A/N: If words are written wrong by the end of this chapter, know that I wrote them wrong on purpose, no need to correct me. 

"Austin, do you think I'm old?"

Austin is stopped in his tracks, he is just leaving my office. "Old? Why do you ask that?"

I lean back against my seat. Ever since that Becca-girl said it to me in the bar I've been trying to explain why did she say it at all. "I'm curious."

"I wouldn't say so, but you are soon to be over thirty years old," Austin says and shrugs in the process. I don't know should I be insulted or honoured.

"But... I am looking good given my age, right?" I carefully ask, hoping I'll hear what I needed to hear whole night.

Austin checks me out. I am used to people checking me out, but girls usually do that. Now, that Austin is doing it... It's just wrong. No homo, bro. "I'd say so, yeah." He soon chuckles "Are you entering the scary age, Nate?"

I lift a brow, not understanding shit he just asked me "What's a scary age?"

"Point in life when you realise you're getting old. I'm surprised you've never heard of it." I think the last sentence he says more to himself than anything else.

I cringe my face at him "Why?"

Austin shrugs, gathering unused papers together and sorting them into a cute pile "We all enter scary age at least once in a lifetime. I've been there too, why wouldn't you?"

"Because I am great! I don't even want to change anything in my life!" I answer his question, even though it was of rhetoric nature.

"Then why are you asking me about this?" He rolls his eyes and stabs his look at me. Woah, chill, Austin. Though, he has a point.

I clasp my hands together "Yesterday there was this chick at the club. I thought we'd go home and have sex, I mean, that's why people come to the club, but she said that I am too old for her." I look up at him in distress "Can you imagine? I mean, have you seen me? Puh-lease!" I laugh a little, turning my eyes to the computer and refresh the e-mail page. If one of those cocksuckers' e-mail shows up, I will reply them to fuck off.

"Maybe you just weren't her type? Cause, let's be honest, you're not exactly 20 years old." He says and leaves a pile of papers on the edge of my desk.

I furrow my brows, I am confused and I'm giving him a chance to correct his statement "I thought you said I'm not old."

I hear his loud sigh and remind myself maybe I should stop pestering him about it. But hey, we're each other's wingmen, he should show some support "I said, you look good for your age." He's at the door, all ready to leave "I don't know, maybe you should stop being Casanova and... Be more of boyfriend or husband eventually."

His first remark buried me in my seat, but the second one catapults me from it like I were a rocket. I jump over my desk, sliding phone and bunch of papers down from it in the process and I block Austin's way out "Wait! What did you say?"

He peers at me like I were some freak or an idiot "What?"

"Did you say boyfriend, or what's worse, a husband?" I repeat his words, walking closer to him, as he instinctively walks back to move out of my way "Patty talked to you."

"No, she didn't."

"She told you about the one-of-many fights we had last night."

"No, Nate."

"She asked you to try and put pressure on me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, no! I haven't talked to her since yesterday when I told her and Daniel about your promotion!" He emerges and I immediately shut up, though I still don't believe him completely. "Have you maybe ever thought about what your life is going to be later on? 'Cause I have and I just found... nothing. Maybe a good pension, who knows. And it scares me, Nate. You should be scared too."

I snort and glance around "Scared of what? Being free? No one to hold you back from living your life?" I punch his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Now, that I think about it, it has been a while since we last went out together to look for babes. Tomorrow, maybe? Today is also okay if you're up for it."

"Nate,"

"No excuses, Austin. We men gotta have some fun!" I push further until he gives up and nods in agreement.

He checks the small notebook, which is more of a planner, then lifts his eyes and emptily stares at me "So, Wells wants you to go to the meeting with him today. Men from other companies have returned with decisions."

I furrow my brows in surprise "Already? Given their incapability of understanding, I am very surprised."

Austin snorts and escorts me from my office and to the meeting room. All of them are already sitting in the room, only waiting for Lenart and me. "Tell me how it'll go and good luck." my friend says before he leaves, going back to his duties and job description.

I decide to enter the meeting room with Lenart, which means I have to wait for him. While doing so, I observe the businessmen in the room. One of them is scribbling something down with his pen which probably cost more than my life, another one is checking something on his latest iPhone, probably nudes from his secretary, you know the drill. I can't stand these people. They were all born rich, they will never understand what it means to live in a family which fell apart exactly because of the money, the lack of it. That's why they think they are the most important and others are just peasants waiting to please the needs of their masters.

When I look at their faces, I try to guess their age. The pen-man is probably something around 50 and as far as Lenart has told me about him, he's one of those guys with a fetish on playboy girls. Blondes with gigantic breasts and lips like a Venus flytrap. The other one who's hanging on his phone looks around my age and I notice he's started to lose hair. Poor bastard. What falls in my eyes is the golden glow coming from his ring finger. Fuck that shit.

