Billionaire Secrets of a Wanglorious Bastard

by Auld, Alexei

In fact, she claimed we had sex too early in our relationship, and that was what caused a lot of our earlier conflict. She claimed that being sex free put her in a better place now.

  I wondered if she was cheating, but didn't have any proof. Other that the lack of sex, our relationship was in a better place. You’d think that not getting any would make me randier for her.

  Quite the opposite.

  Our sex life before she started abstaining was so bad that it made me long for the days of masturbation.

  No exaggeration.

  She blamed that on our having sex too early as well. She said we didn't know one another for who we were, as our passion blinded us. Still, she was my first, so I had no point of comparison, other than porn. And I was fully aware that porn was fantasy.

  Still, I wondered. And there's nothing wrong with wondering, right? My father would tell me that looking wasn't doing. Thinking wasn't cheating. Flirting was innocent until you did something. I did wonder if Rhage's sex abstention was some passive-aggressive way of breaking up with me, which is funny in and of itself, because in the old days of our relationship, Rhage was anything but passive in her non-sexual aggression. We'd kiss, hug, spoon, but that was it. Soon as I grabbed a tit, she'd smack my hand, and I'd feel all rapey, so I'd stop. When I went for her butt or goodies, she'd get up, leave the room, and cry about how I didn't love her for her and how she wished that we waited.

  Totally killed the mood and made me feel like shit.

  Anyhoo, that's enough about that, because I'm depressing myself.

  Rhage was splashing paint on a floor-sized canvas. I had to take off my shoes and pants to not get any on me. Kind of reminded me of when we'd first hook up. I'd carefully take off my clothes and gingerly drape them over a chair. I had put them on a coat hanger, but Rhage said I was being a prissy boy. She just didn't understand. I was from the South. And in the South, we take things like ironing and wrinkles seriously. Not like her. She'd wear clothes all wrinkled. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw how Rhage dressed.

  After a few tiptoes around her splatter, I slipped and landed right on my butt. Paint splashed everywhere. I felt so humiliated. I couldn't get up without pushing myself up off the canvas. And that meant I'd have to splatter more paint with my palms. What the hell was Rhage doing? I needed help.

  “Don't move, Rufus.”

  Right. She was going to help me. I should've have been so quick to judge. I smiled.

  And she took a selfie with me in the background.

  She said, “It's art, baby. It's art.”

  “I said give it to me.”

  She smiled. “You know, I'm proud of you.”

  It stopped me in my paint-stained tracks.

  “Really?”

  She slowly made her way to me, all cautiously, like she didn't know what I was going to do.

  I said, “You're gonna play Twister with me?”

  She twisted behind me and rubbed my shoulders. She never was good at massages.

  “Yeah. I'm proud of you.”

  “For what?”

  “You're living your dream as a fancy lawyer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Woot woot.”

  “And I'm living mine as a noble artist”

  That's right. This was all about her. Again.

  She stopped massaging. “We're a perfect match.”

  I shrugged her away. “I don't know how much longer I can take this job.”

  “But it's your first day.”

  “I know, but maybe it's not right, you know? Maybe I should've done—”

  “Look. I don't want to hear any of that kind of talk, okay?” She put her hands in mine. “It'll be hard, but it'll be worth it.”

  I pulled away. “I don't know.”

  She grabbed my hands again. “Yes you do. You can't give up. Not after just one day. It'll get better. Trust me.”

  She kissed my hands.

  I didn't know why. I was too tired. “Okay. Could you wear headphones so I can fall asleep?”

  “Can't you wear earplugs?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Baby. I'm in a groove. I can't stop now.”

  “Well—”

  “It's my muse, baby. I can't control when it's on or when it's off. But I have to follow it when it's on. Understand?”

  I used to in a former life. But that was dead and I was here. Did that make me a zombie? Or just a dumbass? I nodded.

  She pinched my cheek. “Solid.”

  She rolled out to paint while I schlumped to the shower.

  13

  COFFEE WAS MY muse in the morning. Same old shop.

