butter and maple syrup. I grab a sausage from the side plate and take a big bite, relishing the food – as well as the grease – that’s helping sop up the booze still in my body.

  “Glad to see you could finally pry yourself out of bed,” he remarks from behind the newspaper he’s holding up.

  I glance at my watch. “It’s not even eight yet.”

  “And I’ve been up since –”

  “You’ve been up since four-thirty, I know.”

  I roll my eyes and grumble under my breath, silently kicking myself for walking into that trap. Again. I hear about the hours he keeps and how hard he works – in addition to how I’m wasting my life and that I’m just an unmotivated slob – at least a dozen times a week. And that’s a conservative estimate.

  “Are you planning on doing anything productive today?” he asks, the condescension dripping from his every word.

  “I have a nap scheduled for two-thirty,” I fire back. “Until then, I may watch The Price Is Right. Or a soap opera. Haven’t decided which one yet.”

  He noisily rustles his newspaper as he folds it, then slaps it down on the table next to him. My father sips his coffee, silently glaring at me over the rim. He sets his mug down on the table harder than necessary – obviously feeling the need to underline the point that he’s not happy with me.

  Like he needs to. That’s just a chronic condition with the man.

  “Is everything just a big joke to you?” he finally asks.

  “Not everything. I’m taking these pancakes right here pretty seriously,” I snap back. “I mean seriously, they’re amazing.”

  His expression darkens and his jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. As I look across the table at the man, I wonder – and not for the first time – how I’m a product of his sperm. The man has little to no sense of humor. No warmth. All he does is work and badger me about working. He doesn’t seem to enjoy his life like, at all.

  Personally, I can’t fathom building this vast empire and having more money than God himself and not enjoying it. When you reach a certain point where you’re financially set for the next ten lifetimes, wouldn’t you want to hand the reins over to somebody you trust to keep the operation going, then get the fuck out of there to go enjoy your life? I know I would.

  “I want you to start working down at the office,” he commands. “I want you to learn the business. Eventually –”

  “Dad, don’t start,” I cut him off. “We’ve been over this a million times already.”

  “And we’re about to have it one million and one times.”

  I sigh and stuff a forkful of pancake in my mouth to keep myself from cracking back at him. Tough experience over the years has taught me that when his face gets that red and his nostrils start flaring, it’s best to eject from the conversation. Popping off to him when he gets like that can have some bad consequences.

  “Look, Dad, I mean no disrespect –”

  “Oh? Turning over a new leaf?”

  I bite back the scathing reply that’s on the tip of my tongue and focus on what I want to say. “I have all the respect in the world for you and for what you do,” I start. “But, that’s not where my passion is. That’s not what I want to do or how I want to spend my life.”

  I can’t help but see the disappointment in his eyes. Despite the fact that we butt heads more often than we don’t these days, he’s still my dad. And like any kid, I want my dad to be proud of me. Not that I’ll ever tell him that. He already has enough ammunition to badger and cajole me with. But yeah, I can’t lie – knowing I’m a disappointment in his eyes hurts.

  All things considered though, I’d rather be a disappointment than a liar, or somebody who spent his life miserable, stuck doing something I despise.

  “So where is your passion, Knox?” he presses, his voice dripping with disdain. “How do you want to spend your life?”

  I’m smart enough to know that telling him traveling the world, banging hot foreign women in exotic locations is at the top of my agenda, will probably go over as well as the proverbial hooker in church, so I don’t give that voice. I also know that telling him I want a career that’s fun and something I enjoy doing will have about the same effect.

  Which leaves me at kind of a loss. I don’t know what to tell him. I do know that I don’t want to tell him what he wants to hear, since that will only encourage him to keep pressuring me into taking over the company.

  I spent a summer once interning at my father’s company – Titan Development. Titan is one of the most prestigious commercial real estate development firms in the country. They’re sought after and in demand – and have a growing presence overseas as well. My father started it and by the sweat of his brow, built it into this empire. Not to mention that he’s amassed a fortune doing it – he’s regularly on those ‘richest people in the world’ lists.

  I do respect and admire him for everything he’s accomplished. I really do. I just don’t want that life for myself. And I wish he could respect that.

  “That’s what I figured,” he growls. “You have no idea. No plan for your life.”

  I take a sip of my coffee and studiously avoid his eyes. He’s not wrong – I don’t really have a plan right now. I guess that’s a byproduct of growing up rich – you’re never forced to come up with a plan. You can just float along, having fun, and enjoying life.

  At least, you can if you don’t have a taskmaster, drill sergeant of a father like mine.

  “I’ll figure it out, Dad,” I tell him. “For fuck’s sake, I just graduated –”

  “Watch your mouth in this house,” he snaps. “And you should have figured it out before you graduated, Knox. That’s what college is for – figuring out how you’re going to spend your life.”

