The Favour

“Sydney, I’ve faced many storms, but you, sweetheart, you were a god damn cyclone.” ~ ~ ~ The Ritcher's house is grand beyond anyone's standards. Large and imposing. Immaculate hedges and greenery. An impressive colonial mansion that reeked of money. In this household resided Mr and Mrs Ritcher and their two children, Tyler and Summer. Tyler's mother, Jessica Ritcher, is the biggest fashion designer around for their local fashion magazine. His father, Arnold Ritcher, is one of the richest company owners there is around the state, and he very much expected his eighteen-year-old son to take over the company once he has graduated. Tyler however, never wanted anything to do with that. At some point, he wanted to be a musician, or in his mind, anything to do with music. The thought of music and everything to do with it enticed him. When he's parents found out about his decision to major in music one day, they were appalled. "Music is for pansies," his father had said. "And I'm not having one of those in my family. Besides, your place is in the company with me." Tyler tried to appeal to his mother, who he had hoped would take his side. "Listen to your father," she had said, a disapproved expression on her face. "Everyone knows that people in the music industry are all drug addicts, s****l deviants and perverts. They're not our kind, honey." Tyler rolled his eyes, leaving for his room. As big as their house was, there was nothing that could block out the demons that would enter is mind. Football was the only thing that drove him. Training till his body screamed in pain seemed enough to block out all the demons that roamed in his head. And so ever since freshman year, Tyler changed everything and made out to be everything his father never wanted him to be. A womanizer. Parties, girl after girl hanging over his arm, the endless s*x, friends here and there, rebelling in school, getting on the headmaster's nerves for the sake of it, never seeing the point in focusing in class, whatever it was, he wanted to prove to his father that he could be any boy he wanted to be. And when he met Meredith in junior year, she acted hard to get. Tyler was up for the challenge and wanted to try something different. Dating. Tyler was scared of commitment; the one reason girls would leave the mansion in the morning with mascara stains running down their cheeks when he told them he was done with them and wanted nothing to do with them. But then again, it seemed to him as though his parents were never around that much. Call them workaholics. His dad was either too busy getting that promotion or his mom was too busy getting the perfect shots of her designs before Fashion week started. To him, they cared more about money than him or his sister. Even the housekeeping crew were around him more than his actual parents. And it was getting too much for him to explain to his four-year-old sister, Summer, why their dad or mom couldn't attend her little ballet festival or kindergarten graduation. Sometimes he hated his parents, so damn much, for trying to be the perfect figure for magazines, or the perfect family. But he grew up to be more dependent on himself. He was only worried about Summer. He'd just received a phone call from his friends asking if he'd throw a party. He agreed. Because there is nothing more wrecked than a rich boy with broken dreams.