A Small Introduction
Looking back on my life I'd have to say that it's taken more then a few turns that, as a kid, I would have never expected. I don't think anyone who knew me when I was growing up would have ever believed that my life would end up where it is…. sometimes I find it hard to believe myself. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I should know better then to start a story at the end…. shows how easy it is to forget what you learn when you're simply trying to get it all down. So I'll start at the beginning, and what is the beginning…the beginning is simply stating who I am. My name is Kyle Dester.
I know I can't leave it there. When I was growing up simply giving my name was enough to have everyone in the room get all simpery over me. But not any more, I spend my time with different people now, people who have never heard of my father. My father was one of the elite businessmen of New York, and I mean so high up that the only people who knew his name were the ones that were almost as high up as he was. I grew up being treated like a prince, knowing that I'd never have to want for anything in my life. Heh, right, that worked. I was happy as a kid could be, until I got a bit older and realized I wasn't quite like the rest of the people in my dad's circle of friends…and I was expected to take over.
I didn't realize until I was on the brink of being a teenager, that my Father was as old-fashioned, snobbish and, in a way, prudish as a person could be. He wasn't very happy with me when I came home from my first arranged "date" and told him I'd rather jump off the roof of the Empire State Building then go out with her and have her try to kiss me again. He put it down to me not having grown out of my "girls have cooties" stage, dumb ass.
The structure of the society my Father forced me into began to chafe. I went to all the "right" schools, knew all the "right" people and attended all the "right" events. I've lost count of how many Worthington social activities I was forced to attend. That was another disappointment to my Father, the fact that the Worthington brat and myself didn't become instant best friends and run off to plot what stocks we'd invest in when we were older. Truth is…. I couldn't stand the little snob, I put on a good show for Father's sake…. but I hated the times when I was expected to "play" with him. I was almost two years older then him…. and he still treated me like an inferior. Heh, boy was he confused, I was higher on the scale then he was, at least my father was above his.
I was fourteen when I finally stopped attending the events, I found what I decided was a better way to spend my time; though Father assured me I was wasting it. I got pretty heavily into cars and finally, with more then a little help from my mom, I convinced my dad to pay for me to enter the local sanctioned street racing ring. I could have paid for it on my own, god knows my allowance allowed for it, at least with my having saved pretty much all of it for the past 14 years it did, but I saw no reason for it. I'd spent years indulging him and doing what he wanted me to, I figured it was time he gave me the same courtesy. I'm sure Warren loved when I seemed to simply disappear, it meant he had no competition in becoming the "golden boy" that everyone wanted to be. I didn't care, he could have the spotlight…I just wanted to have some fun, and live a little before father managed to lasso me into the business.
Racing quickly went from a hobby…to an obsession. Sitting behind the wheel, tearing around the track, I was freer then I'd ever been in my family. I was in charge of my life, I literally held my life in my hands; one wrong move, one nervous jerk of the hand, and I could have gone spiraling into a concrete wall, making my car explode and killing myself in a fiery inferno of death… I loved knowing that, I loved the risk… I loved the adrenaline rush. I think it was my refusing to let anyone else work on my cars that made Father stop funding my "idiotic hobby"…he said he refused to fund my turning myself into a lowly mechanic when I could have rocket scientists work on the car and make it run like no other car on the road. I told him I could do it my self, and once his back was turned muttered under my breath exactly where I thought he could stick his opinions before I got back to work on my latest upgrade.
It wasn't until the night of my junior prom that I finally figured out what exactly it was that set me apart from the rest of the "elite" the people my father constantly told me were my "peers". I'd gone on dates to appease Father, I'd kissed girls, but I never did it because I'd decided I liked them, I did it because Father had set us up and it was expected, and they always initiated anything that happened, not me. I didn't have many, if any, friends in the snob school that I was forced to attend, and definitely not any I was close enough with to talk about dating, so how was I supposed to know that my approach to dating wasn't normal. I had plenty of girls that, especially once they found out that the number on my various cars wasn't just for show but actually my registered race number, were trying entirely too hard to get me to ask them out. I swear at least one of them had to have gotten an ulcer from the effort. But they shouldn't have wasted their time, I wasn't into any of them, I wasn't into any girl. Of course I didn't figure out until prom night that I was most definitely into guys, but that's not the point. I'd known for years that I wasn't into girls…I just didn't see any other alternative until that night.
I didn't even go to the prom, I spent the night at the racetrack, in my tux since Father had insisted I buy a ticket and go to the dance, I just never made it that far. The person that finally managed to catch my attention was one of the three other guys I was racing, and I damn near walked away from the race when I realized what was going on. "Gay" had always been akin swear words at my house. We didn't say it and we didn't associate with people who were gay, at least not if it was known to us that they were. Like I said, my dad was an old fashioned, snobbish prude, I could just imagine his reaction when I went home and explained this one to him. It was that thought that kept me at the tracks until dawn; I was reluctant to go home, pure and simple. I wanted to put off facing my father. Finally I said, "screw it" and drove home, speeding the entire way. Now that I'd decided to do it, I wanted it over with and actually I found I couldn't wait to see the look on his face.
I had expected him to bellow, to rant, to rave, and to tell me that I was no longer welcome in his home. Instead he laughed, laughed so hard that tears streamed from his eyes. He thought it was a great joke, that I had only said it to screw with his mind and then he went back to his paper. No doubt he thought the reason I'd been out all night was that I'd been with some girl, and my disheveled appearance certainly didn't help to argue with the opinion. I'd loosened my tie and unbuttoned my coat as soon as I'd gotten to the race and had raced my convertible with the top down. There I was, trying to tell him I'd just discovered that I was gay and the family name was going to end with me…and I looked like I'd just gotten in from a major shag session. Great…he'd believe me no problem, right…that's exactly what happened…and if you believe that I've got some ocean front property in Arizona that you can have.
I still hadn't convinced him by the time I graduated, Oh he'd started to take me seriously, but he decided that it was just a phase I'd grow out of. I say again, dumb ass. But he humored me again and paid for me to major in journalism in college, so long as I minored in Business. After all I was still expected to take over the business when he retired…he certainly couldn't leave it to Trixie, she'd be pretty hard pressed to run a business from the insane asylum. So I went off to college, where Father paid my tuition and book fees, but I was expected to pay room, board, and entertainment...my racing took care of that. So long as I won I had plenty of money to bolster my bank account, of course my account probably would have gotten me through, but once again…that isn't the point. I learned pretty quickly that Yale was going to be no more accepting of me then my father would have been had he actually acknowledged what I was trying to tell him. Needless to say I didn't have any more friends in College then I did in high school…but I managed to come out of it in the top three percent of my class. So who gives a shit if I didn't have many friends, and no relationships? Well none with guys that were in school with me, but the guys from the tracks were more interesting anyway.
I haven't seen or spoken to my father since the day I went home for my graduation party after I got my masters in journalism. I'm not sure why it surprised me when I showed up and Mom told me to go up to my room and get changed and that my Father wanted to speak to me before the guests arrived. Of course Father had made it a formal party with all his friends, after all I didn't have any of my own. I changed into a suit, and met him in his study. He smiled and said he was glad to see I'd finally grown out of my delusions. My jaw practically dropped as I told him in return that I'd been thinking how nice it was that he'd over come his prejudice and decided that people that didn't fit his ideal were still human. I walked out of the room, and didn't stop walking until I reached my car. I didn't even bother to stay for the "party".