“Please Stacey,” cried my mom, clutching my arm. “Please understand,” she pleaded, “he’s all I have. I was so lonely, I’m still lonely, please honey, please,” she begged.
But I just shook my head wordlessly. My mom had betrayed me, working for her own interests instead of protecting her daughter. With a silent shake, I threw off her arm and let myself out the front door, closing the door quietly.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Stacey
“How did you find out?” I asked stiffly, sitting in the living room of Pax and Peyton’s condo. It was luxurious, a triplex overlooking Central Park. But the obvious luxury seemed miles away, I was locked in a dark place, a hell without feeling.
“Stacey,” said Pax slowly. “We put it together piece by piece.”
I took a deep breath.
“Well, what was the first piece?” I asked as calmly as I could manage.
“The missing footage,” said Peyton reasonably. “There was no reason for that footage to be missing, but our IT guys located a back-up stored on a different server.”
“And what was on the back-up?” I asked, my voice slightly unsteady.
“That’s the thing,” said Pax, “it wasn’t what was on it as what wasn’t on it. The footage should have shown a maintenance man walking down the hallway to your room to fix the A/C. But instead, a maintenance worker showed up only seconds after you called, seemingly popping up out of thin air.”
I shook my head, confused.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There should have been footage of a maintenance worker walking from the elevator to your room. That’s two hundred feet minimum,” said Pax slowly. “Instead, he enters your room from the left side of the camera. He was probably in the room next to yours, which isn’t caught on the security footage.”
I shook my head slowly.
“But that’s hardly conclusive evidence that it’s your dad,” I said.
“Still,” continued Peyton, “he was wearing a baseball cap, which is out of order for most maintenance workers. Only the gardening and landscaping staff wear baseball caps to stay out of the sun, so we couldn’t see his face.”
“Exactly,” I said again, looking at them hard. “Hardly conclusive evidence.”
“But we started putting two and two together,” said Pax slowly. “Our sources pressed the Enquirer about the tape, and finally someone fessed up that they’d bought it from an entity organized in Panama.”
“Panama?” I asked dumbly. “That seems pretty crazy. Why Panama?”
“That’s the thing,” said Peyton grimly. “Here’s where we caught our lucky break. Have you heard about the Panama Papers?” he asked.
Dumbly, I nodded.
“Sure, someone leaked papers from a law firm in Panama that helped rich people do a lot of illegal things like transfer money to secret bank accounts, hide funds,” I said. “Why, what does that have to do with this?”
“Unfortunately, that’s how we figured out it was our dad,” ground out Pax. “The corporate entity that sold the tape to the Enquirer is registered in Panama … to him.”
I was dumbfounded. Gordon was smart enough, savvy enough, to create a fake corporation located in Panama? This was way beyond what I thought possible for a mid-level manager.
“Honey, it gets worse,” said Pax slowly. “The company is registered to Gordon, but it shows your mom as named representative.”
And then my world really collapsed. Virginia said she didn’t know anything about the video, merely that she suspected my stepdad of videotaping me. Instead, it seemed my mom was part of the plot, helping him register a fake company, providing him cover and a means.
And in a sick way, it made sense. Only rich people had the resources to create a web of fictitious corporations, obscuring their identity. And you what? Virginia probably did this all the time. As a career banker, she set up shadow accounts for her clientele all the time, helping them evade taxes, hide assets, commit all sorts of financial crimes. It’d be no trouble to set up a fake Panamanian company for herself … and for Gordon.
Putting my head down, I began breathing deeply, drawing in air through my nose, breathing out through my mouth. My head felt light, the world spinning around me as I struggled for oxygen. How could my mom have betrayed me? The hurt was searing, my heart ripped open as I registered the depth of her lies.
A big hand dropped gently on my back, massaging my spine.
“Stacey, it’ll be all right,” said a deep voice gently. “We’ll find a way.”
“Yes sister,” intoned another masculine voice. “Take it easy for now, because we’ll figure out what’s next ... and how to make them pay.”
And with that, I knew Virginia and Gordon were doomed. Pax and Peyton would make sure of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pax
“Does it have to be here?” Stacey whispered to us. We were outside the Union Club while a glitzy party roared inside. We could hear the clink of champagne glasses, the boom of music filtering out into the balmy New York night.
“Yes,” I ground out. “The better to catch them unawares.”
And with that, I took her hand and we made our way up the stairs to the ballroom. It was the wedding of Andrew Ross, one of Virginia’s business associates, a billionaire who’d allegedly bilked the government of millions in a Medicaid scheme. No wonder security was heavy.
But my brother and I had decided this was the best time to confront our parents. They’d been avoiding our calls, totally mum on the subject, as if freezing us out would be the solution. Even worse, I suspected that they’d hired a PR firm to deflect any blows, should it come to that.
Peyton went first, stepping into the ballroom. Despite the fact that it was raucous party, alcohol being swilled like water, the crowd noticed him. Or noticed us, I should say. After all, who doesn’t look when two six five NFL stars enter a room, towering above the crowd, dominating, domineering in our tuxes?
