Why I'm Yours

by S. Moose

  “Once more,” I say, attempting to give him a stern look.

  And, when he wrinkles up his nose and smiles back at me, I know I’m not winning this battle tonight. He knows he has me wrapped around his finger.

  Maybe I should be more authoritative, but it’s so hard to tell him no when he’s disappointed enough by his mother. I can’t take that sad look in his eyes or the way he shies away and shrinks back, as if he’s trying to hide within himself. Frankly, it pisses me off each time I witness it. I want him to be strong and confident, carrying the ability to shrug off his mother’s lack of parental genes.

  We’ve been at Funland for close to two hours now. We’ve eaten enough pizza and consumed enough sugar to supply a small village, but the smile he wears makes it all worth it. I know I’ll pay for it later, and I’ll be forced to push through a grueling extra hour of my workout to recover from it all, but Dawson’s happiness always has me doing things without a second thought.

  I stand off to the side and watch as he climbs up the rope ladder for what feels like the hundredth time. A smile stretches my lips as he looks back over his shoulder and flashes me that Powers grin. A grin that I know from experience will one day make the ladies melt. I’ll teach him how to use that grin to get ahead, but that’s something way off in the future.

  Women, though alluring and sexy with a way of making a man feel powerful, are also trouble. I’ll teach him to watch out for blonde-haired beauties with the perfect smiles and legs that go on for miles. They’re evil wrapped in a pretty fucking package.

  At one time, Jennifer was the woman I thought I’d have by my side always, but that changed quickly. She’s the most selfish person I’ve ever met.

  But, out of all the hell she’s put me through, I’ve been given the best gift of all—Dawson. And it's because of him I need to be strong.

  6

  Reagan

  I find that I now take the time to appreciate the little things I never noticed before my attack. Those small gestures and actions that most don’t stop and think of on a regular basis because life overwhelms us. We spend so much time running from one place to another that we miss most of our day.

  For instance, the way the breeze feels blowing against my face through my open bedroom window, as it makes my hair flutter and tickles my nose. The soft, silky feeling of my bedsheets against my legs as I move them back and forth for no reason other than to simply enjoy their softness.

  It’s amazing what one horrific experience can do. Not only am I extremely observant of every move I make, but I am also very aware of those around me. I was never a people-watcher before, but now, I find I do it often, trying to decipher between the good and the bad, but the sad part is, evil is masked so well.

  Take Zane for example. He was kind and funny. He never once made me feel as if he was capable of such an act, but I was wrong. I was so wrong. He was the epitome of evil. A sick, pitiful excuse of a man. Even saying his name in my head gives me a nauseous feeling. I should have fought back. I should have screamed and done everything I could to escape. But then where would I be? In the same situation with memories more haunting than those I live with daily. Zane wasn’t the type of man to back down. My fighting would have only fueled him, giving him exactly what he wanted.

  Control.

  I take in a deep breath, pushing away the memories of the monster who invades my thoughts, and I crawl out from the bed. The coolness of the tiles against my bare feet gives me chills, and I bounce across the floor, toward the bathroom. After finding my house slippers that were somehow hidden behind the bathroom door, I move through the apartment I call home and start a pot of coffee.

  I live in a spacious apartment in the center of Chicago with Aimee. There’s more than enough room for both of us. Everything has been renovated with new appliances in the kitchen, marble counters, and hardwood floor. It has the most amazing view of the sailboats along the shoreline of Lake Michigan and the city around us. Each day, I start out with simply enjoying the beauty in that view. With a warm cup of coffee in hand, I wander toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the water, and I allow myself to run through all my doubts and insecurities.

  Then, I begin to build myself back up, repeating all the reasons I am who I am. I put on the brave face, the outer exterior that I hope portrays me as a bitch. One that will make people think twice before approaching me.

  On the outside, I’m a hardened, bitter person, never taking the time to make friends or let my guard down. I have Aimee, and that’s all I need. Everyone else can keep their distance.

  When I walk into the living room, I hear the door slowly open, and my body freezes. My defenses go up until the door opens wide, and Aimee walks in.

  She immediately notices my pale face. “Oh, shit. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No worries,” I mutter. “Is everything okay? I thought you had a day date.”

  “I did.” She smirks and sits down on the couch with me. “We skipped the whole brunch thing and went right for dessert.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  My mood lightens when Aimee starts talking about his “magic cock.” I laugh so hard that I'm holding my stomach to stop the cramps.

  "Nice nickname." I laugh. "Will you see him again?

  "Nah. He's a great fuck, but that's it."

