Mr. CEO(97)

“I think you need to keep them polished better,” Andrea replies. “But they're fine. What's the occasion?”

“Like I said, I was thinking of going out today,” I reply. I stop at the top of the stairs. “Andrea... would you mind if I borrowed some of your business books? I mean... oh fuck it, never mind.”

“Whoa, whoa, niichan, stop,” Andrea says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Slow down, what's all this?”

“Just... I had a dream last night, and with what you said... I was thinking that maybe I can start learning about more than bodybuilding and partying,” I say. “And I was thinking that maybe I could learn a little bit about investing and stocks, or real estate, or something like that.” I shake my head, and shrug before giving her a grin. “You know, something actually useful in real life.”

Andrea studies my face for a minute, then nods. “Hold on... I've got something in my room you can start with.”

She jogs back to her room and comes out with a book. “Here. He's become a bit of a hack, and I don't want you running off like a madman with it, but take a read, and if you want... I'll be around to answer questions and talk with you.”

I look down at the title. “Rich Dad, Poor Dad? Okay... looks easy enough.”

“It is. Not trying to say you're an idiot, Jackson... but you've been fucking off for the four years since high school finished for you. It's a decent refresher. In the meantime though, let's get some breakfast. I thought you were all about protein loading after lifting or whatever it is you call it, and if you don't mind, I'll share an egg or two with you.”

I keep the book with me while we eat, then Andrea goes off to class. I've got a while before my afternoon swim, and I was planning on getting out during the evening, so I find a comfortable chair in the downstairs den and start reading. I'm caught up pretty quickly, and I find that I'm in chapter four when Mom comes in, pretty much ignoring me. Not that unexpected, really. “Hey Mom, is Pops around?”

Mom shrugs, not caring, and goes over to the liquor cabinet in the corner and pours herself a straight bourbon. I glance at the clock and shake my head. It's just after eleven. “A little early, even for you, isn't it?”

Mom downs half the bourbon and glares at me. “Considering you caused it, you have no room to say a damn thing,” she hisses. “Do you know what the doctors just told me?”

“That you have a surgical addiction?” I shoot back. “That you need a psychiatrist more than you need more collagen in your lips? By the way, you're dribbling.”

It's something that's happened to Mom since her most recent round of lip injections. She doesn't seem to be able to close her mouth properly all the time, and is constantly dribbling drinks from the corner of her mouth. Mom wipes away the bourbon with a swipe of her free hand and glares at me some more. “They said they can't do anything else for my waistline. According to them, their ethical guidelines prevent it.”

“Maybe they have a point,” I say, turning back to my borrowed book. I can feel Mom glaring at me for a little while longer before slamming back the rest of her bourbon and leaving the tumbler on the table. I finish the chapter I'm working on and go looking for Pops. Maybe he's in his office.

Before I get there, though, I hear something crash on the wall. What the hell? I rush down the hall the last little bit and go in, ducking as a paperweight comes flying by my head. “What the fuck?”

“I want her dead!” Pops screams, his face an angry, nearly purplish red. “I want that bitch found and her throat slit!”

I see that Nathan's in the room too, his face grave, but he remains silent. “What's going on? Is this over the photos still?” I ask.

“No, you ignorant, spoiled little shit!” Pops hollers, picking up a tablet and throwing it at me. I'm glad I've got good hands, he just bought this one after breaking the last one with the discussion we had the day after Kat's little limo trick. Even still, I barely manage to catch it, cradling it in my arms while I give the sensors inside a chance to try and figure out which way is up. “That's what I'm talking about!”

The screen stops revolving, and I see that a gossip website is up with a story it lists as “Breaking News! New Orleans Social Magnate Has String of Mistresses Even While Being Named Family Man of The Year!”

I read quickly. Most of the affairs are older ones, ones that I've known about for years, stretching back to my high school days. This time there are pictures though, which I am surprised about. There's Pops in the casino, a couple of girls on his arm... Pops going into a hotel room with what looks like a very young girl, I'd be surprised if she was a month over eighteen at the time... damn. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, in my opinion. I'm also glad that Kat seems to have at least somewhat listened to my request, since this leaves the rest of the family totally out of it.