Page 5 of Fate In Fiction

“Deal.” I walk down the rest of the stairs and hold my hand out to shake his.

“I need to see proper effort in your relationship. You are aware of the image you need to uphold and the type of man I want for you. A lot of promising young men need a woman like you on their arm.” I hate when he says this because I’ve been witness how perfect he and my mother act in the eyes of others and then how they act like complete strangers or bicker behind closed doors.

Screw marriage for publicity.

Screw the politics.

As freed as I should feel right now, I’m also screwed.

I don’t say a word and walk back up the stairs, wishing I could sneak a bottle of alcohol before the dinner party.

EMMETT

“Settling down isn’t a terrible thing, bro,” Max, mine and my siblings’ best friend, says through the laptop in between workout reps. “It just takes the right person.”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t have a lifelong best friend to accidentally knock up and spend forever with.” Not that it’s in my plans for the next five years or so. I begin my next set of reverse arm curls to bulk out my forearms. “Obtaining a helicopter before having children would be nice. That way, I can enjoy it.” I set the weights down. “Only my parents are treating me like a damn child, and I no longer have access to everything.”

“Yes. I am well informed on your checklist to earn things back.” He runs a hand through his hair and holds his annoyed tone. “Attracting women has never been your problem. Your family genes are fucking phenomenal. Why aren’t you dating?”

“I’m too busy working all damn day and night.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “I only took this afternoon off so I can attend the dinner party at the mayor’s house. “At least I can check networking off the list.” But it means going into work even earlier on Monday morning to make up for this.

“Your views need to shift if you want to attract the right woman. You can’t have six children with six different women.”

“How can I find a woman when I work until ten most nights?” I barely have time to get myself off. “How do they expect me to strive at my job, participate in the community, and date someone with potential? This is me we’re talking about.”

“Yes, you, who have been transforming into a real man. Finally.” He chuckles, and if I were with him back in San Francisco, I’d be swinging a punch. “Look, your parents and siblings have been able to manage these tasks. A year seems reasonable, but if you don’t make the deadline, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Max, I had personal goals when I took this position too.” I take a sip of water and think out loud. “I wanted to prove I was made for this job, and I have. With all my traveling for work, a helicopter would make it more enjoyable. It would be something for me to look forward to. Now, I’m lucky to get a first-class ticket on a commercial flight.”

“I love you like a brother, Emmett, but that’s a billionaire problem. I mean, come on. Normal people don’t give a fuck.” Max finishes his set of reps. “Your parents are relatively down to earth and want to see their children be as well rounded as possible. For some reason, your maturing has taken longer.”

Yeah, all thanks to said parents…

“I’ve been traveling the world since I graduated high school. How is that not considered mature?”

“I’ve seen your social media through the years. I promise you do not want that to come back and haunt you in the professional public eye. Settle down with someone and find a charity to give back to.”

“I never posted anything too crazy.” Most of my posts were with a large group of fake friends who I’d meet at the beach or yacht parties.

“Remember that video of you with the Moroccan triplets?” Max edges me on, proving his point.

“I need to shower and get ready for the dinner. Good luck with everything, bro.” I nod to Max on the screen before shutting it off.

I head back up to my suite to get myself ready for the evening ahead. The convenience of living in the same building I work in is great, but I feel like it also hinders any additional socializing and networking because I rarely leave the building. Once I’m showered, I go with semi-formal attire, throwing on beige chino pants and a black polo. I make my way to the parking lot and I unlock my dream car.

I drive there in silence, ignoring an incoming call from my dad on the way. I don’t need any more reminders of how important this is; I get it. As I pull into the circular driveway, I’m met with a valet. The European style manor is astonishing, with white marble and beautiful gardens. Mayor Callahan’s salary definitely comes from other income than politics.

“Hello, Sir,” I say, climbing out of my car.

“Mr. Wheaton.” He nods, reaching his hand out for my keys.

“And you are?” I take in his aged features, but he’s in great shape for someone his age.

“Hanson.” He smiles.

“Thank you, Hanson. I appreciate it.” He climbs into my car as I make my way up the large steps. Double wooden doors at least ten feet high open before I knock. A small older woman greets me with a shy smile, but stays mute. Her hand gestures toward my right as I make my way over.

The interior of this place is dripping with wealth. Large sculptures are scattered about, and I imagine some artwork is worth more than a mayor’s salary. What line of politics is this family from? Another large entryway leads me to the dining room. The long table is dressed in white linen and the dimmed crystal chandeliers hang above us. It’s warm and inviting, but this dinner reminds me why I no longer talk to anyone I went to high school with. I attended a top private school full of people pleasers who didn’t know how to crack a smile unless it was warranted. A few other attendees shuffle in place. So posh and desperate to show their establishment.