Black Rules

by Charlotte Byrd

  When Aiden answers the call, I stretch out on the bed and let my body feel the little sparks that are left over from what had just happened.

  There’s still electric shocks coursing through my body and getting back to sleep is an impossibility.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go to the office,” Aiden says.

  “Back to New York?”

  “Well, yes, but later today. No, I mean my office here. Just down the hall.”

  I nod, understandably.

  “Why don't you get some breakfast?” he suggests, kissing me on top of my head. “We can meet up later.”

  Breakfast sounds divine, actually. It takes me barely a moment to realize that I’m actually famished.

  After going to my room and changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and putting on a fresh pair of panties and socks, I fix the smudged eyeliner under my eyes, run a comb through my hair, and head out of the door.

  On my way to the main dining room, I pass another room, which I haven’t seen before. It’s Aiden’s office.

  The smell of fine leather, wood, and a mist of citrus spread to the hallway. Aiden’s dressed in a pair of wrinkled slacks from last night and a t-shirt. His hair is still a mess and there’s a bit of stubble coming in. I doubt that he even had time to brush his teeth.

  I peek into the room.

  The walls are dark burgundy color, making the room look much smaller than it really is. The far side of the wall is made of delicate built-in bookshelves, which are a perfect match to the large, imposing desk facing the door. I wave to him, but he’s too distracted to notice.

  So, I decide to get on my way.

  Once I get to the dining room, I see that breakfast is already set up. There’s a large buffet selection with four different types of eggs, bagels, fruit, oatmeal, and a variety of bread.

  There are two waiters to help you make fresh waffles and pancakes. At the far end, there’s a stand for five different types of coffee and tea as well as juice and practically anything else you can think of.

  I opt for a plate of creamy scrambled eggs, a piece of toast, and a small bowl of blueberries.

  “Ellie!” I hear a familiar voice calling my name from somewhere across the room as I pour myself a cup of English Breakfast tea.

  When I turn around with my tray, I see that it’s Caroline. She’s waving me over to her table.

  “Oh my God! I thought I was going to have to have breakfast all alone,” she says when I sit down. “You’re the first person who came into this room in close to half an hour.”

  In case you haven’t guessed it, Caroline isn’t the type to ever eat at a restaurant alone. She needs people for basic sustenance.

  “How was your night?” I ask.

  “Fantastic! It was absolutely amazing!” Caroline exclaims.

  “Oh my God, I was so nervous, Ellie. I really didn’t know if I could do it. But I just told myself, it’s going to be fine. The guy will probably be great. Besides, I’ve slept with a ton of guys who weren't particularly hot and definitely didn’t pay me one hundred and thirty thousand dollars.”

  “That is a lot of money,” I agree.

  “The thing is that it’s not that my family doesn’t have money. I mean, I don't have to work for minimum wage at some shitty job. But, still, one hundred and thirty grand doesn’t just come to you every day, does it? I mean for one night of sex that you might have had for free anyway.”

  I nod. She does have a point.

  “So, tell me about the guy.”

  Caroline’s eyes light up. “His name is Taylor. He’s a bit older. He’s in his early forties. But he’s really ripped. And hot. He’s not very tall, but he’s tan and has a really nice body. He definitely doesn’t skip the gym.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “He’s a lawyer. Works for some big Wall Street law firm. His friend invited him to this party. Apparently, he’s going through a divorce and his ex-wife isn’t really into sex. Not after she had the two kids. So things haven’t really been going that well.”

  “Wow, you really got to know him,” I say.

  “Yeah, I did. Well, we didn’t get down to it right away. This was a new thing for both of us. So, we spent a few hours getting to know each other first.”

  A few hours.

  Wow.

  I am actually taken aback by that.

  He must’ve made an impression because I doubted that Caroline spent a few hours getting to know anyone before.

  “He told me all about his ex and the divorce. It was kind of intense actually. I mean, she’s taking him to the cleaners over the whole thing. They’ve been together forever. Like thirteen years.”

  “So how was…everything else?” I ask.

  “You mean the sex?” Caroline asks.

  Her eyes light up at the thought.

  “It was amazing. We did it twice! Ordered food after the first time and then did it again. I barely slept as you can imagine. But he did make me come twice.”

  “Wow,” I say. “I don’t remember a guy who made you orgasm even once recently.”

  “I know, right?” She shakes her head. “I think guys our age just don't know what they’re doing. Or they’re too much into themselves. But Taylor…oh my God, Ellie. He really took his time. He was there for me. He’s definitely a keeper.”

  I can’t help but smile.

  I don't remember the last time Caroline has ever said that about a guy except for her boyfriend from high school who broke her heart.

  But I’m happy for her.

  It’s about time she got a little less jaded about men. I mean she is only a woman in her early twenties. It’s not healthy to hold opinions of a divorce in her forties at her young age.

  “So, do you think you’ll see him again?” I ask.

  She takes a sip of her coffee, nodding.

  “We exchanged numbers and he said that he wants to see me again. In the city.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I mean, I know that all men say that. Oh, hell, I’ve said that to numerous guys myself without ever having any intention of following through. But I really hope he does. I really like him, Ellie.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, Caroline and I head back to our rooms to get our stuff. Lizbeth has arranged for the helicopter to take us back home.

