6
William
Hailey remade the dinner while I shot off an email for work. It was rare enough for me to actually do work when I was physically in the building, so sending a work email from home was way off the radar for me. I guess it was a week for firsts.
My lawyer had sent me an email with a subject line in all caps. "Another one..." I checked the contents and saw that yet another person was making some obscure legal claim against me. It was a weekly occurrence, and one I'd learned to get used to. If you become a big fish, the small fish are always going to be looking for a way to take a bite out of you. It was just the way of the world. I could admittedly be a dumbass from time to time, but I wasn't dumb enough to steal money from my own company when it was already a fucking printing press for cash or any of the other hundreds of things I'd had legal cases brought against me for. I had more money than I knew what to do with. Literally. I'd once stared at my bank account and tried to mentally play the game of spending all my money in a year. The only way I could do it was buying skyscrapers or mega yachts in bulk.
The sad truth about having all the money in the world was this: people are hard-wired to want more. More stuff, more power, more influence. We’re taught that money unlocks all of it, so we bust our asses every day with those goals dangling in front of us like carrots on a stick. Then one day, once you’ve bought properties across the world, hired people to handle all the menial aspects of your life, and bought all those things you always wished you could have, what was left?
I could tell people, but no one would want to hear it. They’d miss the point. They’d think I didn’t know what it was like to wonder if we’d have a place to live next month or food that night. I knew it better than most. The truth people didn’t want to know was that money is just another drug, but it’s one that only a tiny fraction of the population can afford to build up a tolerance to.
I looked back at the email. Legal threats always made me think about money, because it was one way I could imagine actually losing my fortune.
Threats to my wealth or not, I couldn't seem to keep my attention on the details. My eyes were locked onto Hailey's ass while she shuffled and side-stepped from one stovetop to another, bent to pull brownies from the oven, and tiptoed to reach the microwave. It was more beautiful than any opera or Broadway show I'd ever been to. There was poetry in that ass. Two cheeks in perfect harmony, working together for a common goal, sheltered from the world by nothing but a heartbreakingly thin layer of cotton. There was mystery in those buns, too. Was it a thong beneath that skirt of hers? Panties? Boy shorts? And what color?
So many questions.
"So," I said. "Is your stalker ex a no-fly zone for questions? Or can I ask what his deal was?"
She brushed her hands on the apron she’d strapped around her waist and then tucked a hair behind her ear. “It’s not a juicy story. We broke up and it wasn’t mutual.”
“How long were you together before that?”
“A few months.”
I rubbed my chin. “So what you’re really saying is that it’s a juicy story, but you’re only willing to cough up the dry version?”
She smiled a little guiltily. “He’s nothing I can’t handle. Okay?”
“I believe that. You’ve got a kind of quiet nun who secretly knows karate and could choke you out vibe. It’s sexy.”
She barked a surprised laugh. “What? Is that really what you think of me?”
I held up my palms in surrender. “Which answer keeps you from choking me out?”
She glared. “The one where you never call me a quiet nun again?”
“Deal. I’ll stick to nicknames that not-so-subtly reference your virginity.”
She set the spatula down with a clatter and turned to look me full in the eye. “What made you so immediately sure I was a virgin, anyway?”
I shrugged. “Intuition? Instinct? Or maybe it was that your friend at the bakery mouthed the word to me when he was standing behind you. And he kept pointing at you and then giving me thumbs up. It was actually a little much, if you ask me.”
She half-smiled and shook her head. “I’m going to kill him.”
“I’ve got a good lawyer, if you need one after the murder.”
“Very funny. Well, your dinner is finally ready,” she said, handing me a plate. She had made warm tortillas with a container of steaming chicken, onions, and peppers. She set down sour cream, cheese, and lime wedges for me as well as what looked like homemade tortilla chips and salsa.
“Where’s your plate?” I asked.
“You want me to eat? With you?” She looked genuinely surprised. Leave it to the baker girl to be so innocent. Sometimes I thought she knew exactly what I was playing at, and other times, it seemed like she was clueless in the best kind of way.
“Get yourself a plate and sit with me. I’m not about to have some lonely dinner while you stand there and stare at me.”
She gave me a wry smile. “You could send me home. You wanted me to be your cook, and I cooked. Didn’t I?”
Her tone said she didn’t actually want me to send her home. It’d serve her right to call her bluff and send her off, but I couldn’t resist taking her bait and playing along. “How do I know it’s not poisoned if you won’t eat it, too?”
She snatched up a piece of chicken and chewed it with raised eyebrows. “Satisfied?”
“What if I just admit I want you to hang out and eat with me?”
“That would be a better approach,” she said. There was something shy in the way she smiled that I liked. Some women smiled like they knew they were hot shit. People had been telling them how beautiful they were their whole life. Then there were smiles like Hailey’s. It was shy and almost apologetic. For an instant, it was wide and genuine with no reserves, but then it was as if she started to question herself. I could almost believe she was crazy enough to think she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous and her smile wasn’t perfect.
