Page 1 of Polar Prank
1
BRINKER
Firmly seatedbehind my polished mahogany desk, the glow of my computer screen illuminates the stacks of spreadsheets that litter the shiny surface. This is my fortress of numbers and calculations, a safe space, or at least it feels that way. Outside the panoramic windows, the city skyline sparkles like a million little flares, twinkling bright against the slate-grey sky.
But I don’t see the beauty.
All I see is another December filled with the weight of end of year deadlines and the shrilling sound of ringing phones.
It's not festive to say the least.
Christmas, the season of joy and merriment, looms like a festering cloud over my head. It’s a nuisance I’m forced to endure. My employees hum carols and decorate their cubicles with cheap garlands and blinking lights as though that might brighten all of our lives. I roll my eyes at the office holiday party planning committee as they flutter around the office like excited puppies, suggesting eggnog tastings and “Secret Santa” exchanges.
I’ve participated out of obligation in the past, but I can’t think of anything more unproductive.
“Brinker! Hey, do you want to pitch in for the holiday party?” Jenna, from HR, pops her head into my office, her enthusiasm a sharp contrast to the gravity of the numbers still left to crunch.
“No, Jenna. I’m busy,” I reply, my tone clipped.
She looks taken aback, then shrugs and scurries away. I return my focus to the screen, but the sound of her laughter fades into the cacophony of my thoughts.
I truly hate the holidays.
I hate the forced cheer.
I hate the incessant jingles playing on repeat.
And I hate the pressure of obligatory gift-giving.
It’s all a sham.
My clients don’t care about the season, why should I? The stock market doesn’t pause for sugar cookies and hot chocolate and it sure as shit doesn’t care about holiday parties. If anything, those things are a distraction from what’s truly important in my life.
Success.
I want —no need— to be a success. It’s in my genes. We Carringtons eat, breathe, and live to be at the top of our game. I was taught that from a young age.
The shrill ring of my phone jolts me from my contemplations.
A video call from Grandma Victoria?
I hesitate, a flicker of guilt creeping in. It’s been a couple of months since I last talked to her. Busy with work and… well, work.
But Grandma Victoria has always been the one soft spot in the otherwise rigid structure of my life. She practically raised me after my mother died when I was eight and my father had “better things to do.”
His words, definitely not mine.
“Hello, Grandma.”
“Brinker! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice and to see your stunningly handsome face.” Her voice crackles through the line, warm and comforting even if she’s miles away and I feel like I’m being buttered up with her accolades of my appearance. “I’m assuming you’re planning to come for Christmas this year. I can’t wait to see you.”
I lean back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I’ve got a lot going on with work, Grandma. I’ve landed two new clients and they expect?—”
“Excuses mean nothing. Family means everything.” Her voice rises just a notch. “This is your last chance, my grandson. I’ve been very patient. I thought maybe when you matured you’d find some joy and something more than work to keep you company, but if you don’t find some holiday spirit and learn some balance in your life, you’ll miss out on lots of things…” she clears her throat, “Like what’s in my will. I won’t live forever and I’m implementing conditions here and now.”
She sounds like the female version of my father and it’s clear where he got his ability to put forth a stern face and words. She’s normally not this direct, but I guess with age comes the need to be that way.
The unveiled threat lingers in the air like smoke from a doused candle, dense and suffocating. My chest tightens at her words. She’s been hinting at this for months, the importance of family, learning what’s called “balance,” and the spirit of the season. But now it’s clear. If I don’t play along, the consequences could be something that could affect my own financial future.
