With a low chuckle, Vince lowers his chin and makes the most disgusting kissing sounds I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.
“Shut your feckin’ cakehole before I knock you arse over tit,” I mutter.
Lifting his own coffee mug to his mouth, he fights a smile. “I’m just saying, man; she sucks a hell of a dick.”
“You had sex with her?” I stare horrified while catching Gloria’s tongue making another pass around the rim of her mug out of the corner of my eye.
Vince sets his coffee down, his lips widening in that damn movie star grin that makes women fall at his feet. “Dude, most men at this table, and probably a few women, have fucked Gloria.” Tilting his chin, he points them out, not giving a shite who notices. “Bob, Frank, Todd…”
My mouth drops open, and I pin him with a blank stare. Mainly, because I have no bleedin’ idea where the hell to go with that. “Christ…Todd? Are you kidding me?”
Silence rings out across the table as all eyes turn toward Vince and me.
Feckin’ hell. Okay, I didn’t mean to say it that loud, but seriously, Todd? What was he thinking? Todd Reynolds is a family man. He has the life every man dreams of—a beautiful wife, two-point-five kids who get straight As and go to the perfect school, a house in the suburbs with a fence, and all the rest of that shite. Why would he risk it all to screw Gloria?
As if reading my mind, a low laugh rumbles in Vince’s chest and he shakes his head at me. “Don’t be so sanctimonious. How do you think I got promoted to project manager? Hell, half the men in this room are only here because Gloria polished their knob.” Eyeing me curiously, he fights a smirk. “Besides, you know she’s going to collect sooner or later on getting Sophie into Ravenhill. Might as well man up and take one for the team.”
And there’s the reminder of the day I sold my soul to the devil. Or in this case, the bitch of the board room. I wrote a contract in my own blood just to secure my daughter’s future. One innocent inquiry into my kid’s schooling ended up with me in debt to the black widow and no amount of financial reimbursement would get me out of it.
That woman wants to take it out in trade on her knees or her back.
Free tip for clueless parents: Make sure to plan for your kid’s future at conception. As a single dad in New York City, no one told me that getting your kid into the right school started at birth.
Seriously, am I the only person on Earth who had no clue this was a thing?
Apparently, it is in America. Only this shite begins with ensuring a kid is signed up for the right daycare, which progresses to the right preschool, which feeds into the kindergarten that farts rainbows and unicorns. I’m an Irish buck. When I moved to America and had a kid, no one told me everything I did from day one fecked said kid up for the rest of her life.
Vince kicks my chair as Mr. Navarro, the marketing director, stands and clears his throat. I struggle to pay attention and act like sitting in a business meeting and listening to a bunch of middle-aged men congratulate themselves on their worth is the best thing I’ve done all week. All I really want is to get outside and shed this suit. While I work for Trask and Payne Enterprises as a photographer, and don’t get me wrong, I’m feckin’ good at what I do, immersing myself in the culture of New York City is what I love. Being outdoors, experiencing life, and capturing nature as it happens centers me.
This pointless gathering is what my Ma used to call an opportunity for growth. I just call it shite that pays the bills.
“As you all know,” Mr. Navarro says, pacing the room while patting his salt and pepper hair, “we only have four weeks left until the Ravenhill Charity Gala Dinner. Trask and Payne is sponsoring this event in a dual show of support for the children in our community as well as Gloria, our esteemed board member.”
I sneak a glance at Gloria, whose bleach blonde hair is swept up into a twist and tucked with a clip at the nape of her neck. She catches me staring and attempts a coy smile. Instead of enticing me, it creeps me out. I feel like prey, and part of me is waiting for her to unhinge her jaw and slither across the table to swallow me whole.
“While most of you will be participating in the event in a professional capacity, we still expect you to attend in formal attire and socialize with our guests. We want to put our best face forward here at Trask and Payne, so keep the alcohol at a minimum, and please, no fraternizing with other employees. Are we clear this time, Vincent Tribiotti?”
Snickers ripple around the table as Vince shoots him a wounded look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Navarro. I’m a perfect angel at these things.”
The old man gives Vince a pinched smile. “Yes, well, if there are no further questions, we’ll reconvene later in the week to begin final preparations. The gala is in four weeks, people, and it’s going to be the talk of the town. Don’t let me down on this.” With a rap of his knuckles on the desk, he ends the meeting and walks out the door.
Vince could dive into a river of shite and come out smelling like a feckin’ rose. That’s just the type of buck he is. Not that either of us is a saint. With the trouble that Vince and I have gotten into over the years, no one could ever accuse me of being a choir boy. However, I can’t help but blame him for the shite hole I’m currently swimming in. It was his bright idea to get me hooked up with Gloria in the first place.
No, not in that way. Remember the donut? I’d prefer not to see it again, thanks.
Here’s how I became a lost insect in the black widow’s tangled web. Nobody warned me about that whole “plan from their birth” shite. When the time came for my daughter, Sophie, to go to school, I thought I could pick where I wanted her to go to school and make it happen because I’m not a complete feckin’ dick.
