MY HEART BEAT

Smith’s Pov Documents scattered across the table, I spent the whole weekend going through my company’s accounts. After spreading each and checking them over and over, I sigh. I call Spencer for the fifth time this morning. “Did you finally find a loophole that’s not a dead end?,” He asks, sounding seemingly hopeful. “I…I didn’t. I’ve tried and checked everything,” “That’s what I was trying to tell you Mr Smith, we are bankrupt. We have too many debts. So what are we going to do?” I remained quiet. After putting my everything into keeping my company afloat, it was falling apart right before my eyes. My company, V advertising, one of the most reputable advertising companies in San Francisco, was doing okay.In Fact, it was doing great. Stocks crashed and everything started to wither. “Mr Smith…are you there? Say something,” I’m drawn back by Spencer’s voice. My voice is gone and almost inaudible, “I don’t know Spencer. I’ll figure it out.” “We still have a few assets to hold us off for the meantime, but I think that….” My phone starts to ring. It’s an unknown number. “Spencer, give me a moment I have another call,” I clear my throat, get myself together and answer firmly, “Hello?” “Hello, is the Smith Carter?,” The voice on the other end is a man, he has the intonation of someone about to break terrible news. He was probably from the liabilities company. I tried not to sigh. “Yes, I am.” “I am Bill Cooper, Al Carter’s lawyer. Unfortunately, your father has passed away. However, you’ve been stated as a benefactor in his will and he left you everything,” I freeze. I can’t remember when I last heard about my father. He’s dead? How? He’s the most feared and untouchable person I know . I don’t know how to feel about his death. I don’t know what to say. “I understand that this may be difficult for you Mr Carter, but the memorial service is here in New York this weekend and you'll need to claim the company and get things running again immediately. I’ll text you the address. Please be there. I’m so sorry for your loss. You can call me if you have any questions. Have a nice day.” As his call goes off, Spencer is still there. “So Mr Smith, I was trying to say that the assets can hold us off but not for long, I can send the documents so that you can have a look.” I feel the memories flooding through my mind. Sweat beads forming on my forehead, I’m motionless. “Mr Smith?...Mr Smith?...Mr Smith? Are you okay? I guess, I’ll just, I’ll just call you later.” My phone drops from my hand to the velvet couch and my fingers aren’t cramped anymore, they’re limp and my arm drops. I sit still but I’m almost shaking. Not again. Not again. Like I always have, I remind myself to breathe and I heave a sigh. I walk from the couch to the glass window where my eyes meet the skyline and I place my hands in my pockets and think. It had been 10 years since I last spoke to or saw my father. I ran away from him because he was beastly. He told me everything a man should never tell his son if he wanted him to be a man someday and he beat the s**t out of me, always telling me to fight back. I was 12 when mom died. I was 13 when I found out what a monster he was. It took me 9 years to muster the courage to run. I wanted to stay because I thought it would end, but it didn't. I still became a man regardless, a strong man and I named my company after my mother, Vivian, she’s the one I would want here. I’m happy he’s dead. He deserves it for all the lives he has ended. I swore I wasn’t going to go back no matter what, but my business is failing and I need to save it. Despite Al’s rigidity and lack of affection, he loved me and wanted me to be his heir. I’m sure he left me a fortune. I pack up my things and book a flight. I guess I’m going back to New York. * * * As I saunter toward the main terminal, I spot a chauffeur holding up a card with my name so I walk toward him and he takes my bags. Settling in the car, I feel sick and I look forward to resting. Motion sickness really makes every trip dreadful for me. It’s barely 2pm and the memorial is at 6. As I go through Bill’s texts, there are multiple events arranged and the thought of attending them all is appalling. I look outside and I remember how it felt like to be here. The hustle and bustle, everyone trying to get somewhere or nowhere in a hurry, it always reminded me to not sleep on anything because someone somewhere isn’t. I’ll try to enjoy this but I just to get this done and over with so that I can go back to work at home. * * * As we drive into the mansion in The Hamptons, I’m surprised by how different it looks. It looks completely different because… because it’s actually different. He built another one, burying my mother it seems. Our old house held so many memories, the beautiful ones and the painful ones. As much as I wish this were the old house, I’m happy it isn’t. Hands in my pocket, I stroll toward the wide open silver doors. Workers everywhere walking about and cleaning, the housekeeper walks up to me in a neat white two piece, “ Good day Sir, we’ve been expecting you,” she says, then smiles coyly. “Thank you,” I smile lightly. “Your room is up there and we’ll be ready to give a tour of the house whenever you are ready. I’ll show you into the room after you meet Mrs Carter,” she says while gesturing toward the stairs and then to the archway on the right. Mrs Carter? What Mrs Carter? I expected Dad to have flings but a wife? He really moved on just fine. I don’t try to imagine what she looks like or who she is, my brain is completely void of thought and I airily follow the housekeeper to the living room. There’s an older woman with cropped brownish-red hair in neat loose waves parted in the middle and acorn coloured eyes. She is not-so-short and dressed in a long black summer dress. And a young lady with long straight honey blonde hair, chestnut-brown eyes, tall, in a short black shift dress. “So this is the Smith Carter,” the older woman who I’m guessing is ‘The Mrs Carter’ says contemptuously then scoffs. I stare back at her, glazed. “The estranged son here to take it all away,” she pauses, lips straight. Then abruptly forms a mischievous grin. “Welcome. I’m Nancy and this is my daughter, Blair. I wish you a nice stay,” she maintains her smile and her warmth is almost convincing but she doesn’t take her eyes off me as she walks past and ‘her daughter’ follows behind her. Crazy b***h. She had better stay out of my way while I’m here. I turn to the housekeeper and gesture for her to lead the way to my room.