by Lea Michaels
“Would you tell Ms. Lambert to wait for me by the elevators?”
Madeleine walked out of the room and Connor took a long sip of coffee. Had he been harsh with that girl? He couldn’t remember. He just remembered tons of apologizing and a giant blue raincoat. She was probably some high schooler who had cried after he’d left. Connor mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention.
His father bulldozed people all the time, never apologized, always came off harsh, and was totally unaware of the effect he had on people. Connor was determined not to be like his father. Money was not going to be Connor’s life work and only passion.
The clean shirt and tie made him feel better. When he put his dirty clothes on a small table pushed against the wall he noticed a small bottle of his usual cologne. Madeline truly thought of everything—it was about time that woman got another raise. He gave himself a spritz, took a deep breath, and left the room.
~
Connor considered himself a serviceable businessman. He wasn’t highly affected either way, which made him a better negotiator. His disinterest was offensive to his father but that didn’t bother Connor.
He had a passion for the inner workings of the business that six generations of Brooks men had worked so hard to grow. Connor often thought of his distant relatives who had cultivated the land, worked the vines, and harvested grapes. The men that came before the Middle Loire wine had become big business. At some point it must have been about the work, the pride of being a large property owner, and the beauty of living and working in Anjou.
The business negotiations had gone exactly according to plan. There would be no deficit to the Brooks’ earnings either way. Connor sat back in his home office. He tried to work from home whenever possible, mostly to stay out of his father’s way. Simon Brooks could be a real jackhammer when he wanted to be.
A glass of his own family wine sat next to his computer, his tie and jacket thrown over a chair. He was exhausted. Fending off a woman like Rita all day, making negotiations that his father would approve of, and otherwise have a real wreck of a day.
“Excuse me, young Mr. Brooks is here to see you,” security called through telephone intercom system.
“Send him on up,” Connor spoke into the speaker.
Connor’s brother Émeric was one of his favorite people in the world. There was no one who could understand the trials and tribulations of being a Brooks’ heir better than he could. Walking in, Émeric was wearing one of his amazingly put together suits. There may be no other man in the DMV (DC, Maryland, and Virginia) area as dapper as his brother.
“Slogging away are you?” Émeric was just as handsome as his brother with paler skin, clear blue eyes, and a softer, more feminine face.
“Not anymore,” Connor got up and hugged his brother. He hadn’t seen him since his brother had gotten back from a month long trip around Europe to do some winery reconnaissance. “You hungry?”
“No, but I know you are.” Connor laughed. His brother was much thinner and notoriously out of an appetite while Connor had a good thirty pounds on him and seemed to have a healthy appetite.
They ended up at a small pub just down the road from Connor’s incredible four-story home. He liked that he could just jump down the road and suddenly no one knew who he was, and nobody cared. He came to the pub for dinner more often than he liked to admit.
“How was your trip?”
“Long, exhausting, and magical,” Émeric said in his usual way.
“You met someone?”
“When don’t I meet someone?” Émeric turned to look at his brother. “Actually I did meet someone in particular… Italian, brown curly hair, the best laugh you’ve ever heard.”
“And…”
“And, he might be the one.”
Connor tried to read his brother’s face, “Is it dad?”
“He would disinherit me,” Émeric’s face got rosy. Connor’s brother had told his family that he was gay when he was getting his MBA from Harvard. His father had gone into a ridiculous rage. Simon and Émeric hadn’t talked for four months afterward. When Connor and his mother finally persuaded both parties to do a nice Christmas together, no one had mentioned the incident. In fact, no one had mentioned it since. Connor tried to brooch the subject with his father a few times but he’d been stonewalled and had to give up.
“I can’t hide who I am. I won’t hide who I am.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Connor exhaled loudly trying to think for the millionth time what to do with a father who would exile his own son for being different.
“You know I would never let him disinherit you, or kick you out of the business in any way. You’ve done more for this business already then I ever will. Dad has you to thank for a seven hundred million dollar deal last fall.”
Émeric smiled, “Thank you.” He made a loud dramatic sigh, “I don’t want to talk about it any more it will only make me upset.”
The two brothers sat in silence for a while, Connor eating his fish and chips and Émeric picking at a large side of steamed vegetables that Connor would probably end up finishing in the end.
“What about you?” Émeric asked.
“What about me?”
“A lady, someone special, worthy of notice?”
Connor sat back and ran his hands through his hair. “I haven’t met anyone. The only women I meet are money mongers, or women dad tries to send in my path, or ones that know nothing about me, have really nothing interesting about them but are ready to marry me and settle into a cozy little castle in Monaco.”
“A castle in Monaco does sound nice.”
Connor was happy to see his brother smile. “I was thinking,” he began.
“Thinking what?”
“I was thinking about doing some online dating. Maybe be a regular Joe for a while.”
Émeric looked at him for a long moment, “I think—that is the best idea you’ve had in a long time. At least you might get laid.”
