Cavin
"Starting a foundation would be such a wonderful idea, don't you think Father?" I say as I chase Father down the hall.
"Now, Cavin," he, Charles Cooperr, stopped on the sprawling Cooperr Conglomerate crest carved into the marble floor, turning to face me. "You're too old for such whimsical thinking. You need to mature."
I pouted. Father chuckled and patted my head. "Now, get back to your studies."
"Yes, Father," I said with a heavy eye roll. How on earth was starting a foundation whimsical thinking? And what was so 'matured' about doing a whole lot of paperwork?
Just as I also turned to leave, Father called out again. "Yes, Father?"
He cleared his throat. It almost seemed as if he didn't want to ask the question. "Your mother and I… well, we wanted to know if… you had, by chance, started seeing someone?"
My face went red for a bit. Then I frowned. My parents had been putting pressure on me to get a girlfriend since I turned eighteen, especially since I broke up with my last one right before they started planning our engagement party. I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my curly blonde hair. "No, Father, I haven't found anyone yet. And please stop putting so much pressure on me. Its…"
"But it wouldn't be good for your image," he got closer now, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders. It hurt a bit. "Listen, at this moment, I don't care who you marry, be it male or female. You could marry Jemerson, for all I care. I just need you to have a spouse before the handing over."
I flinched in disgust at the thought of marrying my childhood best friend, Jemerson Matthews. "For a businessman, you sound so desperate." I say as I take his hands off my shoulders. "And, like I said, you can't keep putting so much pressure on me! A divorce would be worse for the business than a celibate C.E.O."
As I left, I looked over my shoulder and saw Father staring at one of the many portraits of former CEOs in the hallway. It was Caspian Cooperr, his father. He was fond of doing that, especially when he felt like he was doing something that would disappoint him if he were still alive. I sighed heavily and walked away faster, before I had to regret what I said.
I got to my room and slammed the door behind me. I dropped to the floor, my fingers rummaged through my hair in anger. Jemerson sat up. He was fast asleep on the floor when I had arrived. The only reason I slammed the door was to wake him up.
"Dude," he said, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell?"
"I swear, Father is getting on my nerves!"
"When is he not?" He was standing now, looking for where he threw his shirt. "I've known you for sixteen years and a single day hasn't gone by without you talking about how much you don't like him. I'm honestly surprised you haven't killed him yet."
I sigh. He was right though. Father always found ways to piss me off and it was just frustrating. The one he uses most of the time was talking about my idea of starting a foundation. It was an idea I've had since I was a child. Every time one of the butlers took me for my daily strolls, I'd see orphans and street kids.
My heart ached every time I saw them. When I first presented the idea of helping them often to my parents, they laughed at me. Saying that, we were never in their shoes so there's no reason to be helping them so often. Mother explained that Father only does it to boost his popularity, not because he wanted to.
But instead of being crushed, my parents' behaviour towards the unfortunate further pushed me to pursue my dream. I keep trying to get them on board but it doesn't seem to be working. Jemerson and his family are in on my plan. His family own multiple hospitals and rehabilitation centres in the country, so getting money for support won't be an issue.
"Hey, listen," Jemerson sat on the ground next to me. "Take it easy, will ya? All this stress could kill you before you can actually start the foundation. And we can't have that. Mum, Dad and I got your back, alright?"
I smiled softly at Jemerson's words. He had always been a supportive friend, since we were kids. Even though he was never forced into relationships or contract deals like I was, he always knew exactly how I felt.
"Thanks… Maybe I should marry you," I pitch in jokingly. He scrunches up his face and pretends to throw up.
"Don't make me puke man."