  Once I have all of my stuff, I stop by Aiden’s office to say goodbye but he’s nowhere to be found. Then I knock on his suite door and check for him in the library.

  But he’s not there either.

  Hmm, that’s odd.

  But I guess he’s busy, I think to myself. I mean, yes, of course, I know that he’s busy. His company is going up in flames, partly because of me.

  But I still can’t help feeling a bit disappointed at the fact that we can’t say good-bye and exchange a kiss. My disappointment is confounded by the fact that Taylor comes out to the helicopter pad to see Caroline.

  He gives her a warm hug and a long kiss and whispers something in her ear.

  Caroline wasn’t lying.

  He’s definitely easy on the eyes, even for a much older guy.

  The flight back is uneventful. Caroline continues to gush about Taylor all the way back, and I listen unenthusiastically, lost in my own thoughts about Aiden.

  Why didn’t he say good-bye?

  When will I see him again?

  Will everything be okay with this whole mess with Blake?

  Finally, when we’re about to land in Manhattan, Caroline asks me about my night. It catches me a bit off guard and, for a moment, I debate whether I should mention Blake at all.

  But I feel embarrassed about the whole thing. I mean, being tied up and having a blindfold over my eyes and having the wrong guy come in the room.

  I know that it’s not my fault, but I can’t help feeling like I did something wrong. In the end, I decide to pass on it. It should’ve never happened.

  I don't blame Aiden for it anymore. I know it’s all Blake’s fault. But I still
have trouble admitting the truth out loud.

  “So, he just showed up to your room? And everything was…fine?” Caroline asks.

  I nod. “Yes, it was. It was great actually. Very sexy,” I lie.

  “See, I told you! I knew it. Of course, you had nothing to worry about. I mean, Aiden wouldn’t let someone else bid on you at his party on his yacht. What kind of guy would do that?”

  My cheeks flush from embarrassment, and I turn away from her so she doesn’t notice. A part of me wants to stand up for Aiden.

  I mean it was an accident. And he was very angry about it. But another part knows that she’s right. It should’ve never happened. Especially, if he knew that Blake had his eye on me.

  Suddenly, I consider confessing to the truth. Caroline and I are good friends, and we don't keep things from each other. But the more she talks about how of course I had nothing to worry about, the less inclined I am to tell her the truth.

  Chapter 9 - Ellie

  When I see my parents again…

  Later that evening, I get a text message from my mom saying that she can’t wait to see me for dinner.

  Shit.

  I completely forgot that I had made plans a week ago to have dinner with her and my stepdad. I consider trying to get out of it, but then decide that it’s going to be more trouble than it’s worth.

  Besides, I don't have any plans for tonight anyway, and the most I can push her off is a day or two.

  I meet Mom and Mitch in their apartment on Fifth Avenue. They are in the city to catch Hamilton on Broadway and then they’re going back to Greenwich, Connecticut at the end of the week. I haven’t been here in two weeks, which is kind of a long time for us.

  Usually, I have a weekly dinner with them just to catch up on what’s going on. We established the routine when I started at Yale and it was nice to just keep going with it.

  Mom opens the door and gives me a warm hug.

  “You look great!” she says.

  “You, too,” I say.

  And she does. She’s a small woman, about five feet five, with a short blonde bob like Marilyn Monroe’s. She’s tan and her eyes aren’t as tired as they once were.

  But that’s to be expected, I guess.

  Her life with Mitch has been considerably less stressful than her life with my dad. They got divorced when I was eight and she met Mitch soon afterward.

  He had lots of money and wasn’t shy about spending it on her. He wined and dined her and after they got married, she quit her job as a teacher.

  Mitch greets me in the dining room with a scotch on the rocks in his hand. He isn’t much of a drinker, meaning I’ve never seen him drunk, but then again, a night doesn't go by without him having a drink either.

  He’s a few years older than my mom and has a few gray hairs around his temples. He’s quite attractive for a man his age, and he enjoys wearing expensive suits and shoes.

  When my mom pours us two glasses of red wine and hands me one, Mitch puts his arm around her and gives her a little hug. All of these years later, it is still clear to me that they are as in love as ever.

  The thought of that warms my heart. But it also gives me a little pang in the pit of my stomach. Unlike my mom, my dad has not been so lucky in love.

  He keeps mainly to himself and even if he does date on occasion, he has never introduced me to anyone in all of these years. I think he never got over my mom and still pines for her. He even keeps pictures of the two of them together on his mantel.

  “How’s Annabelle?” I ask when we sit down for dinner.

  Annabelle is Mitch’s daughter from his first marriage. Her mom died when she was very little and my mom basically raised her.

  I’m five years older than Annabelle and we used to be very close. But she started to pull away from me when she started high school.

  The older that Annabelle got, the more difficult it became to maintain a relationship with her. She got kicked out of a couple of schools and started dressing entirely in black, painting her nails black and her face white.

  There aren’t supposed to be many goths around anymore, but Annabelle somehow found and embraced the culture. I keep thinking that she will grow out of it, but Mom and Mitch aren’t so sure.