"Good, you're here. I was worried you wouldn't be notified at the right time." Lenart comes down the hallway, looking strict and professional. Who would've guessed I drank whiskey with him yesterday, huh?

I smile and tilt my head "Sir, Austin is more than amazing. He's like FedEx."

My statement brings a smile on his face and wrinkles around his mouth and forehead appear. I've never noticed them before.

"Lenart..." I stop him before he opens the door of the meeting room and we almost enter. I get one of those looks that make me regret the day I was born, so I quickly try to soften this situation "One question."

"Shoot." he says, but he doesn't seem to be annoyed.

People working in the box offices are all glancing our way, which makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. To give ourselves more privacy I lean forward, closer to him, murmuring, looking at him with hope and worry "Do you think I'm old?"

Lenart laughs loudly, his laughter booming probably through the whole building "Give yourself a break, son."

If he didn't open the door at that moment, I would ask him what the hell that meant, but OH WELL! Who cares, right?!?!

Men stand up when Lenart and I come in. They all greet him but leave me hanging in the background. Well, fuck you too.

"Gentlemen," says Lenart when he's at his seat. He fixes his suit, the jacket, the shirt, even his one coloured red tie and sits down, the chair making a puffing voice as the air is squeezed out of it. "So glad you decided so soon and can now hold this meeting with me."

I sit down at random place, where I am completely alone and nicely isolated... I can barely keep my eyes open, I've been awake whole night, I don't know if I slept 2 hours. Given the circumstances of this meeting, Lenart probably just invited me because the whole plan was my freaking idea. Now, I have to sit here and pretend that I deeply care. I am nearly at the point where I want to put my stretched out legs on the table and take a good nap. My head is already bent and my arms crossed, I can feel myself slowly dozing away. Only that I cannot sleep. The reason remains the same. Patty planted these words in my thoughts and now I can't get rid of them. That Becca didn't help either. 

I see Lenart giving them the speech which I prepared since I'm the only one educated enough to explain complicated solar power things to a kindergartner. "Of course, I trust your decisions. I believe Nathan really took his time to answer your e-mails and even listened to your ideas and suggestions, perhaps he will include them in the next big plan of his or in this one. Now, to the more important part-"    

I relax and close my eyes again a little. The thing that bothers my beauty sleep is the bright-ass powerpoint Lenart turns on. Motherfuck. I groan at the light a little. Thankfully nobody heard it, otherwise, they might mark me as a vampire and throw cross at me. 

"These are the stats from the last 5 years, you can see how many people have adopted the solar panel, meaning we could be digging the gold mine if we took-" Lenart keeps on talking, I barely go to through the trouble of listening to him. I mostly stare at the stats on screen and suppress the need to laugh at the Neanderthals who have no idea what's actually going on. I soon realise I am probably the only one in the room who can make some sense from these statistics. "-in this case Nathan made sure to abolish almost 75% of old techniques we've been-"

"O-old?" I ask and look at Lenart, who darts his confused eyes at me. 

He slowly nods, like I am a troublesome or maybe a retarded kid, or both "Yes, old." Then he looks back to the powerpoint and proceeds "Where was I? Yes, the old techniques we've been using and which became our everyday life. According to Nathan's plan this new design could replace almost all old power resources, we all know what that would mean."

I cut in before others can confirm anything "But... These power resources you call old. They... They're not really that old. I mean-" I chuckle and glance around the room "I wouldn't call a technology that's been around for... Let's say... 30 years, old. W-would you? Cause, there's still so much the technology can do for us, don't you agree?"

"Nathan." Lenart disturbs me during my babbling and says "A minute with you." 

"Yes, sir." I follow him out and feel the curious eyes on me all the time. 

Once outside, Lenart gives me a warning with his deep voice. It is the warning. "What do you think you're doing? If I didn't know you worked your ass off for this plan, I'd say you are trying to sabotage the deal!"

"No, no, sir, I am just making contact with people, with those men in there." I try to pull myself out of this pile of shit, but I end up looking even more miserable. How do I do that?

"Don't have me for an idiot. You hate them. And even if you had a change of heart in the middle of the night, I don't care about it right now. What matters is the deal. The point of this meeting is to fully convince them about the newest technology that is in the making thanks to you. But there you are, saying old technology isn't that old and could still work extremely well. You don't have to be the head engineer or any kind of engineer to know that the old technology is shit and we need something new fast." I have never seen him that mad and under any kind of circumstances, I'd fully support him. I'd tell him he's completely right, but I only end up hearing words such as 'old' and 'shit'. It's just 30 years...

I nod in agreement, though I am deeply unsatisfied. I'm not old, am I? "Yes, sir, I understand."

He eyes me and sighs at the end. His look is full of empathy and I want to drown myself - I don't need pity "Son, are you okay? You seem distracted or, well, not okay."

