It's a usual morning for me at the resort. I get up somewhat late and order my usual room service order. After breakfast, I wander around the hotel for a little while. My phone pings as I'm walking through the atrium.
Calendar Event
U to Resort
I sigh. Dad's coming to the resort today. It's his first day here, which means Morgana and I have to have dinner with him, which is always an ordeal. His presence just annoys me. He almost always finds some fault with what I do or what I say or what I wear. It's a huge inconvenience. I miss the seasons when he flew around Europe in his private jet going to meetings and dinners with billionaires and diplomats. I try to find something to do so I can put off seeing him. I'm swimming laps in the pool when my dad finds me two hours later.
"Arthur, you're going to have to do something this summer," he tells me. "You're not just going to lie around the resort and do nothing."
"I swim," I tell him, wiping the water off my face. "And I play volleyball and basketball and surf. How is that not doing something?"
"Something productive," he insists. "And to make sure you keep being productive, I've made you the event planner for the summer. I've hired you a personal assistant all the way from Chicago."
"Dad, I don't need a job, and I don't need an assistant!" I exclaim, climbing out of the pool.
"You don't have a choice. It's happening," he confirms calmly.
"No, it's not," I repeat.
"You are my son and you will do as I say." He jabs his finger twice at the air.
I defiantly storm out of the pool area and back up to my room. In the hallway, I run into some dark-headed kid I've never seen before. I shove him against the wall. "Out of my way, plebeian." As I walk away from him, I trip over air and try to walk it off, but I hear him laughing at me. I break into a run and don't stop when I hit the stairs. I keep running all the way up to the penthouse suite that my sister and I share—one of only four in the entire resort.
I can't believe my dad expects me to have a job this summer. I knew it would happen eventually, but I honestly didn't think it would happen until college. What does an event planner even do? It just sounds like a lot of unnecessary work to me. Whoever this personal assistant person is, she's going to have a lot of work. I'm very good at delegating. If I keep her busy enough, I won't have to lift a finger. I might even get some action out of it, depending on who she is.
When I walk into the suite, Morgana is sitting on the couch with as her assistant, Gwen, rushes around the kitchen making lunch. Ignoring them, I go for a shower. When I come out, they're both munching on Gwen's famous chicken quesadillas. I snag one off the plate. Neither of them argues. They're quite used to me stealing their food.
"So you're taking over my job this season?" Morgana starts.
"Dad's making me," I tell her reluctantly as I take another bite of quesadilla. How the hell does Gwen get these to be so good?
"Oh, don't worry about it. It's not so bad. I did it for four summers."
"Yeah, but you like responsibility. I like the beach."
Gwen stifles a giggle and gets up to go do the dishes. Morgana smiles. "You'll be fine."
Narrowing my eyes at her, I take my quesadilla back to my room and eat it while I play Xbox for a bit to cool off. Maybe if I wait Dad out long enough, he'll forget about the event planner job and he'll just have someone else do it. I haven't even been playing for that long when my phone pings twice in a row with new text messages.
From: Morgana
Don't forget dinner with Dad 7
From: U. Pendragon
This job is happening. You are doing it. See you at seven.
I sigh and set the controller on my nightstand. I really don't have a choice about skipping dinner either. Lying on my bed, feeling sorry for myself, I fall asleep. When my alarm goes off at 6:30, I hit snooze and go back to sleep. At 6:45, I realize what the sound is, and I scramble out of bed.
Rushing to get ready, I comb some product into my hair and throw on the first button down, vest and pants I see, which are, luckily, presentable. I'm nearly running out of the room while I'm trying to get dressed. By the time I'm in the hallway, I'm running for the elevator whilst trying to tuck in my shirt, and tie my tie. Finally, when I reach the elevator, I get the chance to button my vest, roll up my sleeves a bit, and breathe. Before I get off, I check my hair using the mirrored ceiling. I run a hand through it so it doesn't look so stiff. A glance at my watch tells me it's 6:58. I'm still not going to make it in time.
6:59. The doors open to the lobby. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and walk quickly down the hall and into the atrium.
7:00. I can see the dining room. I walk faster. I can see Morgana sitting at the table which, of course, is the farthest back into the room.
7:01. I sit down in my seat with a grin. "You're late," Dad says with a scowl.
I apologize, "I was taking a nap. I got down here as quickly as I could."
"See that you get here on time next time," he emphasizes in his usual disappointed tone. Morgana glares at me.
A new waitress—I can tell because I haven't seen her before, and I know ALL the waitresses—comes to take our orders. We make polite small talk as we wait for out drinks. It's sick to sit here like this, to pretend we're such a great family. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad and Morgana, but that doesn't make us a proper family. When the girl comes with our drinks (scotch for Dad; chocolate martini for Morgana, who just turned 21; lime Jarritos for me), she stumbles when she bumps into a nearby chair.
Time moves in slow motion as the martini tips toward me in a path that's going to inevitably end with irremovable chocolate stains all over my white shirt. Then, just like that, a busboy who I've also never seen before reaches out and catches the glass without spilling a drop. He sets it down in front of my sister, who looks as amazed as I feel.
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