When The Rich Son Falls

Colored lights flashed from different directions, making everything and everyone under them look magical. In fact, it was too intoxicating that it also caused a few inebriated people to trip on spilled drinks on the floor, or make out with someone they’d usually find unattractive in the daylight. Music blasted out of the speakers from every corner of the room, playing to the beat of a man with large headphones standing behind a booth. It wasn’t harsh enough to completely wreck the eardrums of anyone standing close by, but it was loud enough for people to have to shout to the ones they’re next to, just so they could be heard. But it was a Saturday night; everyone inside was dancing, drinking, or both, and the conversations any of them held barely had any depth to begin with. If they had wanted to talk, they would have gone to a coffee shop instead; but none of the people in there were looking for deep connections. They were looking to unwind after a long week of doing… well, barely anything worthwhile, really. That was the kind of crowd that 28-year-old Christopher Stevens, or Topher (a nickname he had chosen for himself), was a part of. In fact, he was the one in the middle of the floor that night, locking lips with someone that he had just met barely twenty minutes ago. He wasn’t always so promiscuous, but he was feeling himself that night with his newly dyed hair, and he wanted to feel a little rush of adrenaline before he attended a family dinner. The fact that he was kissing a good-looking son of a billionaire was just an extra. “Topher! Is that you, Topher?” The sound of his name being shouted over the blaring music made Topher pull away and wipe his lips before turning to the caller. It was dark, and the dancing lights made everything more difficult to see, but he was able to recognize who it was that interrupted them. The tall, gangly, tired-looking 21-year-old in a suit and tie was unmistakable. Topher let out a loud groan, just so his dismay would be audible. “What now, Leonard?” “You’re late! You’re running late! You said you’d be here for only five minutes!” Leonard, his assistant, shouted into his ear. “Do you have to go?” the guy Topher was kissing—Sean? Shawn? Ah, Shane—interrupted. Topher placed an arm above his shoulders and pulled him close, as if to show him off to his assistant. “I can spare two more minutes, can I?” Leonard looked at the both of them like he couldn’t care less, then raised his phone up to show his employer the time. “You’re already twenty-three minutes late!” Topher scoffed at him, but when he squinted his eyes and read the screen, panic flashed across his face. “Oh, s**t!” he exclaimed, quickly taking his arm off Shane so he could brush his hair back. “I got to go, but it was nice meeting you,” he said to the man, who barely heard anything that came out of his mouth, and so responded with a confused, “Huh? You’re leaving?” Instead of repeating what he said, Topher just placed another kiss on his lips—which his assistant rolled his eyes at—said bye, then hurriedly push through the dancing crowd to get to the exit. The transition from the club to the street was drastically sobering. The mixed smells of alcohol, perfume, and sweat were gone, the dizzying lights were replaced by steady white or yellow light bulbs, and even the noise from the street sounded peaceful when coming from a confined space filled with heart-thumping, deafening music. Topher’s senses suddenly felt heightened, and so did his panic. “Why didn’t you come get me sooner?” he asked Leonard a little too loudly, as he had yet to adjust his voice and hearing. Leonard opened the car door for him, replying, “I thought you’d actually get out of there after five minutes!” in his defense before closing it after his employer got in. Then, he rushed to the front passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. The driver was quick to step on the gas. “Then when I realized you weren’t coming,” he continued. “I tried to find you, but I couldn’t!” He handed a clean shirt and jacket to Topher, who was shrugging his party clothes off. “Then you should’ve called me!” Topher argued, only to be shut up when Leonard handed him his phone with deadpan look on his face. “Of course, I left my phone in this car,” he groaned in disappointment with himself. While he donned on the clean garments, he shot a look of guilt to his assistant and muttered, “Sorry.” Leonard replied with a sigh and handed him his can of pomade. “They’re going to kill you if they find out you were just partying, you know.” Topher, already dressed, grabbed the can and began to fix his hair in a hurry while Leonard held a mirror for him. “Then I’ll just say that I was in a meeting.” “They know your schedule.” “The tires got busted?” “That’ll get me in trouble,” the driver piped in. “Then, I don’t know!” Topher replied with his voice getting high. “I’ll say my tummy was acting up. I had to take a dump several