Chapter 3

I sit in the car longer than I should after it arrives at Eleven AM. The valet doesn't mind because I pay them a shit ton of money to deal with people like me. Frenzy is on staff today. He gained the moniker by being the fastest to get people in and out of their cars. He's a floater. He goes where I need him, and this is where I need him today. When I pull up, he greets me with a handshake and informs me that my parents arrived fifteen minutes ago, and that was ten minutes ago. I've made them wait a total of twenty-five minutes. They're used to this egregious behavior from me. They know I lost my respect for them a long time ago. It's pretty big of them to want to meet now, considering the circumstances. They probably want more money or to be cut back in somehow or to tell me about some grand idea they have for another venture.

If it's the first, we can negotiate. If it's the second, I'll consider it. If it's the last one, they can shove that up their asses and move on. I'm sick and tired of bailing them out of their piss poor decision-making skills.

"Oh, but, Elias, it has so much potential!"

To be shat on, yes. Yes, it does.

I wait three additional minutes before finally exiting the vehicle. Tomas drove, so really, I just need to get out of Frenzy's hair so he has more room for guests arriving and leaving. But he's a good guy, and I give him a firm handshake and then a hug. At this point, he's family, maybe even like a son to me. He's young enough to be or close to it.

"Thanks again, mate," I say.

"Not a problem, boss. Take it easy," he replies.

I give the others a wave before I head inside. I make small chit-chat with the hostess and spot my parents sitting at their usual table near the kitchen. It's surprisingly quiet there.

I move past a few patrons and give a couple of handshakes to the wait staff, whom I'm always very grateful for, before I finally arrive at the table. Father glances at his watch, pushes his lips into a tight, thin line, and shakes his head in disappointment. That's ironic considering that's the face Grandfather made when Father told him no about running the family business.

"You're late," he sighs.

"As if that's something new," I grumble, taking a seat. "You seem to think things will change just because you're sitting on your ass per usual. Nothing will change if you bloody won't."

"Elias," Mother hisses.

"And you allow his behavior, so what the blazes does that make you now, Mother?" I ask. "Perhaps a lazy hag?"

"Enough," Father hisses. "We are not going to behave like heathens here."

"So then get to the point of why I'm here," I reply, looking at him. "This is a waste of time, per usual, and you both bloody know it."

They look at each other. For the first time in over twenty years, they're sad. This is new and almost humorous.

"I'm dying, son," Father states, looking back at me.

I look him up and down. Grandfather had lung cancer from smoking. Father never smoked, but he certainly loved his bourbon.

"From what?" I ask, lightly drumming the table with my fingertips.

"Cancer," he answers. "Not lung, but pancreatic. Stage 3. Inherited it from your grandmother, who passed it when you were younger."

I press my lips together. Father, if he could do anything right, was always truthful. A small part of me wants to debate this, but I won't, and honestly, I can't. They're both pretty upset and bothered by this.

"What do you need from me?" I ask. "I'm fresh out of love and respect, but I won't leave you burdened financially."

"Son," he sighs.

I raise my hand and shake my head. "This is all you get from me. Financial security. This includes all expenses Mother will need after your passing. Evelyn can provide the love for you both, but especially to Mother once you pass."

Evelyn is my slightly older sister. She and I have always been fairly close, but there is no way she can change my mind on this. I know she'll call me and text me about it, but she knows my position on our so-called family, and it's not changing anytime soon. She'll probably give me the earful when she visits next week.

They look at each other. This lunch is becoming too much for me to handle. I never expected to feel sudden doubts creeping into my body, doubts that make me question my true feelings for them both. Sure, I hate them. They made my life a living hell. But I suppose, even at the end of the day, your parents were your parents and nothing could change that. Somewhere deep inside me still lives some love for these two.

"Fine," they say in unison.

"Send all the bills to me and work on preparing a monthly budget for your expenses now and going forward, Mother, after his passing. This is my only promise to you both that I will most certainly keep."

They look at each other again and nod as they look back up at me. West approaches our table, and I hold up a finger to stop him.

"Put their meal on my card and make sure they go home with food for later tonight," I say, looking at him.

"Of course, sir," he answers with a nod and a smile before departing.

I look back at them and stand. "Now that is settled, enjoy your food. We'll be in touch," I say, but they don't get a chance to respond because I'm already walking away before they can open their mouths.

I double-check with West about their ticket on the way out before greeting Frenzy just outside again. I pat him on the back and put my sunglasses on.

He looks at me, chuckles, and nods to Tomas pulling the car back around again. "Figured you wouldn't stay long. Told him to come back in about five minutes."

I start for the car. "You're a good man, Frenzy," I call over my shoulder.

Tomas greets me at the car door and I climb in. He walks around the front and climbs back in. "Where to, sir?" he asks.

I melt back against the cool leather and sigh. "Home. The apartment near Central Park."

"Very well, sir," he answers.

Ironically, my apartment isn't far from the hotel. Maybe ten minutes on a good traffic day. It's where I go when I need to get away from the stress of work. I'm usually pretty content staying on the property at the hotel, but between the shit show with Kenny and the incomparable Cora and then my parents with their bomb drop, I need to get the bloody fucking hell away.

Tomas drops me off up front, and I remove my sunglasses as I nod to the bellhop. Henry is his name. Good man.

I walk through the lobby to the elevator. There are a few people who attempt to acknowledge me, but I must have my resting face on so they avoid conversing with me, which I'm grateful for. And then it's continued silence for me, which I appreciate, as I step onto the elevator and head up to my property.

Like the hotel, I swipe my key card to allow entry into my apartment, but I don't stop until I'm in my bedroom where I collapse head-first into the bed. This, like the hotel, is a heavenly bed. I groan when I feel the stress shift in my body. Being forty-five fucking sucks. One would think being active would eliminate a lot of issues, but I swear to God, it doesn't do a damn thing.

But even with that said, I eventually roll onto my back and sit up. My body cracks in a few ways I didn't realize I needed and then it does it a few more times when I stand. Absolutely hate being this old for the simple fact that my body hates me more. Everything else is fine. This, however, fucking sucks.

I kick my shoes off and then begin the process of carefully removing my suit. Plagued with laziness, I lay it carefully on my bed. The only work I really put into my attire is removing my socks and exchanging my underwear with swim trunks.

I walk the maybe ten feet to my pool off the master, put my glasses on the nearby table, and plunge straight into the deep end. The water is warm. It's relaxing. It's comforting. I hold my breath as long as I can before breaking the surface with an exasperated sigh. I move toward the pool edge and look out across New York. I frown and sigh heavily. New York used to be my favorite place to come, especially since it was the first place I moved to after university. Looking out now and with all the other stresses of the world, I probably need to go back to England more often, especially now since shit seems to desperately want to hit the fan. I need the variety back in my life. And perhaps, said variety could include Cora, even if that was extremely wishful thinking.