Chapter 2

Corey

You never truly understand the difficulties someone faces until you find yourself in their shoes.

My name is Corey Anderson, and at the age of thirty-three, I find it necessary to clarify that I'm not sharing this information to boast or seek attention, but it's worth noting, though, that I happen to be the heir to one of the most reputable construction companies in the United States, if not the best.

Additionally, I've gained recognition for my philanthropic endeavors, generously contributing to churches, orphanages, and numerous foundations.

While it initially started as a family tradition, it has now become a genuine act of kindness from the depths of my heart. It may sound cliché, I admit, but it’s the truth.

However, being who I am, coming from my illustrious family, and growing up in the atmosphere that I did, I was regrettably raised to be the ideal son.

My upbringing has instilled in me the desire to be an excellent role model and businessman, and I am not allowed to be anything less than perfect.

My family often seems to forget that I, too, am human, with my own challenges and flaws, and to make things worse, my father believes that flaws have no place in our lives.

Unlike most of my peers, I never had the luxury of fully enjoying my childhood.

While I had all I wished for and many people would envy my present circumstances, as I previously stated, you can never completely appreciate someone's reality unless you truly know them or walk in their shoes.

No individual is genuinely flawless.

While my peers reveled in parties, played sports, and savored their teenage years, I found myself either studying or preparing to attend church with my parents.

Please don't misunderstand—I'm not criticizing my Christian upbringing or anything of the sort. However, growing up in such a religious family inflicted substantial damage on my self-esteem as a child.

Consequently, I have few friends, struggle with social interactions, and find it challenging to express myself to anyone.

In other words, I am a robot.

Throughout my childhood, I watched my parents actively condemn homosexuality, labeling it a terrible way of life. They relentlessly tried to persuade me to accept their homophobic viewpoints, making it difficult for me to reconcile my actual identity with their ideas.

Yes, you read it correctly: I am gay.

I learned my sexual orientation at a young age, discovering that I was romantically and sexually attracted to men rather than women. Initially, I chastised myself for being different, but now I’ve embraced the idea that diversity is what makes us distinct.

Unfortunately, I lack the courage to disclose my true self to the rest of the world, let alone my parents.

If they found out, there's a 99.9% chance they'd disown me, and I'm not prepared for such an outcome—and I doubt I ever will be.

I'm now sitting at a nightclub's bar, seeking consolation in booze while thinking of a potential solution to my problem. I only come here on rare occasions, usually after depressing chats with my father.

He persistently pesters me about introducing a daughter-in-law to him, even resorting to threats of arranging marriages with the daughters of his business associates.

Can you fathom such behavior from the old man? I'm constantly reminding him that we live in the twenty-first century, where arranged marriages are no longer in vogue, but of course, the old man doesn’t care.

"Excuse me, would you like another drink?" The female bartender asks, and as I glance down, I realize that I've already finished my glass.

"Yes, please," I respond, and she promptly pours me another glass of vodka. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," she replies before returning to her duties.

Nearly two hours have passed, yet I still can't seem to come up with a solution that would permanently rid me of my father's incessant demands.

During our meeting earlier today, he issued a final warning, declaring that the next time we meet, I must introduce a woman to him, or he will strip me of my title as CEO of AND Constructions.

I initially thought he was bluffing because I was his only child and Dad wouldn't just hand over his life's work to anyone.

Regrettably, I was misinformed.

He truly meant every word he said, and he is thinking of replacing me with my cousin, Zack, since he believes Zack would be more submissive and obedient, eagerly completing his every request.

To put it another way, my dumb cousin is an obedient sycophant.

"May I ask you a question?" I query, hoping to get some assistance from the bartender, who looks to be less busy.

"What do you need, sir?" she asks.

"I need advice, and I need someone to vent to for a while," I replied. "Are you capable of being that person?" I inquire, and she scoffs.

"I'm not very good at giving advice, sir, and as you may have noticed, I'm currently working, and if the manager finds me idling with a client, I'll most probably be fired, and I can't let that happen. I apologize," she refuses swiftly, and something about how fast she dismisses me causes me to burst out laughing, giving her a puzzled look.

"I don't think I said anything humorous," she hissed, watching me slowly drain the last of my drink.

"You can just ignore me, miss," I continued, and she looked even more puzzled.

"Listen, sir, I don't typically say this to customers, and I'm not even supposed to, but I believe you've had a bit too much to drink, and I don't think continuing is in your best interest," she says.

"I appreciate your concern, but unfortunately, my mind is too burdened to stop drinking," I respond, to which she scowls.

"Pay attention, big shot. I doubt that intoxicating yourself would help with any of your concerns. If you actually want to come up with meaningful solutions, you must remain alert, attentive, and, most importantly, sober. Alcohol is not the answer," she says again, and this time her words appear to deliver the solution I've been looking for all night.

"Oh, my goodness!" I exclaimed suddenly, attracting curious glances from those around me.

Fortunately, this is the VIP area, and fewer people would even recognize me, although I doubt I'm all that famous.

"What's up now, big shot?" "Are you finally going insane?" She sighs in exasperation, plainly annoyed that I’m interfering with her job.

"I apologize for disturbing you, but I believe I've just stumbled upon a solution to my current predicament," I mumble gently, and she looks at me as if I've grown an additional head.

When she understands I'm being serious, her countenance changes to a frown.

"I'm not going to bother asking what your mind has concocted because I'm afraid it won't make sense to me. You may resume your drinking, sir, and I will gladly continue to pour you even more drinks."

"Marriage! Marriage is the solution. I can't believe I haven’t thought of this before. Why didn't this occur to me sooner?" I ponder aloud, my voice unintentionally raised and tinged with disbelief.

"Are you serious, big shot?" Is marriage the best answer you can think of? "What the hell is going on in your head?" She interjects abruptly, her gaze moving to me with a mixture of sympathy and irritation.

"You said you wouldn't pay me any mind," I tell her quietly, attempting to refocus her attention. She smacks her forehead with her hand before returning her eyes to me.

"Look, as much as I detest the fact that I'm still engaging in this conversation, I cannot believe that marriage is the supposed logical solution your mind has devised to resolve your predicament. Marriage, for God's sake, never actually solves anything!" She hisses, obviously enraged.

"Believe me, miss, marriage can sometimes solve a lot of problems." I mean, wouldn't marrying some rich guy solve a lot of your issues right now?" I inquire, hoping to make a point about why marriage might not be such a bad idea.

In the process, another idea pops into my head.

Instead of looking for a random female and asking her to marry me, I'm thinking of starting with the girl standing in front of me.

All I have to do is explain my predicament, offer her a large sum of money in exchange for merely accepting, and hope she agrees. Her appearance suggests that she isn't doing well financially, and my offer may be her saving grace.

Well, listen to me, big shot, as nice as it sounds to get myself a rich husband who could solve all of my problems, I'm not a delusional human being. I know life isn't a fairytale, so I refuse to delude myself into thinking that miracle might actually happen to me," She says, but her tone betrays her desperation.

She could clearly use some assistance in her life, but she's doing everything she can to hide it.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but what is your name?" I inquired nicely.

"My name is Rena, and I believe it is past time for me to return to work. Best wishes on your wedding planning," she responds and begins to move over to the other side of the bar, but my next remarks catch her off guard and halt her dead in her tracks.

"Would you like to marry me, Rena?" I asked, and she deadpans.