times.” Leonard thought about it for a second before he nodded. “That might work.” Right on time as Topher finished fixing his hair, the car stopped right in front of the hotel. Leonard was quick to get out and open the door for him. He sprayed a bit of perfume in the air, which Topher walked through before turning around with his arms slightly raised. “Good? Decent?” he asked Leonard, who was hurriedly checking him out from head to toe for any imperfections. When he found none, Leonard nodded and walked ahead to open the door for him. They headed straight to the elevator, and luckily, one arrived on their floor just as they arrived. They both stepped in, and Leonard pressed the topmost button; but just as the doors were about to close in the middle, Topher suddenly pressed open. “Wait,” he said, looking out of the elevator. “Wait? Why? Did you forget anything?” Leonard asked as he impatiently checked his watch. Topher nodded at something outside, and Leonard followed his gaze towards an elderly woman with a cane, very slowly walking towards them. Leonard couldn’t believe it. They were already late enough as it was, and his employer wanted to stall the ride, just because someone who was at least six feet away was slowly inching towards them. “She can get on the next one!” he hissed at Topher. “She’s already seen us, Leonard,” Topher replied through a fake smile. “It will be rude of us if we don’t wait for her. It’ll only take a second.” Leonard took a deep breath, unable to do anything. His boss was many things, and a people-pleaser was one of them. If only Topher showed the same thoughtfulness to him as he did with strangers and acquaintances, then his life the past year wouldn’t have been hell under his employ. So, they waited. It took almost a minute for the woman to get on, but it was another minute that they were late. The Stevens weren’t exactly known for having easygoing and understanding personalities. If they were, then they probably never would have made it to the cover of the Times magazine. The old lady smiled and thanked them for holding the doors for her, and they were finally on their way up. Topher, of course, found it to be his duty to help the old lady out of the elevator once they stopped on her floor, but after that, it was direct to the roof deck they went. Right before the doors opened, Leonard straightened himself and mentally prepared for what was about to come. He had met with the rest of the Stevens more than a dozen times, but every time had been nerve-wracking, to say the least. After all, being in the same room as them meant being with a bunch of well-known, powerful, rich folks who could make his life miserable with a single text message. Their blatant elitism and bloated sense of self-importance didn’t help them either. Topher, on the other hand, looked distracted with himself as usual. It was probably because of the four shots of alcohol he had back at the party, and the fact that the walls of the elevator were mirrors, giving him the luxury to check himself out at every angle. But when the elevator doors opened, he shook his head awake and put on his game face—which was basically a charming smile and a bright look in his eyes. “Good evening,” he greeted lightheartedly as he entered, in hopes that his cheerful attitude would somehow lessen the anger that was about to come his way. It didn’t. Leonard stood by the door, along with the other assistants who were making themselves scarce. They knew better than to call attention to themselves, so they kept busy with their smartphones and their laptops, pretending to work when in fact, one ear was always listening in—ready to either take notes, or make fun of their employers come their night out with friends. “You’re late. Again.” It was Charles Stevens III AKA Charlie who said that, with the tone of his voice and the look on his face clearly indicating that he was not pleased. Charlie, much like the rest of the men in his family, originally had jet black hair, dark brown eyes, and a tall stature. At 39 years old, he was the oldest son of his father and namesake, Charles Jr., and their mother, Elizabeth. Sharp, straightforward, and power-hungry, he was known to be one of the best businessmen and investors in the country, next to their father; which was why when he was appointed as CEO of Plutus Investment Corporation or PIC, no one in the board of directors batted an eye. “Look at what you did to your hair, Christopher! It’s even worse in person,” Elizabeth said with a look of disgust as Topher gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I can already imagine tomorrow’s headlines.” Elizabeth, their mother, was the only one in their immediate family that did not dabble directly in business, as she had her own industry to conquer: politics. From a two-term mayor, to a senator, to becoming the senate president, Elizabeth battled through the ranks with her smarts, generational wealth, and timeless beauty and elegance. It