It's a Fugly Life

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  I ended the call and immediately tried to get Max. I didn’t want him surprised in any way or to get the wrong impression. It went straight to voice mail.

  “Hey, Max. It’s Lily. I know it’s crazy early there in Buenos Aires, but I was hoping I’d catch you. I have to go home this weekend—nothing major, but I need to help…” I hesitated, wondering how I could frame the situation with Patricio in a way that wouldn’t stir up dust. I really didn’t need him worrying. He had enough on his mind with his sister’s health. “Well, it’s nothing important. I just need to do a favor for a friend and take care of a few things back at the store. Call me later when you can.”

  The moment I hung up, I found myself staring at the phone. That was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? I’d tell Max everything later. At the right time.

  Still, why did I feel like I’d made a huge mistake?

  The next morning, I scraped my body from Max’s cold, but extremely comfortable mattress. My days started at four a.m., so I could answer emails, take care of business expenses, and handle inventory orders for Lily’s Pad. My mother, ironically, was kicking ass. I didn’t know her secret, but she’d been able to increase sales by fifty percent. A damned miracle.

  I then reviewed Max’s daily task list—the usual micro-manager bullcrap I used to get when he was my boss, but now included the sort of messages that made me blush. “I jerked off last night, thinking of your tits, Lily.” Or my favorite, “I woke up hard, dreaming of your smile.” And “I fucking love you, Lily. I can’t get enough.”

  I found his daily emails to be like these really messed-up love letters I cherished with equal parts of affection and irritation. Seriously? How did he always know what to say to me?

  This morning, however, there’d been nothing. Not a peep, not a text or a call.

  I hope nothing’s wrong. If there was, I’d know, right?

  After running forty minutes and getting myself together for work, putting on my basic white blouse and black skirt outfit, I rode in the town car to LLL, with Callahan at the wheel so I could work on my laptop. Dammit. This was insane trying to run two businesses.

  I groaned, hoping Max would make it back soon—with happy news of course.

  “Everything all right, Miss Snow?” asked Callahan from the driver’s seat.

  “Yeah. I just have way more work than I can handle. Thank you for the ride, by the way.”

  “I don’t mind—it’s what I’m paid for; although, I’d imagined you’d be wanting to try out your new car.”

  Yeah, I’d seen the white Porsche Panamera in the garage with the giant white bow on top, and it was gorgeous. But I couldn’t accept frivolous gifts like that—one that had been intended as a wedding gift.

  “Even if I appreciate the gesture,” I muttered, “I can’t let Max spend his money on me.” We weren’t getting married. We were…well, I didn’t know. We were complicated. “We’re…friends.”

  Yeah, friends who just fucked like crazed rabbits three weeks ago. Then I’d given him a blow job in my office, followed by him bending me over the armchair.

  I crossed my legs and wiggled my toes inside my black heels, feeling my body sparking with erotic tingles between my legs. The back of my neck felt hot, too.

  I pulled my hair up into a sloppy bun and sighed with frustration.

  Callahan flashed a glance through the rearview mirror and smiled like he didn’t buy what I was selling. I couldn’t blame him.

  When the car pulled up to the storefront at seven thirty a.m., I immediately noticed a middle-aged, shrill-faced bitch in spiked white heels and a white pantsuit, standing in front of the doors. Perfectly smoothed-out brown hair combed back into a bun, large white sunglasses, and fake red nails as long as my legs told me that this woman was obsessed with image.

  Fuck. That’s Max’s mom.

  My immediate reaction was what you might expect: tell Callahan to keep driving. But that little fire deep inside my chest sparked to life. This woman, the antithesis of Max, was a cancer on the soul of humanity. She represented everything I detested in this world—true ugliness. And while I understood that some might ask what separated her from her son, I knew the answer clearly. She didn’t care who she hurt with her ideals or expectations. She didn’t acknowledge her illness. Max did. She would spit on someone who didn’t wear the right shoes for the time of year. Max would cringe, but then pull himself back to Planet Reality and feel a little bad about his behavior.