“I have no problem getting laid. I’m more interested in finding someone different. Someone I can talk to. Someone I actually like.”
Chapter 3
“I just want to give it one more date before I’m sure,” Madison said to Willow. The morning sun spilled in through the large panes of glass meant to act as barriers between them and the outside world.
“You mean be sure that you don’t like him?” Willow was wearing purple-rimmed glasses today. She seemed to enjoy looking over the top of them whenever asking a question.
“Right,” Madison could see the strangeness of her plan. “He’s nice, and he rock climbs, and he’s fit—he’s a podiatrist…”
“That would be convenient.”
Madison gave Willow a dubious look.
“Especially for your clients,” Willow said assuredly. “I also have been having this foot issue, runs in my family, it will probably turn into a hammer toe one day.”
“Maybe you should date him.”
Willow and Madison both laughed.
“I’m starting to feel like it might be me and not the guys. Maybe I’m too picky. I mean…this is the second guy I’ve been out on a date with. I’m just not sure there’s anything there though,” Madison said.
“And you’re not attracted to him?” Willow asked as if she weren’t paying any attention to the member she was checking in right in front of her. Madison smiled and waited for the member to walk past before continuing.
“I don’t know what it is. He’s really good looking, and my type, what I think is my type anyway, he seems to be a good person,” Madison frowned as she looked out the front window.
“You’re not required to like someone, you know?”
“Willow the wise, you are absolutely right,” Madison said as she returned to the training office. “But I think,” she stopped for a moment, “I will go out with him one more time, just to be sure that I don’t.”
She walked down the hall and int
o the office. The computer was on and every time she walked in, it started calling her toward the screen. She didn’t have a client for another half hour. Madison considered walking out of the office but instead she sat down in front of the wildly moving screen saver. She moved the mouse to wake the system up and pulled up a plain search page.
She typed, Benjamin Whitaker Fresno CA
She hit enter. The usual things popped up, the things she already knew about. A published piece in grad school, Water Purification: New Ramifications in 2009, a few pictures of him playing water polo during college. Then information on a mess of other Benjamin Whitakers. Madison felt the panic in her chest as she typed new search terms.
Benjamin Whitaker and Tiffany Bembenek Wedding
When she hit enter this time there were new results. Her heart immediately began to sink and a vague outward flowing anxiety began building in her chest.
Benjamin Whitaker and Tiffany Bembenek Wedding Registry on theknot.com
…and below that:
BenjaminWhitakerTiffanyBembenekWedding.com
Everything told her that this was a bad idea to go any further, but she wanted to know. She needed to know. Maybe if she really saw it, without any pretense or diffusing language, then maybe it would sink in.
She was in the website with one click.
There was a picture of them standing together with his arm over her shoulders. They were smiling out to the camera and something inside Madison began to slip away.
The story of how they met was next to their picture. They met at a bar, where he ate a pencil and she had nice cleavage. What did that even mean? How do you eat a pencil? It was probably some sort of strange inside joke. She wanted to put them down in her mind but it was only jealousy consuming her.
Her body sank deeper and deeper into the rickety office chair. The story goes on to say that he proposed to her on May 2nd. His birthday, Madison knew automatically.
The year before she’d been the one celebrating his birthday. In their house—that they owned together—with their dog Bruno who now belonged to another woman.
Madison felt like she was running out of air so she closed the window then turned off the computer. She sat back staring at a black screen when Shirley, one of her “golden agers” walked in.
“Willow tells me you’re going on one more date with your Internet guy just to make sure,” Shirley smiled.
It took a moment for Madison to remember what she’d been talking about with Willow. That the conversation had only been fifteen minutes ago seemed ridiculous.
Shirley was a gossip who loved to hear the details of young unattached life and Madison had no qualms in humoring her. When they first met, Shirley tried to set Madison up with her son, a man almost twenty years her senior, but Madison had gracefully declined. She couldn’t think of an easier way to lose a client.
“She did, did she?” Madison gave a mock angry look. “It’s true, I’m seeing the podiatrist again tonight.”
Madison stood up and began to walk Shirley over to the mats where they began each session with a series of Pilates movements designed to help Shirley’s hip replacement.
“So why don’t you like him?”
“That’s a good question,” Madison smiled. “Maybe I do after all.”
Chapter 4
“Are you kidding, I did you a huge favor, you should be paying me for this,” Émeric said. He was watching his brother’s disgruntled face as he clicked through his new profile.
“I can’t pretend to be somebody completely different. I can’t lie that well.”
“Sure you can, everything gets better with practice,” his brother was making a joke but Connor couldn’t smile. “Come on, that’s what you wanted!”
“What I wanted,” Connor responded, “was to not tell anyone exactly who I was, not to outright lie to them. I’d have to memorize the new details of my life to go on a date.”
