"We are sure to get opportunities as we show ourselves capable of being trusted."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

I wake up from a dream — a nightmare, really — except it's more of a flashback.

A cough stops me from thinking about it anymore because it's so violent it makes my head throb.

"Goddamn it." I grumble, rubbing my head.

I see the time, it's after ten in the morning. We slept in.

"Morgan," I croak, shaking her by the hip. "baby, wake up."

She doesn't budge at first so I shake her body again and peel back the covers on her body.

"Stop!" she groans, trying to get the blanket back but I keep it in my hand.

"Get up, we have to go to brunch." I speak low because my throat hurts after a night of yelling. Err, I assume I was yelling, probably shout-singing. The last thing I remember is playing football with the guys. That's kind of concerning, how much did I have to drink?

I rub the sleepiness from my eyes and fold over my knees, complaining about this apparent hangover.
The last thing I want is to puke and be out of it during brunch with Russ and everyone else.

I rub Morgan's leg, it's soft to the touch, just to get her up and it works this time. She yawns small and then sits up, picking the corners of her eyes.

"God, what time is it?" She grumbles, tired or hungover, too.

"Late." I snarl. This makes Morgan tilt her head at me and stare frankly.

"What?"

She doesn't say anything, only shakes her head and jolts out of bed.

I stand, too, and stretch. "My back is killing me; what did you do to me last night?"

Morgan giggles across the room. "I can ask you the same thing."

I smile at her lazily and then look down at the bed. I gasp. The sheets have blood on them.

What the hell? I wince at the sting of the breeze hitting my back.

"The fuck?" I curse under my breath, trying to reach my back, where the pain is coming from.

Morgan speaks up, walking towards my body. "Turn around, let me see."

I oblige and what she sees is shocking, enough to make her eyes as large as saucers and lip quiver.

"I didn't do that." Her voice trembles as she stumbles backwards.

"What, do what? What is it?" I fret, stomping to the full body mirror against the wall.

I rotate so I can see my backside and am left almost petrified at first sight.

"It looks like someone carved you." Morgan says, snapping a picture.

I suck my teeth. "Someone? You mean you?"

She looks at me, almost offended. "Babe, I didn't do that."

"Morgan, you always scratch my back with those long ass nails."

"Never like that! Chris, you're literally bleeding. Like, a layer of skin is gone; look at my nails, they're clean." She flashes her nails to me and shows that none of my skin is under them. Thankfully, but still.

I'm not buying it, I think things got a little too passionate last night and she sunk her nails in me which is usual, but just scarring this time. . .

I ask her to help me clean it with peroxide before a shower and she hurries to play nurse.

We regroup in the living room area— my body on the tuffet as she stands behind me— and I wince as the liquid seeps into my flesh.

I clench my jaw and try to sit still but I'm itching to get to Russ's brunch already. I hate being late more than anything, and really want to continue impressing him. There's a hundred other guys here vying for his attention, I don't wanna have to compete for it for the rest of the day, having to pretend to give a shit about his golfing victories or tech school days.

"I remember when Callie would do this for me when I was little. I was always cut up and bruised from playing outside, like, literally all day and night. One summer, I would leave the house at eight in the morning and wouldn't come back until eight at night. There were, like, these woods behind our house and a cornfield on the other side of the road. Of course when I was younger, it was like a whole forest to me, but, I'd always come back with something, you know? Poison ivy, a splinter, a tick..." Morgan spaces out as she relives her childhood. It's actually really sweet to hear about how outdoorsy she was growing up. You see a girl this put together and beautiful, you think she's just been a princess, super delicate, but no.

"And there was this dirt hill I used to climb up and jump off of. It was so fun. I kind of miss it. You don't get that here, living like this." Her voice trails off.

I sigh before talking. "We had a lot of trees behind our house, too — our old house— and I would put on my dad's drawstring fisherman bucket hat, a brown vest, and some rain boots on some, like, Indians Jones type shit, and go explore. I guess. Aheh. I'd be back there for hours, thinking I'm in a whole other world. Meanwhile, Mom would literally be watching me from the kitchen window. Anyway, I'd dig up old beer bottles and find mason jars and shit like that, bottle caps, whatever. And Mom and Dad would clean them and put them in a wagon and we'd go to the pawn shop. I rarely found anything worth a lot, but you know, it was fun - something we did as a family. I guess I miss it, too, you're right: you can't get that here."

I look up and see Morgan smiling down at me sweetly. I squeeze her hand and she lowers herself to kiss my back, shoulder, and cheek.

"I think we would've been friends as kids." She bubbles, bringing a smile to my face.

