OVERHEAD

Chapter one

There is an endless string of profanities running from Edward’s mouth, saturating the cool, summer breeze streaming in from his open window. He’s upset at the unexpected turn of events.

The benefit organized in celebration of his father’s latest acquisition had gone to s**t, much to his delight and the older man’s chagrin. He chuckles at the memory of the look on his Dad’s face when he realized that the champagne passed around his guests had been tampered with by his only son.

Heavily intoxicated colleagues littered the whole ballroom floor, providing A-grade entertainment for Edward as he watched them slowly lose their bearings. Mr. Kavinsky, an internationally renowned wine connoisseur was then trying his luck on a very married Mrs. Foster right in front of her husband. Not only that, some of the most esteemed guests had resorted to measuring d***s figuratively and literally, being raunchy and rowdy during the party.

Edward was sure they would wake up with no memory of the night before, the pounding headache and nausea being the only remnants of their wild nights, but his Dad wasn’t about to let that go with a nimble slap on the wrist.

He huffs as the watch’s lock clicks. Edward’s not much of an accessory guy, and so he looks at it with wonder, staring at the object that no matter how small, screamed a message so gigantic: privilege. He inspected the jewelry, having gotten used to the feeling of it wrapped around his wrist. More used to the fact that his father insists that only the most expensive and noticeable things cover his son’s skin.

Unlike the great Mr. Landon Twist, Edward was more of a you-only-live-once type of person. It was an easy concept for him to live up to—having his fun and getting out of trouble as many times as he gets into it. That was always a point of disagreement between the two. Landon was a man of discipline and hard labor, always believing that the only time to stop working is when one is reclined six feet under the ground. Edward always gave him s**t for it, finding his passion for buying and selling companies a bit overrated. He never liked the business, never showed any interest towards it, which is probably why his sister, Gemma, is the one being groomed to take over the multi-million enterprise.

Edward just considers himself a free spirit with a nomadic mind, a bird that could not be caged into submission or docility. This belief effortlessly pushes the agitation back into his veins. His controlling father had taken it upon himself to exile Edward into a ‘meditative and enlightening break’ which was just a prettier usage of words as opposed to ‘punishment.’

Landon made sure to make it as awful as he could, aware that boarding schools and banishing Edward to other continents don’t seem to do the work. This time, he’s decided to be thorough, made it sure Edward was getting the reformation he needed.

“Don’t be late,” he warns Edward as the younger Twist fixes his hair in front of a huge pentagon mirror, the golden lining of it shining as light bounces from every corner. Landon’s eyes are stern, almost as if demanding attention and respect, but Edward had lived with those eyes for nineteen years. He considered himself quite immune to it, so he just rolls his and huffs.

Their relationship was admittedly unhealthy, as most father-son relationships are, Edward muses. He likes to mess with his father for no apparent reason, or none that he would admit to anyway. He found great joy in seeing the old man fume at his antics. There was no other way to spend his youth, he was convinced.

“Me, late? Never,” he retorts, putting on a black muscle tee that hung just an inch below his jean-clad bum. It was an old piece of his, the fabric a bit worn down because of the multiple times it had been thrown into the washer. It was easily his favorite despite his hundreds of other choices.

Landon’s eyes narrow. “You know what’ll happen if you mess up or do anything stupid.” The threat in his voice was not unnoticed by Edward. Of course he knew what would happen, his father had made it exceptionally clear during their discussion just that morning—all of his inheritance, stripped. Zip. Zero. Nada.

He considered it for a moment, just a little screw up to infuriate the old man some more, but decided against it. He wouldn’t put it past his father to be lenient so soon after that spectacle of a party. He’d just have to stick it out, however torturous it would be.

“Change into something more decent,” Landon comments one last time, challenging Edward to disobey with just a glare before he leaves the room.

Edward grunts, rolling his eyes heavenward for the nth time today before dragging his feet towards his closet. He’s prided himself on his fashion choices, some pieces more expensive than the clothes his sister wears, but he’d always argued that quality will cost more in exchange for years of durability. If there was something he openly indulges in, it was the cloths he put on his back.

He pulls one black cashmere sweater out from a rack, ogling it and debating whether it would be a good choice for today’s activities.

It was a bit big on him, he realizes right off the bat, despite not having worn it once. With a last quick glance at the piece, he shrugs it on, right over the muscle tee. He was going to chuck it as soon as they get there anyway.

…

Edward sips from his water bottle as the car enters a gated property. He notes how the structure is much taller than he is with multiple vertical bars, reminding himself of prison, and yet the woman holding it seems to treat it with such care. Once through, they go around the bend, an old fountain in the center of the tiny roundabout with chipped paint and moldy water. He grimaces at the sight.

“I’ll be right here,” Ed, his appointed driver and chaperone, says as he turns the engine off.

Edward catches his gaze through the rear-view mirror. “I’ll wire you a thousand,” he says in all seriousness. To his surprise, the bald man chuckles, no trace of relenting on his face. “Two thousand, then. A day,” Edward bargains one more time.

“Go, now,” Ed tells him, unlocking the doors by poking a button on the control panel.

Edward groans. It was bad enough that Ed’s resorted to using the child lock feature on him. Now, he actually refused any sort of bribe to save Edward from this hell.

Ed exits the car, heads to Edward’s side, and pulls the door open. Edward steps out, one leg after the other in a painfully slow manner, his sweater already off and left on the car’s seat.

The woman who had been holding the gate approaches them, this smile on her lips one Edward could only describe as phony as it didn’t reach her eyes. He smirks to himself, knowing the woman was probably thinking he shouldn’t be there with the rest of the children, all bare tattooed arms, curls in disarray, and sunglasses perched on the top of his head.

“Hi, Edward,” she greets.

Edward uses that moment to take her in, her blonde and graying hair tied with an elastic in a low ponytail, her green eyes that almost matches his, the pin on her shirt that said ‘Patricia’ with the word ‘head volunteer’ right under it. She must be in her 50s, Edward guesses.

“Patricia,” he returns, inwardly patting himself on the back when the smile she gives him becomes genuine, clearly appreciating the casual acknowledgment.

“Please extend our thanks to your father,” she starts, eyes shining with gratitude as she takes Edward’s hand in hers, “his donation was a great help to our foundation. The children will be happy.”

“Of course,” Edward answers without missing a beat. Of course, his father would be sending him to one of those institutions he himself finances. God forbid Edward slips and misbehaves and have it plastered on the front page of the newspapers.

She gestures behind her, to the big wooden door painted a mahogany so deep that it almost looks red in the sunlight, reminding Edward of that horror movie with demons behind red doors. He shudders. “Shall we?” She asks him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Edward wordlessly gestures for her to lead the way, turning around and throwing a grimace to Ed when he was certain Patricia’s back was turned. Ed only laughs and waves him away. With a huff, Edward steps into the house, unaware of the eyes that had been trained on him since he climbed out of the car.