had been said in many interviews that her boys may have gotten their height and hair from their father, but it was her modelesque features that gave them the winning pot in life. That was a fact that not even her husband, Charles, dared to deny. “I think it’s very chic and it suits me well,” Topher pridefully said, placing his chin on the back of his fingers, then tilting his head up to showcase his looks. His father, who used to be the mean and ruthless businessman to fear, nodded in agreement with him, which only earned the old man a slap on the arm from his wife. “What? I think so, too,” Charles said in his defense. Ever since his “retirement”—which meant stepping down as CEO and moving on to become the chairman of the board—he had noticeably mellowed down. Business-wise, he still kept up the strong and full of machismo façade, but what the public didn’t see was how his typical day involved sipping margaritas at the golf club, and watching re-runs of old sitcoms on his laptop. Topher took a glass of champagne for himself, gratefully raised it towards Charles, then finished its contents in one go. “You look like you’re aging but only on one part of your head.” The comment was made by his other older brother, Connor. 35 years old, a family man, and — as how Topher would describe him— “pretty chill”, Connor had been smart enough not to actively participate in PIC’s business. That, he left to his husband of nearly a decade. So, he settled on making passive income through investments and, more importantly for him, he became something akin to a stay-at-home husband who took care of his partner and the surrogate mother of their unborn baby. If one were to ask Topher, or any of the assistants standing by, all of them would say that Connor was, by far, the most tolerable of all the Stevens. “It’s inspired by Dr. Strange, and I’ve gotten tons of compliments for it. Leonard can attest. Leonard?” The assistant froze at the sound of his name. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled into whatever Topher had with his family, even though what he was saying was true. Topher had his black hair dyed brown, then back to black with white streaks on the side a la Doctor Strange. The man had jokingly said he was Stevens Strange, which was a play on the character’s name. Leonard did find it funny then, and Topher did get many chuckles from the joke and many compliments with how he looked, but Leonard was not about to say that in a room full of lions ready to chew his head off. Luckily for the assistant, Charlie tapped his glass to call everyone’s attention. “Moving on, I think we can get on with the celebration. I’m happy to officially announce—" Topher leaned over to Connor and snickered. “Did he just use the word happy?” Connor gave him a discouraging look, while Charlie shot him a stern one before continuing. “I’m happy to announce that PIC has reached all of its 5-year goals, just in time for its 50th anniversary next month.” His family, the assistants, and even the servers gave him a round of applause, and he stood there to welcome it all. “And it’s all thanks to the dashing CEO!” Elizabeth proudly gave her eldest son a kiss on the cheek. “Bravo, son,” Charles said as he shook his hand. “I couldn’t have left the company in better hands.” “Thank you, thank you, let’s celebrate it fully on the anniversary itself,” Charlie waved a hand, pretending to be bashful about his success when he was the one who arranged the family dinner to celebrate. “Tonight, we have more than one to be thankful for. Connor, take the floor.” Their parents and Topher turned to him in surprise, all clearly unaware of what Charlie meant. “Thank you and congratulations, Charlie,” Connor said with a smile as he took the spotlight. “Now, this isn’t really something that’s as big as that, but I do have an announcement. Brian and I are going to have a baby girl!” “Wonderful news, son!” Charles exclaimed, while Elizabeth embraced his son at the prospect of having their first grandchild be a girl. “Thank goodness! I’ll finally have someone to spoil.” Topher clapped his hands and genuinely cheered for his brothers’ happy news. But the assistants knew what was about to come next. They had witnessed this in countless private family events, and even though only Leonard directly worked with Topher, they still somewhat pitied the man. “How about you, Topher?” Charles asked. “Any news you’d like to share with us?” Every family dinner always went as such: the parents and the sons would share their achievements, and then Topher… well, he had a tendency to say the wrong things. Christopher AKA Topher was 28 years old, the youngest, the most sociable of the siblings, and the most well-known by the media next to his mother—but not for the same good reasons. Quick-witted, good-looking, charming—most of the adjectives that had been used to describe him were mostly in relation to his physical features and social skills because, unlike the rest of his brothers, he couldn’t care less about business. In fact, he didn’t even care about politics. His father had to give him a small position in the company with barely any responsibilities, just so their family could say to the public that he wasn’t completely useless; when in fact, that’s how they perceived him to be. Dubbed by the media as a social butterfly, a party boy, and at worst, the spoiled youngest Stevens son, Topher had managed to be in the news for attending parties, being seen dating another high-profile personality, or doing something fun that only rich, jobless boys could do. