by Nikki Chase
“Yeah.”
“Okay, Megan, this is a big opportunity for you. You’re going to get rewarded, of course. You’ll get a lot of money—and fame, if that’s what you want. And we’ll take care of every little detail, so you won’t have to worry about anything. There will be an end to this arrangement, of course, and you’ll be able to go back to your old life once it’s over, only you’ll be a lot richer.”
Damn, Eliza knows how to spin it.
“How much money are we talking about?” Megan asks, going directly to the heart of the matter.
Eliza glances at me, asking me to jump in for the negotiating bit, now that the convincing bit has been taken care of.
“How long will we need to stay married?” I ask.
“A year or two, until this whole thing dies down,” Eliza says.
“Two hundred thousand dollars a year,” I bid.
Megan’ eyes widen, which is exactly the effect I was hoping for.
I know she only makes about a quarter that amount as my personal assistant. I could’ve started lower and Megan would probably still take it, but I’m not in the mood to bargain. I just want to wrap this up and give her enough incentive to commit to the plan.
I want her to live with me, come out with me to public events, spend time in public with me and Penny, and forgo all other employment opportunities during the term of the contract. Oh, and she’s not allowed to talk to anyone about this arrangement.
It’ll be a full-time job, and nobody else can do it but her. I don’t think I’d be overpaying her.
“I’ll have to think about it,” she says.
“Okay.” It’s a big decision to make and I understand if she needs time, but it makes me want her even more, knowing she’s not just going to take it right away.
If I’m being honest, Megan is one big incentive for me to agree to this insane plan.
I’ve always wanted her, ever since she came into my office to introduce herself in her tight pencil skirt that accentuated her curves.
I’ve just been staying away because it wouldn’t be professional. I was also worried about whether having a romantic partner would hurt my relationship with Penny or indirectly affect my custody arrangement.
But now that everything’s turned upside down, getting closer to Megan suddenly becomes the key to both saving my reputation and keeping custody of my daughter.
One or two years is a long time for a woman to live under my roof to not end up in my bed a few times, especially if she’s not allowed to see any other man.
I like the idea of keeping her for myself.
Megan
I sit at the small plywood desk in my bedroom and finger the USB stick in my hand, rubbing the smooth, cool metal over and over again. It gives me some comfort, some kind of reassurance. It’s a reminder of my original mission.
I’ve been secretly downloading Mr. Hunter’s files, stealing time here and there while I’m at work. I bring it home every night, combing through the files, looking for something I can use against him.
Then, I send everything in an email to Michelle, my editor at The Goss. Yes, that’s right. It’s one of the three biggest gossip tabloids in the country.
I don’t personally follow celebrity gossip. I’m more interested in writing serious news articles. But The Goss is a big magazine, and having it on my resumé would no doubt open doors for me and expand my network—contacts are essential for a reporter.
So I interned there last summer, and I actually came up with the idea about going undercover at the time. Michelle has promised to run my story if I manage to find anything good.
I want answers.
I want to know why Ethan Hunter does what he does, knowing how it affects people. He’s been denying the allegations for years, even though at this point, it’s public knowledge that Ethan Hunter uses his power and wealth to force people to bend to his will.
It will make a good story. Good enough to get me recognized by some of the biggest news outlets out there.
I may not have the right education and I may not have the right experience. But the right story can give me the big break that I need for my journalism career.
Honestly, I think that Melanie woman was pretty bad-ass, asking such strong questions without backing down, even when faced by two intimidating people—Ethan Hunter and Eliza.
I need to learn to be more like her. But she has a couple of decades on me. I’m sure, given time, I can get there.
But even someone like Melanie faces some limitations, just because she’s standing on the outside. I can dig up more dirt on Mr. Hunter as an insider.
That’s why I took the personal assistant job.
I can get real close to Ethan Hunter, and it pays way more than my waitressing job. As much as I like writing, the jobs in my field that actually pay with money (instead of “exposure”) are few and far between. I could use the money from the personal assistant job to support myself for now. One day, when I finally make it as a (paid) journalist, maybe I’ll be able to support my mom as well.
Maybe I’m using Ethan Hunter, but it’s only fair, after what he’s done to my family.
“Hey, what you up to?” Kira asks as she opens my bedroom door—without knocking, as usual.
She’s wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a skin-tight top stained with sweat. Her honey-brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, with a few strands along her hairline sticking to her forehead.
Kira’s a bit of a yoga junkie, always doing weird poses in the middle of the living room. It keeps her in great shape, though. And she’s so flexible. Once, I saw her body bent in two, with her lips practically kissing her knees.
“The usual.” I bite my lips as I stare at the screen of my laptop.
“Ah, spying on your boss, I see.”
“He’s not my boss. I’m undercover. So he’s not my real boss.”
“His name is on your pay checks, which you use to pay the rent. So I’m going to keep calling him your boss,” Kira says.