  Tully said, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  I thought he meant me, until I saw the chocolate milk spiller. With bed head and wrinkled shirt.

  Impure thoughts ran through my head about me and her wrinkling the bedsheets with my man milk.

  Then I thought about Rhage and not turning into my grandpa, and took a deep breath. And chilled. My horniness soon would pass. Coffee, Rufus. Focus on the coffee.

  She sneered. “Tully.”

  Tully rushed to her. “Where are my manners? What would you like, sir? A toasted bran muffin? Cappuccino? Or maybe a cafe latte?”

  She made eye contact with me. And grabbed a coffee pot. She turned to Tully. “I'll be back.”

  Tully said, “Sif, I don't want no trouble today, a-ight?”

  Sif? That was her name? Like the goddess in Thor? Buxom. Fierce.

  Focus, Rufus. Remember Rhage and what you don't want to be.

  I looked away and felt something.

  It was her with pot extended.

  “Excuse me. Would you like a refill?”

  “On my shirt?” Why had I said that? Must be my grandpa coming out.

  She turned her head. And looked so cute. Like a busted bad little kid. Maybe she was a little sensitive. I decided to let her off easy.

  “Okay.”

  She smiled, and the deepest dimples cratered in her soft cheeks as she refilled my cup. My cup. I had to stop looking at her. It just wasn't right. So I stared at the cup.

  She said, “I've got your money.”

  My money? “For what?”

  “The shirt.”

  “I was just joking. You don't have to.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  What was I to do? I hadn't been paid yet, and Rhage had ruined my pants with all of that floor painting. I said, “Fine.”

  Sif handed me a wad of hundreds.

  Did you read that?

  A wad of hundreds.

  What kind of waitress was this? Tips must've really been good.

  Tully snapped his fingers.

  “Yo, coffee lady! Can I get my pot back?”

  Sif didn't break her gaze. I felt awkward, so I dramatically gestured at my watch and stood up. “Sorry. I have to go to work.”

  Her eyes fluttered, like she was waking from a daze. “So do I. Sorry for holding you up.”

  As I was walking away, I said, “You too.”

  And felt like an idiot. “You too”? What kind of lame exit was that?

  14

  I COULDN'T FIND Britney in her office. Instead, something with bigger hair piling on eye shadow in a hand mirror beckoned me to enter.

  “What can I do you for?”

  I said, “I'm looking for Britney.”

  “She don't work here no more.”

  I stepped outside the office, saw a placard that read “KRYSTAL FUCCBOI” and felt like a dumbass.

  Krystal said, “You're new, ain't ya?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You should be down the hall where the mailroom assignments are—”

  “I'm not a mailroom worker.”

  “Oh. Well, the paralegal office is—”

  “I'm not a paralegal. I'm a lawyer.”

  She never broke her makeup routine. “Look, why don't you get breakfast and we'll conversate when I get orientated.”

  “But I already—”


  “Eat. Get a bagel. Get some coffee. Do somethin'! I'll see you in the cafeteria.”

  15

  THERE WASN'T ANYTHING special about the cafeteria compare with any other I'd seen. Other than the gaggle of lawyers populating every seat, except one across from two painfully sloppy guys. I'm talking about food stains on ties, iron burns on shirts and pants, and a rank odor rivaling an Orc's bunghole after a feeding frenzy. But who was I to judge? I was sloppy yesterday.

  Guess someone else would have to find that out, because I sat across from a cute girl with freckles. Reminded me of Pippi Longstocking. The porno version.

  “Hello. My name is Rufus. I'm a summer associate.” I half expected her to sneer or roll her eyes.

  “Nice to meet you.” She offered the friendliest wave. It made me feel warm. Comfy. Relaxed.

  I exhaled. “Glad to see someone normal. I didn't think there were any here. Not to be all judgy wudgy and all.”

  She giggled.

  “I almost sat to those guys over there.” I gestured to the smelly dudes.

  She rolled her eyes. “Irwin and Harv.”

  “They look like speed-dating serial killers.”

  She covered her mouth. “You are so naughty. No, they aren't. They're married.” She said it like it was a bad thing.