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a proud smile that fooled everyone into thinking that he did have something worth to contribute. But then, he continued, “Actually, you know what? Something big happened to me just this week. I met Benedict Cumberbatch at Comic Con! That’s why I got the highlights! I even got his number and when I sent him a picture of myself, he gave me a compliment. Said it “suited me nicely”. I invited him over for dinner next week with his wife, but I think the signal in the UK is terrible, so I haven’t heard from him.” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Connor sighed in dismay. “That’s not—that’s useless. What does that bring to the table?” “Uh, publicity?” Topher said as if it should’ve been obvious. “That’s what I do, right? Socialize? Keep the family brand up and in with the times?” “That’s what our PR team is for. Not ruining our image is the bare minimum of your responsibilities!” Charlie said with a raised voice. “You are supposed to be learning how to run the business. Have you even taken a look at the projects you’re supposed to be a part of?” Topher crinkled his nose and looked at his assistant. “I think I saw them in an email that Leonard showed me?” “You’re…” Charlie closed his eyes and tried to control his temper, “you’re useless.” “Spoiled rotten. I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” their mother piped in with a hopeless sigh. Sometime after Topher’s graduation from university, she’d completely settled on giving up hope for her youngest child. “Do you see what you’ve done, Charles?” She glared at her husband, who was sitting quietly by her side. “Me? I’m the one that gave him a position in the company.” “It ia pretty useless position to hold, dad, even I know that,” muttered Connor. “Topher’s smart. I’m sure he can handle more if he stops playing the dumb, spoiled, youngest kid role.” “Hey,” Topher pointed at his older brother, clearly taking offense. “I got us a bunch of actors and socialites for endorsement. I’m also the reason why thousands and thousands of people from Twitter donated to our cause. That gave us some good rep, right? Also helped people become more environmentally conscious.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Even without you, we could’ve managed that. Besides, that eco-crap is nothing. We donate tens of thousands to those anyway just to make a show of it.” Topher’s jaw hung open. “You mean, all I worked hard for was useless?” “You want to be useful? Get us a meeting with Sorreno.” Charlie had meant it as a joke, but Topher’s eyebrows met in the middle at the sound of that name. “Sorenno of STP corp.? The clean-energy company?” That recognition made his entire family stop laughing. “I’m surprised you even know of him,” Charles admitted. “I’m friends with Tricia.” Topher shrugged casually, knowing that he finally had their attention for the right reasons for a change. “I partied with her back in Cabo in ’20. I’ve been to their house a bunch of times already.” “Why do you make it sound like you’re still in high school?” groaned Connor. “Anyway, what do you need from them? What kind of meeting?” Topher took out his phone and began to draft a text message. “I can call in a favor real quick right now.” Charles and his namesake exchanged dumbfounded looks, and Topher had to tap on the table just so someone would answer him. “A meeting,” Charlie said, looking unsure whether or not this was really happening. “We’d like to have a meeting to discuss a partnership. Say, we want to invest in renewable energy. We want to buy a large part of their company—no, no, don’t say that. Just mention that we want to have a meeting because we’re interested in going green. That’s it.” Topher raised an eyebrow at him, then proceeded to type down for a few seconds. After that, he didn’t move his fingers for a while and just looked down at his phone, while the others stared at him in wait. Just then, everyone heard a ding come from Topher’s device. He read the message with a straight face, then looked up at them. “So?” Charlie asked impatiently. Topher sighed and placed his phone down before sitting back on his seat. He was making the others wait longer than needed, knowing that they had their full attention. “Christopher!” his mother called out. Topher lightly chuckled and made an Okay sign with his hand. “You’re in.”