Episode 2: Return of the Prodigal Son
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
Still half-asleep, Ivan registered the noise as someone at the front door and blearily rolled over in the sheets.
"Just leave it," he groaned.
He could deal with another delivery of flowers and cards in his late fathers honor later... when the room stopped spinning. But when the door to the bedroom burst suddenly open, he jumped out of bed like a startled cat, convinced it was the police.
Different scenarios flashed through his mind. The girl he'd overpowered in the yacht bathroom last night, the one three weeks before. And even before that. College. High school. Dozens of memories rushing forward alongside the adrenaline.
"For fucks sake," he grumbled when he realized it was only his uncle, Joseth.
Tall, clean-shaven, and square-jawed, he still looked enough like a cop to ruin anyone's day. Ivan rubbed his eyes, blinking as he saw his clothes from yesterday still scattered across the floor of an opulent bedroom that looked nothing like his own condo.
"How'd you get in here?" Ivan asked suspiciously, but his uncle ignored the question, instead asking his own.
"Where did you go last night?"
Ivan grabbed his phone from the nightstand and realized it was somehow 5:40PM the following day. How long had he been asleep? The dim blueish glow from behind heavy window curtains made the time of day seem indistinct. If it hadn't been for his phone, he wouldn't have been able to tell if the sun was setting or rising.
"So now I have to checkin with you before I go anywhere?" Ivan asked, grabbing his balls through his boxers as he swept past the man. "Can I go take a piss, then, uncle? Or would you like to come get some eyewitness evidence?"
"You were expected to speak," Joseth continued evenly, following a short distance behind him. "Give some sense of confidence to the shareholders that the
prodigal son
has things under control."
Ivan disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door behind him, rolling his eyes. He couldn't wait until he got the accounts officially transferred to his name and could fire his fathers old staff. Starting with his uncle, the bank's so-called head of security.
"Your actions reflect on more than just you now, Ivan. Think of the business, the family," the man's voice droned from behind the door while Ivan unlocked his phone.
Reddit. Porn. Instagram. He swiped away a series of calendar notifications as he scrolled through the profile of a young woman laying on her back, smiling, wearing a sparkly cubic zirconia collar and cheap lingerie. Broke, desperate, impressionable, and very much his type.
He tapped the screen until a heart popped up, then swiped away to find another.
Eventually flushing the toilet and unlocking the door, Ivan crossed the bathroom toward an antique sink made of dark green jade. It wasn't his apartment he'd come home to last night, but his fathers old place, which was much closer to Navy Pier, and he supposed, technically also his, once they got the inheritance sorted out.
"What's it going to take to get you to leave?" asked Ivan when he saw his uncle still standing there by the doorframe. He splashed water on his face to clear his view before reaching for an embroidered towel that said "L.M."
Joseth looked him over critically. Not that there was much to criticize; Ivan was fit and toned, the muscles on his back carved like a boxers. He met his uncles eye in the mirror when he noticed him staring at the bruises on his thighs.
"And what happened there?"
Ivan looked down at the spray of fist-sized black and purple marks mottling the inside of his legs, the girl from last night coming quickly to mind. Pretending to notice for the first time, he gave a little smile. "You know the ladies can't get enough of me."
Joseth blinked a few times, a disgusted expression crossing his face.
"Please, spare me the details. Why don't you just try to put some clothes on and smell a little less like alcohol and weed, hmn?" he suggested. "Can you do that on your own, at least?"
"Get dressed for what?" Ivan retorted.
"The Collector Preview is tonight. You know this."
"Collector-what?" Ivan grimaced, the many calendar invitations he'd swiped off his phone coming rudely to mind. "Shit."
He was starting to get a headache from keeping up with these people, but he knew he needed to focus on solidifying his title as CEO -- not arguing with a man that was soon to be unemployed -- so he slipped into one of his fathers old suits, rows of almost identical-looking Armani and Prada jackets lining the walls of a huge walk-in closet. It was a little awkward wearing the clothes of a dead man, but there was no salvaging his outfit from last night, not with saliva and cum stains running all down the trousers.
Outside the house, he found his uncle waiting for him at the wheel of a black Escalade and got into the passenger seat looking much more put together. Black jacket, creased trousers, an expensive Rolex he'd found on the closet shelf glinting from his wrist. Almost like a real CEO.
