Old Money, New Money Business

The dazzling lights of Rylis lit the horizon, and I caught myself admiring the skyline from the edge of a plateau. Occasionally the winter breeze would soothe my face, reassuring my decision of moving to a secluded area forgotten by city folk. 

Behind me, a road barely lit by streetlights led back to a small alleyway connected to the parking lot of our apartment complex. I glanced back, wondering how many more minutes had I counted for Emma to get dressed. 

She had fainted shortly after my comeback; poor girl had to be dragged. I had thrown her over my shoulder, and grinned to myself. 

Although, the sweet sensation of victory only lasted till I reached the stairs. I wasn't weak by any means, but carrying the sleeping beauty had me worried that I was going to trip from being bashful. 

Chasing women is what a lot of men consider beta behavior; of course, there's nothing wrong with wanting to seek a life with a desirable partner. However, I was well aware of my pretty privilege, so when women came flocking to me like hungry seagulls, I had the upper hand. 

From being the pretty boy at school to the sexy model on Instar, my friends were not surprised to hear countless stories of women on my DMs. Sometimes, I'd get messages from men. Their conversations are funnier in my opinion, for they always ask about my workout routine. Or they'd ask if I was down for a "fun night".

I felt so strange being at peace. I began to understand why influencers encourage mental health days. 

The idea of starting over was always wishful thinking. 

I thought I knew what I wanted, and I convinced myself it was popularity. Clearly, pretty privilege does not protect you from the horrors of cancel culture. 

The shuffling of dirt signaled to me that someone was approaching. I turned around and was pleasantly amazed by the attire she wore. Emma looked stress-free for once; had this been our introduction I would consider myself lucky for striking the jackpot.

Putting her hair into a ponytail with a ribbon bow, I thank God that no one else was there to witness my reaction. I've seen plenty of women, both clothed and barely covered, but Emma was a hidden gem amongst rubbish. She held the innocence and warmth of the sun as she smiled. Her skin shimmered from recent moisturization that I could smell the ocean. 

If she were to tell me she added blush before meeting up with me, I'd believe her. 

Her dress, vintage and cozy, conveyed her figure. The brown blouse combined with her plaid buttoned skirt complimented her style, revealing the spectacle that stood in front of me.

"Do I look nice? Tell me I look nice," she said excitedly, twirling around.

"I mean, if taking half an hour of my day means I get to hang out with someone fashionable, I'm down."

"So I do look nice, thanks, Ace! That boosts my self-esteem!"

She grabbed my hand and started leading the way out of the apartment complex. Is this how a woman lures her victims to fall for her? Because it's working. 

"Hey," I moved my hand away from hers, "where did you say you wanted to take me?"

"Explore, silly! As your first friend, I hereby declare that we spend the next few days getting to know your new home!"

"Heh, first a maid, now a tour guide."

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

Emma clutched her chest and hyperventilated. She turned away from me and stared intensively at the sky as if questioning the gods why I was not what she imagined, behavioral-wise.

"Ace, look," she flailed her arms, "One hour. Just one hour. No weird comebacks. I'm barely registering that you're my neighbor, I don't think I can handle it knowing that y-you're such a f-f-fl-"

"OK, I got it," I giggled, "An hour it is."

"Thank you."

"So, where are we going first?"

A woman of confidence despite her fidgety mannerisms, Emma gently gripped my hand once more. My only solace was the warmth of her palm as we scrolled down multiple alleyways and onto a busy road. Apart from the boring homes that circled downtown, several buildings filled with young partygoers kept the streets alive. 

The colorful setting of welcome signs in every business tempted me to visit them one by one. Like a child curious about a new environment, I naturally geared towards a few candy shops and had to be dragged out by Emma. 

Several well-dressed elderly folks sauntered past us, gossiping to themselves about how we looked cute as a couple. Others minded their own business and gave us a nod or a smile of approval. Then, there was the old man on the bench with his dog, mumbling to himself in German.

Attendance at the cinema we passed was scarce, but there weren't any movies worth paying twenty dollars for. I noticed a group of schoolboys lingering around the entrance, shouting profanity at each other. Emma held a noticeable look of disturbance as we subconsciously eavesdropped on their conversation. Something about finding their friend's mother hot. I smirked; I'd figured that at a young age too. 

We stopped by a couple of shops featuring handmade accessories that Emma revealed she found particularly favorable. It was interesting to listen to a pretty girl ramble about what makes her day, even if it's something as simple as a new set of tarot cards.

