I take a quick sip from the water bottle to wet my dry lips and then begin speaking while acting like I genuinely enjoy it. The truth is that public speaking is one of my least favorite things in the entire universe. My other least favorite things include slow walkers, snakes, and betrayal. Not in that order, but I’m yet to decide which I hate the most.
Maybe snakes. Those fuckers make me feel nauseated every time.
I’m excellent at faking my emotions, like other things in life. The audience is eating every single word up. I learned my exceptional bullshitting skills early—something positive about my otherwise shitty teen years.
* * *
After the conference, my driver takes me from Manhattan to Brooklyn. Once I arrive at my destination, I get out of the car, walk in, and look around the front of the shop. That’s when I spot my best friend behind the counter.
I beam proudly at Ollie, who owns the Braxton Body Shop in Dumbo, one of Brooklyn’s most creatively oriented neighborhoods. I’m here to check on the paint job of my sports car and for lunch with the guys I call my chosen brothers.
Oliver “Ollie” Braxton has been one of my two close friends ever since I can remember. We were in the same elementary school class until Ollie moved away after his foster father got a new, better-paying gig an hour away. We stayed connected throughout middle school and attended the same high school after they moved back.
We’re both tall and lean after hours spent at the gym and running. But that’s where our similarities end. Ollie’s dirty blonde hair is short in a military-style haircut. Thanks to my Spanish heritage, my hair is a mop of dark, unruly curls. Thinking about it, I really should get a haircut before my interview tomorrow as I had let my hair grow since the media scandal last year. I haven’t just cared about it much. Now that my company needs all the good press it can get, it’s time to visit my favorite barbershop. I can’t look like a surfer dude tomorrow.
I grab a copy of the Bridgeway magazine and get comfortable on the red leather seat in the front of the shop. After Ollie finishes his conversation with the customer, I get up to greet him. ”Ollie, my man, how are you doing?”
“Eli, it’s great to see you!" Ollie returns the hug and then spreads his arms out, smiling nervously, "How do you like the shop?”
I know he has worked hard to get here and wants my approval.
“It looks so sick in here. I’m digging all the artwork, these leather sofas, and the general vibe.”
His icy blue eyes soften hearing that. “Fucking A. Are you ready for the interview tomorrow?” Ollie gets out after clearing his throat. He knows I’m not too pleased about that.
I run a hand through my hair.I really need that haircut.
“Not even close, but it’ll be okay. I just want it to be over.” I complain.
“Okay then. Let’s talk more during lunch,” Ollie says and starts walking to the counter. I follow his movement with my eyes. Over his shoulder, he mumbles, “And one more thing—the seventies just called and said they want their hairstyle back.”
Before I have time to retort anything back, another customer walks in. If Ollie weren’t busy, I would make him repeat what he just said.Lucky bastard.He’ll hear about his comment later.
It’s impressive to see Ollie in his element. Back in high school, Ollie only cared about having fun without commitments. He liked to wet his dick and enjoy life worry-free. That’s only putting it mildly. But he has changed his ways since then. I think his love for Alessandra has something to do with it. They’ve been together for over four years.
Unlike Ollie, I didn’t want to waste my time chasing after the girls. It was tough enough to finish high school with excellent grades while taking coding classes at the local community college during the evenings. They begged me to stay and study there, but I already had other plans. I needed my top-of-the-class grades to earn an academic scholarship to one of the best colleges around. In the end, I got a full academic ride and then dropped out after my freshman year to start Dalton Enterprises.
Now years later, I wish I would have continued my studies. I could have easily started my business after graduating. I still wonder how anyone trusted me back then. Good thing they did, as now I get to do something I love every day.
Well, nearly every day. Some days just suck.
* * *
It wasn’t until our senior year in high school that Ollie and I started living in the same foster home. Before moving to the Browns, Ollie lived at another foster home near our old elementary school one town over with his two younger siblings, Chase and Livia. All three kids were placed in the system when their mother had a nervous breakdown and numbed the pain with alcohol. Nobody knew where their fathers were, and no other relatives were close.
After a series of unfortunate events, Ollie had to leave his first foster home and siblings behind. I still have no idea what the fuck happened, but maybe he will tell us one day.Probably not, but a man can hope.
As luck would have it, an all-boys foster home I had been staying at had an opening around that time. Ollie moved in eight months before our high school graduation. Sharing a room with my best friend did get hectic as hell at times. There was no privacy whatsoever. But I wouldn’t change a thing, and I’m sure Ollie feels the same.
Then there’s Jackson “Jax” Bennett, my other brother from another mother. Jax and I have been tight ever since we both moved to the Browns’ foster home at 14. We shared a room until one of the oldest kids moved out during our junior year, and Jax got his room. The other kid couldn’t stand our foster parents and wanted to get out quickly. After breaking their rules, he got his wish as he left the house with a black eye and a bruised lip.
Nobody went against our foster parent Michael Brown without consequences back then.
Nobody.
Unless you wanted to look like a boxer after a match.
Like Michael, Jax also has a quick temper and still gets in trouble now and then. Who knows how he managed to stay with the Browns that long when we were younger. I guess that they needed all the money they could get.