  “Her college applications are due in a couple of months,” Mom says. “I’m helping her fill them out.”

  By helping her, I know exactly what my mom means. Annabelle isn’t interested in college and Mom and Mitch are insisting that she attend. So, Mom has taken it upon herself to fill out the applications.

  “Where is she applying?” I ask, helping myself to a big portion of Caesar salad.

  Mom makes incredible homemade vegetarian Caesar dressing, which is to die for. It’s one of my favorite things to eat when I’m home.

  “A lot of smaller liberal arts schools,” Mitch says. “I think those should be a good fit for her. We don't want her to get lost in a big school.”

  I nod. That makes sense.

  Annabelle is rebelling, hating everything about our parents.

  Maybe going to a big school isn’t the best thing for her.

  “Princeton?” I ask about Mitch’s alma mater. He shakes his head with disappointment.

  “I’d have to buy them a building to get her in at this point. And I don't have nearly enough money for that.”

  “Cornell might still work,” Mom says optimistically. “Or maybe Dartmouth. If they see her rebellion as a way of challenging social norms that she has grown up with.”

  I nod.

  “But we also have Oberlin, Middlebury, Bowdoin, and Davidson in North Carolina,” Mom says.

  “Any safety schools?” I ask.

  “She says that if she absolutely has to go to college, she doesn't want to go anywhere warm or too sunny. She seems to like Vermont a lot and Maine, so Mom is filling out applications to the University of Vermont and the University of Maine,” Mitch says, taking a sip of his scotch.

  “Those sound like good options,” I say.

  I chuckle to myself, trying to imagine Annabelle at the University of Florida or Miami.

  All that fun in the sun has to become contagious at some point, right?

  “Have you talked to her recently?” Mom asks.

  They both look up at me hopefully. I know that they think if anyone can connect with her at this point it would be me, but I shake my head and look away.

  “No, not recently. I called her a few times and texted. But you know Annabelle. If she doesn’t want to be reached, then she can’t be reached.”

  “We’re just so worried about her. I mean, you don't think she’s into doing drugs or anything like that?”

  “She probably smokes pot, Mom,” I say.

  “We know that. Most kids nowadays do anyway. But I don't mean pot. I mean harder drugs. I keep reading all this stuff about the opioid epidemic. The number of people who get hooked on prescription pills and then end up on heroin…it’s just frightening. And not just hooked. Many of them die. It’s so easy to overdose nowadays.”

  I nod sympathetically. I don't really know what else I can do. The opioid epidemic is a real problem, but not one that I can really solve.

  “That’s my only problem with those large state schools in New England,” Mitch says. “There are so many people suffering with addictions there.”

  “Well, c’mon, let’s be fair,” I say. “It’s not like people in New York don’t also struggle with addiction. Do you think she’ll want to go to some school in New York City?”

  Mom and Mitch shrug.

  “Basically, she doesn’t want to go anywhere,” Mom says. “But we’re not willing to support her just lounging around doing nothing all day. She needs to get an education. So, if she wants us to continue to support her, she’ll have to go to college. And I’m not sure that New York City is the best place for her. Too many distractions, if you know what I mean.”

  Of course, I do. Especially, for someone like Annabelle. Annabelle was always a lot more outgoing than
I was.

  While I was happy to spend my days with my head in a book, Annabelle needed to be out there socializing with other kids. She’s a social butterfly.

  Actually, she’s a lot like Caroline.

  But something must’ve happened when she got to high school to make her shut down so much and start to rely exclusively on a very small group of kids for friends.

  “Okay, enough about your sister,” Mitch says when it’s time for the main course.

  The grilled salmon looks delicious.

  I help myself to a generous portion and get some more Caesar salad as well. “Tell us about you. How’s your job? What’s new?”

  Ah, me.

  Hmm, where do I even start?

  Well, since we last met, I auctioned myself off to the highest bidder, made more money than most people make in five years, and quit my job to focus on writing romance.

  Oh, yeah! And I also started dating a billionaire who likes to tie me up.

  But I can’t very well come out with all of that at once.

  I try to think of somewhere to stagger the conversation and reveal just enough of the truth so that I’m not lying without actually telling them anything.

  “I haven’t seen any of your recent quizzes,” Mom says. “I love taking them! Can you forward me some?”

  Mom has always been very supportive of my writing. She loves to read any stories that I publish and has been a devoted taker of all the BuzzPost quizzes that I made up.

  Shit.

  I guess this is as good a time as any to tell them that I’m not working there anymore.

  “Actually, I quit that job,” I say, taking a sip of my wine.

  “What? Why?” they ask almost in unison.

  “I didn’t like my boss. She’s the daughter of the owner of BuzzPost and she was just…too demanding. Plus, writing quizzes wasn’t exactly my dream job.”

  “But that’s a great company. They’re really up and coming, Ellie. You could’ve worked your way to better assignments,” Mom says.

  “Oh, c’mon, writing quizzes? After going to Yale, you really think that’s the best she could do?” Mitch asks Mom. “Besides, now she can really think about going to law school.”