by Adair Rymer
I never thought I would miss bad jokes.
The other reason I had to stop driving myself was because I needed the time to pore over data and reports and to prepare for endless meetings. It was a heavy burden knowing that so many people were counting on me for their livelihood.
I had delegated most of the CEO stuff to those I trusted so I could focus on getting the charity organization off the ground.
I thought about Claire's father. Hal's words had been lodged in my head whenever I worked on the foundation. He said, Actions are all that matter. I didn't give that much thought until Bianca was fired. I almost gave up on the foundation on a whole because of the work that was involved.
I never wanted to be in charge of anything. Every day was a struggle but if there was one good thing that came out of taking over it was that burying myself in work got my mind off of Claire.
When the fuck had my life become so complicated?
“Madam appears to be in fine spirits, Sir.” For as much as Christian protested about these trips, he understood what I was going through and genuinely wanted to help me.
My father was a good man, but he was terminally busy trying to make the world a better place. I wasted the fleeting time I had with them. They died before I got the chance to ask them so much.
What would they have thought of Claire?
“Christian,” I tapped the speaker button. I was hesitant to continue but Christian was my father's chauffeur and trusted confidant. I knew I could trust him. That was why I sent him to pick Claire up the night of my holiday party. “What was your impression of Claire?”
“I only met her the once, Sir. It would be unmannerly for me to offer a judgment.”
I chuckled with a bit of exasperation. I should've known better. Christian was ever the professional. He would occasionally council me against things for the sake of keeping a schedule, but never shared his personal opinions about the way I lived my life.
“If I may, Sir?” He added.
“By all means.” I perked up.
“Considering your usual affinities, I do believe your parents would have liked Claire. They probably would have acknowledged and agreed with your deviation toward betterment as well.”
The intercom clicked off. Christian spoke softly and thoughtfully. That was all he was going to say and that was all he needed to say. I would never be certain where he stood, but I could take solace in his words.
I would've loved if they'd had the chance to meet her.
My phone rang in its charging dock a few minutes later. I checked my watch— ten minutes to five. The meeting was just about to start. I grabbed my laptop and logged into the network. My phone rang as I gathered a few notes I'd made earlier.
“Answer. Speaker phone,” I said, accepting the call. Usually one of my vice presidents would brief me on the highlights just prior to the meeting. “Hello?”
“Hey there, Mayday.” Anthony's voice made my knuckles tighten.
“What do you want?” I slid the laptop on one of the side seats. I hadn't spoken to him since accepting the CEO position. Between our meeting at his office and him not letting me know that the Board was planning to replace Bianca, he was the last person I expected to hear from.
“Listen, man. First and foremost I want to apologize. I was little fucked up when you and your girl came to visit and I said some shit that was out of line.” Anthony sounded remorseful. “I've done a lot of soul searching in the past few months and I realized just how much of a prick I've been to you.”
I took a few moments to wrap my head around what he was saying. In all the years I'd known Anthony I'd never heard him apologize for anything. What was his game here?
“Yeah? You also didn't tell me about what the Board was planning to do to Bianca.” Sorry or not, I wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. I was still pissed.
“I didn't know anything about that! I'm just a shareholder; I'm not on the Board. They might have emailed me something but you know I've always been terrible about checking that.”
I didn't reply. I was gauging the sound and inflection of his voice to see whether I trusted him or not.
“You know there wouldn't have been anything you or she could've done to stop it, even with advanced notice.” Anthony continued. “What could I possibly gain by keeping that from you?”
“Bianca wouldn't sell you our Chicago properties.” I was trying to think pragmatically, like my sister. “Now she's out of the equation.”
“C'mon, man. I know there's no way that you're going to sell anything to me after everything that's happened. I take all that stuff I was saying back, I was out of my mind. I've been clean ever since, minus a drink here and there.” Anthony sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “My twenties are over, it's time I get serious. I want to make my father proud and do right by him.”
I never liked Anthony's father. The few times I met him he came off like a vindictive asshole. He was one of those guys that claimed everyone was either holding him back or trying to screw him over. If our fathers hadn't gone to college together I doubted they'd have been friends.
Anthony's father died a few years back from an aggressive form of cancer. I didn't have to like the man to understand the powerful emotion behind earning your parents' respect, especially after they died. It was a very familiar pain for me.
“Alright, you've said your piece.” I'd have to think on his words before I even thought about forgiving him. This whole display was weird, I needed time to process it. Still, it was a shame that only two recent experiences destroyed a friendship that was over a decade old. “Is that it?”
“Not exactly.”
Ah, here it comes. I fucking knew he had an ulterior motive for calling. I was an idiot to think Anthony had changed.
“It's my birthday. I'm officially an adult today. Can you believe that shit?”
Really? I checked the date on my laptop to be sure. It was March eighteenth alright. He wasn't joking about his twenties being over. Despite being mad at him, I felt bad for forgetting. Thirty years old was a big milestone. “Happy birthday. You doing anything for it?”
