Episode 2
1143 Words
JAMESON AND MATT DONOVAN:
"Matt!" James yelled unpleasantly. "Matt... Matt... Matt..." He paused, frustration evident on his face. "Where is that boy?"
"Oh my God, I'm coming," Matt responded carelessly.
I muttered to myself, "Oh my God, Jameson is my stepbrother. I can't let this guy keep treating me like that."
I quickly threw on a long black shirt with green buttons and a letter jacket to complement it. My shoes shone, with horse skin used as a design. With determination in my stride, I entered the office where Jameson was. The office was a large glass room filled with crystals laced around the walls, and natural light flooded the space. Jameson stood behind a glass table, a glass of whisky in his right hand. He wore a black suit with a green collar, a bearded man with a crooked smile, fully engrossed in his phone as he repeatedly yelled my name.
As I approached, I could feel my heart racing. This was it, the moment to confront Jameson and assert myself. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and met his gaze. "Jameson," I began, my voice steady despite the nerves coursing through me. "I won't tolerate being treated like this anymore, you just keep yelling my name like I am some sort of worker around here. We may be stepbrothers, but that doesn't give you the right to disrespect me.".. I said curtly. I felt a kind of relief I had never had before, knowing too well that I finally saw the opportunity to say what's on my mind to Jameson for this long period of time.
Jameson looked up from his phone, surprise flickering across his features. For a moment, there was silence as he processed my words. Then, slowly, a smirk spread across his face. "Well, well," he said, his tone mocking. "Looks like little Matt has finally grown a backbone. Let's see how long that lasts." But despite his dismissive words, I knew that I had taken the first step towards standing up for myself.
"Well, I have to just say..." I tried to explain to myself for my harsh comment.
"It is fine. In fact, where have you been?" Jameson interrupted me immediately, his tone casual but with a hint of concern.
"Dad said you have not delivered the shipment to Mr. Russo. Is that true?" Jameson asks me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
"Well, I have made contact with the driver. They are to make the delivery by noon today. It's just..." I trailed off, trying to find the right words to explain the delay.
"Is just what?" Jameson interrupted again, a sense of impatience creeping into his voice.
"I haven't counted the goods by myself," I said defensively, my eyes widening and my neck bending to the right in an exaggerated gesture.
"Well, you should do that quickly now," Jameson says calmly, taking a sip of his whiskey and motioning for me to take a seat.
I approached the table, feeling a mixture of frustration and guilt. I pour myself a glass of whiskey, trying to calm my nerves. Jameson smiles and nudges my cup, causing it to wobble precariously in my hand.
"You see how unaware you are?" Jameson comments, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Well, you are the one trying to get your office messy," I retorted, trying to lighten the mood with a hint of humor.
"I miss times like this, brother. What happened to us?" Jameson leans back in his chair, his expression softening as he gazes at me.
"Well, you happened, brother," I replied, a touch of bitterness seeping into my voice.
"What do you mean, happened ?Jameson asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Well, you became too serious and started to play God," I responded, unable to keep the resentment out of my tone.
"Playing God?" Jameson's voice rose in disbelief.
"Yes, playing God. You have forgotten how we used to do everything together, how I was your equal," I explained, frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Well, I still see you as that. You just have to grow up, Matt," Jameson says, his tone firm but not unkind.
"Grow up?" I interrupted, feeling a surge of anger. "You are the one who always makes me feel inferior. I had no friends after my dad died, and then your dad married my mom."
"You should have made more friends. I see you as a brother, not just a friend," Jameson replies, his voice tinged without regret.
"Wow, so you should have told me that sooner," I say, my voice trembling with emotion.
I stand up abruptly, unable to bear the weight of our conversation any longer. "You know what, this was a wrong time for this conversation," I say, my voice thick with frustration as I turn towards the door.
"We need to fix dinner for both of us so we can say our minds," Jameson suggests softly, his tone in a mocking way.
"Don't bother, brother," I reply, my words heavy with unresolved tension as I step out into the cool night air.
As I stepped out of the office, I headed to the elavator. My heart was racing and full of regret. I really wish I could turn back the hands of time when things where cool between Jameson and I. Right now he is this being I don't know, and it is very bad. He does not even treat anyone who comes into his life right. I have watched Jameson treat women who he has dated and could not do anything about it. Because I saw him as a brother, who he is by right and I always thought he was right. Growing up now I regret some of the actions I took and I wiah I could have acted better towards the people he treated wrongly. As I approached, my sedan Mercedes Benz. The security man handed the car keys to me. I pressed the automatic key to unlock the car. A car came at speed close to my own, a beautiful fair lady stepped out of the taxi, she was in a hurry. Heading to the office in our building. I mistakenly opened the door, and she smashed my car door again.
"Oh my God take it easy".. I blurted in a loud frustrating voice.
"sorry, sorry, as she tried to gather all her files as the filled the ground.
I stood there in awe as I admired her looks. She was very beautiful and sensual. There is something so striking about her that I couldn't lay my fingers on. I bent down to help her arrange the files, her identity card fell off. I picked it up, and stated at it with a huge smile.
"you have a very nice name.."
"well thank you".. She replied.
"so what's the meaning of Lorita?".. I asked inquisitively.
- Writer
