My business associates haven’t assembled yet for the next event, so I take a coffee from the side cabinet and stare at the projected intro screen. I’m always early, it’s a trait of mine. My father always said that opportunity waits for no man. It’s the man at the front of the line who gets awarded the best choices, and it must have stuck with me far better than some of the other bullshit advice he gave me early on, because I’m always at the front of the line in life.
I love my dad. He’d say a lot of his advice was bullshit too. The thought makes me smile as I sip my coffee.
They’ve used a decent blend. I like that.
Michael thinks I’m where I am in life because I work harder than the others. He thinks it’s because I’m smarter than the others too, but I’m neither of those things. I had to work my ass off to get grades high enough to get into Warwick University, but from that point I worked smart, not hard. I came out with a mediocre business degree but a shit-hot attitude for business itself. I made sure my networking was on point, made it my business to be in the right place at the right time, ahead of all the others hungry for a piece of the same pie. And it worked.
It continues to work over a decade later.
Michael gives everything to his profession because he loves it. He pursued his career because of the meaning he takes from helping other people find their feet.
I give only what my business absolutely needs and maybe a little beyond, everything on top of that is the reason I have staff. But insurance was never my calling, clearly. Nobody loves risk analysis. I set up on my own because I knew I didn’t want to work for anyone else; it’s that simple. I couldn’t stomach a future divided into work weeks and days off on loop, on and on until retirement, when you finally get to do the shit you want with your own time, just as long as you’ve banked enough to afford your club memberships and your winter heating bill.
I guess you could say I like to lead rather than follow. You could also say I like to be in control of my personal situation at all times, hence why this infatuation of Michael’s perplexes me somewhat.
Why do people go so fucking insane over random members of the opposite sex?
Are we really still slaves to base level hormonal instincts? Really? Are we?
I like to think not, which is probably the reason I’ve dated over a hundred women and only popped the question to one of them. Diana didn’t even live with me, it was long distance. It would probably never have made it to the proposal stage if she’d lived anywhere near my doorstep.
I don’t regret not tying the knot. I don’t regret never having that one special person that I’ve opted to label my own above all others, even if my mother still whines on about grandchildren over Sunday dinner. I watched Michael and Molly live in a state of romantic mediocrity for years and it didn’t nothing whatsoever to raise the green-eyed monster in me. I think I’d have been bored to death if I’d been in his shoes.
Carrie Wells – the little minx that pushed my poor sensible friend off his sensible rocker.
I’m still shaking my head at the insanity of it all as the other delegates filter in.
Carrie
Michael didn’t come back last night. I thought maybe he’d call or text, but he didn’t. I sat by the landline with his business card in my hand, flipping it over and over and wishing my stupid dumb mouth would open up enough to tell him I’m sorry. But it wouldn’t.
I hate TV, so the minute Michael left I turned it right back off again. I don’t get why people like the stupid thing so much. Almost every house I’ve ever set foot in has a stupid screen blaring somewhere. I’ve spent loads of time watching people stare at moving pictures on a box like big dumb shits, and I just don’t get it.
When you’ve been in foster care as much as I have, you come to know it’s an easy option to palm off every kid that ever wants attention. Why don’t you just behave and watch some TV? Why don’t you sit down in front of the TV and be quiet? Why don’t you just watch the kids channel like every other kid we’ve ever taken care of?
Because TV is a fucking life-stealer, you dumbfucks. TV is a fucking sedative for your fucking brain.
Know what burns more calories, watching TV or staring at a blank wall? Staring at a blank wall, because at least then your brain has to make moving pictures for its fucking self.
I want to put my boot through posh guy’s big fucking screen, because even looking at it reminds me how I pushed Michael away last night. But I don’t. Because I like it here, even though I know I won’t be able to stay.
I’m never allowed to stay anywhere, not for long. But for now I’m gonna make the most of it, because posh guy’s house is amazing – the best house I’ve ever been in. If you look through the back windows, especially from upstairs, you can see for miles, a patchwork of fields and trees and sheep. I wonder if posh guy has any animals here. There’s no dog, which is sad because this place would be the best place ever to have a couple of Labradors. I can’t see a cat, either, and there’s no cans of petfood in the cupboards. The guy must be an idiot for not having pets here. If I lived here I’d have a whole zoo in my backyard.