“Hello mother,” I reached forward and gave her a lazy, one-armed hug around her neck, as if we were just homies greeting each other on a public street. She stiffened slightly at my gesture before relaxing a little and letting herself receive my gesture uninhibited. My mother was very petite and frail. Her small frame held onto what little muscle she had left, and her skin sagged in all the appropriate places for a senior. When I pulled back and looked her in the face, her features softened slightly, and I almost saw a smile upon her lips before it quickly disappeared.
“Hello, Matthew,” my mother used my real name and I hated it. Matthew was the most plain and boring name, not to mention super common and I had hated it growing up. It was my manager, Salley Chase, who had thought of and given me my performance name: Reighn. I had changed my name legally to such years ago, but to my mom, I would always be Matthew. Shaking my head slightly, I had given up on arguing against her refusal to accept my new name some time ago, I released her from my embrace and stepped several paces back.
“Sorry about biting your head off earlier,” I started slowly, carefully forming the words in my head before allowing them to come forth from my mouth, “I was in the middle of something and you interrupted me unexpectedly.” I offered her a small smile, to which she returned another frown.
“You are always in the middle of something. No time for your aging mother. Just you, you, you, all the time. Don’t you ever get tired of it? Being so self-centered and dismissing the rest of the world as your unwitting servants? You are so much like your father that way,” she went straight for the jugular without holding back. Her words hung in the air between us like a poisonous cloud of gas. My heart skipped several beats as the adrenaline began to flow freely through my body. I hated her using my real name, but I hated her comparing me against my father even more. Granted, I had become just like him so-to-speak, but she had constantly rubbed my face in it my entire life and when she said it, it was like the worst insult she could issue. She knew that, of course, and often did it purposefully to get my goat.
“Mother, please. If I wasn’t so busy all the time,” I used my fingers to make air-quotes when I said the word busy for emphasis, “you wouldn’t be living in such a nice neighborhood, driving a brand-new car and have every luxury you could possibly desire. I feel like no matter what I give you, what I do for you, it will never be enough. Even if my money could find a way to transport me back in time and interrupt the fateful night when BOTH my father and I went over the cliff, you would still be disappointed in me.” I stopped speaking and watched her face. It was still stoney, no outward expression of emotion at the mention of both my father and I plunging downward. Her eyes glossed over at the mere mention of that night as if she were far away. Finally, she came back around and attacked me again.
“And all those women who you lure in with your good looks and charm then chew them up and spit them out once you’ve had your way with them, I wonder how they feel about that. They most assuredly are not all just wanting to get a piece of Mr. Reighn Abrams to tell their friends about. I am sure that your father would be proud of that part at least,” by the time she stopped talking, my ears were ringing. It was almost deafening as I felt my blood pressure rising, my heart beating in my neck and temples. Instead of returning her banter, I turned and made my way to her kitchenette. Leaving her standing in the living room, I helped myself to some cool water from the refrigerator and took several long gulps before setting the glass down loudly on the counter.
“Enough about me,” I smiled at her sarcastically, “let’s talk about this extra two-thousand dollar. What expense could you possibly incur, mother? I pay your mortgage, your car note and all your bills. I even cover your credit-card, what more do you want from me?” I was repeating myself from earlier. It was hard to imagine that five-thousand dollars was not enough for an elderly, single woman who had no expenses to speak of. I had ensured that she would not have to worry about deciding between paying the electric bill and buying food, something that was a regular occurrence after my father died but she was clearly not satisfied. In the back of my mind, I doubted she ever would be.
“Don’t sass me, young man. I am still your mother, you know. So, I overextended myself this month. Big deal, you have plenty to go around and taking care of your aging mother is what’s expected of you. I took care of you, now it’s your turn,” she made some valid points. Aside from the part where she claimed she took care of me, she was my mother and that alone made her worthy of my respect and honor. Although she was barely ever present as I struggled through my awkward teenaged years, deep inside I always knew it was for me that she worked so hard.
Mumbling under my breath, I nodded in agreement with what she was saying. I decided against bringing up any negative sentiment of how poorly she really did help me as I fumbled to figure out my place in the world and instead pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Logging into my bank account using the application I had downloaded onto my phone, I chose the quick-pay option to transfer money to her directly. Pressing several more buttons before hitting send, I deposited another two-thousand dollars into her bank account, sighing as I did it. When I finished logging out, I dropped my phone back into my pocket and regarded her seriously.
“There, you got what you wanted. I hope you don’t make a habit out of doing that. Five-thousand dollars really is enough for you to live off. Hell, most working families don’t even make that much with two, maybe three jobs across the board. You should take it easy on the gambling perhaps?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a statement. I knew the real reason that she blew through the cash I so generously provided her but had never called her out on it before. At least not out loud anyway. When I said it, I regretted allowing myself to let it slip out, especially when the burning behind her eyes came back when I did.
