Chloe’s story…
Rushing excitedly into the house, ten year old Chloe came to a skidding halt, smoothed her school uniform down and paused to take a long, slow breath. Lifting her chin and pulling her shoulders back in an unconscious show of pride, she started forward again on her silly patent leather shoes, but this time in a more “decorous” manner.
“Hello, Mother,” she greeting the woman sitting in the sunroom. It was a bright, sunny area of the house that was elegantly styled by a professional decorator, cleaned daily by one of the many servants and only used by her mother when she was reading correspondence. The rest of the world had all moved to digital communications. Not her mother or her peers. They preferred the old fashioned way of communicating via personalized stationary that was perfumed and written with immaculate script. It was easier to judge and critique one’s peers that way.
Her mother barely glanced up from her correspondence before saying, “Oh, Chloe, look at your hair! Go fix it immediately!”
Chloe froze, not sure what was wrong with her hair. She’d just come home from school and she’d been allowed to skip gym class, so there shouldn’t be any reason for her hair to be mussed.
“Mother!” a male voice called out.
“Steven!” her mother replied, instantly jumping up from her desk. Her features instantly lit up with happiness as Chloe’s fifteen year old brother swept into the room. Chloe couldn’t help but notice that Steven’s dress shirt was half untucked from his khaki slacks, his school uniform tie was askew and his hair looked as if a porcupine had brushed it…backwards! But did her mother order Steven to go clean up? Absolutely not! Men were allowed to be messy. In fact, men were expected to be messy. As long as they were from the “right” family. Anyone outside of that “rightness” and looking scruffy was designated as “low class”, and unworthy of her mother’s attention.
“I made the honor role again,” Steven announced.
Jocelyn placed a hand on either side of her son’s face. “Oh, darling! That’s wonderful! You got all As!”
Steven laughed and kissed her cheek. “Well, one A and the rest were Bs, but that’s still the honor roll.”
Jocelyn tapped Steven on the shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Well, of course it is! That’s wonderful news! Why don’t you rush into the kitchen and see if there is something Cook can offer as a treat!”
Steven laughed. “I have a couple of friends over. Can we eat dinner in the pool house?”
Jocelyn didn’t even pause before she said, “Of course, dear! Tell Cook what you’d like for your meal and tell your friends to behave.”
“Oh, you know we won’t!” Steven replied with a laugh, then turned and rushed back out of the room. “Hey Chloe,” he greeted, but he barely glanced down at her as he rushed out of the room and back to his friends.
Unfortunately, Steven’s greeting brought her mother’s attention back to Chloe. Sighing impatiently, her mother waved a hand. “Chloe, go fix your hair. You need to look pretty tonight for dinner. Your father will be home tonight.”
Chloe kept her mouth closed, but the resentment rose up inside of her. “You said that I could visit Emma tonight.” Emma was Chloe’s sister, but didn’t live with them.
Jocelyn was already slicing open the next letter with her sterling silver letter opener. She waved the opener in the air dismissively. “Chloe, don’t bother me with details like that. You can visit your sister another night. You know your father prefers to see you when he has time to make it home for dinner.” She pulled the letter out of the engraved envelope, her lips curving into a sneer as she evaluated the stationary. “Now be a good girl and pretty yourself up for your father.”
Chloe shifted her books on her arm, carefully tucking her report card under one of the books. She’d earned straight As. Again.
Instead of showing her mother the report card, she turned and walked sedately out of the room, climbed the stairs and, once inside her room, she closed the door, callously dumping her books onto the floor in a rebellious mess. With a sigh, she headed over to the window seat that was filled with pillows and stared out through the window. Steven appeared, carrying a tray filled with snacks towards the pool house. Steven’s friends, all five of them, were laughing and joking around, but turned with excitement when Steven put the tray of snacks down on one of the pool tables. Chloe knew that the group of boys were drinking sodas now, but they’d eventually get into the stock of alcohol that her father kept in the pool house. There were beers and bourbon. The beers were forbidden inside the house and the bourbon was her father’s secret stash, kept in the pool house so that her father could “take in some air” after dinner and have a shot of bourbon without her mother knowing.
Her father was a fool! Jocelyn Forsythe knew everything that happened under her roof.
Sighing, Chloe turned away from the scene and pulled out her own secret stash. It was a bundle of romance novels that Chloe kept under the mattress of her canopy bed. She hated the bed. It was draped in sage green and pink. It had been decorated by a professional who announced that every little girl would love the design.
However, Chloe hated pink. She wasn’t too fond of green. She loved blues and yellows though. No one really cared about her preferences.
One day, Chloe was going to figure out how to break free from this world of fakeness. She’d take her sister and they’d go somewhere far away! She just had to figure out how to make that happen.
Marco’s story…
Marco stepped into the ragged-looking office. An older woman with world-weary eyes glanced u at him. “Can I help you?” she demanded, her voice gravelly from decades of smoking.
“I’m here to meet with Chris Nevalny,” he explained. Glancing at his watch, he noted that he was right on time.
The woman’s eyes moved from Marco's shoulders all the way down to his…well, her eyes stopped at his groin. He’d donned a pair of dark slacks and white dress shirt for this meeting. No tie. He couldn’t stand the contraptions. Even without the tie, Marco knew that he looked presentable and professional. So the woman wasn’t dismissing him. She was assessing him.
“He’s not back from lunch yet,” the woman replied. “I’m Dorothy. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me all about your handsome self!” She smiled, leaning back in the squeaky chair.
“I can…” Marco was about to tell the woman that he’d wait outside, but the door behind him opened up. Chris, his client, stepped into the office.
“Oh, hi ya, Marco!” the man greeted, slapping Marco on the back. “So everything went okay?”
Marco nodded. “The shipment has arrived,” he explained. “I’m here to arrange for payment.”
The older man laughed heartily, as if the subject of payment was funny. “Let’s celebrate!” he said instead, once again slapping Marco’s shoulder. “Come on into my office and we’ll have a drink.”
Marco pulled back, shaking his head. “Another time,” he interjected. “I have several more clients I need to visit today.” He shifted his tablet around. “If you’d like to inspect the shipment, it’s being unloaded now.”
Chris shook his head. “Nah! You’re one of the most trustworthy shipping guys around. Just tell me where to sign.”
Marco turned his tablet around. “In that case, sign here,” he explained, tapping his finger on the screen to show the man his shipping inventory, then scrolled down the list to the signature area. Chris signed electronically, then pulled back. “Now about that drink?”
Marco shook his head again. “Once I have payment for the shipping charges, I’ll…”
“You’re too focused on money, boy!” Chris interrupted. “You’re fast,” he laughed. “Much faster than the other guys. But you need to learn to relax!” He put a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Let’s have a drink and talk about the next shipment.”
Once again, Marco shook his head. “Sorry, Chris. I have too many meetings.” He stepped towards the doorway.
“Wait!” Chris called out. “Where do I send the trucks to pick up the shipment?”
Marco paused, his hand on the doorknob. “When I have payment for the shipping costs, I’ll let you know where your cargo is.” And then he was gone. He wasn’t playing these games. Not anymore! He’d learned the hard way not to release cargo until shipping costs had been paid. He might be young, but he learned the business quickly. These older men thought they could patronize him, pressure him or even bully their way out of paying for shipping.
They quickly learned that Marco wasn’t a man to be messed with! He’d lived on the street for too long. He knew all the tricks and had come up with several of his own. He demanded a fair price for his shipping services and demanded payment in full before cargo was released. End of story!