"We would've been like Carl and Ellie." She adds in the Pixar movie 'UP' reference and it makes me crack a laugh but her smile fades.

"Morgan." I try consoling her but she's already so far.

She sniffles, standing in front of the bathroom door. "Let's just get ready for this brunch with these people, okay?"

~~~

"Ha ha ha ha!"

The entirety of the thirty foot long table thunders with laughter. Every seat is full. Full of Russ's partners, employees, close friends, investors, myself, and some colleagues.

It's a windy day in The Hamptons but no complaints there. The sun is shining through a few clouds here and there and the sky is blue.

Brunch, for me anyway, consists of French toast, sunny side up eggs, an avocado, fruit, and a few slices of toast. And no alcohol. Not even a mimosa. I swear if I even smell any alcohol, I'll throw the fuck up.

They all calm down from the corny joke, except for Annie and I who never found it funny.

I look behind me at Morgan who's peering all around as if in search of something or someone.

"What?" I try to figure out what she's doing.

She settles back into her seat and shakes her head at me to say it's nothing.

"Last night was something, wasn't it?" Helena's voice draws attention.

Russ, on her right, nods his head. He wears this smug smile and it makes my lip curl.
I don't know what it is, but it's like I can see his facade crumbling. He's not particularly inspiring or admirable, in fact, Russ Brown is kind of just a second rate Elon Musk. What makes him different from anyone else I've worked with: Malcolm? Shawn Bowie? Beck? They all have (had) this elitist mindset and frankly, it's making me sick.

Is this really what I want, I ask myself in my head.

"Sure was." Beck Jordan's voice makes me scowl. I hate him.

I remain sunken in the chair, my hand caressing Morgan's shin, and stare at the guys through my sunglasses.

"Not a man of many words today." Beck comments, slicing into his ham.

I push the glasses over my hairline and inhale deeply before addressing him.
"Never have too much to say to you, Beck." I emphasize his asshole name because he's an asshole.

I clasp my fingers over my stomach and blink slowly at him with a sarcastic smile.

Beck laughs and bites into his pork, sending me a wink.

"I'm sorry," Morgan says, sitting up in her chair. She awkwardly laughs and then I watch her scratch her head. "speaking of last night, where's your— where's your wife?"

"Oh?" Helena adds her own sound effects and leans in for the story.

Beck slows his jaw and faces Morgan. "Around." He replies stale. And still, he has this smug ass smile that I just want to knock off of his face.

"Yeah, but why isn't she here with us now?" Morgan questions.

Beck shrugs. "Beauty rest, you should know all about that."

"You know what you should know about, Beck-" I push my hands on the arm of the chair and sit up angrily.

Beck throws his arms up innocently, darting his eyes to Russ at the head of the table.

There's murmurs across the table that I don't mind. Fuck them. Fuck Beck Jordan.

I remain calm, though, and rip my eyes away from the likes of him once the waiter asks if I need a refill on the water.

"Well, Morgan, I used your sugar scrub this morning — the whipped one— and my God, my legs are the softest they've ever been!" Helena stirs up another conversation.

Morgan doesn't reply right away which makes me look over my shoulder at her with curiosity.

She's staring at Beck like he has three heads and he's just smirking between the two of us.

"Excuse me." Morgan says, standing from her seat so fast that it almost falls but she ignores it and storms off.

"Perhaps she's going to whip up another one for you, honey." Russ says to his date just to comfort her and ease the tension.

"Ooo." Helena grins.

I give it a second before following Morgan. There's no way I would've lasted at that table without her.

After looking around for a minute or two, I find Morgan by the parking lot, pacing.

"Morgan!" I have to shout, approaching her.

"I want to go home!" She roars. It sounds like she's crying or about to and I make it a point to find out exactly why.

The wind blows her hair across her face and she aggressively pushes it out of the way.

She stops pacing to face me and rant on. "I don't like it here. I don't like those people. I don't like the food, the pancakes are vegan, like what the fuck? And I don't like who you are when you're around them. I want to go home."

I square her shoulders to calm her down and she pulls on my wrists, hanging her head.

"Can you tell me what's going on, where did this come from?" I try looking in her eyes as I speak but she won't connect hers with mine.

"Chris, this is weird," She yells and then hides her face in her face for a second. "This isn't you! Beck's wife... I met her last night."

"So?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

Morgan drops her jaw as if I said something so outrageous. She flails her arms. "That lady drugged me, I think."

I laugh, thinking this is a joke.

Morgan makes her face of stone. "Seriously? It's not funny."

"It is because Beck's wife is a weird Jesus freak, where the fuck would she gets drugs from, and why would she drug you?"

Morgan's face falls. She stares ahead blankly like she's having a vision or something.

Suddenly, she stumbles back and holds her stomach.

"No... no." She refuses to believe me.

"Yes," I tell her, "and I know that because she comes to the office to bring him lunch. She can't cook for shit, but she's a nice lady, I guess, if you can get past that one weird tooth and that excruciating Southern accent."

I can see the wheels turning in Morgan's head, she's completely baffled, and I'm unsure why.
"Christian woman? Tooth? Southern accent? No. Chris, the woman I met last night wasn't anything like that."

I hunch my shoulder, arms still crossed over my chest. "I don't know what to tell you. You were drunk, Annie, we all were. Maybe you heard her wrong?"

Morgan rolls her eyes at me and resumes pacing, mumbling under her breath.

I look around and conveniently spot Beck's wife, Cordelia, walking from her Porsche.

"Speaking of," I gripe to Morgan. "Cordelia!" I wave her over.

Mrs.Jordan clicks over in her short green heels and waves frantically. "Christopher, how are you?" She grins widely.

She stands short between my body and Morgan's, just happy to be here.