  In any case, after everything she’d put me through—sabotaging my relationship with Max, invading my privacy, calling me a piece of trash—I had a few things to get off my chest.

  I slid from the town car, and her hazel eyes—same as Max’s but without any sign of humanity—locked on my face, darting from scar to scar. Forehead, cheek, nose. The normal human wouldn’t bat an eyelash since I wore makeup today, but she caught every imperfection.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lily Snow,” she sneered.

  I walked toward her, resisting the urge to belt her silicon lips and overly Botoxed brow. “Mrs. Cole, what a pleasure. Did Oz run out of flying monkeys to boss around or little dogs to torment?”

  Her eyes sort of narrowed, but with so much plastic surgery, she could barely move her facial muscles.

  “Shut up, you ugly cunt. Where is my son?”

  “Ugly cunt?” I had a nail file in my purse. Those were great for puncturing jugulars, right?

  Don’t kill ugly bitch. Don’t kill ugly bitch. Don’t kill ugly…

  I placed my hand on my hip. “He’s trying to save your daughter and her unborn baby from dying. Why aren’t you doing the same, Maxine?”

  The corners of her lips curled down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She didn’t know? No. Why would she? Her daughter had disowned her.

  “Your daughter has preeclampsia. She’s been hanging on for weeks, trying to save the baby.” I’d read up on the condition, of course, learning that if Max’s sister could make it to the twenty-sixth week, the baby had an eighty to ninety percent chance of surviving. Anything past that had extremely high chances. Mabel, Max’s sister, was at week twenty-two.

  Maxine lifted her hand to her overly inflated, artificially puffed-up lips. Tears filled her hazel eyes.

  For one tiny second, I felt vindicated—I wanted to see her suffer. But then my heart kicked in, because I sensed she hated herself as much as I did. Nevertheless, this was not my doing, and she did not deserve my sympathy. Not after everything she’d done to me, which only paled in comparison to what she’d done to her children.

  “Where is she?” Mabel whispered.

  I didn’t think it was my place to say. And given the circumstances, I wasn’t about to tell the woman to call Max.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” I stepped around her and gave a nod to the security officer who stood on the other side of the glass door, allowing employees to enter the building prior to the store’s opening.

  “Listen here, you disgusting little gold-digging slut,” she growled. “I know all about you and your sleazy Italian boyfriend.”

  I turned and looked at her, wondering what she was talking about.

  She went on, “You think Max won’t find out what you’re up to? You think you can marry into our family?” She stepped closer, putting us two feet apart. The overdose of Coco Chanel nearly made me gag. “I’ll never allow it, you fucking little whore.”

  Involuntarily, I felt my hand ball into a fist and my arm reach out and swing. I landed a punch right on the woman’s nose and felt it crack. She screamed and blood poured from her nostrils as she fell back onto the cement.

  I felt torn between the urge to spit on her and the urge to help her up because this wasn’t me. I didn’t go around hitting people even if they deserved it.

  Callahan must’ve been watching, because he appeared right away. “Go inside,” he commanded.

  My feet wouldn’t move.

  The security guard rushed outside, a
nd several employees, arriving for the day, stopped to see the commotion.

  All the while, Mrs. Cole lay on the sidewalk, groaning.

  “Get some paper towels,” Callahan ordered the security guard, who disappeared inside.

  From the corner of my eye I saw a young woman, a salesclerk I think, calling 9-1-1. Out of nowhere, two paparazzi began taking photos.

  I looked down at Mrs. Cole, and our gazes met for a moment. A flicker of joy sparked in her eyes.

  Fuck. She’d done this on purpose. What had I done?

  Shortly after eight o’clock in the morning, the police arrived to arrest me. Not a surprise. Mrs. Cole had baited me, plain and simple. And what was her endgame?

  Wasn’t sure.

  Maybe she’d hoped I’d go to jail forever or that she’d scare me off from Max. Maybe she wanted to get even for Cole Cosmetics’ demise. Either way, I’d broken her nose, and now I was in some sort of trouble, but her behavior only made me want to marry Max to spite her.

