The Last Contract

Chapter 1 F

John Blythe

I always knew what I wanted and how I was going to get it. I never failed at anything, nor did I ever struggle to have what I needed. Setbacks are common, but I always never how to rise from them. Failure is not in my dictionary. I suppose we all have a point in our lives where we are just merely breathing. 

"Mr.Blythe?" I look up.

"Mrs. Olson, Please let me remind you to knock before coming in," I say calmly. I work in a law firm that has been in my family for generations. It has earned its title to be a prestigious law firm, having lawyers who graduated from Ivy League Universities. Meanwhile, the staff is not. 

"I did, Mr. Blythe. I suppose you didn't hear me?" Ms. Olson reasons. She's an older lady probably around her late 40s, worked here since she graduated herself. 

"Please just state what you need."

"Just to remind you, you have an appointment with Mr. Sander's at 8 o'clock today."

"Right. You may leave." As I rub my temples, I hear the vibrating of my cell phone on my desk. I check the caller before answering it. 

Henry

I hesitate but finally answer the phone on its last ring. 

"Took you long enough. What were you doing trying to answer with your toes?" He doesn't wait for me to speak.

I rub my temples. I have no idea why I am friends with a man like that, "I'm hanging up." I knew it was a bad idea right when I answered the phone. 

"Wait!" Henry shouts through the phone.

I let out a sigh, while I turn to face the window of my office, "What do you want?" I shouldn't bother asking that question. I know what he wants, he wants to mess around because he has no sense of direction. 

"Drinks tonight! At the usual place."

"I can't," I sit down on the edge of the desk. "I have to work late. " I really don't but going out with Henry drains me, it's necessary to give him an excuse. He's still living in his college days and has no sense of responsibility. 

"I call crap," Henry calls me out. 

I detest when people use foul language in casual conversation, it's so unprofessional, only the lower class express themselves that way. Being in charge of a Law firm sounds great, but it takes work to build up everything to get this far. My father's and grandfather's sweat and blood lie here. I was trained to take over the law firm, their next version. Coming from a well-known family, we care about image, hard work, and money. That's what life points to: Money. I shut my eyes in annoyance.

"Either way, I can't," I insist. 

There's a pause before he talks again, "If you don't show up, I'll go to your house and drag Nic-"

"Fine!" I abruptly say as I stand up for the desk. "I have to go now."

"I'll be wait-" I hang up, tossing the phone on the desk. I look around the room. Everything gained here was through sweat, blood, and tears. But I will never admit to anyone, living up to my image is what I live for. I love order, organization, predictability. I detest surprises. Perfection may be unattainable. But an image can be built. 

There was a time when I believed in living life as we go, having fun, and being the life of the party. I was nonchalant, but now my life is different. I believed in things that I could never believe now. Learned that the world runs on money. Material things blind people. Everything changed. 

Ever since I met that woman.

***

Nosy and unsanitary. That is how I describe this place. When I was younger, I never thought much about places like these. I was young and ignorant. I knew nothing of the world, nor anything that fueled it to run as it is. Now, that I am an adult, I see things differently. I was never a fan of public places, and now, especially clubs. I make my way into the private rooms.

"Is that a ghost I see?" the same teasing voice that called me earlier approaches me.

"It seems I wasn't being expected," I collectively respond. 

"Well, you were never much of a social person. Come on, everyone has arrived already." We make our way to the room Henry always books for his social gatherings. "Look, who showed up," Henry presents me. I nod to acknowledge the people in the room. 

"Well, it was about time." Someone started the greeting charade. 

"You took your time." Everyone greets me and resumes their initial conversations.

My father is CEO of a well-known company, and being the oldest of his sons, I know how to behave and what to say. That's why people don't really care if I show up, what they want is my acknowledgment, but I won't give that so easily. Growing up, I was taught what not to do, who to talk to, and who to avoid. It's clear. In everyone's eyes, they only see me as someone who is known with a family who is powerful. 

I take a seat next to Henry as he hands me a glass of what appears to be whiskey, "Here, it's on me tonight." I debate whether it will be a good idea to drink at this hour. I don't find pleasure in alcohol, there's only a second of pleasure it provides. 

"Come on, man loosen up," Henry pushes a glass towards me. I decide I have nothing to lose nor anyone to be accountable for. I drink it. It's been a very long time since I've drunk alcohol. My throat burns as the alcohol makes its way down through my body.

"That's the spirit," Henry encourages. They say that alcohol brings out the real you inside. I'm not sure I can ever find my true self. Can anyone? Once the unexpected happens, you have to get over it. What others may find is a demon burning in deep bitterness. Someone nudges me on the side, I slowly turn and focus on the person next to me.

"What, " I direct the person beside me. The alcohol seems to be doing its thing because my eyes can't tell who is next to me. 

"Never heard you complain all year," The person in front of me says.

"Why would I complain?" I ask a bit confused.

"Your wife, John. Give us the details. You suddenly got married and we haven't even met her. I bet she's cute that's why you are keeping her hidden," Henry smirks.

I've known Henry for a few years now; We met in college and worked together for a while, but we're different in persona. He lives his life as I did back when I wasn't the head of the law firm. When I didn't find any pleasure in predictability. I was a spontaneous person. We lived our lives a day at a time, but I can't do that anymore. I must make sure I live with no surprises. I am the face of what people desire and want to see crumble. 

I ponder for a while about what to say. "There's nothing to say."

"Really? Nothing that drives you crazy? My wife nags me all the time, she doesn't even cook for me," One of Henry's friends shares.

"I can't complain. The house is always cleaned. She always has meals ready. She never really argues," I reveal. My wife has never asked anything from me, she barely even talks to me. But there's nothing to complain about, she keeps out of my hair and I keep out hers. That's what we agreed on the day we met and decided to get married. We are perfection. 

I may have had a little too much to drink. Trying to get up, I realize my legs aren't supporting themselves anymore.

"Come on, John, you're not going to let me do all the work are you?" I turn to my side to find Henry supporting me.

"I need to get home." I push him away as I walk forward.

"Well, yes genius that is where we are. I know it was my fault I should've not let you drink too much," Henry continues to rant. I didn't even realize we weren't at the club anymore. I swing my head to look around, and in front of me is my front door. A rush of anxiety is me, as I try to such Henry away from the doorbell. Henry staggers as I fall back onto his shoulder. My private life isn't something I want to share with Henry. Henry rings the doorbell.

A woman with long brown hair, opens the door, "John? What happened?"