THE NARCISSIST

CURRENTLY QUERYING

Chapter 1

Eric stood center stage beneath the hot lights, basking in the applause. “Some call money the root of all evil,” Eric began, his grin flashing under the lights. “If that’s the case, call me the devil!” The crowd erupted, laughter and applause mixing like fuel to a fire.

“Most of you know me. For those who don’t, you’re about to learn what real success looks like. My name is Eric Stetson, and I am the founder and President of Stetson Real Estate. You may know it as one of the largest real estate investment firms in the world. And the future has never looked brighter!”

The annual spring gala was one of Eric’s favorite stages. His piercing eyes swept across the crowd like searchlights, lingering only long enough to keep them hanging on his next word. The crowd leaned forward, captivated. Employees, investors, business rivals, admirers—he fascinated them all the same way. Eric fed off admiration the way most people fed off oxygen.

From just offstage, Jared watched his brother do what he did best. Jared was dressed in his finest suit, picked out by Rachael, Eric’s stylist, turned assistant. Tom, the CFO, stood next to Jared. Without turning to face Jared, he began to speak.

“I need to speak with Eric tonight.”

Jared swiftly turned his head toward Tom. “I—I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” His voice slightly quivered.

Tom continued to watch Eric. “Good idea or not, he’s got to listen to me.”

“But, he’s made it clear, he doesn’t want to discuss it. Please don’t talk to him tonight,” Jared begged.

Tom slowly turned his gaze to Jared. “I have no choice. He has to listen to me.” Tom stared at Jared intently for a few seconds before walking away.

Jared froze in place, knowing that Tom was determined to bring up the Hamilton property deal, but that Eric was even more determined not to. He took in a long, lingering breath, held it, and then released it. He redirected his focus to his brother, who was basking in the glory like an emperor among men.

Eric’s performance on stage was like an operatic masterpiece. Eric stood at six-foot-two with dark hair that never seemed out of place. To Jared, Eric looked as if he’d been created for rooms like this. His perfectly straight white smile flashed beneath the lights, effortless and completely natural. Jared had always admired the idea that one person could be given that much presence. Watching him, Jared sometimes wondered if somewhere along the way, Eric had truly made a deal with the Devil.

Eric paced the stage, speaking into the microphone attached to his earpiece, his hands moving freely for emphasis. “Tonight, I’d like to point out a special guest. Senator Miller has decided to join us, which is interesting because he voted for the Anti-Trickle Down Act. Which means we all now have to find creative loopholes to avoid the higher tax rate. Let’s make sure we let him know how we feel about this.” The crowd instantly began to boo and hiss in Senator Miller’s direction. A few napkins flew his way.

Jared slightly hung his head in embarrassment for the senator. Jared was nothing like Eric, something he had always known, and Eric made sure he never forgot it. Eric could be cruel, but Jared had learned how to live in his shadow. He had always idolized his brother. Since childhood, he watched him receive and achieve everything he wanted in life.

Jared had never focused a spotlight on his own achievements, especially his intellect. Numbers, patterns, and probabilities came naturally, though he kept this to himself. While the crowd applauded, Jared found himself calculating the cost of the evening in his head—venue, catering, security, staff. Eric probably saw spectacle. Jared saw numbers.

He had finally gotten accustomed to, but not comfortable with, the large groups that engulfed Eric continuously. He had learned to deal with Eric’s fast-paced life and all that it entailed. He had to. He was listed as the company’s COO, but only in title. It was well known that his duties were those of Eric’s assistant, and he loved his job. He loved his brother for giving him an assistant position and putting up with his mediocre performance.

He had run-of-the-mill looks, could not sell a heater to an Eskimo, and hated the spotlight. He stood at five-foot-nine, his hair had just begun to recede a bit, and he did not inherit Eric’s perfect smile. Jared wasn’t bad-looking, but blended into the background compared to his brother.

As he watched Eric, he noticed something he hadn’t realized before. The stage lights had to make it over a hundred degrees there, yet Eric didn’t sweat. Without warning and from a place of envy, his internal voice began to whisper. Who doesn’t sweat onstage? Oh, yeah, Eric, that’s who. Stop it! He demanded the voice in his head. He always fought off animosity toward his brother. One bad thought could root a lifetime of resentment, and Jared wasn’t willing to go there with his brother—even in the silence of his mind. He needed Eric far too much.

Although attendance was mandatory for most, Eric thanked the audience and encouraged everyone to reach their full potential at Stetson Real Estate. He held up a glass of champagne, followed by more applause and a few indiscriminate whistles. He removed his earpiece and made his way across the stage to an entourage of personal assistants, a few yes-men, and, of course, Jared.

The music began to play as Eric reached his brother, who handed him a bottle of Evian water, the cap removed. Eric downed the whole bottle and gave it to Jared as he walked backstage toward one of the green rooms, where he could have a drink and a quick cigar before mingling with the commoners.

Eric was always a man on a mission. Jared habitually tried to keep pace with him, but he rarely matched Eric’s stride. He always seemed a few steps behind, eternally chasing his brother’s pace. While he raced to keep up, Tom approached Eric.

“I need to speak with you,” Tom said with urgency.

Without glancing in Tom’s direction, Eric replied, “Not now, Tom. I don’t have time for this.”

“But—” Tom interjected before being interrupted.

“I said not now, Tom!” Eric’s words came swift and hard.