“That's why I called. I'm having a small get together at Valley Chez tonight. ”
“I don't know, man. I've fallen out of the rowdy party scene and I've got a ton of work to do.” I really didn't want to go. I was still way too fucked up on Claire to enjoy myself.
“Are you shitting me, Mayday? I turn thirty tonight. I need my best friend there to usher me into the next decade.” Anthony was insistent. “Don't make an old bastard beg.”
I knew it was a bad idea. I was trying to stay away from my old habits not just because of Claire but also because I was going for more of a positive public image these days.
“I'm sorry to hear about you and your girl splitting by the way. She seemed like a good girl.” Anthony's voice lowered.
“How'd you hear about that?” I asked, skeptically. Sure, that was two months ago, but it hadn't leaked to the media yet and I wasn't exactly the over-sharing type.
“I was chatting up your assistant at the last shareholders' meeting and she spilled the news. You really should go to those meetings more often.”
I hadn't expressly told Janet what happened, but she helped me organize all the events I took Claire to. With the sudden lack of date night plans being made, I'm sure she figured it out pretty quick.
As far as the shareholder meetings went, I'd rather swallow broken glass than attend those. They weren't worse than any of the other hundred fucking meetings I did in a day, but I wasn't obligated to go to those, so I didn't. When I took this position, I didn’t realize how much of it was just talking to people. I made it a point to go to the bare minimum of meetings so I could actually get work done.
“I understand if you're not up for it, but if you feel like swinging by for one drink, we'll be there around eleven.” I could hear Ant shrugging, he knew I wasn't going to commit.
My laptop lit up as one of my VPs saw th
at I was online and tried to add me to the group.
“A thing just started. I have to let you go.” I paused, then reluctantly added, “But I'll keep the party in mind.”
Chapter 10
Maynard
Fuck Fridays.
Since Claire left they were always the worst. We did a lot together most days but it was Fridays that I pulled out all the stops. She didn't have class the following day so we could sleep in and be lazy. And Sundays she dedicated to homework and her part time job.
I looked over a small mountain of financial printouts. There never seemed to be an end to it. How in the hell did Bianca deal with all this? The sooner I could get her back in as CEO the better.
Getting a hold of Bianca had been like pulling crocodile teeth. She still wouldn't talk to me directly, but I was finally able to schedule an appointment with her through her assistant. It wasn't much but it was a start. The hard part would be convincing Bianca that I wasn't that same selfish, flippant asshole that I had been for the last fifteen years.
How could I convince her that I'd really changed?
“That's it, I'm done looking at this shit for one night.” I pushed myself away from the table. My eyes were beginning to cross from staring at numbers and reports all day. That was the other thing about being a CEO that I couldn't stand. If I wasn't in a goddamn meeting I was reviewing other people's work.
If I was honest with myself, I would recognize that I didn't have to drown myself in all this bullshit to the degree that I had been. I was punishing myself for Claire. If I stayed busy I could keep her out of my mind.
I checked my watch: it was nearly eleven. I needed to get out of my apartment. I was becoming a social recluse. I had every reason to go to my friend's thirtieth birthday party.
My gut told me that this was a terrible idea, but why did that matter? I splashed some water over my face in the bathroom. I felt older. My blue eyes looked a little dimmer than they had a few months earlier.
Was that even possible?
“One drink.” I warned my reflection in a stern tone. I chuckled realizing how absurd it was to be talking to myself. The familiar mischievous face in the mirror replied, “How much trouble can you really get in?”
That was a dangerous question.
It was half past eleven when I walked past a hideously long line that led to the Valley Chez. I was quickly allowed in with barely a nod. Everyone knew that I was still the prodigal son of NYC. No hotspot in the city had its doors locked to me. It made me feel like the old me again.
Music and neon pummeled my chest just like I remembered. Ant and I used to come here back in its heyday when this was the place for NYC elite. The three-story bar and dance hall had some updated flourishes, but I still knew the place like the back of my hand.
I used to love this place because of its open glass floor design and its offshoot private rooms. While dancing at the top level, I could see all the way down to the first floor entrance. After tearing it up, I used to take a few girls into one of the private rooms and make the party more intimate.
The place was massive: five elevator pillars ringed each level of the dance hall column in the center. Each floor had a bold hedonistic theme that got more intense as you went higher in the building. I stepped into the correct elevator and told the lift operator to take me to the top floor. I hadn't spoken with him before swinging by, but I just knew that's where Ant would be.
It was only after he recognized me that the operator complied with my request. Each level had an additional layer of exclusivity. Very few people were allowed to the top. The glass floor was tinted in a way that you could only see through it if you were looking down. Anyone looking up would see only their reflection; it was designed after the two-way glass in interrogation rooms.
The first floor was called Play, it was set up like most other clubs. There was at least one DJ, pulsing cascades of refracted lights and usually bubbles or confetti that rained down over people. It was the loudest, sweatiest, hottest room in the building and it always had the most people.