I don't know how this woman ended up with the likes of Beck, but.

I'm sure she doesn't mean to but Morgan is looking this woman up and down like she can't believe her eyes.

"I'm fine. Cordelia, this is my girlfriend, Morgan. She seems to think you two met last night." I introduce them for the first time. Morgan scoffs at me.

Cordelia shakes her hand. "Last night? No. I was in bed by seven. Everyone started drinking and I just don't agree with that. But it's very nice to meet you now, aren't you just as gorgeous?"

Morgan puts on her manners and embraces the short, frumpy woman a squeeze.

"Well, is brunch still on? I'd love a bagel." Cordelia's southern accent hits my ears.

"It is, we were just about to head back over." I speak up, eyeing Morgan so she can agree.

"I'm not," she says instead, shaking her head. "I'm full."

I know she's lying, just too in her head to return to the table after her little episode.

"Chris." Cordelia smiles at me with her arm up so I can take it like a gentleman.

I look to Morgan but she just turns away, arms crossed with her attitude.

I don't say anything else because I know Morgan and know she doesn't want to hear it from me right now. So, I link arms with Beck's wife who is the tolerable one of the pair and walk her to the table.

~

8:14 pm

All day, Phil and the guys have been whispering about a private breakfast Russ invites "certain members" to in the morning, the last day of the trip. They've rumored it's some type of initiation, but I don't believe that. If anything, I'm hoping he has some type of business offer or grand check.
Either way, he only invites one guest a year and I didn't come out here, listening to his damn jokes, and eat those nasty ass vegan pancakes just to not get invited to his private breakfast.

I've missed Morgan for the past several hours so I decide to finally check on her. She's had enough space for the day. I just hope she's okay now, and not still freaking out.
I want to support her, but we were drunk, and I'm just so damn confused.

I've had a few drinks myself since brunch. I just needed something to mellow out and these people act like weed is crack around here so I couldn't smoke.

I walk around the lighthouse to the private beach where I see two bodies in the grass. They're just talking, but awfully close. It's Morgan and my eyes don't deceive me, it's Beck.

I hear her laugh. I don't like that laugh, it's not her real laugh. Is she trying to be cute, or something? I wish I could read it better, if I could tell she's uncomfortable or not, but their bodies are close and I just become angry.

"—I wouldn't mind another coffee date, though. We can go back to my hotel, Cordelia's asleep, why don't we-" I hear Beck speaking.

I discreetly watch Morgan step away from Beck. She shakes her head and covers her chest with her folded arms.

"Oh, no," Morgan speaks up. "I asked my question and you've been no help. I don't think we have anything else to do with each other."

He steps forward and she continues backing up.

Beck says, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, if you just-"

"If you just what?!" I barrel forward.
Admittedly, I was a bit late to react, but I wanted to see if either of them would cross any lines, and he did.

Did he fucking call himself flirting? And what the fuck was he about say? If she just what?

"Chris-" Morgan looks and sounds surprised to see me. It almost comes off guilty but I'm more focused on Beck. I hate Beck.

Beck slides his tongue over his veneers. "Take it easy, we're just talking like two adults."

"And I don't want you talking to her. Why don't you tell me what you were about to say, huh?"

"Chris, don't-" Morgan tries pulling my arm.

I look at her with a crazed look. "Morgan, honestly, back the fuck up."

Phil and Frank come running over, both pulling me back.

"Whoa, whoa," Phil sounds. "What's going on?"

"Chris doesn't know how to talk to women apparently." Beck scoffs, adjusting his goddamn sailor jacket.

I lunge forward but can't get to him.

"Get off of me." I huff at Phil and Frank, snatching away from them.

I calm down and point to Beck. "Don't talk to her again. Don't look at her, nothing. Let this be the last warning."

"Wow," Beck goaded. "that's a lot for me just talking to her. Do you have something to hide, something to be worried about? We didn't do anything wrong, yet."

"The fuck did you just say?!" I unhinge my jaw and lunge towards him one final time but he back peddles and is saved by Phil and Frank grabbing me up.

"Easy, easy..." Russ hops in the middle of the commotion.

"Let's bring it down, fellas. Drinks are circulating, we're not ourselves. How about we all call it a night, retire to paradise one last time, yes?"

I breathe sharp through my nose and push Phil and Frank away from my body.

Once Russ gives a more stern nod, everyone disperses including Beck and he's lucky that he did.

"Chris," Russ stops me with his hand on my shoulder. "I'd like to see you for breakfast in the morning." Then he casually ambles down the beach.

Once I'm left all alone, I turn and face Morgan finally.

"Let's go." I exhale, head throbbing from all the excitement.

She doesn't move, just blinks at me with a long face.

"Morgan," I roar, "let's fucking go now."

She rotates on her heels and starts heading for the hotel. Neither of us say a word until we're in the suite.

I walk inside first and drop my weight onto the couch.

My head lifts so I can see Morgan enter and push her back against the door, closing it before she locks it.

She rubs the back of her neck and rolls it.

"Sorry," She says exhausted, stepping out of her heels. "I'm sorry. It was just a conversation about his wife - the real one."

"You know I hate him, why the fuck were you laughing in his face?" I talk with my hands.

"I said I'm sorry." Her voice is dry, monotone.

I don't know what to say, coming down from all the adrenaline, still just mad at everything and everyone here.

"Fuck it." I breathe out, putting my face in my hands.

Morgan switches over and lifts my chin up.

She looks me directly in the eye and then says, "If you ever talk to me like that again..." and then aggressively releases my jaw, walking away without finishing her saying.

I gulp hard and try following her to the bedroom but she throws a pillow at me.

"Since you want to act like a fucking animal," she snarls, slamming the door in my face. "sleep outside like one."