I give her a look, then sigh and remain quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Kira asks. “You don’t usually roll over and take it when I tease you about your boss.”
Kira’s my roommate and my best friend. And she’s the only one who knows what I’m really up to. To everyone else, I’m just another boring personal assistant.
“Something really weird happened today,” I say.
Before I walked out of Mr. Hunter’s office, both Lana and Eliza told me to never tell a soul about what had happened. But I can’t just keep it inside me. I’m already hiding too many secrets as it is.
“Sounds intriguing.” Kira takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “Tell me all about it.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start from the beginning.”
I roll my eyes. I have no idea which moment began the whole train of crazy today.
“Come on. Tell me.” Kira grabs my arm and playfully pull on it.
“Okay. So, you know how my boss is a ruthless, heartless monster?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I start to tell Kira the story, beginning from when Mr. Hunter told me to pick up her daughter, to the six-figure offer that he gave me before the end of the day.
Kira gets more and more interested as the story unfolds. By the end, her eyes have grown as big as saucers.
“Two-hundred thousand dollars? Per year? For two years?” Kira asks, disbelief written all over her face.
“For one or two years,” I correct her.
“Well, I mean, still. Oh my god, Megan. That’s a buttload of money. You’re going to be rich. And famous. Let me visit your mansion sometimes, okay? Remember me, your friend who has always been there for you, even when you were broke.”
“Don’t be silly, Kira. I’m not even supposed to tell people about it. Besides, it’s his mansion. It won’t be my mansion.”
“You’re not supposed to tell people about it now. And you’re not supposed to tell anyone
that it’s fake. But as soon as it goes public, you can totally tell everyone you’re married and throw crazy parties at his mansion. It’ll be like the new Playboy Mansion.”
I laugh. “Yeah, well, who knows? It’s a crazy plan. I don’t think they’re actually going to do it.”
“It sounds crazy to you,” Kira says. “But you’re not a billionaire. Mega-rich people are nuts. Let me educate you in the ways of billionaires. They don’t have money problems, right? But everybody who’s alive in this world has problems, right? What kind of problems do you think rich people have, then?”
I stare flatly at Kira. I’m not in the mood for a guessing game. Not when I’m exhausted and stressed out after an unusually long and crazy day.
“Oh, you’re no fun tonight!” Kira exclaims. In a lower voice, she says, “They have problems with lawsuits and bad publicity.”
“You mean, exactly the problems that Mr. Hunter is having?”
“Yeah. And you, my friend, are the answer to all of his problems. It may seem weird to you. But just think about this. If you were able to do something and solve all your problems at once, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Exactly.”
“And how do you know all these things?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Kira.
“I watch a lot of celebrity news when I’m doing yoga.”
“I thought yoga was supposed to make you zen. Celebrity news doesn’t sound very zen,” I say.
“Just trust me.”
I let Kira’s words sink in. She’s right. I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.
I couldn’t believe they’d spend six figures a year just to have me pretend to be Mr. Hunter’s wife. They even told me I wouldn’t have to work and I could spend most of my time shopping on Mr. Hunter’s credit cards if I wanted to.
I got suspicious. It didn’t make any sense at all, in my mind.
But if it’s not about the money, but rather about problem-solving…
“Kira, you’re a genius,” I say.
“I know. So you’re going to do it, or what?”
“If I do it, I could get inside his house and gain access to his private information. I could find some proof. I haven’t been able to find anything useful at the office. It’s possible he’s hiding everything at home,” I muse to myself.
“Wow. Two-hundred thousand dollars a year, and all you can think of is gathering some stupid intel, which may not even exist. Why do you want to be a journalist so badly anyway? Journalists get paid peanuts. Newspapers are closing down, left and right. The media industry is monopolized by a handful of big corporations. There’s no job security in it, Megan. If I were you, I’d work on becoming the real Mrs. Hunter.”
“Thank you for the pep talk, Kira. Good to know you think I couldn’t do better than be a housewife.”
“Do better than be a housewife to a freaking billionaire? Megan, if you think being overworked and underpaid is better than being rich and famous, I don’t know what to say to you.”
“It’s not just about the money, Kira.” I let out a big sigh. We’ve been through this discussion more times than I can remember.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Your parents lost their business because of Hunter Corporation,” she says. “Look, it’s not personal. It has happened to thousands of other small businesses all over the country. Get over it.”
“See? You said it yourself. It has happened to thousands of other people. Shouldn’t Ethan Hunter pay for that? For taking away the livelihoods of all those families? For breaking those families apart?”
“You know that not everybody takes it as badly as you did, right?” Kira asks.
“Well, maybe they just can’t fight back. It’s up to me to give them a voice.”
“How noble of you,” Kira says, laughing. “Okay, then, whatever the reason, I think we both agree you should do it. Money, fame, and…” Kira pauses to let out a big, dramatic sigh, “…and a career in journalism await you.”
“Yeah. That’s the way to move forward, right?” I ask, even though I’ve already made my decision.