When I first met her, I saw her as a challenge. She was a virgin, and that meant she had something I could take. Something she hadn’t given away all this time. The klepto in me had been drawn to that.
Every minute I spent with her made me start to wonder if I’d missed the real prize with her. She wasn’t just some woman I wanted to get into my bed and move on from. What I said with Bruce about looking for a keeper might not have even been a slip of the tongue. Hailey was real. She didn’t kiss my feet because she thought I was hot. She didn’t seem to care that I was loaded out the ass with money. Hell, she was the one trying to push me away half the time.
She was different.
The sun had set by the time we finished eating. The conversation came surprisingly easy between us, but once our plates were clear, there was a new kind of expectation hanging in the air. The weight of it started to suffocate all the easy words and smiles, leaving nothing but a deep, uncomfortable silence.
“I should get going,” she said finally.
“You could stay,” I said. I didn’t explain myself any farther. I didn’t try to force it or back out of the offer. I just let it sit there and marinate. I watched her eyes, which never left mine.
“I shouldn’t,” she said. “I enjoyed tonight, though. Really.”
I stood with an easy smile. I wouldn’t have said no if she wanted to stay. And if she stayed, I would’ve likely ended up taking her to my bed. Good intentions or not, I was only human. But part of me was glad she had the backbone to say no. Somehow, I thought if she really did let me sleep with her tonight, it would’ve ended up like it did with all the other women.
As I was leading her to the elevator, I smoothly swiped a hairpin from her hair. She didn’t seem to notice as she tucked the stray hairs behind her ear and smiled, looking up at me.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.
“Same time.”
I rocked back in the chair behind my desk at Galleon, watching as my mom and dad filed into the room and sat across from me. As usual, my dad sw
aggered in like he’d done something impressive with his life, aside from having the disturbing talent of clogging toilets wherever he went—that’s not even an exaggeration.
He hiked up his pants and sank into the chair across from me with a satisfied sigh. My mom at least had the good grace to look like she understood their place in the world. The two of them lived like leeches. Once they realized Bruce and I were going to be a potential payday for them, they checked out of the working world. Their only occupation now was making monthly attempts at squeezing some cash out of us.
Bruce tended to put his foot down and tell them to fuck off. Me though? I guess I had a soft spot for them. Becoming rich had turned the world into one hell of a cynical place for me. I saw money-hungry users wherever I looked. People who only knew me as Mr. Millionaire. My parents, on the other hand, had known me before. Yes, they only seemed to stop by when they needed cash, but at least they were trying to do something with their lives. Sort of. If I was honest, I thought my dad probably gambled most of the money away and spent the rest on dumb shit.
I guess it didn’t make much sense, but I always gave them cash when they wanted it, unless I was in a bad mood. It was easier than fighting it, anyway. My only concern was making sure they at least felt like they needed to work hard to convince me to pay them. Besides, I kinda liked hearing whatever insane stories they came up with every month. They were a weird, twisted connection with my old life. My monthly dose of nostalgia, and all it cost was a few grand.
“We’re in a tough spot, son,” said my dad.
“Yeah?” I asked, leaning forward.
“We were really making good progress with the car wash idea, but now that Simmons prick is saying he wants double the down payment for that lot out on Kingston. Can you believe that? Asshole thinks he’s selling in downtown New York instead of some bumfuck town in the sticks.” My dad was a good actor. He was the type of guy who wouldn’t bat an eyelash over scamming an old woman out of her last dollar. That’s probably exactly what he’d be doing if I wasn’t pumping him full of cash every month.
“Yeah?” I asked again.
My mom and dad shared a look. At times, I thought they felt guilty about this song and dance. I just waited it out until we got past the money part and we could talk. That was probably pathetic, come to think of it. I basically paid them off so we could talk like a normal family when the business portion of the meeting was out of the way.
"We thought another ten grand could get us over the edge with the bank," said my dad. "They won't give us the loan unless we can put down a bigger deposit."
“Sure. If you think that’s what it’ll take.” My voice sounded colder than I intended, but I didn’t apologize. I could make light of them all I wanted, but there was plenty of bitterness built up inside me. Plenty of anger. It didn’t help that I was pretty sure they had talked Zoey into sniffing around my life again.
I pulled my checkbook out and started filling it out. “Do you want me to make it out to the bank, or…”
“Why don’t you go ahead and just write it out to me. I’ve got to put together the rest of our money, anyway. Might as well get it all in one spot before I go to them.”
“Sure,” I said.
“So,” said my dad cheerily as he pocketed the check. “How’s life?”
“Can’t complain, can I?”
“Just because you’re well off,” said my mom, “doesn’t mean you can’t complain, honey.”
“Okay, well I ate a chocolate bar on my way to work yesterday and little flakes of it got under my thigh. I only realized after lunch that I’d been walking around all day with melted chocolate on the back of my thighs. Very embarrassing.”
My mom grinned. “You’re such a goof, William.”
“Have you thought more about Zoey?” asked my dad.
“There’s nothing more to think about, dad. I gave her a chance and it didn’t work out. End of story.”
