It was fucking Friday night finally; the alarm clock on my iPhone rang, informing me that I was in serious danger of missing half price drinks at 'Benny's'. Of course this served to only piss me off even more, causing my mood to reach another level… way off the damn fucking scale.

The problem though, wasn't the fact that I was about to miss those half price drinks, but the fact that I had to finish this fucking brief, the one I had been procrastinating about for the past two weeks, and the very one my father expected in his hands first thing tomorrow morning.

Fuck that shit.

One of the things most people seem to think is that when the boss is your father, you have it easy. Obviously most of those people haven't met my father. I don't think I can imagine a more cantankerous, stuck up royal pain in the ass, Type A personality.

As the CEO of one of the top ten law firms in the state, my father plays it straight down the line. He represents everyone, whether they are the garbage collector or the mayor of the fucking city... actually now that I think about it, I take that back.

I remember him telling the mayor of our city to go fuck himself last week, so I guess the mayor will have to go elsewhere for his legal advice, but Tim the garbage collector is still welcome. Even Dad isn't stupid enough to fuck with the garbage collector.

Anyway you get the picture.

My father was the Devil incarnate and I wasn't going to get even 10 feet within a beer tonight. Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, a knock on my door was quickly followed by the appearance of my self-appointed nemesis Royce fucking King.

I have to spend a moment on Royce as he's crucial to the story, imagine a guy about 5'6", average build in his late 30's. He's got thinning blonde hair that he slicks back; watery blue eyes that remind me of someone with sinus problems and a nose that looked like someone had used it as a punching bag. Royce also suffered from extremely bad taste in clothes. All in all you could be forgiven for thinking this guy was one of Gods losers (I certainly thought he was). The trouble though was that God, in his infinite wisdom had granted Royce a formidable intellect, which my father seemed to care more about then me.

Why Royce annoyed me so much, I have no idea. It was probably because he spent most of his time competing with me; he thought he was better than me just because my father pays more attention to him. Even though I'm his fucking son the bastard.

I was already pissed off, so seeing Royce in my doorway only pissed me off even more. Of course I was too professional to make this really obvious… well, kind of.

Royce took one step into my office, "Hey Emmett, I saw your light on and just wanted to remind you about tomorrow night."

I looked up at him and frowned, "Tomorrow night?" Oh fuck me.

"Remember my engagement party…"

"Of course! Yeah.. your engagement party! Right. Sorry man, my mind's a million miles away with this fucking shitty brief, what time again?" Royce snorted as I rubbed my face. The fucking scruffy cunt.

"7.30, don't be late. I gotta run, have fun with that brief!" He grinned and pointed his finger at me. What a cunt, man what I'd give to just beat the absolute fuck out of that smug bastard.

Just fucking great, not only do I miss going out tonight, but tomorrow night I'm going to be stuck at Royce's damn engagement party! Of course I hadn't forgot his engagement party, I actually had no intention of going in the first place.

Spending a day, balls deep in lawyer shit suddenly took on the appearance of a tropical holiday in the sun, compared to a night of Royce's company.

I groaned loudly bemoaning my sorry fate and suddenly returned to the brief.