"I once got The Fool," she'd say, "I was told to embrace it because it means something big is going to happen. A new change or a risk I'd take. And what do you know! I was informed later that night that Grandpa was starting his business! Gosh, I remember being so happy for us- oh, did you know my family came from a line of successors? Apparently, my great-grandmother was-"

She'd continue to trail off, introducing one relative after another. By the time we exited an ice cream shop and she was done with her backstory, I connected the dots.

"So, you're old money," I smirked.

"Old money?"

"You know, people who inherit the wealth of their families after being passed down for generations."

"Oh. Then yeah! But even though my family is rich in the community, I don't feel like it sometimes..."

"Good thing you didn't say that online," I scooped a portion of my chocolate ice cream, "rich people get canceled no matter what they say. But you? To claim that you don't feel rich despite the privilege of inheriting businesses, that's worthy of being doxed."

Emma raised an eyebrow. She curled her lips, unsure of what to say. 

Shit. I didn't mean to make her feel uncomfortable. 

And yet, I can't blame her. I knew too well of that unnerving silence. The kind where emotions go through cognitive dissonance. 

"If you don't mind," Emma said nervously, "May I ask what happened?"

"Heh."

Another thing about my doxing situation; a lot of fans were kept in the dark. I had the reputation of being very outspoken on all my outlets; from voicing my opinion on the latest fashion to providing commentaries on relevant issues within the entertainment industry. 

And if someone were to ask me what's my biggest problem out of the seven deadly sins, it's pride. I was egotistical; the kind that fluctuates between a healthy amount of self-confidence and narcissism. At times when it became beneficial, I had the balls to tell off people deserving of a lecture. When it comes to my personal wishes, suddenly it's called "being narcissistic." 

"Let's just say I did an oopsie."

"Ah."

"Sorry Emma, I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it."

It was at this moment I realized why I became fond of her. Even through her frantic moments of despair, she'd somehow find a way to recollect her thoughts.

"That's OK Ace," she placed her hand on my shoulder, "I know this might be the same thing you'd hear from other fans but, just know I'm always here for you. No matter what you did."

"You're more than a fan to me, Emma."

Courageously, she leaned closer.

"Yeah? Then what am I now?"

"My neighbor," I smirked and poked her nose, "Oh look at that, nearly two hours went by. Guess I got generous."

"G-GENEROUS?" Emma's head burst into a volcano eruption. Her once pinkish cheeks had turned a violent shade of red.

"What did you think I was gonna say?"

"N-nothing!" She pouted and walked ahead of me, "Forget it. Hurry up, I've been wanting to show you our store but you had to keep stopping by every other shop just because!"

"Hah! You're the one who wanted to show me your favorite brand of tarot cards."

"One time, Ace, one shop!"

"A small offense is still an offense."

"Hmph."

I gulped the last scoop of my ice cream and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. We headed toward a small grass field, where a couple of kids argued with each other on how to untangle their kites. A bunch of grandpas and grandmas walked their dogs, and a crowd practiced yoga near the playground.

As we exited the park and back onto the quieter end of downtown, I felt Emma's fingertips. Occasionally we'd bump hands, but she'd retract and act as if nothing happened. 

What a teaser. This woman's a fricking teaser.

"How's your mom Ace?"

Emma's question came out of nowhere, but I figured it was her way of trying to get to know me on a personal level. Moving beyond introductions on the second day huh? I nearly said it out loud.

"Ah, she's doing fine."

"I see."

A brief pause.

"Well, she's trying," I continued, "I appreciate her. That's the reason I moved. As much as she may be heartbroken to be separated, it was actually her suggestion that we part ways. At least, until everything dies down."

"Oh? And am I right to assume that's due to the people who trashed your home?"

"That, and a bunch of other reasons. You see..."

I held onto my sweater, which was drenched in sweat despite the weather. I hadn't noticed how nervous I got around her. 

"My mother's a strong woman. She raised me on her own, even getting into debt just to be able to afford necessities. As a kid, we'd move around Rylis as prices raised. I think, when I was five, we even had to stay at a hotel for a few weeks."

"Oh my god Ace," Emma lifted her hand in astonishment, "I'm so sorry."

Ugh, not this.

"Don't," the shift of my tone caught her by surprise, "please don't say that. There's a reason I utilized the one thing I had. And I plan to keep it that way.”

"You're doing what you can, I understand."

“Yeah. My schoolmates suggested the idea I post my content online. Told me people would pay attention to my shit since it's like watching a hot dude narrating. Now who would skip that? I know I wouldn't."

Emma remained quiet. She turned away, perhaps feeling guilty of oversharing her family's riches. Feeling a bit ashamed that I raised my voice at her, I gently held her hand.

She didn't let go.