• Andrew moved through the slums coughing loudly. The harsh wind bit his cheeks as he pulled his suit-jacket tight around his body. A baby’s wail sounded over the wind adding to the man’s dismay. His steel blues eyes gazed down the broken street, a sigh escaping his lips.

    Life hadn’t always been like this. Up until a month ago he was a very wealthy man. The Donald Trump of his generation. He’d walk down the street and women would fawn over him. Life was good and Andrew was happy.
    * * *
    “Mr. Michaels!” A man called out. Andrew turned his head to the voice. A camera’s flash lit up his face. Immediately Andrew’s hands were in front of his face. His bodyguard grabbed his arm and pulled him through the door.

    “I’ll never get used to this!” Andrew said excitedly. He ran a hand through his blonde hair laughing, “This is amazing!” he whispered in awe.

    He studied the massive entryway falling silent. Woman in extravagant black dresses clung to the arms of just as extravagantly dressed men.

    “Andrew darling!” A brown haired woman wearing a red dress approached. “How have you been? It’s been ages!” She laughed, touching his upper arm. “Oh do please tell me about the young lady you were with last night.”

    Andrew stood silent for a moment trying to figure out what to say. “Oh. Amy. Yeah. She’s a friend.” He said, staring at the woman’s hand. “Err…I’ve been okay I guess.” The woman nodded her head, but her eyes wandered. She was obviously paying no attention.

    “We must talk again.” She said, spotting someone she knew. “You enjoy yourself Andrew darling.” She moved away, leaving Andrew alone with the monster of a bodyguard.

    Andrew was bored, but his father wanted him here. If he was going to inherit the Michaels family fortune then he needed his name to be known. Andrew didn’t want to be a multi-millionaire; he just wanted to be himself. He wanted to work for his money and marry who ever he wanted.

    He did have one girl in mind. Amy Price. She was a beautiful girl with blonde hair and a body to die for. She was perfect all around, but she was also in a lower class. His father didn’t like her, mostly because of that, and they didn’t want Andrew spending his money on her. He told them he would give up his inheritance for her, but she had told him no.

    Amy had told him to do what his father said, and get the money. Besides, she was lower class, and that could be bad for the reputation of his family. So he should marry one of the girls his father picked out.

    Looking around, Andrew sighed loudly. He didn’t know anyone there. Not even the woman that had spoken to him, but everyone seemed to know who he was. The renegade son of George Michaels, richest man in town. Fingers were pointed and opinions exchanged. Andrew could feel eyes upon him.

    He felt like he had something on his face, or that something was really wrong with him. It was making him rather edgy and his lip began to sweat. That was the odd thing about Andrew; when he was nervous only his lip would sweat and nowhere else.
    A waiter walked past balancing a tray with wine on it. Andrew took one of the glasses and sipped the beverage. He shivered slightly, looking at the glass in disgust. He rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, to try and rid his mouth of the bitter taste. When a second waiter walked past he placed the glass on the tray.

    “I guess I ought to make myself sociable.” He said to no one in particular. Andrew brushed himself off then made his way through the growing crowd stopping to talk to one group then the next. The conversations were dull, and he soon found himself in the kitchen talking to the cooks.

    “You guys are lucky you don’t have to be out there.” He complained, loosening his tie. “I honestly don’t know how anyone could do this every night.”

    “At least you got money kid.” A rather fat Hispanic chef grunted. “I move from one job to the next and I’ve make the same amount of money. Continual flow of nothing. You should be happy that you’ll never have to work a day in your life.”

    Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “To be honest I’d rather be back here. Get’n down and dirty yah know?” He laughed.

    The door swung open and a gray haired man looked around. Spotting Andrew he frowned. “Andrew I’ve been looking all over for you. We’re going to toast your father. Your mother would like you to be out there when we do.”

    “Okay.” Andrew sighed, tightening his tie. “Though I don’t think he wants me out there. I’m just a ‘big disappointment’ and I’ll ‘never live up to the family name.’” He said, mocking his father.

    “For your mother at least.”

    “Okay.”

    Andrew followed the man, his father’s financial advisor, out into the main room. He was seated beside his mother, because his father refused to sit by the young man.

    George Michaels retired that night, and left his son in charge of his company. He also announced the boy’s unknown engagement to Olivia Barnsdall, a girl from a very formidable family. She wasn’t very attractive, and Andrew oftentimes made fun of her because she had a rather large nose. Not just large, but beak-like. With her long face, she looked like a fowl.
    The two were married in the fall, much to Andrew’s dismay. They never saw each other, and rarely ever spoke. The dinner table was often times empty, or only occupied by one of them. It wasn’t that either of them was busy, they just couldn’t stand each other.

    Not even six months into the marriage and Andrew begun seeing Amy again.
    “This really isn’t a good idea.” Amy giggled, pushing Andrew away.

    “Oh? And what ever is?” He asked, grabbing her wrists. He would give up his whole life for this woman.

    “You’re a married man now Andrew. We can’t do this. Not any more.”

    “I can do what ever I want. Beside who’s going to find out?”

    “Your mother already has.”

    Andrew paused shaking his head. “How?”

    “Because. I see her on Wednesdays. We have tea. Andrew, I’m pregnant and she knows it’s your baby.” She turned her back to him, sighing.

    “But how?” This didn’t make sense to Andrew. They were so careful. Shaking his head, he placed a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’m going to abandon you.” He said, turning her. “I love you Amy.”

    The baby was born in May; a boy 6 pounds 8 ounces. Had he been married to Amy there would have been a great celebration in Andrew’s house, but no. He had to keep it a secret. If anyone other than his mother knew about his child there’d be hell to pay. For once in his life Andrew Michaels didn’t know what to do.

    Secrets, especially one’s as big as Andrew and Amy’s, are hard to keep. Eventually Andrew’s father found out.

    “How the hell did you think I would react!” George screamed at his son.

    “Honey. It was an accident.” Andrew’s mother said, trying to calm her husband.

    “Oh and I suppose cheating on his wife was an accident too!”

    “I’m standing right here.” Andrew said calmly.

    “You shut up now!” His father snapped.

    “Honey. Please. Calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

    “Calm down! How can I calm down! I just learned that I have a grandson!”

    “You should be happy Andrew. You certainly wouldn’t ever have one if he hadn’t cheated on that crow of a wife.”

    George stared at his son in silence for a moment, shaking his head. “Get out of my house.” He said very calmly.

    “But Andrew! He’s your son!”

    “As far as I’m concerned I never had a son.”
    * * *
    Andrew stopped before a small house. The windows were broken and the screen door swung wide open then slammed, the wind pushing it. A light was on upstairs, and a baby was crying loudly.

    Andrew pulled a few dollar bills from his pocket, shaking his head. How could he ever
    support his family? He had made a mistake, a terrible mistake and now he was paying for it.
    His father hadn’t spoken to him in months. Every week his mother sent him about two hundred dollars. She said that’s all she could send without his father becoming suspicious.
    Olivia had divorced him, and was now engaged to some pompous lawyer. Life had steadily gone down hill, and Andrew was experiencing, for the first time, what it was like to be part of the working class.

    Moving up the steps of the porch, he sighed. He hadn’t seen this coming. He never imagined how hard life would be without money. This would not be easy, and he knew life would never improve.

    The baby upstairs begun wailing louder. He was hungry and his mother had nothing to feed him. Andrew stepped inside, looking at the pealing wallpaper and cracked mirror. “Honey I’m home…” he said softly.