  No. Stop, Lily. Don’t give her any power. I could never allow his mother to influence my actions again or interfere with my feelings for her son. That said, I began to see how easily she poisoned the people around her.

  Monster! I thought as I sat handcuffed to a bench, waiting to get booked. Oh, the press was going to have a field day with this.

  “Mrs. Snow?” I looked up at a tall, older gentleman with thinning gray hair.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Robert Krane—Mr. Cole’s attorney.”

  Crap. Max knew. Not that I’d thought he wouldn’t find out.

  “Is he angry?” I didn’t think Max would be upset because I’d punched his mother, but that I’d allowed her to get under my skin and had gotten myself into a mess when he needed to be focused on his sister.

  “Mr. Cole is unreachable, but your assistant Keri called me. I’m on retainer for LLL and their employees.”

  “I’m not an employee.”

  “Yes. Of course, you’re the owner—that is what I meant.”

  I stared blankly at him. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

  He gave me a strange look. “Are you referring to the part about you being owner of the company?”

  “I don’t own LLL,” I pointed out.

  “I filed the paperwork myself. You’re fifty percent shareholder.”

  “That’s not possible. I never signed anything.”

  His brows shrugged with confusion, but then he put on his poker face. “I suggest you take that up with Mr. Cole.”

  Ohmygod. “You wouldn’t happen to know if I also own part of a small shopping plaza in Santa Barbara, California?”

  With the same no-tell expression, he said, “Once again, I suggest you take that up with Mr. Cole.”

  Dammit. So he’d gone off, made me an equal partner and never said a word.

  “Sadly, no one knows where he is.” Which worried the hell out of me. The last time he’d gone missing, his company had been falling apart. Our relationship soon followed.

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” said Mr. Krane. “In the meantime, let’s work on getting you out of here.”

  It took about six hours for Mr. Krane to get me out on bail. I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Aggravated assault?” I’d asked. “But I only hit her once.”

  “She’s currently in the hospital with a broken nose and a cut on the back of her head.”

  Oops. I guessed she fell. Too bad there hadn’t been a cliff behind her. Evil cow.

  “I’ll be in touch soon with your court dates,” said Mr. Krane. “And the judge gave you permission to leave the state, but don’t go on any trips outside of the US, and expect to be back here in a few weeks.”

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said and marched out of the station, feeling thoroughly deflated.

  Gah. What a mess. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, several paparazzi greeted me, and I had no choice but to let them have their fill. Nowhere to hide. Bastards.

  Callahan appeared, and true to his usual nature, he didn’t show any emotion. “Sorry I’m late—couldn’t find a spot.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, ignoring the two men following us for a half a block. I felt so violently ill, I thought I might fall over right there on the sidewalk. “Please tell me you’ve heard from Max.”

  “No. But are you all right?” Callahan grabbed my arm to steady me as I began tipping over.

  “I think I need to lie down.” I’d call Patricio in a bit and tell him I couldn’t make the brunch on Sunday. He’d have to come up with an excuse, but hopping on a plane to pretend to be his fiancée sounded like the world’s worst idea. I felt sicker than a dog.

  “Can we stop by a pharmacy on the way?” Some antacid sounded really wonderful right about now.

  “Of course.” We walked around the corner to the black town car parked down an alley. Callahan opened the rear passenger door. “And may I say, Miss Snow, that you have a very impressive right hook.” He flashed a quick grin.

  I bobbed my head. “Thanks, Callahan.” She did have it coming.

  On the way to Max’s, I called Keri to check in on things. She’d already moved all of the meetings into the middle of next week. Thank God today was Friday. Next on my list was Patricio, but he beat me to the punch and called first. The moment I answered, all I heard were screams on the other end. “You should not be with that man! His family is like poison, Lily! Poison! I am going to kill him!” His accent was out of control and so was he.

  “Patricio, just calm down.”

