Oh, perfect. I don’t have time to go to a juice bar. And a juice bar? I hate juice! What was I thinking? Maybe once I get her email, I will write back and cancel. I bit the edge of my thumbnail and tried to think of how to word that message. The phone rang, jolting me back to the real world. “Hello?” I asked curiously, almost hoping it was Skyla saying the time wouldn’t work.
“Hey, bat brain.” It was the annoying voice of my younger sister, Alecia.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Dad asked me to call and tell you to come by the house tonight. He wants you there at seven o’clock sharp.”
“Why?” I pressed, suddenly feeling like I was losing control of my calendar.
“How would I know?” Alecia sneered. “Something about some chick, a client's daughter,” she said flatly. “Oh yeah, and you have to wear a tie.”
“What?” I scoffed in disbelief. I hated wearing ties. “Are you making this up, Alecia?”
“Unfortunately, no, but thanks for the good idea for next time!” She laughed and hung up the phone.
I never knew with Alecia. She could seriously be nasty. One time, she told me she’d seen a rat in the basement knowing full well I’d run down to take a look. When I was halfway down the stairs, she switched off the lights and locked the basement door. I had to fumble around looking for the light switch in the pitch dark and ended up tripping and falling on my face. There was no rat, by the way. Brat! Luckily, we were not alike—in looks or personality. She had long, dark-brown hair that was currently dyed midnight blue and piercing light-green eyes. Her lips were always painted blood red and fixed in a smirk, as if she knew something no one else did. Basically, she looked like my father. Although I was nearly the same height as my father and had a similar slim-yet-muscular build, that is where our similarities ended. My eyes were a soft hazel with flecks of green. My face was friendlier and more rounded instead of sharp like Alecia's. To be honest, I didn’t think I looked like either my mother or father very much—not that it bothered me one way or the other.
I got to the gate at 6:45 p.m. “Good evening, Master Julien,” said Jasper, our night security guard, via the gate security intercom. He knew I was actually Stephen, but the staff played along until they were told to stop.
“Hello, Jasper,” I said into the microphone. As the gate to my parents’ house opened, a feeling of dread filled me. I didn’t want to go out with another one of Dad's “good ideas.” The last woman he introduced me to tried to stab me with a steak knife after I told her I didn’t think we would make good partners. I pulled my Maserati around to the front of the house and parked. Jasper came running out and grabbed the keys from me. “Don’t take it too far away,” I joked.
Alecia hated it when I joked around with the staff.
“They work for us. They aren’t our friends,” she’d argue.
I disagreed—we were a team. Every staff member, down to the servants, pledged loyalty to this family and was stuck with us for life. Alecia preferred to think she was better than everyone else.
The gilded double doors opened before I even reached the top step of our vast front patio. Our butler, a tall, distinguished man, moved to the side. The sight was almost blinding—a spectacle you couldn’t ever completely get used to. The white marble sparkled with gold specks as the light from three crystal candlelit chandeliers danced in the gold-framed mirrors on either side of the hallway. A swooping staircase at the end of the foyer extended to either side like two giant gold-trimmed arms, reaching out to choke you with their opulence. There, in the middle of the glittering room, next to the center table ordained with fresh white roses, stood my mother. She was wearing a black velvet dress and matching shiny pumps and her hair hung straight—a look she typically reserved for more formal affairs. That made me a bit nervous. My dad was more than likely closing on a big deal tonight, and he hoped “his nephew” would hit it off with the client's daughter to make the deal that much sweeter. Great. Nothing like being bait. His idea was to lock them in while I was known as Julien. If the daughter's father found out I was actually Stephen, he would expect a partnership, and my father was very picky about who would partner with Stephen. He couldn’t care less about who I dated and slept with as Julien.
“Darling!” My mom smiled, slinking over to me. She had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in another.
“That drink for me?” I asked, pointing at the crystal glass filled to the brim with ice and bourbon.
“Only because I decided I want vodka.” She begrudgingly handed me her glass. “Glad you could finally make it over for dinner tonight. You haven’t bothered in months.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did I have a choice?” I asked, downing half the bourbon. She smirked. She knew I didn’t.