What Really Matters
It had been one of those nights, Jim sighed, as he took in the crowd of well-dressed and mature socialites in the crowded living room. All of these people were in their forties and fifties, including his mother and father, who were both out there mingling among the rest of them. For Jim, at twenty-four years of age and with a healthy social appetite of his own, it was more like torture to sit there.
His sister Amy, all of twenty years of age and sitting beside him on that same couch, was equally unimpressed. "You know, we should have left when all the other young people did. Now, all we've got left is old farts."
"Yeah, you're right." Jim sighed. He was wearing a gentleman's tuxedo, as were most of the men in the room. He hated such black tie functions, but it was part of the game his father was grooming him for. Jim was being taught how to hobnob with the people who might one day become his clients in his father's investment firm.
"We can still leave." Amy persisted. "We can take mom's car. Dad can drive her home whenever he feels like it. We don't have to sit here all night."
"You're right, okay." Jim acknowledged. "Let's give it five more minutes. I think mom's had about all the alcohol she can handle."
"Oh, my god, will you look at her?"
Jim scanned the various bodies until he spotted his mother. She wore a black and elegant evening dress, and enough jewelry to blind a jeweler. Her earrings, necklace and bracelets radiated with diamonds and matched the sparkle of her eyes and smile. Jim could admit to himself that his mother was a very attractive woman. Regardless of her beauty, Jim didn't like it at all when she was inebriated with wine. While his father was out trying to secure new funds from the speculators, his mother would do her part and gather a throng of men around her. She did this in order to lead them over to her father later. His mother's ploys were also part of the game, but she tended to get carried away sometimes. At that moment, for example, a very rich, and also stout man had his arm wrapped around his mother's waist, while his mother had her arm up on the man's shoulder. They were smiling at other rich men as if they were a couple, even though Jim's father was just across the room from them.
"Mom's a prostitute." Amy decided. "I know she wants you and me to follow in dad's footsteps and add to the family fucking fortune, but I'm not going to let some creep put his hands all over me like mom does. I will never do that. Do we really have to stay here and watch this? It's gross!"
Jim blew out a long breath. More than once, he'd seen some asshole fondling his mother's ass at such social functions. "Let me go find dad and tell him we're leaving."
It took Jim a few minutes to pry his dad away from the commodities discussion he was engaged in with other speculators. "Dad, Amy and I are taking off. And you'd better do something about mom, because she's this close to getting felt up again."
"I can't leave right now." His father grimaced. "I'm in the middle of making some deals here. As a matter of fact, you should hang around and listen. These people know what they're talking about, Jim. There is a lot of money that could potentially change hands as a result of this discussion we're having."
"No, dad. Amy doesn't want to be here, and I don't want to be here. We're taking mom's car because I have her keys. All I'm telling you is that you should keep an eye on mom. She's drunk enough that she might follow some random guy into a bedroom."
Jim caught the calculating look in his father's eyes, and he detested the man for it. His father was more interested in who his wife might sleep with from the perspective of future wealth, than he cared anything about adultery. In fact, Jim suspected that his father actually encouraged his mother to attempt to seduce wealthy men for potential profit. Amy was probably right, when she suggested that their mother was in fact a prostitute.
Absently, his father shrugged. "I'm too busy to watch her. Take her home."
That was it, Jim knew. The end of the conversation. His father went back to his associates, while he went over to peel his mother away from the fat man trying to hoard her. Amy watched his progress, her arms crossed and her face wary. If Jim didn't set their mother free quickly enough, he would probably demand that the fat man take his hand away from their mother, in order to embarrass the man away. Luckily, their mother was easily detached. Jim helped her stagger along, for the woman really was drunk and had likely been leaning on the fat man to keep herself upright. In the meantime, Amy cleared the path before them to the front door. A minute later they were outside and taking in the cool night air, which was a little chillier than had been forecast.
Jim's mother was giggling, as Jim passed the woman over to his sister, before he hurried off to find the car. It was a silver Mercedes SUV, mid-size and very expensive. Once the car was quietly humming on the wide driveway, Jim hurried around and helped Amy put their mother into the back seat. Jim and his sister both took the front, with Jim behind the wheel.
"Who was that man, mother?" Amy asked icily, as Jim put the car in drive.
"What man, dear?"
"That fat one that was slobbering all over you."
Their mother laughed. "Oh, that was Charles. He has a property out in Bonita some place, where he keeps horses. He's invited all of us to go out and visit his ranch, so we can ride his horses. I said we'd be delighted to come."
Amy glanced over at Jim, who watched as Amy rolled her eyes.
"No thank you, mother." Amy shifted around in her seat and crossed her arms. "I will not be riding Charles' horses, and neither will Jim."
"But it might be fun to ride Charles' horse." Their mother said, which set her off in laughing again. "You'll never know until you try it!"
Jim couldn't help but chuckle. His mother was out of it, all right.
Undoubtedly, the remark had pissed Amy off, because Amy always became pissed off when their mother spoke so lewdly. Amy turned on the car's radio and set it on a classical music station, both because the music would soothe her, and because their mother wouldn't complain about it. Resignedly, Amy sat back into her seat.
"Did your father secure any commitments yet?" Their mother asked.
"No, Maxine." Amy replied. Now Jim knew his sister was angry, as she only used their mother's first name when she wanted to distance herself. "Dad was still working on it."
