Cheated Hearts

"You can't avoid the future."

Trust me, I tried. School always felt like I was working for nothing. Like, I had a goal and I was working for something and I didn't even know what it was, but I really wanted it. Laboring blindly.

Do your homework. Done. Write this essay on economics in Ethiopia. Got it. I wouldn't really question much because I felt so insignificant in this world where GPAs made and broke you. I was only as good as my last test.

So here I was, graduated from college. Trimmed and pruned for employers, well spoken and intelligent and I was working as a banker in Chicago, Illinois.

I had pictured some cool economics consultant job in one of the many skyscrapers that touched the clouds in the city. Instead, I was wearing an itchy suit I had worn at Dad's seventh wedding and a pin that had a generic bank logo and said in bold and capitalized black letters: KEATON.

Standing outside of Etson Bank, I felt my fear and resentment towards this job build in my core; I wanted to run away and start over, turn back time and do college again, maybe I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe I had missed a crucial point of a millionaire's life. What would Dad say right now? How would he reply to having spent more than a pretty penny sending me to an elite private school and expecting to have a Donald Trump Jr. on his hands?

Oh, shut the fuck up, Keaton. You sound like you're being lynched or something. It's a bank, not McDonalds.

I shook off the growing feeling of self loathing and stepped into the bank's door, going through the security barrier and entering the large and beige space. It was nice, the seats were soft leather and there were several posters of people doing something and smiling, while large white letters proclaimed new loans and stable investments.

I smiled wryly as I saw a woman and her husband and daughter sitting around the kitchen, smiling at each other as if saying, God, am I glad that I got that MoneySaver Account! I am so lucky to have a husband and daughter that both look like movie stars and live in this big house. Gee whiz, what would I ever do without Etson bank? Die, probably!

Okay, maybe I was being a little too sardonic, but it was my first day and I was going to be pissed on the inside and be joyous on the outside. I plastered an enthusiastic smile on my face as the man who had hired me, my new manager, walked over to me with a grin of his own on his face.

"Keaton Miller! Good for you to be here!"

What's his name? What's his damn name?

I suddenly felt a rush of gratitude for our nametags and tried to inconspicuously glance at the white and black pin on Manager's pinstriped suit.

"Hello, Gary," I replied in my there's-no-place-I'd-rather-be voice.

Gary the Manager had a friendly face, his skin wrinkled around his eyes when he smiled and he kind of looked like Santa Claus minus the beard. I didn't beat him up in my mind. He looked too... nice.

"Come round here!" Gary boomed through the empty bank and led me to the partition where the rest of the employees were huddled around a computer.

"Team! We have a new boy here!" Gary called. I did not appreciate the 'boy' thing. I was a man; then I remembered the incident last week when I watched an old episode of Seventh Heaven and found myself blinking a lot and wiping my nose with my sleeve.

The group of four broke apart from the screen on the ebony desk and appraised me.

"This here's Keaton Miller. He pretty much gets the gist of what to do, but if he has any questions, you step in." Gary walked away and I cringed internally as I turned back to my new workmates.

There was a tall girl with long blond hair and pretty brown eyes. She stuck out her hand and grinned, "Hi, I'm Beatrix Williams." I shook her hand and grinned back, "Keaton," I replied.

Then there was a smaller girl with dark mahogany hair. Her face reminded me of one of those old fifties movie stars. She was Caroline. I could get used to working with pretty girls.

Then there was another guy. He was about my height with dark eyes and blond hair, I was vaguely reminded of an Abercrombie & Fitch model as I shook his hand. I could see we were both sizing each other up. His eyes called me a bitch, mine called him a motherfucker. We both broke out in a smile.

"I'm Tarquin," he said in a gravelly voice.

"I'm Keaton," I murmured. I could tell we were going to be friends.

And then my day started.

Hello World. I am Keaton Miller, bank teller.

______________________________________________________________________________

The cool thing about moving to Chicago was having my own apartment. Having spent most of the last four years living with four other guys, being alone was pretty new and exciting. Albeit, it was a shitty apartment, small and cramped and the walls were lined with bookcases that held all of my favorite novels and treasures, but it was my shitty apartment.

The uncool thing about moving to Chicago was knowing nobody. Beatrix and Tarquin had invited me out for a drink after my first day but I declined and said we could go the next day, only because I felt like my head would explode if I didn't get out of my itchy suit and drain my head of different accounts and interest rates. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I got to my building and walked up the rickety stairs, all the way to the fifth floor where my room was located. I was just wondering how long it would take to hook up with Beatrix when I was pushed to the side of the stairs and saw a streak of red hair fly past me. She carried a laugh and called back in a bell like voice, "I'm so sorry! I just have to g-get a-away!" and then a guy with glasses and a striped sweater ran past me too, pushing me to the side of the wall again.

"Harper –uh, sorry, dude– Get BACK here! You can't do that to a guy! You violated me!"

I had no idea what was going on, all I saw was the striped sweater boy chase after the redheaded girl down the stairs and I could still hear their obnoxious laughter as I went up and found my way to my bed where I collapsed and slept.

Harper Summers was not on my radar yet. Oh, how lucky I was.