Chapter 4

I sigh as the tailor measures the inside of my leg.

Of course, all my suits are tailor made, but this suit holds a particular disdain as well as a bad taste in my mouth because I detest birthdays.

It isn't the suits fault, but I can't help it.

I don't want to think about my fucking birthday party.

I should just tell my friends to get fucked, and my sister to lay off. But dutifully, I do neither of those things. My friends are good people, they mean well. It also makes me realise they should probably know me better, thus understanding that I don't like parties. I detest them even. But I know they love them. Any excuse for a Devereaux party is a good one. My family doesn't do things by halves, especially birthdays.

My father, like me, doesn't care for them very much. But my mother on the other hand, she's just as excited about the idea as my sister.

Mum

Darling, I found these beautiful masks from Dior. They are to die for!

I groan, reading the text. Fucking Dior?

Did I mention the theme of the party is a masquerade?

What follows is a slew of screen shots of various masks, each one ranging from more ridiculous to the next in elaborateness.

I could honestly kill my sister.

I type back a quick reply, otherwise Mum will call me, and I really don't need George — the tailor's — hands anywhere close to my nether region.

Me

A little over the top, don't you think?

Mum and Layne are both avid texters, though sometimes when my mother is on a roll, it never fucking ends.

I see the grey bubble appear and I sigh. George looks up at me and I roll my eyes. He's used to me.

"My mother," I explain.

He nods, a little sympathy in his look.

Mum

That's not a very positive attitude, Alistair

Uh, oh, she's using my first name. Excellent.

Mum

You know, your sister and I have put a lot of effort into this party and you could act a little more enthusiastic

Me

THANKS MUM. YOU'RE THE BEST! ?????? Is that better?

Mum

There's no need for sarcasm. I should've known. Layne tried to warn me.

Me

That I hate parties? Not exactly hiding it

Mum

Darling, I know you don't like the idea of getting older…

I laugh. Is that what it is?

Mum

But age is just a number… how is Jennifer?

I groan, earning me another look from George. "Stand up straight please, Mr. Devereaux."

"Right, sorry," I say, my patience growing thin.

Mother keeps trying to thrust Jennifer on me. She's from an affluent family, and my mum and her mum are good friends. In her mind, it'd be a perfect match. The only thing is, I don't want to fuck any of my mother's friends' daughters.

That can never be a good thing. Not with my track record.

The last thing I want is my sexual escapades — and my inability to remember to call the next day — publicised to my mother of all people.

Of course, she wants grandbabies. And at forty-five, she's still hanging on for dear life. I think she knows deep down it's not going to happen, but she still has hope.

If I were her, I'd be pressuring my sister. There's more likelihood of Layne having a kid than me. Nobody knows the real reason why I punish myself in this self-made prison. Why I keep myself at arm's length where women are concerned; those that want more than sex that is.

I tried marriage once, and it was a disaster. Sure. We both had an agenda, and I got to do my thing, and Abigail got to do hers. But that's not the point. I still feel responsible for her death. Maybe if I'd had more of a say in where she was and what she was doing, things may be different. Then again, I'm probably fooling myself. There was never any controlling her. She was a wild card.

Then there's Charlize.

I often think of her. What became of her after college.

She has no idea that I paid for her tuition. It wasn't like that old hag of a Grandmother was going to give her any saving grace. The woman was an absolute pill.

Of course, me and her daughter didn't marry for the right reasons, but she didn't know that. I don't think Evelyn Prescott would honestly like anyone. She never had any kindness in her, that much I know.

Five minutes goes by before my mother texts again.

Mum

Alistair? Are you ignoring me? My phone tells me you read the message

I sigh again.

Me

I'm getting fitted for a suit, Mother. I'm busy.

Mum

Jennifer? How is she?

Me

I'm not interested in Jennifer. I told you I won't date your friends' daughters.

Mum

So, you're not bringing a date?

I can just hear her incredulous gasp. Heaven help if I'm not seen with a beautiful woman on my arm. It's all about appearances after all.

Me

I don't know yet.

That's the honest truth. It's the farthest thing from my mind.

Mum

Shall I pick a mask for you? I think the silver and black will go with your suit.

Me

Whatever you think will work

Mum

Fine. Don't blame me if they don't match. You've been no help whatsoever

Me

Love you, too

I click my phone to lock it and shove it back in my pocket.

"Almost done, sir," George says. "Just a few more moments."

This whole thing is ridiculous.

Just as I'm thinking it, the group text chat with my best friends pops up.

Devon

Hey, numb nuts. How's the suit fitting going?

I take a sharp intake of breath. Why is everyone so fucking nosy?

Me

As good as to be expected

Zane

He enjoys having his nuts brushed by old dudes

Me

Fuck off

Devon

?? trying to eat here

Zane

You pop that chicks cherry yet, A?

Today is not the fucking day for fifty questions. I already got a grilling from my mother.

Me

What chick would that be? There's been too many

A lie of course, and my balls know it.

Zane

That's a no then

Devon

Leave him alone. He can't help that he's getting older, and we all know what that means…

Me

If it's something to do with my penis shrivelling up, don't bother. I already got the memo… and the photos to match.

Zane

Which is why we need to organise something special for your birthday

Me

Really, Z? You sound like my fucking mother

Devon

Trust you to go ruin the surprise ??

Me

I hate surprises

Zane

He really does. Which is why you're going to love this one

Me

Dear God. The last surprise you unveiled almost got me arrested

He's referring to the time they tied me to a pole, in my boxers and tie, after my last drunken birthday party at a hip club.The idiots just don't know when to let up.

