Stuck With Francis

- 3 -

I immediately confronted my father in a panic, which it seems I've been disposed to do lately. I saw laid out on the couch a satin button up formal shirt with dress pants and him standing behind it with an annoyed countenance. 

"Well, don't just idle around, put this on and be ready in half an hour."

"Dad, what exactly are we going to be doing with them?"

"Since they just moved back from Boston, they're having a housewarming party. Kenny said he would be devastated if we didn't show up."

"Boo-hoo."

"You won't be acting like that when you see where they're living."

"Right now all I care about is laying down after a long, stressful day of school where I work tirelessly to maintain outstanding grades, be a kind and reliable peer-"

"I don't understand why you think this is negotiable because it's not. Don't give me any more shit."

Defeated, I put on my dad's outfit and ignored him until it was time to go. Socializing with strangers is something I truly dislike, rich people are even worse. I'm gonna need a valium to get through this. 

____________________________________

After 10 or so minutes of me angrily looking out the window with my arms crossed, our car finally pulled into the massive driveway, and I got my first look at their massive and incredibly  ostentatious house. Most likely built in the late 1800's, it was beautiful. There was a long cobblestone path leading to a large arched doorway with stained glass windows surrounded by vines and red roses. A black gate blocked the rest of the house and backyard, but I could see part of a wonderfully big garden. Although I despise the rich, I can't help but be mesmerized. 

My dad walked over to the door, unsurprised as if he's used to seeing this decadence, while I lag behind in awe of everything around me. 

A blonde mid-20s woman with dark lipstick answered the door, extending a proper snobby welcome by looking us up and down and calling over a party guest. Kenny Zambrotta himself came to the door and immediately my dad and I were ensnared in his suffocating grip.

"Wow! Just wow! I can't believe I'm seeing the two of you again!" His hug was very uncomfortable but my dad and I forced out some weak laughs and greetings. 

"Come inside, meet everyone! There should be some familiar faces to you Vince." He was once again wearing a gaudy tracksuit, this time a bright blue color. 

I staggered in there behind my father and marveled at the pristine marble countertops, chandeliers and crystal lamps, and overall stunning interior, definitely an Italian design. The Zambrottas must be loaded. There were around 30-40 guests at this housewarming party who were all drinking champagne and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres, it was the most pretentious but wonderful thing I've ever seen. I looked around for my father and was frightened to see he has wandered off to socialize, leaving me all by myself, an awkward teenage boy. 

Suddenly a boisterous voice emerged behind me.

"Ahhh! How cute are you!" I looked behind me to see a middle aged woman with dark, voluminous hair and voluptuous curves. Before I knew it I was being analyzed by three women smoking cigarettes and wearing stilettos.

"Oh, hello. Nice to meet you." I stuttered as they started talking privately to one another, the dark haired lady about me being Vince's son and the other two in disbelief.