  Clearly, he and I had very different college experiences – not to mention expectations for what college is actually for. I mean, I get what he’s saying. I just don’t think it’s the life-altering thing he’s making it out to be. I think with a couple of years of travel and seeing the world, of broadening my mind and life experiences some, I’ll have a better grasp of who I am and what I want to do.

  “I always told your mother she coddled you too much,” he mutters.

  “Leave her out of this.”

  I glare at him, my blood boiling in my veins. My mother died when I was seven, but she was one of the warmest, most wonderful people in the world. She allowed me to be me. Hell, she encouraged it. I remember that even my dad was a pretty good guy back in those days. He wasn’t as heavy-handed with me and he smiled a lot more.

  After she died, everything changed. She was the glue that held our family together. Without her, we drifted further and further apart. The chasm between my father and I now is as wide as the Mariana Trench is deep. And it’s a gap I don’t know that can ever be bridged.

  He stands up, glaring down at me imperiously. “If
you think I’m going to allow you to spend your life being a useless piece of garbage, think again, Knox. Eventually, this party will be over.” His voice is colder than an Arctic tundra. “I’ll give my entire fortune to charity before I leave it to you, just so you can spend your life drinking and whoring. It’s well past time you figure out your life, Knox. If you don’t want to work for Titan, fine. But figure it out. Soon.”

  I look up at him, my gut suddenly churning. Would he really do it? Would he actually disinherit me? A thousand thoughts and all their implications race through my mind. I can’t believe he’d actually do it. I can’t believe he’d actually cut me out of his will.

  His blue eyes are as cold as his voice, and as I stare into their depths, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he’d do it. He’d actually make good on his threat and leave his entire fortune to somebody else.

  He’d screw me out of everything – my entire inheritance – just to make a goddamn point.

  He turns and I watch him walk out of the solarium, my mind spinning and my belly roiling. I push my half-eaten plate of pancakes away from me, suddenly no longer hungry.

  “Damn, man,” he says. “That is brutal.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  My buddy Jace and I are sitting on the outdoor patio of a coffee house, soaking up a little sunshine as I lay out my woes to him. Jace and I have been part of the same group since our days in prep school. The Five Amigos, they call us. I love my guys – they’re all like brothers to me – but I’ve always felt the closest to Jace. I can open up to him in ways I don’t let myself with anybody else – not even the other Amigos.

  I don’t know why my bond with him has always been the strongest – it just has. I know he’s going through something with his girl right now. It’s hitting him pretty hard, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t push. He’ll open up to me when he’s ready. For now, he’s content to help me by listening to my sob story.

  “Do you think he’d really disinherit you, man?” Jace wonders.

  I nod my head. “Yeah, I really do. I think he thinks he’s helping me by dropping a threat like that. I really think he believes that he’s pushing me to figure shit out,” I respond. “Yeah, like I’m all of the sudden going to figure out my life at the snap of a finger. I haven’t been able to do it in twenty-two years.”

  Jace takes a drink of his coffee and doesn’t say anything for a minute. I can see the wheels spinning in his head, though. I know he’s thinking something.

  “Spit it out,” I demand.

  He shrugs. “I mean, I know you’d hate it, but have you actually, seriously thought about going to work for your dad?” he muses. “I mean, just to get him off your back and get on his good side?”

  “I don’t give a shit about whether I’m on his good side or not,” I snap.

  “No, but if you do something that’ll make him happy, there’s less chance of you getting cut out of his estate when that time comes.”

  I take a drink of my coffee and lean back in my chair. Yeah, the smart thing to do – the path of least resistance – would be to throw him a bone and go to work for Titan. My fear, though, is that once I go in, I’d never get out.

  I’d start at the bottom, of course – my father doesn’t believe in nepotism. He wants me to learn the company from the mail room, all the way up. I would likely be there for years before he even thought about letting me onto the executive floor of the building. And given that my dad is a healthy, still relatively young guy, he’s not going to be retiring for a long time yet, so he has all the time he wants to groom me for the position at the top of the food chain.

  That’s assuming, of course, that he doesn’t deny me the top spot when he retires, giving it to somebody else just to fuck with me – to make sure I’ve waited my turn and paid my dues properly enough, of course. It’s not a big stretch to see him pulling some shit like that.

  That’s the danger of going to work for my dad. After putting in all of those years learning the ropes, it wouldn’t be easy to just walk away from it. I mean, once you get familiar and comfortable in a place – even if you hate it and are miserable every single day – you get used to it. And it becomes easier and easier to stay with each passing day simply because it’s what you know.