Michael, another assistant, placed a folder with papers in front of Eric to sign as they walked. Michael, a Brown University graduate with an economics degree, fit perfectly into Eric’s world. Standing six-foot-one, dark curls lay in perfect sync atop his head, and brown eyes so dark they pierced through a person’s gaze. He could articulate the most complicated subject with ease. His assistant’s status, although beneath him, paid very well and also came with many perks. Eric kept Michael closely involved in his everyday activities. There wasn’t much that Michael didn’t know.

“Nice shiner,” Eric looked at Michael’s black eye, poorly covered by makeup.

Michael responded as he took the folders from Eric’s grip. “Yeah, I tripped over my dog, and I hit the corner of my nightstand.”

Eric looked at Michael with suspicion. “You don’t have a dog.”

Michael didn’t respond.

Rachael stopped Eric to straighten his tie and fix his hair.

She was the only person he publicly let into his bubble. She had been his stylist for years. She had upgraded to a personal assistant, although she continued to style him. That was her passion. She had an unlimited spending account, and Hermès was a job benefit, along with health insurance and a company car.

Jared thought Rachael was exquisite. She was elegant yet a lot of fun. Her appearance was always immaculate. Most of the people in Eric’s close-knit circle were stunning, charming, and intelligent. He surrounded himself with beautiful people. Jared knew that if he had not been his brother, he would never have made the cut.

Rachael was not opposed to keeping Eric on his toes and calling him on his bullshit if she chose to pick a battle with him. Jared thought she was clever that way. She knew which battles to pick with Eric and which to deflect. Even when calling him out, she remained respectful and loving.

Maybe that’s why Eric appreciated her, Jared wondered often. Perhaps in her, he had found his equal in a far more loving person. He felt that, whatever the dynamics of their relationship, they worked well together.

Eric sat on the soft, lounging couch in the green room, reaching for the remote. Flower arrangements sat upon tables throughout the room. The air was filled with the aroma of flowers and high-end cologne. Jared, Rachael, Tom, and Michael joined him. This was his quiet time. His cigar smoking, vodka drinking, decompressing time. Jared knew Eric needed these moments, or he could easily snap at any unsuspecting victim.

Tom sat next to Eric while he changed the channel to the local news and placed the remote on the table. The news anchor reported a car rollover on I-25, a dog found two years after it went missing, and a female body found in Parker.

Jared caught a glance at Eric as the news announced the murder of a young woman. Eric leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in one hand. He studied the anchors as if there was no other reality around him. Jared’s eyes glanced between Eric and the TV.

Suddenly, Tom broke the silence.

“We need to talk about the Hamilton property purchase,” Tom said.

Eric remained silent, expressionless, just staring at the news coverage. Jared quickly reached for the vodka to make Eric a drink. All Jared could think was, Don’t do it, Tom!

“Eric, you can’t keep ignoring me forever. You sign the papers soon, and I don’t think you—”

Instantly, Eric broke his gaze from the news report, slammed his fist on the table, and walked away from Tom toward the wet bar. Jared scrambled to make the vodka tonic to put into his hand.

“I know what you think, Tom! We’ve been over this a million times. It’s my company. It’s my decision!” Eric grabbed the drink from Jared’s trembling hand.

Jared looked at Rachael as she sat on one of the velvet barstools, awaiting the battle. He watched as she sipped her drink. She gave him a look that was all too familiar—the look of buckle up, buttercup.

“Eric, we have investors. We have a board of directors, all of whom question this venture.” He paused, watching Eric carefully. “Profits are down. The company isn’t doing as well as it had been, and you know this.”

“Oh my God, Tom. If I’d made most of my decisions based on caution, there wouldn’t be a business. I know what I’m doing!” Eric gulped the liquor and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Who the hell are you to question me? Know your place, Tom! Do what I tell you to do and nothing else!”

Tom looked Eric straight in the eyes. Tom, usually a passive and agreeable man, did not appear so agreeable anymore.

“You understand the risks? Do you know that if this venture isn’t astronomically profitable for our company, it’s in jeopardy? We’re not talking about small change, Eric. You’re putting all of us at risk. I know my place, and it’s my job to tell you when you’re threatening this company financially.”

Eric took another large swig of his drink and glared at Tom. “Are you done, Tom?” He scowled at Tom and took another mouthful of his vodka. “I still control the majority of stock in this company. Who has a greater chance of suffering the consequences than me?”

Defeated, Tom stared at Eric. Jared had witnessed this same conversation many times. Tom’s face relaxed. His eyes lowered as he let out a long exhale. It revealed the same acceptance Jared had seen many times before—Tom wasn’t going to get through to him.

And with the resolve of a man about to jump off the Empire State Building, Tom took a deep breath and proceeded toward the door.

“You’ve never suffered a consequence a day in your life, Eric!” Tom walked out of the room and slammed the door. Eric’s glass, half-filled with vodka, smashed against the door frame.

“Bastard! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! What the hell have I been doing all these years? How did I build an empire if I didn’t know what I was doing?”

Jared quickly scrambled to make and give Eric a new vodka tonic. At the same time, Rachael silently exited the room with as much dignity as anyone could in the situation, followed by Michael. Both had remained silent and off the radar.

Eric shot back the vodka, straightened his suit and tie, and walked out the door.

Jared cringed, knowing Eric hadn’t even gotten the chance to light a cigar! He took a few shots straight from the vodka bottle and followed behind. It was going to be a long night.