  “What's wrong with that?”

  “They always flash their wedding rings. Talking about how happily married they are.”

  “Oh, I get it. It's like when you meet a woman and the first thing that pops out of her mouth is 'I have a boyfriend,' and then she does nothing but connect her boyfriend to every topic of conversation. 'My boyfriend likes that, too.' 'Ooh, my boyfriend and I were canoodling.' 'In between spooning, my boyfriend and I’—”

  She convulsed with laughter.

  I said, “It's like some defense mechanism offensive. As if you're trying to kick it to them—”

  “When you're not?”

  I nodded. She stuck out an open hand.

  I said, “Testify.”

  She shot up out of her seat. “Whoa. Look at the time. I gotta go. Sorry.”

  I said, “No worries.”

  She smiled. “Well, Rufus. I am so glad you are here.”

  I returned her smile. “Me too.”

  She said, “I'll see you around.”

  “Sure.”

  As she walked away, other people leaving the cafeteria gave me the weirdest looks. Probably just jealous. I mean, she was talking to me. And was having a great time with me, the Wanglorious Bastard.

  Tani walked right in, oblivious to the world, and took a seat across from me. “How's the second day, Rufus?”

  “People are weird, man.”

  Tani opened his milk carton. “What happened?”

  I said, “Looking at me all weird and shit. Just because I was chilling with a girl.”

  “Which girl?” He took a swig.

  “Redhead. Kind of like the adult film star version of Charlie Brown's Little Redheaded Girl. But there wasn't nothing little about her, I'll tell you that much.”

  He choked on his milk.

  “You okay, Tani?”

  He clawed at his neck.

  I didn't know what to do. Redhead came back in. “I forgot to tell you—”

  She saw Tani writhing on the ground. “Oh my God. I know CPR.”

  As she bent down to help, he flopped away from her, like a fish out of water escaping a grizzly bear. A hot, redheaded grizzly bear.

  He popped up. “I'm fine.” And ran out of the cafeteria.

  She turned to me and said, “Name's Natasha.”

  The name was so familiar. “Natasha?”

  “Yeah. Wanna meet up after work?”

  Then it hit me. The black widow. Career suicide girl. I flashed the fakest grin ever. “I would so love to do that, but my girlfriend and I are meeting up.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  Now I was backing away from her. “Wife, actually. Virtually.” I flashed my bare hand. “Forgot my ring at home. Sorry.”

  I got out of that fucker with an unnatural quickness. Krystal be damned. I had to skedaddle.

  16

  I WENT BY Krystal's office. She wasn't in. I didn't know if I should wait outside it or wait outside the cafeteria. If I went back to the cafeteria, Natasha might be there. Or they might think I was looking for her instead of Krystal. People walking down the hallway kept on handling me packages. I didn't even know where the mailroom was. And if I did, there would be no way I'd get it for them. I mean, no disrespect to mailroom dudes and all, but I was a lawyer, assuming I passed the bar, which meant I was a law clerk. Still, I was a law clerk and I was not about to play into someone's misconceptions of race and law firms. So I did the next best thing.

  I went back to my office and sat at my desk.

  Bored out of my mind. I had a computer with internet access, but knew from my Employment Law class that there was no expectation of privacy at work. The firm would see any web surfing. I couldn't make a phone call, because they might have people listening in to make sure I wasn't dealing company secrets. My own cell phone wouldn't help because I couldn't pick up a signal. I feel like I was in some pre-apocalyptic, internet-free hell. I always wondered what people at work did before the internet. Stare at the wall? Roam the halls? I couldn't do either, because I didn't know if Krystal would be coming by. I was falling asleep until someone knocked at the door.

  It was Stack. In front of some woman who looked like she did sexy lawyer cosplay. Seriously. She wore a blazer that was two sizes too tight, with incredibly inspirational titty cleavage bursting from a silk shirt unbuttoned to her belly button, which was pierced, by the way. Her hair was wet. Oh, and she wore thick librarian glasses.

  She seemed like she was in her forties, but man, she was stacked. Really filled out. I closed my eyes and remembered I was taken. I couldn't remember who I was taken with, but knew it was someone.

