Oct 11 Contest Round 2

Jordan Vosler stood at the top of the stairs and listened to his parents argue again. Phillip Vosler III was an attorney, one that defended both the poor and the rich with the same zeal. Money didn’t matter to him when it came to the law. For his wife Sylvia, though, money was what she needed and wanted. She grew up poor, the only daughter of a dairy farmer and a homemaker. When she met Phillip, he was just a college student, she working at the only coffee shop close to the school. Their affair was instant and passionate, their courtship quick, marrying only two months after meeting.

“I’ve told you to watch your spending,” his father screamed, screamed as he had for the last month.
“I have a certain lifestyle that I need to uphold.” Jordon heard the clackity-clack of his mother’s stiletto heels on the library’s hardwood floors, followed by the slam of the door. This ended his ability to hear their fight.

It was all for the better. He didn’t need to hear it. His father, though rich through inheritance and furthered by hard work, didn’t understand how he and his mother were. He didn’t know they he was better than everyone and the money was the reason. She instilled that in her youngest child.

“Get back to bed,” someone spoke. Jordon tuned and saw his older brother, Phillip IV, standing half-asleep in his bedroom doorway. “I don’t understand why you need to listen to this. It’s the same as the last one.”

The little boy shrugged his shoulders. “I thought maybe this time dad would understand mom. You know, maybe he’ll get it.”

“Get what?”

“Get that we’re better than everyone else. That the Voslers run this city.”

Phillip IV shook his head. “You’re the one that doesn’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

The oldest of the three Vosler children walked to his brother and leaned in. “We might run this city, but it’s because the city allows it. Money isn’t the only thing in this world.”

Jordon laughed. “Right, Phil,” Jordon answered, the sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

The two turned when they heard a door open. “Will you two get back to sleep,” their sister Beverly requested. “They’ll be at it again during breakfast.”

Phil grabbed his younger brother’s arm and lifted him off the floor. “Get to bed.”

Begrudgingly, Jordon entered his bedroom and slammed his door. He flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. “They don’t understand,” he whispered to himself. “We ARE better than everyone in this city.”