I look at him and bite my lower lip a little, nodding "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Don't worry about me."

He listens to me, but I know he doesn't believe a word I say. What happened to me being a great liar? Besides! I am okay. I just... don't particularly like his expressions, such as 'old'. ''You think you can proceed? Cause if you can't, that's fine. I just wanted you to be there because it's your plan and your idea.''

I smile and swing with my hand in a carefree manner ''Nah, I can take it.''

***

Apparently, I couldn't. I had huge problems dealing with a similar expression for age and I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Lenart took me out for a walk out of the office a few times to talk to me and tell me I can go if I wanted to. I think he wanted me to go, but knowing me... I'm kind of a stubborn guy. And as he said, my plan, my rights, my glory – I wanted to enjoy it. But here I am, drinking the second half of bottle of Ballentine's in the middle of the night. The bartender in the bar seems worried about me, but since I pay for whole bottles, I think he is quite content with me being there and keep on drinking.

Still, there's this one moment when he approaches me "Buddy, I think it's time to go."

I pour more whiskey in my shot glass and before I lift it, pouring down my throat, I point it at him and try to say "Nawh, nawh, all gewd." I take down the shot and lean on my elbow with closed eyes. "Ya know what?" I say and then exclaim drunkenly but enthusiastically "Bring ano'er bawttle!"

"I don't think so." Says the bartender and shakes his head.

I lean forward "Dawn't be a douchebag." When I look into his eyes, which at the moment is four of them- Nevermind, I forgot what I was going to say. "I-I live nearbah, so... Please? Help the guh in need."

Bartender eyes me a few times and sighs in defeat, bringing out another bottle. Hell yeah. He's even nice enough to pour me glasses of shots, but I think this isn't about being nice, but more like staying in control. "Guys who come here to drink usually have a reason." He says, but I don't get his hint, I just keep on drinking, so he adds and actually asks me "I guess the same thing goes with you? What's troubling you?"

I chuckle and twiddle the shot glass in my hand before I knock it over and I cuss real loud "Fuck!" The bartender quickly reaches for a cloth and wipes the spilt drink then pours me another one. While he does all of that I take my time to put together my answer "I'm fucking old." Yeah, took me a long time to think of this one.

"Old? You don't look old to me." He replies with a smile.

I roll my eyes at him and lift the whole bottle once it's pressed against my mouth. I just drink from it, who cares about shot glasses anyway.

"Woah, man, take it easy." His words are enough for me to put the bottle down and rub my eyes tiredly. I don't even know how much I drank at this point. "You should really go. It's getting late and I presume your wife and kids are waiting for you at home? Don't wanna keep them waiting."

Wife...? Kids...?! I slam my fist hard against the counter and under my hand I smash the shot glass. Bits of it buried in my hand, causing small bleeding wounds. "Fuh-" I groan again "Just fuck that!" I cross my arms on the counter, not even feeling any pain in my palm or knuckles and soon I lean my head on arms, ready to fall asleep. Then I murmur "Who fucking cares about families."

The bartender stays still and carefully puts his hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly "Alright, we'll get you home." He completely ignores my outburst.

Remember me mentioning my stubbornness? Y-eaaah, I wake again, ready to drink more. Maybe not drink, but certainly talk. "What does wife even do? She just... she's just there. Being pretty and teasing your cock to fuck her. Then she just finds a younger guy and starts fucking with him. And punks are just shit. They shit around until they become older. Then they just fuck you over."

In bartender's voice I hear sympathy, maybe even pity, but being in the state I was in, who would care about it. "Sounds like you got screwed over."

I chuckle and grab the bottle again, but it's soon ripped from my hands "Awh, nawh, I ain't getting screwed over. Y'know, my Mom was this... whore. I know bettewr than to marry or whatever." I chuckle again "I like multiple gewrls. Who have tits like awpples. Firm and yeah, fucking the best."

The bartender looks down in embarrassment and I want to scream at him Have you never fucked a girl before or seen tits?!

I sigh "But they'll sprewd legs no more, fo' me."

"Cause you're getting old?"

I point my index at him and close on one eye before I smile widely "You're a smart one." Then I chuckle again.

"And it makes you angry?" he asks me and I nod at him. Don't know how, but somehow I do. "Have you ever considered that the problem is exactly in that? Perhaps you want something constant, but don't know how to approach it, because you've been living like a gigolo for so long."

I look at him as in what the fuck are you talking about? and I keep staring at him. Then I think of Patty, she said the same – but she doesn't count. Austin, however, does. So, I ask the guy for an advice. Don't know what has gotten into me, anyway. "And yo' want me to dew what?"

He shrugs and turns to the loud beeping machine that just turned on. He opens it and takes out hot glasses and starts wiping them then placing them in their places. "Hell if I know. Find a girlfriend, adopt a baby, I don't know. That's up to you. You just need to know what you want first."

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