The Freshman (College Years 1)

“You’re welcome, pumpkin.” He smiles, looking pleased. He just got his way.

But then again, so did I.

Three

Tony

We’re at some fancy country club that is definitely not my scene, but Dad and his wife Helena seem to think this is the place to be on a Saturday night. Somehow they got my sizes right and someone went shopping for me before I arrived. Meaning, I’m entering the clubhouse with them wearing brand new black pants, a white button-down shirt and a black jacket, with a black tie currently strangling my neck.

“Gucci,” Helena said when I walked out into the living room to meet them before we left the house. Her assessing gaze lingered, making me vaguely uncomfortable. “I picked it out myself.”

I have the distinct feeling my new stepmom was checking me out.

I wait as my father talks to someone he knows, lots of fake laughter and hearty back slaps abound between them. Helena stands next to my father clad in a pale pink, sequined gown that seemed a bit over the top to me, but now looks perfectly in place once we got here. She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that.

But definitely not my type.

I realize quickly that this is a social event to show off how much money you have. It’s like one giant flex. Women are dripping in diamonds and various other jewels, their perfectly made-up faces making me wonder what they look like when all the makeup’s scrubbed off. The air is clogged with expensive cologne and perfume, practically suffocating me. Everyone is dressed perfectly, and oddly enough—everyone also looks the same.

It’s kind of boring.

As we make our way through the room, I let my father introduce me to one guy after the other, and I forget their names as soon as Dad says them, only because there’s so many of them that I can’t keep up. I smile and nod, shake their hands and say repeatedly, “Nice to meet you, sir,” with all the earnestness I can muster.

Ever the dutiful son to my neglectful dad.

Many of them ask if I’m going to follow in my father’s footsteps and eventually work for him. He tells every one of them I’m a business major, his voice filled with pride, which seems to appease them. He never mentions where I go to school.

I suppose that’s his one dirty secret in regards to me. I’m attending a public state university that has no prestige attached to it—at least in his eyes. Even though I play for a D1 football team, he doesn’t mention that either. I suppose it opens him up to too many questions, ones he doesn’t want to answer.

Like the fact that he doesn’t come to watch the games.

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So I remain quiet and nod and smile, bored out of my skull. The corners of my mouth actually ache from smiling too much, and my stomach is starting to growl. When I can finally escape, I make an attempt to order a beer from the bar and the bartender hands it over without hesitation.

I leave him a ten-dollar tip.

It’s like some sort of meet and greet on steroids before we sit down to dinner and I don’t know a soul in this place, so I find a dark corner to stand in and lean against the wall, checking my phone while I down the beer, finishing it off way too soon.

I’m going to need a lot of those to get through tonight.

“Here you go.”

I glance up to find Helena standing in front of me, a fresh beer clutched in her hand and a smile on her face. She had to be spying on me to know what I was drinking, which is creepy, but I ignore the unease I feel and swipe the beer from her hand, careful not to graze her fingers with mine. “Thank you.”

Her smile grows, and she shifts closer, her overpowering scent surrounding me. I cannot deny that when I first met Helena, I thought she was pretty. She’s also only in her very early thirties, which probably makes her closer to my age than she is to my dad.

“Having fun?” She raises her brows, bringing her chilled glass of wine to her lips, carefully sipping it so she doesn’t smear her lipstick.

I shrug, glancing around, uneasy. I don’t want to make small talk with Helena. I barely know her. “Not really.”

Her lips curve into a mock frown. “Aw. Why not?”

“I don’t know anyone.”

Her face brightens. “You know me.”

“I guess. Shouldn’t you be with your friends or whatever?” I’m not interested in a conversation with this woman. She’s making me uncomfortable.