“I just think she’d really be a great fit for you, son. She’s good enough, not like some of these tramps I’ve seen you romping around with on the tabloids.”
“I was on a tabloid. Once. And that was only because I didn’t realize the girl was on a TV show.”
“We just want the best for you, William,” my mom said.
“I’m a big boy, and I can figure out what’s best for me on my own. I figure the best way is to personally experience everything that’s the worst for me first.”
My dad sighed. “Just keep it in mind. Zoey is a really good woman. I think you two would be a perfect fit.”
A few minutes later, I had finally shooed them from my office. Yes, I liked a dose of nostalgia, but damn they could wear me out fast. They were different with me than with Bruce. He’d turned a cold shoulder to them long ago. I saw how icy it was between them, and I wasn’t ready to cut them off like he had.
I kicked my feet back on my desk, templed my fingers, and watched after them. If they actually cared about me, they’d be happy to meet Hailey, I realized.
Ever since meeting her, my thoughts had developed a tendency to spin everything back to her. The promise of seeing her tomorrow loomed over everything like a blazing neon sign. Surprisingly, I didn’t even think I was going to get any action, and I was still excited. I patted between my legs to make sure my balls were still intact. Check. Intact and as beautiful as balls can be—just hibernating, I guessed. Good things came to those who waited, and I hoped like hell the saying was true.
7
Hailey
I sat with Candace and Ryan at one of the tables in The Bubbly Baker half an hour before we opened. My mind ran over what I’d say to Ryan if I lost the shop. It wasn’t just my career on the line, after all. I had a fresh set of voicemails this morning from my landlord, and I was still ignoring them, God help me. I had an appointment at the bank after work today to apply for a business loan. My credit was about as impressive as Mike Tyson’s when the repo men came for his pet tiger and sports cars, so I wasn’t expecting a miracle, but I had to try.
Candace drummed her fingernails on the desk and glared straight through my soul.
“Well?” she said. “You’ve got brain damage if you don’t know what we’re going to say you should do.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s right there, just waving in the wind, waiting for you to step up and grab it.”
“William’s dick,” said Candace. “He’s talking about William’s millionaire dick.”
Ryan sputtered. “A-actually, no. I was talking about opportunity.”
“Semantics,” sighed Candace.
“Dick and opportunity are definitely not the same thing,” I said.
“In this situation, they are. As your sister, I’m telling you that you’ll regret passing this chance up for the rest of your life if you don’t make a move.”
“What’s the rush? I’m locked in to see him every night now.”
“Well,” Ryan started. “To play devil’s advocate. There’s a chance he’s not really expecting the personal chef arrangement to be long-term. It sounded like he made it up on the spot when he was in here yesterday. Like he just wanted a reason to get you over to his house.”
“He paid for that poontang,” agreed Candace. “And now it’s your turn to give the man what he paid for.”
“I’m sorry.” I held up my palm and closed my eyes for a second before looking Candace in the eyes. “Did you just say poontang? What is that, Grammy’s word of the week?”
“You’re not even using it right, Candace,” said Ryan. “That’s like… poontang is like a booty call girl. Just a sex toy type of deal. It’s not a body part.”
Candace waved both of us off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m saying it’s like when a guy takes you out for dinner and picks up the check. You’ve got to at least consider giving him a little something for that.”
“Wait, what?” Ryan asked. “Do girls actually think that way?”
She gave him a dirty look. “Don’t play choir boy. And it’s not
like I said you have to put out because a guy bought you dinner. I’m saying there’s a sense of obligation. And that’s just for dinner. I can only imagine what a guy expects when he puts a multi-million dollar advertising company at your disposal just to get you to come to his place.”
“He’s probably going to have an intern print out some fliers for me and stick them up on telephone poles.”
Ryan laughed. “You’re underestimating man’s age-old desperation for pussy, Hailey. Before there was fire, there were cavemen bashing each other over the head with rocks for pussy. It’s biblical, you can look it up.”
I rolled my eyes, even as Candace nodded like it was the wisest thing she’d ever heard.
“Ryan’s right,” she said. “Society has trained women to protect their purity and it has trained men to chase after it. If a girl gives it up too easily, she gets a bad reputation while the guy gets a pat on the back to go with the notch on his bedpost. Well guess what? You only know three people, and all three of us are telling you to go for it. And social standards about sex are bullshit anyway.”
“I know more than three people,” I said.
“Name them.”
“There’s Jane. The lady who comes in sometimes. I know William, his brother Bruce, and Bruce’s wife, Natasha.”
Ryan and Candace both folded their arms, watching me with unimpressed looks on their faces.
“Didn’t you say Natasha and Bruce kind of looked like they wanted you two to hit it off?” Candace asked.
I sighed. “I might’ve said that.”
“Okay, then let me amend what I said. You only know seven people, and five of them are telling you to go for it. One of them is probably rocking a hard-on right now while he dreams about you giving him what he wants.”
“I get it, I get it. But for the record, I doubt William is the type to dwell on me when I’m not around. The guy has a picture-perfect life. I’m sure he has a million better things to do than think about me right now.”
Her Cherry Page 8