Plus, we had Stacey with us and she was a celebrity herself now. Her blonde hair was done in an elaborate updo and she wore a green cocktail dress, elegant, perfect, showing off that tiny waist, her long legs.
I felt her stumble a little, gasping, and I bent to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t worry honey,” I encouraged her. “We’re doing the right thing.”
But I could tell she was still hesitant. She didn’t want a public confrontation with our parents, but we’d persuaded her that it was the only way.
“If we don’t,” Peyton had warned, “they’ll make it go away somehow. Gordon will never serve time, no one will know that this ever happened.”
“But how can they make it go away?” she asked, puzzled. “I don’t get it, you can’t make something like this just go away.”
And I shook my head.
“Honey, the world works differently for rich people,” I chided gently. “Just look at the Panama Papers. How many people skirted U.S. laws by using webs of corporations to move money and shield their real identities? It happens all the time.”
And Stacey nodded unhappily. She understood. There was every reason to believe that Virginia’s money would make this all disappear somehow.
So we made our way into the ballroom, a hush descending as voices followed us, stares eating up our forms.
“Isn’t that…?” asked one voice.
“Yeah, it’s the Jones boys,” said another hushed voice. “What are they doing here? Andrew Ross knows them?”
“Andrew Ross knows everyone, billions will buy you famous friends,” a voice replied venomously.
That was harsh, but if the crowd wanted to skewer the groom at his own wedding, that wasn’t my business.
We saw Virginia and Gordon standing over to the side, chatting steadily with an older couple. They didn’t acknowledge us as we approached, only looking up at the last minute when it was impossible to ignore us, impossible to pretend not to see.
“Boys,” boomed Gordon, his arm arou
nd his wife. “I didn’t know you knew the Rosses, we didn’t see you at the ceremony. This is quite the family affair isn’t it?”
Virginia tittered hesitantly and clung to her husband’s arm.
“Honey,” she said looking over at Stacey nervously. “You look beautiful, that color suits you well.”
“Really?” asked Stacey slowly. “Really Mom? After everything that’s happened all you can say is that I look beautiful?”
“Honey, this isn’t the time or place,” said Virginia, her eyes darting around nervously. “Not here.”
“Why not?” asked her daughter, looking around, making sure people were looking. “Why not?”
“Because,” her mom said, her voice lowered, dropping almost to a whisper. “All my business associates are here. My clientele, baby, the people who pay me.”
“That’s why we chose this wedding,” I rumbled, not bothering to lower my voice. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Baby, please no,” pleaded Virginia. “Not now. I’ll do whatever you want, later, after the party, I promise, just not now.”
Stacey was hesitant for a moment, considering.
“No, I’m sorry Mom, what happened to me was despicable. I’m sick of being the victim, forced into a dark corner. People have to know.”
And our sister took a step back, making sure all eyes were on her.
“Everyone,” she announced, “I think you know that I’m Stacey Light, the sportscaster. Earlier this year, a man snuck into my hotel room and videotaped me in the shower, selling the tape to the Enquirer.”
“Even now, you can still find the video on-line, and it’s embarrassed me, made me a laughingstock. But I’ve made my peace. I’ve come to the realization that the world has seen me naked, seen me going at it in the shower.”
“But I want to tell you who did that to me. It was them,” she paused dramatically, pointing at our parents. “Gordon Jones, my stepdad, videotaped me, and my mom, Virginia Jones, set it all up.”
And here, there were tears in her eyes.
“My own mother betrayed me, she let my stepdad do whatever he wanted, supported his efforts to tape me in the nude, covered up for him when she should have been protecting me. My mother,” she said, her voice cracking.
But Stacey took another deep breath and continued, steadying herself.
“I want the world to know because they were going to get away with it. Virginia was going to buy her way out somehow. Only we’ve stopped them by taking this very public step. We want everyone to know, we want the public to know.”
And now the hubbub became a roar. Not only were Virginia and Gordon disgusting, betraying their daughter, a young woman they were supposed to care for and protect, but that daughter was announcing it to the world.
But Stacey wasn’t done yet.
“And I want you to know that the men who helped me were my stepbrothers, Peyton and Pax Jones. And,” she said pausing dramatically, “we’re in a relationship.”
The whispering was no longer whispering, we could hear every word.
“How could they?” asked one woman. “How could they do that to their daughter?”
“Why would they?” asked another voice. “Why would they throw their own child under the bus? How despicable,” it concluded with disgust.
“And now she’s with her brothers? This is such a fucked-up family, straight out of a bad soap,” replied a third.
And I nodded my head. I understood. This was like a bad movie, with the scheming, conniving mom, the perverted dad, the kids engaged in a threesome, and a sex tape to boot. But that was our life. And it was better to live it in the open, air out the closets, than stay closed and hidden, suffering in silence.
And so we left in style. Peyton, Stacey and I swept out, our chins up, voices trailing us as we made our way to a waiting limo.
“Sister, we did the right thing,” I reassured her.
“Really?” she asked bitterly. “Why doesn’t it feel like it then?”