“Mind your own business, young man. I don’t tell you how to live your life and you certainly have no business trying to tell me how to handle mine,” she said nothing further, but I could tell that she wanted to. I waited for her to continue but when she did not, I turned toward the door to take my leave. Without a word, I opened the door, stepped outside into the bright sunshine and closed it behind me. When I was safely back inside my limousine, I let my face fall into my hands. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through my lips, I rubbed my hands down my face to my chin before letting them fall onto my lap. She really was impossible.
As my driver made his way back to my own condo, I used the Google app on my cell phone to search for the theatre I wanted. Locating the box office phone number, I pressed the screen and it quickly switched to a phone call setting. When I pushed the receiving end up to my ear, I heard it ring several times before a distinct click and a cheerful greeting came through the device. I immediately asked for the senior manager, who happened to be an acquaintance of mine. She was another of my conquests, but one that had not ended on such a bad note. It was rare, but sometimes I maintained ties with one of my female counter-parts, especially if they had something real to offer, besides their needy pussy that is.
When she answered and realized who she was talking to, her tone changed a little, perhaps taken aback by my contacting her. I explained to her what I wanted and what I needed to have happen. She uttered a few sounds in agreement as I assumed she took note on the other end. By the time I was finished telling her why I had contacted her directly, her voice softened, and she assured me that what I wanted would definitely be possible but would come at a hefty price. I almost cursed out loud when she told me what the total fees would be but stuffed the feeling back down inside. Jessica Goldstein was worth it, and I intended on showing her how much she had started to mean to me.
It was all set, the date of a lifetime, at least for Jessica it would be. I would spare no expense with her. She was a light that had suddenly been switched on in my dark world and I wanted to do anything I could to keep it there. Another first for me but I was starting to enjoy the emotions sh
e invoked in me. For once, my attentions focused on someone other than myself. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside to see the smile on her face. Her smile was genuine, not like all the others who painted on theirs in order to worm their way into my life or my bed. They were all fakes and I had not realized it until I met Jessica. Everyone else that surrounded me wanted something from me: money, my cock, just to be seen next to me while some distant photo was snapped as evidence. Jessica Goldstein was the exact opposite of them all and it was a welcome refresh to the rest.
I hummed along to the music that filled the cabin of the limo as my driver made his way to the freeway. When he merged into the sea of brake lights, I was busy thinking of the next time I would be alone with Jessica. She would be delighted, I was sure of it and I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. Thoughts of her delight drifted through my mind as we drove, her smiling face dancing behind my eyes as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. At that moment I realized, I would give anything to keep that smile in my life. Anything.
Chapter 13
Jessica
I had been so busy at Threads that I nearly forgot. Had it not been for the reminder card I received in the mail, I would have. My appointment had to wait until one of the days Regina Schultz would be across town on business or just out for the day as I had been newly promoted to a full-time position at the magazine and did not want to call off. Ms. Schultz had been so impressed with the few assignments she had given me that, not only were they to be published in the upcoming addition, she would announce my position publicly at the next staff meeting. I was elated and could not come back down from my high for several days after she told me. Because I had worked so hard to get where I was, I did not want to blow it by having to leave work early or show up late for a doctor’s appointment.
It was a Friday morning. I was nervous as I knew that doctors tended to take their own sweet time taking care of business and I had I crap load of work to get done. As I sat in the exam room waiting to see my doctor, my eyes scanned the room, occasionally resting on a poster that illustrated where the internal organs were in the body or what a diseased spine really looked like. I was fascinated by the human body, to be honest. It was such a marvel how everything worked together in such a symbiotic relationship. The heart, lungs, liver and kidneys, all of it a system designed by a higher power that no doctor would ever truly comprehend. Not completely anyway.
When the door cracked, and Dr. Larsen peeked her head inside, she greeted me with a smile. I returned the notion and watched as she entered the room with a short, squatty nurse at her heels. As she crossed the space, her eyes scanned the paperwork inside the file in her hand, her head nodding curtly from time-to-time. Stopping short of the exam table where I rested, she looked up at me, the same smile gracing her thin lips.
“Good morning, Ms. Goldstein,” her voice was calm, soothing to my ears, “it looks like everything is in order here. I have cleared you to receive another dose of your Depo Provera. You did cut it a little close though, my dear, so I must caution you to use alternate protection for at least seven days if you engage in intercourse. The tail end of the three months can cause the hormone levels to dip, putting you at a very, very small risk. Just use precautions and you should be fine,” she stopped speaking, scribbled several notes down in my chart and looked back up at me expectantly, “do you have any questions or concerns for me?” I really didn’t. Dr. Larsen did quite a good job at explaining things and left very little questions unanswered. I shook my head no and she closed my chart after signing her name at the bottom of the page. Placing it under her arm, she thanked me for coming and informed me that the nurse would be right in to take care of the rest. Dr. Larsen somehow always made it much easier to go to the doctor and I was eternally glad that I had found her. Good doctors are hard to come by, especially female doctors.