  “Calm down-a? Calm down-a? I tell you about calming down-a! I see your video on the Tweeter! I see you being arrested because of that man’s snake of a mother. They are no good for you, Lily!”

  Oh boy. I couldn’t do this right now. “Patricio, I can take care of myself. I only called to let you know that I can’t make it Sunday. Please tell your mother I’m sorry, okay?”

  He began yelling some more, so I simply had to end the call. What a hothead.

  I then texted my brother, telling him I’d been in an altercation and that I needed him to run interference with my parents. If I called them now, I’d have to listen to my mother crying and my father going into a fit.

  Me: tell them I’ll call later, but I’m OK

  John: they’re already shopping for tickets to Chicago

  Me: what?

  John: the arrest & pic of you hitting that bitch was all over social media

  Oh no…

  Me: please call them and talk them out of it

  John: What’s in for me?

  Me: UR such an asshole

  John: what’s new?

  I knew he was joking, sorta, but he had to know I was in a shit heap of trouble.

  Me: this isn’t a game, John. I need you to keep them out of my hair. And I need mom at the store

  Several long moments passed.

  John: okay. I’ll take care of it. Hope you’re alright

  “Miss Snow?” Callahan called out from the front seat. “Would you like me to go inside for you?”

  I looked up from my phone, seeing that we’d parked in front of a pharmacy. “No, thanks. I’m okay.” I slipped out and went inside, seeking out the digestive-assistance aisle. I planned to get one of everything. As I passed by the feminine products, I didn’t think much about it, but then a bad, bad thought slammed right into my brain.

  Wait. I stopped in the middle of the aisle.

  I hadn’t purchased anything of a feminine-product nature since my arrival to Chicago. With a shaky hand, I scrounged through my purse and found my packet of birth control pills. I was halfway through the week—that one with the little brown pills meant to keep you on track while you had your period.

  No. No…not possible. I felt sick because of stress, right? Same as it had been for almost seven months. I’d also been working harder than ever and that did not help matters. Besides, Max and I were…we were… I wanted to tell myself we’d been careful, like I�
��d been with Patricio, but no. No condoms. Because Max hadn’t been with anyone, and I’d been very cautious. So Max and I had relied on my pills. Same as before.

  I hadn’t forgotten to take any, had I?

  I slid the packet of birth control pills from my purse again. Wednesday. I was on Wednesday’s pill. Today was Friday.

  Crap. I felt my blood pressure hit the floor. I’d missed two days, and if those two days were when I’d been with Max—

  Ugh. Stupid, Lily! Stupid, Lily! In my own defense, I’d been taking the pill for years to help with cramping and the usual sorts of unpleasant stuff, so taking my morning dose was something I did on autopilot. I just did it.

  And you forgot.

  My heart pounding, I turned slowly. Right in front of my face was the display of little white sticks in fancy boxes. My trembling hand stretched out, and I felt like I was reaching for a nightmare. A big fat nightmare hiding inside an innocuous little box.

  I grabbed a three-pack and headed for the register.

  The ten-minute drive back to Max’s felt like two seconds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d heard my cell vibrating over and over again. Callahan spoke to me, too, but I couldn’t hear a damned word. The entire world had disappeared around me, leaving only myself and my frantic heart. I sprinted inside Max’s house, through the front door and into the guest bath right off the foyer. I fumbled with the plastic-foil wrapper, tossed the cap on the ground, and did my thing. As I sat there, panting, feeling like I was going to lose my mind, a funny feeling sank in. Why was I panicking? I wasn’t all together ready, but I wasn’t fifteen. And Max would be happy, wouldn’t he? My fear that he’d be a horrible father and mentally wreck our children for not being perfect was idiotic. I saw that now. He wasn’t anything like that woman I’d hit today. He was good. He knew who he was. I had to trust him because if anyone didn’t have their ugly under control it was me, not him.

  I glanced at the stick and felt my innards dissolve.

  Plus sign. “Oh shit.”

  I didn’t know how long I stayed in the bathroom, peeing on the other two sticks, wondering how the hell I’d forgotten to take my pills, but the results did not change.