Then my buddy, Vince, sold me out. The one guy I trust in this office set me up to be screwed, and not in the good way. For some reason, he has the goods on most everyone in the building. If you want to know the dirt on anyone, you go to Vince. He can tell you who’s sleeping with who, in what janitor’s closet, and on what day. He’s feckin’ worse than a woman with new gossip.
Anyway, he found out that Gloria got around in more ways than one. In addition to being a Trask and Payne board member, she also sat on the board of trustees at Ravenhill Private School—the most prestigious primary school in Manhattan. They wouldn’t even return my phone calls when I tried to get Sophie an interview. I’m a hard-arse by nature, but I’d do anything for my kid. Bitching to Vince over a few beers one night, led to him having a long chat with Gloria. It only took one phone call from her, and Sophie bypassed the interview and was placed directly in the school.
The power that woman possesses freaks me out, I’m not going to lie.
Had I known then what I know now, I would’ve never blindly jumped into her web. There’s an old Irish proverb that says, the future is not set, there is no fate but what we make for ourselves. Loosely translated, it means if you’re going to shite the bed, you still have to lie in it.
Of course, I may be paraphrasing.
So, here I am, lying in my own shite bed, and the feckin’ bitch has me trapped. Now she’s watching me from the sidelines, biding her time until she can crawl over on her eight legs and devour me like the black widow she is. I should’ve known then that it would come back and bite me in the arse.
“I’m just saying,” Vince reiterates, taking one last bite of his donut as he closes the clasp on his briefcase and drags it off the table. “You haven’t been laid in a while. Gloria’s no spring chicken, but there’s something to be said for the age and experience of a hen who’s been around a block fifty or sixty times.” Slapping a hand on my back, he shoves the rest of the pastry inside his cheek and grins. “Think about it, Niall. She won’t leave you alone until you pay her back. Might as well get it over with.”
He’s out the door and down the hall before I can think of a sufficient comeback, leaving me with the one woman no man should ever face alone unless he’s wearing a cup.
Or
five.
Gloria trails her fingers along the outer edge of the conference table with one hand, while wiping the lipstick from the corner of her mouth with the other. The tailored black business suit and red blouse she’s wearing makes her look even more like her arachnid namesake. I have no idea what I’m in for, but judging by the hungry look on her face, it’s nothing good.
“How is Sophie doing in school?” The question sounds innocent enough, but I’ve been around Gloria long enough to know every word out of her mouth is backed by an agenda. Besides, with my track record, I don’t trust any woman as far as I can throw her.
“Grand,” I answer, feeling my jaw clench as she closes the distance between us. “Cheers for the recommendation. She loves her teachers, her friends—”
“I just love helping children,” she purrs, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Helping them, or baking them in an oven?
I have trust issues in general, but the minute Gloria mentions my eight-year-old daughter’s name, warning bells go off in my head. The more I’m alone with her, the more I sense that Vince is right, and I’m about three seconds away from landing in the unemployment line.
It’s not that Gloria is a troll. She’s decent looking for an older woman, and if I met her in a bar and was desperate and drunk enough, I might even consider letting her get me off. At the end of the day, I’m still a man. However, I never shite where I sleep. Nothing good can come of mixing sex and work. Especially with a crazy bitch like her.
She sits on the conference table and crosses her long, toned legs. “The gala is getting closer, and there’s still so much to do. I’m extremely humbled to be the guest of honor.” Pressing her hand against her chest, she feigns shock, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. A moment of silence passes between us before she leans back on her palms, appraising me. “You don’t have to thank me for this opportunity, Niall.”
I cock an eyebrow, irritation at being held hostage for a full five minutes now starting to overtake my good nature. “Thank you?”
“For arranging for you to be the official photographer for the social event of the year. I know you haven’t had a chance to thank me, but that’s okay, I have a way you can make it up to me as well as for getting Sophie into Ravenhill.”
“Make it up to you? I was thinking a fruit basket would do the trick, to be honest, ma’am.”
“It’s Gloria,” she corrects with a coy smile. “I’m not a woman who’s afraid to demand what she wants, Niall. When I do favors for someone, I expect favors in return. Sometimes those favors benefit me professionally, sometimes they’re of a more personal nature.”
Shite. Here’s where I lose my job.
“Personal nature?”
I’m an intelligent man. I was educated at Trinity College in Dublin, graduated with high marks, and consider myself to be gifted in both common sense as well as academics. However, for some reason, I’m standing here repeating everything she says like a feckin’ parrot.
“An intimate nature,” she clarifies.
I already know the answer, but something compels me to ask the question anyway. “Aren’t you married?”
Gloria slides off the desk and wraps her index finger around the tie I spent the entire meeting trying to prevent from choking me. Licking her lips, she tugs it forward and wraps it around her fist. “Technicality. We have an understanding. I understand his business ventures must come first, and he understands that I must come…repeatedly.”
This feckin’ bitch.
At first, my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. Then a hot blaze of irritation shoots through me. I’m about to shut this shite down right now.
“While I’m flattered, ma’am—”
“Gloria…”
“I’m not interested.”