The second floor was called Domination. Every night there was a different fetish and they were always wild. They had everything from transvestites and bondage to amputee worship and people that dress up in furry costumes. You really had to know what you were getting into before you stepped foot on that floor.
The last floor went unnamed. It was only rented out to one party a night and was whatever fantasy you wanted it to be. When the elevator doors opened I was greeted by two scantily-clad blond women. They wore nearly see through sheer red lingerie. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what Ant's fantasy was.
My parties were always known for their diversity and extravagance, whereas Ant typically went with a very specialized theme and pushed it to its extreme. He was very meticulous with the details. Not every woman was wearing lingerie; some of them went topless, and others wore outfits you'd expect to see in overly produced porn films. Most of them had the college-girl-gone-wild vibe to them.
“Maynard!” Ant shouted from halfway across the floor. The music wasn't nearly as loud here as it was on the other two levels. Ant wore a crushed red velvet robe and dark slacks, it was reminiscent of what Hugh Hefner used to wear. “You made it!”
“You don't hit this milestone too often,” I smiled faintly and took a glass of champagne off the tray of a server dressed like a Playboy bunny. I was right, Ant was going for the dated Playboy theme.
“Cheers.” I held up the glass to him as he came over. He clinked my glass and we both took a sip. One drink, I reminded myself.
I had decided to stay until midnight then head out. Women and drugs were everywhere. This was exactly the kind of party I used to love, but for some reason I couldn't get into the scene. I'd been to so many functions to know when something felt off. There was an uncomfortable vibe in the air.
I was over-thinking things. There was nothing wrong with the atmosphere. I was just much more sober now than I was whenever I came to these things in the past. I forced myself to relax and enjoy the time away from my apartment.
A gigantic six-foot tall cake had been pushed into the center of the room. There were a dozen or so lit candles around each of the seven layers. The design was intricate and beautiful, but it had to have been fake. It was just too damn big not to be.
The lights dimmed and all fifty or sixty guests gathered in the main room for the happy birthday song. When the song ended the top of the cake crumbled away and the stripper burst out and repeated the last chorus.
I was partly wrong about the cake. It wasn't fake, at least not completely. I'd seen this gag done before but never this messy. The woman stepped through the front of the giant pastry, she was completely nude and covered in cake and frosting.
Ant quickly dropped to his knees and began eating and licking the dessert from the stripper’s pussy. I took a step back as other guests began joining in on the feast. The human pastry platter giggled as she embraced the groping hands and hungry mouths. I could only imagine how much she'd have been paid for this.
Not everyone joined in of course. Others, like myself, stood back and watched the spectacle instead. Ant beckoned me to jump in but I politely waved him off. I didn't mind the display, I just wasn't hungry for anything they were offering.
Eventually Ant broke away from the ravenous pack and walked back toward me. He peeled off his robe which was covered in the multicolored sugary confection and left it on the floor.
“Let's have a drink in private and catch up.” Ant patted me on the back then raised a hand toward another serving bunny. She quickly came over with a towel and a fresh robe. He cleaned himself then held his arms out. She slipped it on to him. “Don't look at me like that!”
I shrugged in response, not bothering to disguise the disappointment in my look. Anthony was high on something, probably coke. So much for being clean.
“Hey, man. It's my last hurrah, the dying fuck of my twenties!” Anthony yelled and everyone in earshot cheered.
Then he turned back to me expectantly. “Cut me some slack.”
Who was I to judge? I'd never been a fucking role model and it was his birthday after all...
“You have any goals now that you're taking things more seriously?” I changed the subject.
“Yes, actually.” Ant looked at me, smiling. He pulled back the heavy curtain cloth that separated the plush, private alcove from the main chamber. “My father had a dying request. I plan on seeing that honored.”
Inside was a semicircle couch, a coffee table that held candies, a covered fruit platter and a bucket of iced champagne. Above that, on the opposite wall was a massive, curved wall-monitor that oscillated between the live camera feeds of each level's dance hall. It was a very voyeuristic experience.
“What was the request?” I asked, sitting down opposite him.
“Hold on a sec,” Ant riffled through the chilled bottles on the table and frowned. “I gotta grab us something less romantic. You want a beer?”
“Sure,” I said. I'd have turned him down, but I wanted to know what his dad asked of him. How had he not told me about this until now?
Ant nodded then disappeared behind the curtain.
It was wild being back here after so long. I had toyed with the idea of bringing Claire here while we were together but had ultimately decided against it. I wanted to build new experiences with her, not take her through my greatest hits.
Another big part of it was that I had outgrown this scene. Claire had shown me how to enjoy simple experiences and make the most of every moment. I didn't feel like I had to constantly one-up myself anymore with extreme stunts and crazier orgies. There was a charm in not blurring through every situation at breakneck speeds.
Through the monitor, I saw one of the hottest Hollywood actors get pinned to the wall by two girls; they took turns blowing him. Part of me avoided these parties because I thought I’d fall right back into my old lifestyle, but seeing it firsthand made me realize just how little I missed it.
