Chapter One
Riley
I finally did it! I smiled at myself in the mirror as I tied my navy tie that had thin maize stripes moving in a diagonal pattern along the silk. I took a step back from my small bathroom vanity and tucked in my freshly pressed white dress shirt. It took the majority of my latest paycheck to buy the French cuff shirt for this special occasion, but well worth it.
On my chipped tiled bathroom counter lay the cheap silver-plated cufflinks that the shirt came with, but I had something much nicer for today. Reaching for the black velvet pouch that I had set on the corner of the counter this morning, I emptied the contents into my hand. Two gold “M” cufflinks sprinkled into my palm. Proudly, I marveled at the gold letters that symbolized the great University of Michigan. A broad smile spread across my face as I put them on. I had been saving these for years.
From the edge of the mirror, I pulled off an old photograph and stared at him. It was clear to see the gold “M” cufflinks at his wrists as the sunlight shimmered off of them. I had mirrored his outfit almost exactly. Sure, the brands were different, but the white French cuff dress shirt, the navy dress pants, and saddle-colored shoes were the same. I had studied this picture over and over since I was a boy. This was what I had based the last six years of my life on. In the picture, he pretentiously held the blue diploma holder with the maize letter “M” emblazoned on it. In the background was a huge elm tree with the campus in the distance behind it. I remember waiting beside my mom while his aunt and uncle took several pictures of him.
I had followed in his footsteps with the hope of one day working alongside him. High school hadn’t been fun and games for me. I busted my ass to graduate with a high enough grade-point average to be accepted into the University of Michigan. Still, the scholarships weren’t enough. My mother had some money saved, but the money mostly came from a generous “uncle.” I hadn’t wanted anything more than to graduate from the same school as him … aside from him.
With the photograph still in my hand, I reached for the tattered page that had been torn from his graduation program. I had tossed the rest of the program that day but saved this page. In a navy cursive font, and just to the right of the University of Michigan’s “M” logo, it read “Class of 2004.” Using the top of the photo as a guide, I slid it down the page until I found his name.
For nearly twenty years, I idolized and wanted to be like him. I ached to be his friend and run in his inner circle. During the last ten years, my … interest, in him morphed into a yearning. I desired him in ways that I probably shouldn’t. He had been everything to me ever since I could remember, yet I meant next to nothing to him. And in a few short hours, I would be just like him.
Soon, he would see me for me, and he’d appreciate me.
Alone, I made my way to the graduation ceremony and donned my cap and gown before I took my seat. The venue was filled with the University of Michigan flags and banners, acknowledging the Class of 2020, and our Wolverine mascot roamed around wearing a cap as well. Blue and yellow balloons adorned tables and served as arches to walk under. The stage had tall navy vases that overflowed with yellow flowers. Everything was perfect and just as spectacular as I remembered it had been for him. I had been eight years old when he had graduated, and I sat between my mom and his uncle at the graduation ceremony. And now all of this was for me.
As if part of my rite of passage, I sat through several self-indulgent speeches. If that wasn’t enough, nearby were some assholes blowing up beach balls and then punching them into the air. Hushed voices encouraged their fellow classmen to keep the ball in the air. I narrowed my eyes as the guy two seats to my right stood to smack the beach ball across the aisle of students. I was sure his parents must be thrilled. I wondered how long it would be before they realized they had wasted their money sending him to college. He was probably a future politician.
Anxiously, my knee bounced up and down as I glanced at my watch; 11:15 a.m. Unlike most of these graduates, I had somewhere very important to be this afternoon. Unfortunately, I had a long wait ahead of me since my last name appeared later in the alphabet. A grueling hour had passed, and it was finally time for my row to stand.
I followed the girl ahead of me with purpose as we were ushered to the small set of stairs that led to the stage. I shook my hands nervously at my side when the girl in front of me moved into the next name position. This was it! I had waited so long for this! The girl’s name was called, and she bounced onto stage giddily to accept her degree. I put my foot on the bottom step as they paused to take her photograph as she gleefully smiled for the photographer.
“Riley Thomas Tucker, Master of Business Administration,” the dean called out.
I did it! Proudly, I skipped two steps at a time and climbed to the stage. I strode across the wood platform to shake hands with the president of our school. As soon as I firmly shook his hand, I took hold of the blue diploma holder with the bright yellow “M” on it. It