An unwelcome feeling pricks my skin. I’ve kept myself under the radar at Trask and Payne for two years. I’m the best photographer at this company, and I don’t get involved in anyone’s bullshite. I’ve prided myself in making my own way in this world and not bowing down to anyone. However, judging by the hard look in Gloria’s eye, a moment of weakness ensuring my daughter had the best education has come back to bite me in the arse.
Her gaze briefly lowers to my zipper, and her mouth curves in a knowing smile. “It’s a shame about the overcrowding problem at Ravenhill, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“That’s the thing about gifts, Niall. What’s that phrase, easy come easy go?” Lifting a hand, she traces it along the waistband of my slacks.
I think I’m a relatively easygoing guy. Give me a pint of the black stuff, a good rugby match, and a regular piece of arse, and I’m a happy buck. I don’t bother anyone, I don’t start shite, and I’m not out to screw anyone over. However, start feckin’ with my kid, and I’ll become your worst nightmare.
I smack her hand away from my belt with more force than necessary. “Are you threatening my daughter?”
“Correction,” she says, raising a finger to emphasize her point. “I’m threatening your job and your daughter. One word from me and Sophie is kicked out of Ravenhill and learning addition next to juvenile delinquents. There won’t be a damn thing you can do about it, either, because you’ll be out on your ass peddling pictures in Central Park with a can and a cardboard sign.”
I take a step back, staring into her cold green eyes. “You’re bluffing.”
Annoyance flashes across her face, and she laughs bitterly. “Am I? All I need to do is tell the headmaster that you falsified Sophie’s records and then tell Navarro that you offered sex to keep me quiet when I found out about it. Everything you have will be gone in an instant, Niall.”
“I didn’t falsify anything, and you know it.”
“Who do you think they’re going to believe? A board member, or a second-rate photographer?”
“Why do you even care?” I growl.
“I’m bored,” she offers, dropping her eyes to my pants again. “And I want to know if your cock is as big as your sanctimonious Irish morals.”
I should’ve just told her to eat shite and die. Maybe to also take the school and the job and shove them both up her aerobicized arse. But unfortunately, that’s not what comes out. No, what comes out of my mouth is so much worse. So much more detrimental to my financial well-being.
“I’m engaged,” I blurt out.
I have no idea what possessed me to say the words. Obviously, I had no forethought in the matter, or I’d have considered the fact that, eventually, I’ll have to provide an actual living, breathing woman as proof.
And not the blow-up variety currently occupying Vince’s bedroom.
“What?” she shrieks, pulling away and fisting her hands by her side.
“I’m engaged,” I repeat, my delivery sounding more like a question than a statement.
Feckin’ hell. Man up, Niall. If you’re going to sell this, stop being a pussy.
Gloria’s jaw drops, but she quickly regains her composure, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “When did this happen?”
“Recently.” Like two seconds ago. “We met a couple of months ago. We’ve kept it low key.”
Flattening her fire-engine-red lips, Gloria gives me a hardened laugh, straightens her spine, and runs a hand down the length of her suit jacket. “I think you’re full of shit, Niall. I want to meet her. Bring her to the gala.”
“That’s in four weeks.”
“Is that a problem?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
Shite. I can’t go back now.
“No.”
“Very well, then. Oh, and, Niall?” Weaving her fingers through my hair, she digs her fingernails into the back of my head and stands on the toes of her red-soled heels. “Your fiancée is a lucky woman. I hope she knows that.” Gloria scrapes her nails across my skin a little harder and then trails her hand down my chest.
Having had enough, I grab her wrist with enough force to let her know I’m done being fecked with. Jerking her arm, she dislodges my hold
and with one last glare, she drags a pile of folders off the table and storms across the conference room without another word.
I let out a harsh breath. What the feckin’ hell have I done? Of all the ridiculous things I’ve ever said, blurting out that I’m engaged may have just topped them all.
The minute Gloria storms out, Vince trails in after her, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us. “Dude, Gloria looks ready to kill someone.”
“I need a date for the gala.”
He grins and rubs his fingers together. “Now you’re talking my language. I’ve got this under control. What kind of girl are you looking for—blonde, brunette, redhead, slutty?”
I rub my hands over my face and sigh. “The kind who’ll agree to marry me in the next twenty-eight days.”
3
Laken
We regret to inform you that you have not made it to the second round of interviews for an internship with Trask & Payne Enterprises. While your skills are impressive, there were other candidates with qualifications more suited to our immediate needs. We encourage you to reapply in the future.
Increasing my pace across the snotty neighborhood in the Upper East Side of New York City, I crush the form letter in my hand and toss it into the nearest trashcan. Of course, I’ll reapply. The five previous attempts were just a practice run for the main event. No sweat. Sixth time’s the charm, right?
Wrong.
The sixth time will be a repeat performance of the epic failure that’s my professional career. After four years of undergrad and two years of busting my ass in graduate school at NYU, it’s obvious I’m doomed to live out the rest of my days as nanny to Satan’s mistress. Even sucking up to Rachel Trask’s sister at NYU did nothing to help me climb up the corporate food chain.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 55