~~~

7:24am

"Mimosa, sir?" The waitress addresses me.

"No." I put my hand up, clearing my throat. "Hell no." I almost gag at the sight of wine and scoot my chair in but slouch anyway.

"You know I'm a pretty wealthy man." Russ leads with that, cigar between his teeth.

I roll my neck back and groan. "Okay, what does that have to do with anything?"

He chuckles, spreading butter on a bagel. "I want to invest in you, your future and all your endeavors. When Reuben and Shawn told me about you-"

"I'm sorry, they told you about me?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's just that I didn't know that, Shawn's been fired for a little while now and Reuben never mentioned you."

"Any matter," he continues, "I like you. I like what you do. You're intelligent, crafty, I could go on, but basically you're just the type of guy I want on my team."

So the rumors were true, this weekend was some sort of initiation. And I was right, too, he picked me.

This is good news but I can't work myself up to get excited. I'm suspicious.

"What do you need from me, Russell?" I push my fingers into my temples and wait for a straight response.

Russ smiles almost wickedly. "Loyalty." He extends his hand over the table for me to shake and I stare at it. This feels like deja-vu. . .

"—See this Chris? Get a good look at it." Malcolm says to thirteen-year-old me.

"Wow, are these all of your cars?!" I exclaim at the sight of the luxury vehicles.

Malcolm nods with pride. He was always so proud.

His sparkling black suit looked like a million bucks, I was in awe.

I run across his office to the other window and peer through it, looking at the factory workers with the "forbidden plant." Or so my mother calls it.

"What are they doing?" I ask my Godfather.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "They're working. For me. And one day, they'll be working for you."

"Mom says weed is bad, I shouldn't be around it."

Malcolm laughs and then kneels before me.

"You remember your father?"

I nod at his question.

"He's gone because he drank too much alcohol, but he isn't a bad person, is he?"

I look down at my feet but Malcolm picks my head up.
"No, my brother is not a bad guy. Neither am I. This is how I make my money and as long as you're with me, you'll make money like this too."

"Okay," I agree, walking around his desk. Malcolm tucks me into his leather office chair and stands behind me.

"What do I have to do?" I ask him, kicking my feet up.

"I just need you to promise me something, nephew. Promise me you'll work hard, stay smart, and most importantly..." he waits for me to finish his sentence since I'm used to his number one rule by now.

I speak up confidently, shaking Malcolm's hand, and say, "Be loyal."