And that was the thing. Life was never easy, it was complicated, unfair, and treacherous at times. But now that things were in the open, the bright rays of sunlight would begin the healing.
“We’ll be okay,” soothed Peyton. “Trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so,” said Stacey, looking out the window with tears in her eyes. “I hope so,” she said, lapsing into silence.
And with that, the limo made its way into the dark streets of Manhattan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Stacey
“I’m not sure, brothers,” I said slowly. “I’m just not sure.”
“Not sure about what?” asked Pax calmly.
We were in a dressing room at the Donkey. It’s my safe space now, my place to get away from the mess that was my life. As Enchantress Inga, I could let go, dance my heart out, let myself just be.
I took a deep breath.
“What’s happened,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “It’s too much.”
“Of course it is,” said Peyton reasonably. “We just went through a trial and Gordon and your mom are in jail now.”
I was silent thinking about it again. It had been a terrible experience. Gordon and my mom had been indicted on criminal charges for the illicit videotape, plus the federal government was investigating Virginia for potential financial crimes. They were in deep trouble, their problems wouldn’t be ending when they got out of jail.
But somehow, I didn’t feel better. Although we’d done the right thing by turning in our parents, the harrowing experience still haunted me and I was dancing more and more often these days, letting the Donkey bring me to another plane, help me heal.
“Brothers,” I said slowly. “I think I need some time off.”
“Sure,” said Peyton reasonably. “We’ll head to Tahiti for a vacation, I’ll get my agent on it. Sand and sun will be good for us,” he said, Pax nodding his agreement.
But it wasn’t just that.
“No brothers,” I said slowly. “I think I need some time off from you.”
At this, my steps were silent, their gazes searching, looking me over, studying me closely. I knew I looked perfectly healthy on the outside, my breasts plump and lovely, my snatch smooth and velvety, wearing nothing but my Enchantress Inga mask and high heels. But despite appearances, inside I hurt, and needed time to heal on my own.
With a deep sigh, Peyton spoke first.
“If that’s what you need, then we’ll give it to you,” he said slowly. “Do you want to go to Tahiti by yourself? Take some time off on your own?”
And I smiled tremulously at him, appreciative.
“I think I’d like that,” I said. “Yes, I’d like that.”
And I gave them each a sweet kiss before stepping on stage for the night. With a whirl, I threw myself into the dance, letting loose of all inhibitions. I kicked a leg up onto the pole, holding my pussy open for men to see, bathing in the attention of the hoots, the hollers, the appreciative male stares. I then spun around and bent over, holding my ass cheeks open, letting men gaze at my pink bits, my channel steamy and warm, my brown pucker ready to be kissed.
But I was no longer letting the men touch or kiss. Because despite my longing to be alone for a while, I knew I still belonged to Peyton and Pax.
EPILOGUE
Stacey
It was hard coming back from Tahiti. The sun and sand had been amazing, letting me get away from the trial, the talk about my parents, the gossip about Pax and Peyton Jones dating their stepsister. It was easier to pretend that it didn’t exist, that I was alone on an idyllic island, anonymous.
But life is never really like that. Even in far away Tahiti, my life found me. At the resort bar one day, the bartender looked at me funny and said, “Hey, aren’t you …?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
Because I’d put on a nice sundress that day, blowing out my hair, even putting on a little make-up, and once more I looked like Stacey Light, the girl you saw on TV. So even hal
fway around the world, I’d been outed. It’s truly a global world these days.
And it’d been tough coming back. My job was kaput, Walter had explained that I couldn’t continue as a sportscaster with the network.
“I don’t get it,” I said slowly. “I know my stuff, I’m ready to be on camera again.”
“That’s not it Stacey, and you know it,” he said reprovingly. “It’s that you outshine the stories now. Everyone knows about you, your dad, your mom, the video, the twins …” and here his voice trailed off. Because as Pax and Peyton’s sister and lover, the network didn’t want to touch me, they didn’t want to sully their family brand with our threesome.
And I got it. Walter had always been kind to me, and I knew he didn’t want to see his best sportscaster go, but my notoriety dwarfed my career now.
“Brothers,” I said sadly. “What am I going to do?”
“Whatever you like,” answered Pax gently. “Take some time and figure it out.”
And I shot him a grateful smile. Because since coming back, I’d moved in with them and they’d been understanding, supportive, everything you’d want in lovers.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.”
Peyton frowned.
“Are you not sure about us?” he’d asked slowly. I knew they wanted me to be whole again, and supported my efforts to heal. But I’d been six months in Tahiti and they were ready to pick up where we left off.
“Well,” I said with a tremulous smile, “I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I’m sure about us.”
And they swept me off my feet, picking me up and twirling me around before laughing joyously together. Because I’ve achieved a peace of sorts. I’ve had no contact with our parents, we don’t visit them in jail or correspond, Gordon and Virginia can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. Every time I think of them my skin crawls, the betrayal still hot under my skin even though I’ve done my best to purge the ghosts, let out my rage.
#BABYMACHINE Page 48
