When The Rich Son Falls

Two

It was the first time that Topher had been praised by his family, and he was reveling in it. They had finally seen that he wasn’t so useless after all; that all of the “partying” he had been doing actually amounted to something. Topher had never really been resentful for being regarded as the “useless” kid in the family, but he did have to admit that it felt nice to be acknowledged for a change.

He wasn’t planning to mess it up.

That is why when his friend, Tricia Sorenno, let him know that her father was interested in meeting him—for some reason, specifically him and not Charlie who was the CEO, nor their father who was the Chairman of the Board—he prepared himself well to make a good impression. After all, the fate of that partnership seemed to have fallen into his soft, nice, uncalloused hands; and even if his brothers weren’t exactly happy about it, they had no choice but to accept that fact.

So, Topher studied up. He did his homework, read about what STP corp. stood for—which was basically a bunch of do-gooder things in the name of environmentalism—and even sat for hours to listen to Charlie lecture him about why they wanted the business—which was apparently much less well-meaning, given that they want to procure half of the company only because they foresee it going big in the next ten years.

“Are you sure you got it all memorized?” Charlie had asked him for at least the tenth time on the morning of his meeting with Sorenno.

“I have, I have,” Topher groaned as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror. “The pitch, the go-green narrative—I got it all up here. Locked and loaded,” he said with a smirk as he tapped on his temple.

Charlie rolled his eyes and stood from the chair to get a better look of his younger brother. His lip curled in distaste as his eyes landed on the strips of dyed white hair on Topher’s head. “Can’t you spray that with some temporary color?” he asked, about to touch it when Topher slapped his hand away.

“No,” he replied. “It’s part of my charm. I’d like to think it’s what got me this meeting.”

“I highly doubt that, you dumbass.”

“That’s not very Chief Executive Officer of you to say, brother,” Topher tutted and waved a finger as he passed by Charlie to approach Leonard, who was standing by the side, holding up a few watches to choose from. Topher took his time and chose the one that was the flashiest. He may not be well-versed with how their own business worked due to his lack of interest, but if there was one thing he could do well, it was to impress people with his wealth and charm.

“Get the car ready, I’ll be there in a minute,” he told Leonard, who nodded and quickly went on his way.

“I hope you know that it goes without saying that you should do a good job on this one,” Charlie sternly reminded him. With his arms crossed and a straightened posture, he reminded Topher of their father’s photo from when he was younger.

“You just said it, so I guess it doesn’t go without saying,” Topher remarked as he fixed his tie once more in front of the mirror.

“If only you put that quick wit of yours into good use,” his brother bitterly commented. “Remember, a lot is resting on this meeting. If Sorenno partners up with us, we’ll be unstoppable. Good press, increase in revenue—we’ll reach our peak in no time.”

“Won’t it be boring to reach the peak this fast? What else would be left for your competitive ass to conquer then?”

“I’m not kidding around, Topher. This can give us billions! And even if you just get him to actually meet with me, I can get you any higher position you want in the company.”

Topher had to scoff at that. “What makes you think I want more responsibility?”

Charlie could name a few reasons—the fact that his youngest brother was nearing thirty, to clear his infamy, to actually have something in life to pursue—but he didn’t say any of them. “Just,” he sighed, “just do well, okay?”

Topher turned to him and flashed a smile, one that gave off undue confidence. If Charlie didn’t know his brother, he would have been fooled into thinking that he just might actually know what he was about to do; but he knew Topher’s track record. Despite his smarts and ability to get his way with people, he had a tendency to make careless mistakes and f**k things up; and this was a deal that couldn’t and shouldn’t be f****d up.

“Oh, ‘ye of little faith,” Topher patted his brother’s arm and made his exit. He was right, Charlie thought, for they had very little faith in him.

Topher arrived five minutes early to the meeting and was made to wait in the office. There was not an ounce of nervousness in his body, even though talking business was not part of his expertise. It was one of the perks of having lived a life with money, fame and power readily handed to you. People who weren’t his family either wanted to be close to him, be with him, or be him, and that was his truth for around three decades of his life in the public eye.