  And I personally don’t want to wake up twenty years from now wondering, ‘what if?’ I don’t want to wonder how my life could be different, could be better, if I hadn’t chosen the path of least resistance and instead found a path that would bring me some satisfaction. If instead, I followed a path that let me do something that actually does fire me up.

  The trouble is, I can’t see the path right now. I know there are a million different things I think would be a lot of fun to do, but not any one thing in specific. I have nothing I can pour all of my energy into to show my dad that I have a way forward in life. That I do have a plan and despite his skepticism, can make something of myself and my life.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

  I look up and find myself staring into the face of a large man in a Marine dress uniform. He’s got a chest full of ribbons and the bearing of a man used to having his orders followed. His resemblance to my father in that regard isn’t lost on me. A second man stands beside him wearing the same uniform, and an expression just as serious. Jace and I exchange glances.

  “My name is Master Sergeant Aaron York,” he says. “This is Staff Sergeant Michael Holbrook.”

  “Ummm… hi?” is all I can think to say.

  “You look like strong, fit young men,” the jarhead starts. “You work out a lot?”

  We both shrug. “A little, I guess. We’re not pro athletes or anything.”

  He nods. “You two ever think of seeing the world?” he goes on.

  A wry chuckle bubbles up out of my throat. “More than I can even tell you.”

  “Have you ever considered joining the Corps?” It’s a question, but the way he says it makes it sound like he’s giving me an order.

  “Honestly, no I haven’t,” I reply and Jace shakes his head.

  York nods, his movements every bit as sharp and efficient as his words. “Joining the Corps can not only give you a second family, it can provide you with a way forward in life,” he explains. “It can open up more opportunities than you can even imagine.”

  “What kind of opportunities?” I probe.

  “Anything from affordable rates on a home loan, to an education, to help with opening your own business,” he explains. “Being a veteran comes with many fantastic opportunities.”

  “Huh,” I muse as I run my hand along my jawline. “Interesting.”

  “Are you seriously thinking about this, Knox?” asks Jace.

  I nod. “Yeah, why not? It’s worth at least considering,” I retort. “I mean, it’s not like I know what the hell else I’m going to do with my life. And let’s be honest, even something like joining the service would beat the hell out of working for my dad. At least I know there’s an end date on joining the Corps.”

  York grins. “You never know, once you finish out your contract, you may decide you like it enough that you go career with it.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I mutter.

  As I think about it more, I see all of the pros to it – and even better, very few cons. I mean, training would be hell, I’m sure. I’ll probably be sent overseas, but I have faith in my ability to handle myself. And I’ll get to see parts of the world I’d never even consider going to otherwise.

  “How about I leave you with my card and some literature,” York cuts into my thoughts as he sets down a recruitment package on the table in front of me, then turns to Jace. “How about you, kid?”

  Jace shakes his head. “No sir, but thank you,” he tells the man. “I know where my limits are, and they fall pathetically short of your standards.”

  “You never know.”

  “Appreciate the offer,” Jace chuckles. “But I’m good. Thanks.”

  York nods and turns back to me, tapping
the recruitment package. “Think about it, kid,” he presses. “Joining the Corps is life changing, and mostly upside. How many things in your life can you say that about?”

  “Few enough,” I confirm.

  “Think it over and give me a call,” York commands. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have or just get you signed right up.”

  He turns and I watch the two Marines walk away, my mind spinning along. Picking up the recruitment package, I open it and start leafing through the pages, reading some of the benefits to being a veteran. Mostly though, I’m thinking about the fact that this would get my dad off my back and show him that I’ve got a direction in life. It would at least take some of the heat off, and maybe make him back off his demands of me.

  Jace laughs. “Dude, I can’t believe you’re even seriously considering it. I mean, you’ve always been one of the most impulsive people I know, but this sounds absolutely fucking nuts, man.”

  “Why?” I shrug. “Yeah maybe it’s a little extreme –”

  “A little extreme?” he scoffs. “For fuck’s sake, you’re talking about joining the Marine Corps to avoid working for your dad.”

  “I’d get to see the world,” I remind him. “Besides, do you know how much pussy Marines pull?

  Jace laughs and shakes his head. “And there he is, ladies and gentlemen – the Knox Vaughn we all know and love.”

  I read the material closely as I process it all, taking everything in. It would certainly be shocking and life altering, there’s no question about that. Despite Jace’s skepticism, it’s not that I’m necessarily running away from everything here – I want to think that maybe it’s more like I’m running to something. I don’t know what that something is just yet, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I can feel the truth of it.

  Maybe, just maybe, this is the hand of fate intervening, telling me this is exactly what I need.

  Knox

  Eight Years Ago…

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m dying. How are you?”