“I think I know more about dating then you do,” Émeric was satisfied with his answer. “This will be good for you…you don’t have to find the one right away, consider this practice.”
Connor had to look away from the screen; the sight of himself was beginning to get to him. Not only had Émeric put down false information about him, like his alma mater, his yearly income—which Connor thought was a balls question anyway—what neighborhood he lived in, and of course his occupation, but he’d also used the most ridiculous photos of Connor, the really horrible ones where Connor looked like a prig. If there were three photos in all his life that made Connor look like a womanizing, wise-ass, these were them.
“It’s already done, you can edit if you want but your first date is on Friday and she might get suspicious if you change things now.”
Connor had to stand up to keep from snapping at his brother.
“I’m doing this for your own good. It’s exactly what you said you wanted to do and I knew you wouldn’t do it for yourself…Everyone deserves some love in this world,” Émeric patted Connor’s shoulder.
Connor looked over at his brother. It was hard to stay mad at Émeric.
“It’s ok, I’m not mad—but I’m not going on a date.” Connor had his serious face on and his brother put his on too, though it wasn’t very convincing on him. Émeric always seemed on the verge of laughing.
“One date, one girl, that’s all I ask… She’s cute, I found her for you… You only have to see her once, if you don’t like her—adios.”
~
Connor had forgotten how spectacularly terrible dating could be. His brother had set him up on a dinner and cocktails sort of thing. Unfortunately, Connor had known within two and half minutes that Barbara was not a match for him. She was cute-ish, but he probably would have known it wouldn’t work before going on the date if his brother hadn’t pushed things along so fast.
Barbara was obviously a feisty girl in her real-world life. She talked with a complete “screw you,” attitude that Connor was afraid she would turn on him at the dinner table. It wasn’t until half way through dinner that he realized that the attitude was all part of her flirting. He’d been nervous about lying but he’d barely had to say anything at all. He’d asked questions and Barbara carried the conversation all night.
After a dinner of mixed signals, false starts, and way too much conversation, he was exhausted and the exhaustion seemed to creep into the next morning as well. Or maybe that was just the prospect of seeing his father.
He was meeting his family for an “all hands on deck” family brunch this morning. He did want to spend time with his family; it’s just that things could turn bad so easily.
His parents sprawling country house, only an hour outside of DC, sat on 20 acres of the most expensive land in the country. His father had a taste for old-world charm that separated the men after dinner for cigars and drinks, gave his mother her own sitting room, and required the upkeep and help of fifteen employees year round.
His mother was the first to come down. Then his father’s mother, Clara, arrived. Then Émeric arrived and finally his father, Simon Brooks made his way down. No doubt an important business call had kept him.
The family moved out and settled in around the large table that had been moved out on the East lawn, and then covered by large umbrellas so the direct sunlight wouldn’t be too much for anyone.
“How was your trip sweetheart?” his mother asked Émeric as they all sat down. The family immediately fell into discussions about wine making. It was a favored topic and a family function never went by without some discussion of the family legacy.
“How did your date go?” Émeric asked Connor. Not only had everyone been in the middle of a conversation on soil and fertilizer but the question had been asked loudly from across the table. Everyone stopped eating and looked at Connor.
“Are you going out with that lawyer? What’s her name…Rita?” Simon turned his attention on Connor, something that never turned out well.
“No, I am no
t.”
“Why not? She would be a great fit for you. Nice legs, she comes from a family with power and prestige, well educated, beautiful, how could you go wrong?”
Connor remained silent until he realized his father actually expected him to respond to his ridiculous question.
“I don’t like her. I don’t have anything in common with her, she’s very dull to talk to, and I found her voice to get under my skin,” Connor said with a casual disinterest.
His father scrunched his brow.
“Plus,” Connor said. “I really don’t like her perfume, it gave me a terrible headache.”
“Perfume can be changed,” Simon gave his son a knowing look and Connor could practically feel his mother rolling her eyes. She always took things with grace and good humor. Connor didn’t know how she did it.
“Yes, well my mind can’t be.”
The table went silent.
“So who was your date with?” his grandmother asked.
Connor looked to his brother.
“It was an online date. Barbara is a flutist for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, loves chocolate, and is a Sagittarius,” Émeric said.
“Sounds like you should’ve gone out with her,” his father said. Everyone at the table ignored this.
“Terrible choice,” Connor said loudly.
“I’d say so,” his father commented under his breath.
“Well, I’ve met someone,” Émeric said bringing everyone to a stand still again.
Simon cut in, “Not in front of your grandmother.” His voice was sharp and definitive.
Émeric stared at his father and Connor could feel a collective intake of breath. Émeric’s eyes flicked from his father to his mother then he refocused on the food in front of him. The energy around the table had turned and a tension was now the pervading feeling.
Connor looked at his father. Simon had had plenty of time to come to terms with his youngest sons sexuality. This family bullying his father was doing couldn’t continue much longer.