Sacrifice Records is right across the street from the Starbucks. We stand up from the iron table. We maneuver past the sea of bodies as we get to the edge of the street. As the cars stops at the red light, we stroll towards the fiberglass business then stand in front of the revolving doors. My emotions are highjacked at the moment, and my heart races with jitters. Dad hasn’t dropped the bomb on who will become the next CEO which causes my pulse to accelerate through the roof. I hate the not-knowing game. I hate that I’m walking on eggshells with my dad and this business. Normally, I’m a planner, and it drives me crazy not knowing because I can’t plan for the future.
The sun is finally coming from behind the fat fluffy clouds, beating down on me, so I place my hand on my forehead like a shield and nod slightly.
“He’s stepping down in the next few months, and he’ll be announcing his new CEO at a press conference,” he says.
My heart flutters in my chest, trying to crawl its way out my throat.
The thought of my dad not making me CEO terrifies me. He might give it to my brother, Axel; he’s the oldest but only by five years. But I put in blood, sweat, and tears into working my ass off for this position. And I want it, I’ve been waiting for this moment since my freshman year in college. My relationship with my dad gives me whiplash. Some days he treats me as if I’m his little princess though most days he treats me like I’m his biggest regret in life. I want to prove to him that I’m worthy of his time and love.
Jasper rests his hands on mine, and his lips are so thin that it looks like he doesn’t have any.
I stare down at the cement, then close my eyes, rubbing my forehead, then I open them. He lets go of my hand.
“He’ll give it to you, you’ve worked hard. He’ll see it,” he says, like he’s speaking to a wounded child.
“I hope so. Axel is his favorite.” My words are bitter.
My dad always favored my brother over me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a woman, but I’ve only felt connected with him when it comes to business. And my mom never cared about us; she was too busy letting the nanny raise us while she lived her own life. I always felt like I was an ornament hanging on a tree to be admired. She doesn’t care about me becoming CEO, she’d rather for me to marry someone who’s rich and who can take care of me the way my dad takes care of her. But I don’t want that lifestyle. I want to be independent and free. That’s the problem with being born into wealth: they only breed to keep the wealth going.
I wish I was born into a family like Jasper’s. He was brought up in a middle-class family. His dad is an orthopedic surgeon and his mom is a nurse. But they both shower him with unconditional love. Even when he opened up to them about his sexual lifestyle, they told him they didn’t care, and they support him even though they don’t agree with it. Even when we graduated and he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, his parents told him that he will figure it out. Now, we’re roommates and he’s in school to be a physician’s assistant. I doubt he’ll stick to the program, though. He’s too much of a free spirit to be tied down to a job. The longest he’s ever kept a job was a year.
“If he doesn’t give you the business, then your dad is a real piece of shit.” There’s a bite in his tone. Jasper never really liked my dad, for the simple fact that my dad is controlling and doesn’t care about anything but his image.
“Thanks.” I force a smile. A smile that’s filled with doubt and hopelessness.
“Anytime.”
We say our “see you at home,” and he kisses my cheek and turns on his heels, heading towards the parking garage. I exhale loudly as people pass me on the street. Then I head inside the building. This company is like a carrot dangling in my face.
I need to get this job; I need to prove myself even more. I was born to be a businesswoman. And I will do whatever it takes to convince my dad I can be CEO.
After sitting in the long dreadful meeting with my dad, Axel, and the board of members, I stroll toward my office which is on the forty-third floor. Only the managers that handle artists have the leisure of having their own floor. Each office is divided by glass walls and the atmosphere is calm like a forest. A few co-workers dressed in casualwear lingering in the hallway peep my way and murmurs to themselves. There’s no secret that my dad is the CEO of the company, therefore I have a target on my back.
Most of my co-workers don’t speak to me and think that my position was handed to me, which is partly true. If I go to my dad and ask for a new position, then he’ll make it happen. Anything to keep me out of his hair. There are two types of people I deal with in the office: The kiss-asses and the stay-away. I prefer the latter.
I stroll inside Betty Miller’s office; she sits at her metal desk with her head down. Her bleach-blonde hair is pulled up in a tight-ass ponytail that make the edges of her hairline look like they’ll tear any minute. I knock on the glass door and her chocolate eyes rack up at me. She smiles through her overdone sausage lips. Her patchy tan face is decorated with pimples and the floral dress is too tight around her body so she looks like
