Played

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Weston

I check my Rolex for what is probably the ninth time in the past hour, my despise for flying commercial growing by the second.

It always feels as if time stands still whenever I’m squished so close to other people. My personal jet is in for annual maintenance, so I had to book an actual flight, go through security and deal with the TSA.

Thankfully, Shayne’s beside me instead of some random stranger, keeping me somewhat sane; I can’t believe we weren’t able to get first class ones even with such short notice. Worse, some woman got the aisle seat beside me, and she’s been snoring the entire flight, something I’m unable to ignore despite my best efforts.

“Relax, man,” Shayne says, gently nudging me in the side. “You’ve seriously never flown coach before?”

“Don’t start, Shayne.” I glare at him and lean back in my seat. This trip to my hometown isn’t exactly something I’m looking forward to, and Shayne knows that. “I don’t even see why I need to be there for this thing.”

Covington Industries is opening up a homeless shelter in my hometown as a sort of charity PR stunt. Not only will it be a shelter, but also a soup kitchen as well as a place where the homeless can collect donated clothing.

Shayne set the entire thing up along with my business partner and best friend, Mark Vernor. I had virtually nothing to do with the operation, but the PR stunt is pretty much to fix my reputation.

“Well,” Shayne continues with a shrug despite my warning, “if you weren’t such a damn party boy, you wouldn’t need to do anything to remind everyone you’re not really a bad guy.”

“Screw you, Shayne,” I snap, even while silently acknowledging that he’s right.

My twenties are behind me, and I spent most of those years acting like a complete fool. Now I’m a thirty-year-old man-child who just so happens to be considered a business genius. Drinking, partying, and bringing home random women’s not something I’ve been willing to give up just yet, despite my mother’s constant efforts to get me hitched.

The public knows me all too well as the rich guy who likes to flaunt my money to impress anyone who will sleep with me, only to turn around and be the predictable heartbreaker. The public is getting tired of reading about in my acts in the tabloids, so putting some positive light on my company is well needed if investors were ever going to take me seriously.

In truth, being professional had always been more of my father’s forte. When he died via a hit and run driver, he left a note behind for me in the event of a sudden passing. The letter told me to get my act together, because when my mother passes every last dime will be going straight to charity, and he wanted me to make something of myself on my own.

At first, my father’s plans left me feeling betrayed, but now I’m quite thankful. He hadn’t left me hanging completely — a small trust fund had been set up to help me get started, and I had wisely invested it into a tech company, eventually buying out the original owners and turning the small business into a billion-dollar corporation.

If my father hadn’t warned me about where the family fortune would be going, I assume I never would’ve done much of anything with my life outside of wasteful party boy spending. Now, I have my own company; my own name to uphold and I’ve doing a damn good job of ruining it quite quickly.

I’m thankful for hires like Shayne who actually seem to care about me and the business. Like the homeless shelter — it had been almost entirely Shayne’s creation, and I almost feel terrible stamping my name on it. In fact, I intend to give Shayne a pretty serious pay raise if all goes well because he’s a hard worker and has been since day one.

Even now, he’s on his tablet, reading some emails, and glances over at me as if I hadn’t snapped at him just moments ago. “Okay, seems everything is in place for the opening tomorrow. You’ll be speaking to the local media.”

“Whoa.” I sit upright and lift a brow in his direction. “No one mentioned anything about this, and I’m not prepared—”

Shayne chuckles and hands me a small handful of index cards, ready for everything as always. “First one is your speech. The other cards have pre-approved questions for the media and include your answers. You'll be all right as long as you memorize them before tomorrow.”

Yep, he definitely deserves a raise.

“Thanks, kid,” I say, taking the cards from his hands with a smile and begin skimming through his notes for me.

I try not to chuckle at the answer to the question, What inspired you to open up a shelter here?

Obviously, the answer is nothing but hogwash, since the shelter hadn’t been my idea, and I’ve had almost nothing to do with it.

Shayne planned everything, but my notes certainly make it sound like I was the mastermind and that I had been compassionately moved into creating the shelter.

It isn’t that I don’t care about the homeless — I certainly do, but I’ve never thought much about doing anything about it before. I’ve donated money to charities, of course, but there is a big difference between writing a check and getting my hands dirty.

Finally, the plane lands, and we both rush to escape the confined space. The moment we get our luggage from baggage claim, my phone goes off. I cringe at the sight of my mother’s face smiling at me from the screen.

“You should answer that,” Shayne says, laughing. “She left me a nasty voicemail at the office, so you probably don’t want to make it worse.”

“Great,” Grumbling, I swipe the screen to answer with the chirpiest tone there is to use. “Hey, Mom.”

“Weston David Covington,” my mother’s voice screeches into the phone. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

Dramatic, as always. “Good to hear from you, too, Mom.”

“Did you ditch Alicia? And don’t you dare lie to me, you know I’ll find out the truth one way or another.”

As if she doesn’t already, so I answer her question honestly. “Yes, I did. The woman was obnoxious.”

“She is not obnoxious! She’s a sweetheart and comes from a good family. How could you just abruptly end the date and not even call her to reschedule? Honestly, Weston, I raised you with better manners than that.”

I go to grab my suitcase, but Shayne takes it instead. The kid will look ridiculous trying to drag around all of the luggage on his own, but I’m going to let him so I can focus on this highly unpleasant conversation.

“Look, you need to stop setting me up.” Not necessary to sugarcoat this any longer for her. “You and I have different tastes in what kind of woman will be a suitable partner.”

“Weston, I want grandchildren,” she whines, the sound grating to my ears. “And Alicia is someone your father would have loved!”

“Do you want me to hang up?” My voice rises slightly, as I hate when she tries to use my dad against me, which is a pretty regular occurrence with her the last few years. “You’re not going to guilt trip me by playing that card, got it?”

“Fine, Weston.” My mother’s voice calms, understanding she crossing a line by bringing up my father, and she changes the topic. “At least come over to my place this Saturday. I’m hosting dinner and Alicia along with her family are going to be there, and we both know you owe the girl an apology.”

Perhaps I do, but I’m not a fool. She’s going to try and use the party to set up me up with Alicia again. This time, however, I have an excuse not to attend.

“Sorry, Mom, I’m in New York for the next two weeks. Remember?”

“And why are you there?” she asked, no doubt silently seething.

Perhaps I hadn’t told her. Either way, I tell her again. “I’m here for the grand opening of the homeless shelter my company is sponsoring.”

“And why are you there? Why can’t that little intern of yours handle it for you?”

“Shayne isn’t an intern anymore, and no, I need to be here, all right?” My mother is pushing her luck, so to avoid raising my voice at her bullish antics, I only say, “I’ll have to talk to you later. We’ve just gotten off the plane, and there’s a lot to get done this evening.”

“Of course, Weston. I guess I’ll be the one to apologize for you and your behavior once again since you can’t be bothered to do it yourself.” She huffs, and I grin while tugging my tie loose as she finishes with, “Enjoy your trip. And I will see you when you return to town.”

As I hang up the phone, Shayne laughs and asks, “So, what did ya talk about?”

“Let’s just go,” I say, punching him in the arm before we climb into the rental car.

I won’t voice it out loud, but I almost wish I would meet someone just so my mother would get off my back. Not that meeting someone would do any good, considering I’ve no intention of settling down anytime soon, and for now I’m just glad that phone call was the end of the conversation if only for a little while.