So, when the man he had been waiting for finally arrived on time, he greeted him with a smile and a firm handshake.

“Good evening, Mr. Sorenno. Thank you for making time to meet with me.”

“Of course,” the man gestured to a chair, and Topher took a seat. “I couldn’t say no to my little girl, even if you are a representative of PIC.”

Barely a minute in the same room together and the warning lights in Topher’s head already lit up. He wasn’t unfamiliar to the minority that was wary of his family, so he always made it a point to change their minds when he has the opportunity to do so.

“You seem to dislike us, Mr. Sorenno. Why is that?” he asked, making himself sound more curious than defensive.

Sorenno took a deep breath and sat back for a second, as if to think of where he should begin. “Your daughter companies have destroyed much of our natural resources, for one. Forests, mountains—all to make room for new buildings.”

“But we’ve also donated to environmental drives throughout the years. A huge chunk of the company’s funds goes to reparations.”

“Wouldn’t you agree that prevention is better than cure?” Topher found himself smiling at that. This man was a challenge. He had probably agreed to the meeting with his mind already set, and he likely chose to meet knowing the youngest child’s reputation. Topher was being underestimated, but his confidence didn’t waver. If anything, it grew.

“Yes,” he agreed with a nod, “that’s true, but in a capitalist world like ours, it is impossible to succeed without making a dent. I know STP corp. surely had to compromise at some point, especially when you were still beginning to take your stride. Say, around 1989? If that rings a bell.”

The look on Sorenno’s face made it clear that he knew what Topher was talking about.

“My point is that we’ve all made mistakes we can’t change,” Topher went on, “but we’re all trying to be better, and—let’s keep this between us—if you partner up with PIC, you’d have more resources at your feet, and you’d be able to make more impact in the world. I know you’re interested in taking down the oil game—the Big Four—and with the recent price hikes and a backing from a multinational blue chip like us, who’s to say you can’t?”

It was admittedly a risky move, bringing up something that could have elicited a defensive response; but knowing Sorenno’s background, which was readily available on the internet, and having had a glimpse of how he was as a person, thanks to his daughter’s many, many stories, Topher decided to take the risk, and it worked. It shaved down the man’s ego by one layer, and opened up the floor for Topher to give an introduction about the proposal. By the time their meeting ended, the man had agreed—despite still being reluctant—to at least meet with Charlie for lunch the next day.

It wasn’t the best scenario, but it surely wasn’t the worst either. So, when Topher left the man’s office twenty minutes later, he walked out feeling pretty good about himself.

“How’d the meeting go?” Leonard asked him in a whisper as soon as he saw him exit the building.

Topher loosened his tie then handed it to his assistant with a smile. “How do you think?”

“No way,” Leonard muttered, opening the car door for him.

“Way. Take me to the 6th because I now have some sports car shopping to do.” Topher sat back comfortably and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the chiller. Then, he placed his phone beside him with the screen facing up. Any second now, he knew, and he’d be subject to more praises from his own family.

Just as he opened the bottle, the awaited conference phone call finally came. “That was quick,” he smiled to himself as he answered it and placed the device on a holder in front of him, so that they could see his face.

“Are you calling me to tell me how proud you all are?” he boastfully asked as his family members came onto the screen one by one. The parents in one part, Charlie on another, Connor, and then there was their PR lead officer. It didn’t strike him as odd then, until Charlie bellowed with his face all red with anger, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Topher’s brilliant smile fell off his face. Only then did he realize that none of the people in the conference call were smiling.

“Wha-sorry, what?”

“Christopher, you stupid son of a gun! We just received a call from Sorenno’s office, telling us he’ll never go into business with us,” his father chimed in.

Topher couldn’t believe his ears. Was he just imagining everything that happened just a few minutes ago? “But our meeting went well!”

“That was right before news of you with Shane f*****g Bricks got out!” Charlie growled. “Are you out of your mind? That guy’s known to be part of a shady group that supports corrupt politicians that give leeway to oil and mining companies!”