  Rain? No, Rhage. Right. Rhage. Whew. I felt like they turned the temperature up in my office. And my lips felt dry, so I licked them.

  Stack said, “Our newest partner, Ms. Rita Rococo.”

  OMG, she even had a stripper name. And those stilettos, toned, bare-skinned legs, and miniskirt? Was she wearing anything underneath?

  Partner my foot. This had to be a joke. Ha ha. This week on Punk'd 3.0, he's wack in the sack, with skills that can't pay the bills. Rufus Wang, everybody. Spitting image of his mackadocious granddad with none of the game. The reason why cloning won't work.

  Soon as I came back to reality, I saw her slinking in closer to me.

  Zoinks.

  Stack said, “She brings us a lot of billable work.”

  I didn't have to wonder how. If she was that hot and a partner, she had to be brilliant. And if she had clients, that meant she had a lot of personality, too. The total package. Speaking of packages, I was at half-mast. I had to take a deep, flaccidating, calming breath before standing up to shake her hand.

  I needed to kill time. “It's so hot in here, I'm almost stuck to my seat.” I made a mistake by looking at those gams. I needed more time to deflate. I raised my finger and bit my bottom lip. “My phone is ringing.”

  Stack said, “I didn't hear it.”

  “It's on vibrate.” I put it to my ear and faked a call. “Rufus Wang here.” A dramatic pause. “Really?” A furrowed brow. “That doesn't sound good at all.” I mouthed “sorry” to Rita and Stack. “You're good. No, you are. It's just one of those things life brings.” Now I was fully aired out. “Look, you'll be fine. Trust me, okay? Great. Talk to you later.” I closed my phone. “Sorry for my rudeness, but my friend was having an incident.”

  Stack said, “What kind?”

  What kind? “I wish I could tell you, but it's a private matter.” Smooth move, Rufus. “Now, where was I?” I stood up and extended my hand. “The name's Wang. Rufus Wang.” I needed to make a joke. “Shaken, but not stirred.”

  She eyed me like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Then she r
apturously stroked my hand with both of hers while ogling me. She had my hand in a vise grip, so I couldn't pull away. Then she felt up my arm from the wrist to elbow and grinned. “My clients are going to love you.”

  Her clients? What did my arms have to do with anything?

  Stack licked his lips and placed a gentle hand on Rita's shoulder. “Let's go.”

  And so they did.

  Before I could truly process what had happened, Tani came in. At least, his body did. His eyes were still fixated on Rita.

  “She's one bad mamma jamma.”

  Maybe with this Rita Rococo, Stack would forget all about my interaction with Natasha? Or was this new partner purely platonic and Stack would still be gunning for me?

  I needed some air. I was a taken man. Sure, Rhage and I weren't really hitting it off, but I respected her enough to just look and wonder.

  I couldn't help it. My grandfather in Jamaica had multiple mistresses. He'd build a house for each one, so he'd know where they were when he wanted some nookie. Everyone told me I looked just like him, especially since I didn't look like anybody else, which was why the mailroom confusion bothered me. Folks said I should've been named “Stranger” or “Mailman,” since I didn't look like my father. My father didn't look much like my grandfather, either. Which was more salt in the wound, since I was a throwback to a guy who looked like an Asian James Bond. I even got teased when going back home about how many girlfriends I had or women watching themselves around me. That was probably why my mother worked so hard to make me a nerd. So I wouldn't turn into my grandfather.

  But would her programming work? Or would my genes override her efforts? I didn’t think my father cheated on my mother, but he was the only one who allegedly didn't amongst his twelve brothers. I always wondered if that was a lie. I'd see him look at women. He'd say, “Just coz I'm married doesn't mean I'm dead,” which was what his father used to say. Jimmy Carter said if he felt lust in his heart, that was just as bad as actually cheating, but I never bought that line.

  Look, all I know is Rhage was my first. And losing my virginity didn't blow my mind like the movies suggested it would. No fireworks, no losing my soul like Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, no fiending. Life just went on.