Devon

Classic

Me

Yeah, so not cool

Zane

He's just saying that because it was a very chilly evening

Me

Fuck you. I get more pussy than you'll ever have

Zane

I don't think so, chump

Devon

Hey, leave him alone. Or it'll be our credit cards we max out instead of his

Zane

Good point. Does this mean we have to be start being nice to him

Me

Start being the word

Devon

Now, now. You know how he gets when he's upset

"Voila!" George declares.

Finally, we're done. I glance down as George rises to his feet.

"Perfect," I say.

Me

Got to go. George is finished

Devon

Later

Zane

Yeah, on second thought, don't bring a date. It's better that way

Great.

Between the two of them, and our other friend Lewis, they're up to no good.

I really do not need to be embarrassed in front of my family, though deep down, I know they'd never do that. They'd keep it strictly behind closed doors.

I've learned over the years to ask no questions. It's better that way.

"You're particularly grumpy today," my sister says, annoyance in her tone. "Is it because you're old now?"

I roll my eyes. "I was old yesterday, sister dear. Birthdays are just another reminder that no matter how old you get, you'll always have an annoying little sister nagging at you to enjoy yourself."

"Aww. That was such a cute attempt at a joke." She rolls her eyes. "Oh, and a heads up. Mum's looking for you."

I groan, slipping my ridiculous mask back into place.

I don't know why I fucking agreed to this. It's insane.

"I hope you didn't tell her where I was."

"Don't be mean, Alistair. For some reason, Mum still thinks the sun shines out of your arse, for what reason, I don't know."

I give Layne the side-eye. "Maybe I'm just her favourite child?"

She baulks. "Hmm. Not likely. And to think, all you had to do was smile and pretend you like the ice sculptures and swans." She can't hold in her laughter.

I shake my head. "It's over the top, surely even you can admit that."

"Fine. I admit that maybe Mum did go a little too far with the swans, but still, at least she cares." She has a point. I know Mum means well, but this is more about appearances than my actual birthday. Mum was from an aristocratic family, as was my Dad, too, so keeping up with the Jones' is something that's ingrained into you from childhood.

Mum and Dad opened their manor for the party, so for that I should be grateful. At least it's not my house they"re all trashing.

"Oh, I have no doubt at all that she cares," I sigh. "Her heart's in the right place, but fucking swans?"

"The Devereaux's do nothing by halves, dear brother." She gives me a devilish grin.

"That is certainly true."

"So, I see you didn't bring a date tonight?" My sister looks around me like my date is hiding somewhere. It's far too complicated to bring a date and have them interrogated by my mother. Every time she sees me with a woman, she starts planning the goddamn wedding.

"You do have eyes after all?" I mock.

"Surely you could've found at least one willing bimbo to bring with you." My sister also knows all about my escapades, of course — she's not dumb.

"Hey, bimbos have feelings, Layne. Just remember that."

She snorts. "Uh huh. God, don't look now, the three stooges are headed this way."

Sure enough, one glance over my shoulder tells me my friends are indeed walking toward us.

Devon, Zane and Lewis; they're all decked out in tuxedos and masks, though Lewis' is pulled up on top of his head.

"I didn't know Halloween came early," I quip.

"Funny," says Zane. "And here we were saving your birthday present until last. Now you might not get it at all."

Devon gives me a wink. That can't mean anything good.

"It better not have anything to do with an exploding cake," Layne grumbles. "Because that was my idea."

Devon throws an arm around her shoulders. "And you look ravishing tonight, Layne."

She elbows him in the ribs. "Speak for yourself, D."

The two of them have always had a love/hate kinda thing, and at one point I thought it might turn into more, but so far it hasn't. I wouldn't be upset. Devon is a good guy. My sister though? Ball breaker.

The day some guy snags her and makes her an honest woman, is the day hell freezes over.

"Hey, what about me?" Lewis pouts. "I had to wear this stupid thing, courtesy of the lovely Mrs. Devereaux, of course."

"I helped pick those," Layne informs him. "So think yourself grateful. It could've been a lot worse if I hadn"t been there, trust me. Mum can go a little overboard when it comes to decor."

"No shit," Zane laughs. "How much is the going rate to rent swans for the evening?"

"I seriously don't want to know," I grumble. "Money better spent on charity."

"I was just saying to my brother how boring he is now that he's forty-five," Layne sings gleefully. "What do you think, boys? Is it just me or is he becoming a right old stick in the mud?"

"You called it." Zane shrugs when I give him a sideways glance.

"Definitely a lot grumpier," Devon puts in.

"I think there's a few more grey hairs, old boy." Lewis points up at my head as I swat his hand away. "But that's a sign of wisdom, so they say."

"I must have a shit load of wisdom then." I run a hand through my hair as my sister laughs.

"That was pretty good. You're loosening up. I need to go find alcohol." My sister takes off, slinging Devon's arm off her shoulders.

"Don't wait up for me!" Devon calls behind her.

"You two just need to bone already," Zane sighs.

I wince. "Guys. That's my sister for fuck's sake."

"Still. She's hot." Devon slings his arm around me now. "We know how much you hate parties, but if you can do the rounds once, please your parents for an hour, we'll whisk you off to your suite in no time."

I glance at the three of them one by one. They're all smiling a little too wide.

I sigh. "What did you guys do this time?"

Zane taps his nose. "Just wait."

"I hate surprises," I remind them.

"You won't hate this," Lewis says. "Trust us."

I snort. "Famous last words."

And indeed, they were.