Topher’s jaw dropped. Shane? Shane Bricks? That guy he met at a party right before their family dinner? “H-how was I supposed to know that? I met the guy for like a minute inside a dark club!” But his excuses fell short as Charlie seethed, his mother looked disappointed, his father sighed and massaged his head, and the PR guy looked stressed while he answered messages left and right on his laptop and his phone.

“All we asked for was for you not to ruin our name,” Elizabeth said, trying to keep her anger in check, “and now people are making conspiracy theories that we’re making deals left and right with—jesus, Topher! Do you know what bad press this is for us? Especially for me?”

“The team is trying to control the social media pages, but there’s thousands and thousands every minute,” the PR guy chimed in. “We’re setting up a press conference for you, Charlie. As for Topher, I suggest we send him away.”

Topher grabbed his phone so he could look more closely at the guy who was speaking. “What do you mean you’re sending me away?”

“Since you’re at the eye of the storm, we need to control your image most of all. You need to go to some kind of third-world country or impoverished state or island, get your pictures taken that you’re helping out and living in, like, a tent or something. You don’t need to actually do the work, but it’ll be better if one or two locals would, like, post about you on twitter, then we can blow that up. We can say you do that yearly, and then just tweet or post something on ** that says you’re not friends with Shane. Say you just met him that night and you didn’t know who he was.”

“Because I didn’t know who he was!” Topher exclaimed, gripping his phone tightly in exasperation.

“One of our team members will settle the airplane tickets and everything else you need. A car will be sent for you in ten minutes.”

“I’m not going to the slums just so I could—"

“Christopher Stevens, so help me!” Charles finally spoke up, looking the angriest that Topher had seen him ever since his retirement. “You will do as you are told! Pack and get in the car or we’ll have you written off the will!”

“But the estate in Greece—"

“Now!”

With that, the conference call was ended. Topher sat there at the back, staring blankly at the screen. Leonard had stopped the car in front of the building in which he lived. The assistant looked at him through the rearview mirror, unsure of what he should do.

After a few seconds of keeping still from the shock of it all, Topher’s mind finally raced with ideas. He looked at Leonard and nodded at him. “Get out and start packing for me. I need some privacy,” he said, and Leonard had no choice but to follow. Once his assistant had entered the building, Topher called one of his long-time friends that he went to grade school with and partied with, before he took over his parents’ business.

As soon as Miles picked up, Topher went for it without wasting another second.

“Dude, you have to help me out.”

“Topher, man, you’re all over twitter! Charlie must be fuming,” Miles said with a hint of concern.

“You got that right. I need a place to hideout for a while. Didn’t you say you have a place beach-side?”

“Thought you hated the beach? When we were in Cabo, all you did was complain about how hot it was and how the sand kept getting into your—"

“I get it, I get it,” Topher snapped at him. “But that’s what my parents also know, so that’s where they’ll least expect me to go.”

“Fine, just book a flight to Marine Bay. I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport, so just text me what time. I want front row seats to the VS fashion show next year, you hear me? And backstage passes.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you. Thanks.”

Just like that, Topher had set his escape plan. He went up to his apartment, grabbed a few bags of his most important belongings—his jewelry, his game consoles, some clothes, to name a few. Even when Leonard reminded him that his family was about to send a car for him, he took a cab to the airport and withdrew a bag-full of money.

“One ticket to Marine Bay,” he had said at the counter, presenting the woman behind it with cash. This way, without an online booking or the use of cards for payment, they’d have a much more difficult time tracing him. He checked his social media on his phone while the employee checked his IDs and input his name on the computer. People in the internet really were saying lots of crazy stuff about him and his family, just because of a few photos with him and that guy, Shane, flirting and lip-locked at the club.

He was zooming into one of the pictures when the woman asked once more to clarify, “Mariner’s Bay? One ticket for Christopher Stevens?”

Topher had been too preoccupied to hear the small distinction in the name of his supposed destination. With his mind elsewhere, he answered, “Yeah, yeah, just one,” without even bothering to look up from his phone.

The employee placed the ticket and his IDs on the counter. “Gate 29,” she said, “flight leaves in fifteen minutes.”