George is the son to parents that own a multi-million dollar eco friendly car company. Cars have never been George's favorite subject. He knows which are the most expensive on the market because of his father but he's never understood the hype.
Aft...
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"Ask me how I'm doing, yeah, I'm coping." Okay Chase Atlantic
The Burberry wool fabric itched at his neckline. Dark navy over a black button-up and matching slacks. It was the routine attire for things like this but the charcoal tie seemed to choke him more than usual.
Men and women with money, and little care for anything else, buzzed with superficial intent back and forth. Chandeliers worth millions hung off the middle suspension of a reception center, twinkling against their Prada and Louis Vuitton garments and bags. His parents ran the congregated company. With a car developer father and interior inventor mother, George ended up the son of a multi-million man company he had no interest in. Unlike most guys, the world of half a million dollar sport and luxury cars were not his forte. Nonetheless, there he was with his uncomfortable suit and beautiful blonde girlfriend by his side.
Genevieve Statler a 5'3 blonde that loved tiny dresses, Dior, and lip filler. A girl obsessed with the name brand of her purse and forcing George to eat healthy meals that tasted about as good as salt on brownies. She was his father's pick. She fit the image, had a good family, and had no groundbreaking opinions when spoken to by the press. George didn't believe she had any groundbreaking opinions period.
Genevieve's frigid acrylic nails, that matched her fire detailing on her Versace mini dress, remained wrapped around George's arm. He noticed that her dress hugged her petite figure more than the usual picks. Genevieve's style was more of an evening gown rather than a cocktail dress, George knew that much. She'd dragged him around enough stores for him to have it seared in his brain bank.
This dress was the opposite of her favorite type, which meant it had purpose. He realized too late that she was showing off for him. The fishnets he mentioned he liked once. A dress that fell just below her ass, she brought attention to it when she sat. Flipping the edge up just to show off her small snake tattoo that George knew slithered up around her hip when nude. Too bad he had his eye were elsewhere.
"Babe," buttery and airy words drifted into his ear. "Do you want to go to your place or mine after your parents finish up their award?"
George suppressed the need to groan. The eye contact his father made with him from stage during his speech said enough. His stern but proud gaze drifted to Genevieve before drifting back to him, the smile sealed the deal. He gripped her leg in false possession to keep up the act. George would drink enough to want to sleep with her, let her fall asleep, then drink a little more to forget how torturous it all was. Chin up, smile for the cameras, wear the correct clothes, say the correct things, love the correct people, George already felt tired.
"Whatever you think, babe." Genevieve smiled genuinely before kissing his cheek and sipping her champagne.
Farewells took longer than usual, which meant by the time Genevieve and George were headed to his car she was nearly wasted on champagne. He rolled his eyes and unlocked his black Porsche 911 GT3. His parents despised his baby, calling it a 'beastly monstrosity'. George liked to piss off his parents occasionally, so if it meant not buying their futuristic plant-based box cars then so be it.