“Exactly. Remember this the next time you can’t make a decision: all you need is one conversation with me to find the answer you’re seeking,” Kira says as she folds her legs up onto the bed and get into a lotus position, pretending to be meditating.
I pull her into a hug and kiss her on the cheek. “Maybe I won’t be able to invite you to the mansion, but I’ll take you to the celebration dinner for the journalistic award I’m going to receive for this story. And I’ll thank you in the speech. I’ll mention your name and everything.”
Ethan
“Do not believe anything that comes out of Ethan Hunter’s mouth. He used to lie to me, his own wife, and he’s now lying to all of you, the American public,” says a pretty blonde on TV.
Don’t ask me why I’m watching a shitty gossip show where my ex-wife is bashing me. Maybe I hate myself a little, or maybe I just can’t look away from the car crash that is Ashley’s life.
I have billions of dollars in assets and this is how I spend my day off. I lean back in my recliner and raise my glass of whiskey. Taking a sip, I let the tawny liquid blaze down my throat.
Sure, I have Penny, and I love her to death.
But I can’t exactly take her to the bars to drink, or to the clubs to dance. And I can’t even hang out with her much anymore, now that she’s almost a teenager.
Right now, she’s spending the entire day at her best friend’s house, braiding each other’s hair and painting each other’s nails, or whatever it is that little girls do.
At the same time, life could be worse, too. Like I said, I have billions of dollars in assets. Sure, life could be better, if I had better company with whom to enjoy my wealth. But really, I have nothing to cry about.
“Assume everything that comes out of that man’s mouth is false,” says the woman on TV.
She’s dressed in a pair of jeans and an ill-fitting black hoodie, probably in an attempt to look like the average viewer of this dumb show, or maybe to gain people’s sympathy.
Back when we were together, she was always put together, even though we never had much money. Full make-up no matter where we went and fashionable clothes from cheap brands like Forever 21 or H&M.
Fucking Ashley.
Aside from Penny, she has never given me anything of worth. She has just been taking and taking, never giving back whatever I have given her.
She’s even keeping my fucking name.
Wait, no. That’s not quite accurate. She changed her last name to match her second husband, then never bothered to change it back, until she heard of my success. Presumably, that’s when she changed her last name back to Hunter.
She tells the media that she does it to feel closer to her daughter, whom I’m keeping from her. Which is bullshit, of course. She never cares about Penny, except when she thinks she might be able to use our daughter to get something out of me.
Marrying Ashley is my one biggest regret in life. There’s no way for me to justify that decision.
I could live with it if it were just me who’s affected by it, but I’ve brought Penny into the world and inflicted her with the fate of having Ashley as her mom.
We got together when we were still in school. High school sweethearts, they used to call us.
Unfortunately, in my experience, the term often refers to couples who started seeing each other when they were too young to understand how relationships work, and then end up staying together out of habit and fear of being alone.
I’m not saying that’s how it is for everyone, but that’s what happened to Ashley and me.
We didn’t plan on having Penny; it just happened. So we improvised. We made a commitment to each other because we both thought it was the right thing to do.
We were naïve, penniless, and inexperienced. But I put everything I had into making it work. I was a father, and I had to put my daughter first.
I spent all of my time wo
rking. I always had more than one job at a time, although every single one of them paid me the bare minimum. I had to struggle to get enough shifts so I could make a decent living to support my small family of three.
At twenty, I had to grow up and be responsible. I had to leave my youth behind, even though I still felt like a teenager inside. I wasn’t even old enough to drink alcohol yet.
But I did it. I did it because I had to.
Ashley didn’t see it that way, though.
She criticized me for not making more money. She wasn’t happy being stuck at home with the baby all day. She felt entitled to a better life, even though she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
So, right when I was at my lowest point, she left me. She didn’t care that I needed her—not emotionally, because her attitude had killed any feelings I’d had for her.
But I needed her in my life because of Penny. My daughter was the only good thing left in my life, and Ashley took her away when she left.
I guess, in a way, both of us were using each other.
But we were young. So young. Way too young.
Our friends were off to various colleges all over the country, having wild keg parties and sleeping around.
Meanwhile, we were parents. We were sleep-deprived and we barely had time for anything remotely fun. Our carefree days were behind us.
I understood why Ashley wanted to leave. Hell, I wanted to leave, too, sometimes. It was hard as hell.
But I couldn’t. Penny was my priority, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice her well-being just to sate my own selfishness.
Still, I was in no condition to take care of Penny at the time. I was a complete mess.
So Ashley took Penny with her and I let her, thinking she’d be better off with her mom.
But then I learned just how incompetent Ashley is as a mother. She had boyfriend after boyfriend, letting them get close to my daughter without thought of how that would emotionally affect her.
So I got my act together. I was determined to get Penny back, and I didn’t care what it would take for me to get there. I was going to be successful, and I was going to have the money I needed to hire the best lawyer I could find.