I sat on top of the hard, rubber of the exam table, once again alone in the room. The air hissed through the vents above the door, offering a refreshing breeze of cool air as it worked continuously to keep the temperature at a chilly seventy-two degrees. A soft knock at the door caught my attention and I looked up to see the same squatty nurse appear in the doorway. She smiled as she crossed the room, a syringe and alcohol pad in one hand. When she reached the side of the table where I sat, she peeled stuck the exposed end of the bandage she had temporarily adhered to her finger and tore open the alcohol pad. It was cold when she rubbed it along my skin on my upper arm, preparing the surface for my injection. Uncapping the needle, she told me to take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I followed her instructions, looking away quickly as I did so.
It was not a pleasant sensation. The burning of the medication as it passed through my skin and into the muscles of my upper arm ached as she finished pushing the plunger down and used a cotton ball to press down on the wound before withdrawing the needle completely. She took the bandage off the exam table, pulled the other protective strip off and placed it over the new hole she had created in my skin. She rubbed it firmly for several seconds before handing me my discharge paperwork and having me fill out another blank reminder card. I wrote my name and address in neat print across the space indicated and handed it back to her. It would be sent to my apartment at least two-weeks before my next dose was due to remind me to make an appointment. Before I left, she repeated Dr. Larsen’s warning not to cut it so close next time and bid me farewell as she disappeared from sight.
As I drove toward Downtown, my cell phone chimed. When I came to a stoplight, I pulled it from my purse and pressed the screen. It came to life, revealing that I had received a text message from Reighn. He was just checking on me to see how I was doing, to remind me of my promise to see him the following weekend and to tell me that he wishes it was sooner. I was touched since it seemed that no other woman in his history was afforded his attentions like that. At least that’s what Sandra had told me. I wasn’t quite sure, but I thought I detected a hint of jealousy behind her eyes as she spoke, informing me that most of the women he came in contact were just a flash in the pan and he never looked back. It was flattering, but I still had a hard time with the idea. I was not used to having a man dote on me the way he had started doing, had never seen myself worthy of that. Apparently, Reighn Abrams saw something in me that I didn’t.
When I arrived safely at the parking garage for the building I worked in, I killed the motor and turned my attention back to my cell phone. I typed in a quick reply to Reighn, not wanting him to think that I was ignoring him completely and returned it to my purse. Glancing around the parking garage, I did not see Regina’s car in its usual place which made me glad I had made the appointment so early. Even though it was not uncommon for someone to miss a few hours to go to a doctor’s appointment, I was not in the habit of doing anything that would jeopardize my new digs. That included taking time off to take care of myself or my own needs.
My phone chimed again as I started to gather my things to head up to my floor. I glanced at the screen, smiling when I saw Reighn’s reply. He was looking forward to our date and he had a big surprise for me. What that possibly could be, I had no clue, but it was nice to see the softer side of him. He had opened himself completely up to me, probably not realizing that I was hanging on his every word, and I was glad he had. I housed knowledge of his personal life that likely no one else in his world did, with the exception of a few trusted individuals. It was nice to know that beneath it all, Mr. Abrams was just like everyone else. Take away all the money, fame and, let’s face it, endless stream of women, and he had the same problems, the same hang-ups as the rest of us. That knowledge took him down to a normal level and I was able to interact with him as human being and get to know the real person behind the name.
On top of my desk, instead of finding a dozen roses, there were three-dozen. Stuffed into a large green vase with a heart shape etched into the glass on the front, there was barely enough room for the greenery and baby’s breath. It was a breathtaking arrangem
ent, for sure, and I could not help but smile down at them as I pulled the card from its usual location. The message inside thanked me for lunch and reminded me how much Reighn was anticipating our date the following weekend. I replaced the card into the plastic fork that was placed in the front of the bouquet inside the vase and lost myself in thought briefly. Sandra cleared her throat loudly behind me, causing me to come back down from my cloud and back to reality. I was a little disappointed as I turned toward her.
“Well, aren’t you the fortunate one?” her eyes reflected something I could not quite put my finger on but it did not feel good as her gaze met mine, “I have never seen him act this way, I swear, you must have a golden snatch for Reighn Abrams to want to keep you around afterward.” She practically spat her words in my direction. I was acutely aware of a burning sensation in my chest as it tightened. Adrenaline shot through my body, giving me an uneasy feeling as Sandra continued to eye me, a disdainful look about her.
“For your information, Sandra, I have not slept with Reighn,” I returned her stare but was growing angrier by the minute. How dare she. I was not responsible for the way that Reighn behaved, he was an independent man with his own mind and I in no way could control his reactions. She stared at me in disbelief. I could tell she wanted to call me a liar but thought better than to say it outright I was sure.
“Really? That explains everything then,” she hissed back at me, “you are his new conquest apparently. He doesn’t like being told no, you know, and if what you say is true, it is the only reason he is bothering to dote on you. Reighn Abram gets what he wants, no matter what it takes, trust me.” Sandra looked far away for a moment, her mind no doubt traveling back in time to a point when she had been “on assignment” with him. I could tell by the way she was reacting that she was in fact jealous of me, of the attention I was now getting from Reighn. It was really disappointing to find out that she was just like every other woman in the world, allowing the green-eyed monster to take control.
Make it Reighn (A Threads Inc. Saga Book 1) Page 15