He could feel his uncle observing him from the driver's seat, but if he had something to say, he didn't, shifting the car into gear and pulling through the wrought iron gates that lead straight into downtown Chicago.
"The head chair will be there," said Joseth after a while. "That's the largest shareholder outside our family."
"Glee," Ivan responded, not looking up from his phone.
In truth, he knew very little about what taking over a bank would entail, and was surprised when, instead of arriving at some lawyers office in the finance district, they arrived in front of the Art Institute, a huge stone building that looked more like an old manor or castle than something that belonged in modern-day Chicago.
The museum was famous even outside the city for its enormous art collection, and right now, people were lined up outside the doors like it was some kind of celebrity red carpet event. Videographers, women in gowns, men in suits, wrapping all the way down the stairs to the sidewalk.
"Here?" Ivan asked, glancing at the side mirror when they pulled to the side of Michigan Avenue in dense traffic, but his uncle had already cut the engine and opened the door, not seeming to think it was a problem.
Collector Preview...as in...art collectors? What about the bank? His inheritance? Ivan was beginning to feel sharply out of his depth when two museum guards in high-necked crimson uniforms noticed them walking up the steps and waved them ahead of the queue.
"Good evening sirs," said one, glancing curiously at Ivan. "Mister Masters, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person... M-my sincerest condolences about your father. He was a great man."
"Uh, sure, yeah," said Ivan awkwardly. "Thanks, bud."
He was surprised when they were waved past without any further screening, into a huge marble lobby alive with music and voices. People were everywhere, a grand staircase lined with roses spilling down dramatically in the center the room - which, at the moment, looked nothing like a museum at all and more like a restaurant or ballroom, filled with a sea of decorated tables.
It was very unlike the parties he went to, with loud music and girls in bikinis. Almost everyone here looked to be over the age of 65, and with a pang of concern he turned to his uncle, fearing there might not be an escape for hours.
"So, we're just going to be in and out, right?"
Joseth glared at him, but then slowed his step and walked a little outside the path of the crowd, gesturing Ivan to do the same.
"How much do you know about the Medici Bank?" asked his uncle, taking on a tone of upmost confidentiality.
Ivan sighed.
Couldn't they save family trivia for another night?
"I know the company has always been passed from father to son," said Ivan, adding with an annoyed sniff. "And that our family believes in honoring tradition."
"Yes, well. You should also know that my brother tried
very hard
to get that patriarchal succession bylaw changed during his lifetime, but... the company is more than seven hundred years old. It's complicated."
The disappointment in his uncles voice was evident as he continued, talking slowly like he was trying to impress something vitally important to a small child. "The bank has been operating uninterrupted since the thirteenth century, and it is what is called a hereditary title that now, God help us, should will these assets to you..."
Ivan's attention easily drifted, his uncles words fading as he looked slightly past him, at where a group of four students were being ushered together for a picture. Two girls, two boys, all smiling and dressed to the nines. They seemed to be the only young people here - honor students or something, that attended the museum's adjacent art school.
Cute.
After the camera flashed and the photographer walked away, the smiles on the students faces vanished and they went back to talking amongst themselves, Ivan's eyes roving over the girls bodies unnoticed.
The taller, skinny one held his attention. He couldn't hear their conversation from here, but by the look on her face and the way her pale complexion became rosier as she talked, he thought, maybe, they weren't all such good friends at all. She wore a wispy purple dress, and a little bit too much makeup for her age, but the reason he couldn't take his eyes off of her was because she looked a bit like him - same fair skin, raven-black hair, dark eyes.
She could have passed for his sister. Maybe even his daughter.
He felt a familiar rush of warm excitement at the thought. He'd love to see what that eyeliner looked like running down her cheeks, preferably while they played a little game of
how deep can it go?
He wondered if she was into it. Probably. Most of these college chicks were just a few drinks away from releasing their inner slut. He knew from experience that even the ones who pretended not to want it, always did.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made him refocus on his uncle, who was now looking at him expectantly. Three people had joined them, two much older men and a woman in a blue dress suit, with short gray hair and skin like crumpled paper. She looked old enough to be his grandmother, and his scowl didn't budge at all when she flashed him a smile.
"
Allo
, my name is Claire Baude," she extended one hand. "The head chair, and director here at
zee