  That's the thing I love about Aimee, she works hard, and plays harder. According to her, right now in this stage of her life, men are accessories and aren't permanent, until she can find one worth showing off.

  And I completely agree with her. Since that night, the idea of love drains me. It’s all a lie. An illusion. It’s crossed my mind a few times, but I immediately squash the idea. To find someone who’ll love you and cherish you, bringing your body to euphoria? It’s a lie and the complete opposite of what I’ll allow in my life.

  “Well, I’m glad you got the magic.”

  “Meh. Enough about me. Are you excited for tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow, I’ll be starting a new job. The starting salary is more than I thought I’d make as an assistant. The benefits are amazing, and it’ll be nice to finally use my college degree and be in the corporate world.

  I had odd jobs and saved everything I made. I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ramen noodles after I moved out of Boston. The finer things in life were out of my mind. I had one thing to do, and that was to survive.

  When I reconnected with Aimee and she convinced me to stay with her, I took the chance. After I told her about where I was and my job situation, she told me not to worry about rent, and when I landed a good job we'd split everything for the apartment. When I moved in, I gave Aimee a check and initially she questioned me, asking where I got all this money, and when I refused to talk about it, she dropped the topic.

  It was hard in the beginning—juggling jobs and trying not to spend over my budget—but I made it work.

  Now, with my new job, I won’t have financial stress, and I’ll be able to indulge a little. I spent so much money buying all new clothes, shoes, and accessories. This is my first time at a real job that could lead to a career, so I have to look nice and confident.

  “Yeah. I think it’ll be a good start for me and put me in a better mood.”

  “I’m proud of you,” she says.

  “For what?”

  Aimee turns to face me and places her hands in mine. “Because you’re finally coming out of your shell and doing something.”

  I simply nod my head and smile. This isn’t a conversation I want to have now, so I change the topic to dinner.

  All I need to do is focus on tomorrow and do the best I can.

  This new job sounds almost perfect in my opinion. On most days, I'll be hidden in an office, creating and reviewing reports, organizing her emails from urgent to unimportant, and taking notes at various meetings. The best part about this job is that my boss is a woman. The idea of working for some asshole man who would spend more
time staring at my tits than my face is nauseating.

  Male bosses were one of the biggest hurdles I dealt with over the last three years. It was always the same. Go in for a job interview, and meet the man I’d be working under. Then, he’d give me that look. You know the one. That slow, appreciative perusal that would make my skin crawl. Then, I’d end up saying something that guaranteed I wouldn’t be getting hired. But a woman shouldn’t be treated any differently than a man. I was there to do a job, and just because I had a vagina, it shouldn’t have changed a thing. How hard is it to understand that my eyes are not buried within my cleavage?

  Men are so predictable, and it’s shameful.

  Personal assistant to the CEO of Powers Financial carries a sense of accomplishment. I'll no longer serve food to unappreciative strangers, and I'll never again make a latte for those standing on the opposite side of the counter, barking orders at me. I have a degree in finance, and I took more than enough classes to make me completely capable of handling this job. Miranda Powers thought so when she hired me after only one interview.

  An interview that, after the first ten minutes, felt more like two friends catching up after being out of touch for far too long. She really wasn’t what I had pictured as someone who ran a multibillion-dollar corporation. She was kind and had that type of smile that made one feel comfortable with little effort. It could be why she was so successful. She easily charmed the hearts of those around her.

  Her sweet demeanor made my decision to accept the position an easy one.

  So, tomorrow, I'll put the past where it belongs and start building my future. Away from the man who hurt me, away from the memories of that evening that haunts me each night when I close my eyes.

  With Aimee accepting a prestigious position as a lawyer at a successful law firm, thanks to her high bar exam score, and me working for a financial icon, we will rule the city in no time. We are two women destined for great things.

  7

  Drew

  “You need to redo these reports!” I shout as I toss the folder across my desk.

  Two of my associates look at each other and then back at me.

  “We don’t know what you’re looking for.” Ashley stutters.

  I grip the edge of my desk with my hands and lean forward as I speak in a low, harsh tone, “Then, figure it out. These reports need to be spotless. How am I supposed to present these to our clients with errors upon errors? Are we paying you to be blind or careless? Do you like your job?” I pause and see the small quiver in their lips. “Fix. It. Now,” I slowly say.

  I watch as they get up and leave my office.

  Once they’re gone, I grab the file and head toward Remy’s office. I don’t need this shit today. He needs to handle his damn team and give me someone who’s capable of following directions.

  How fucking hard is it to do your job?

  When I walk into Remy’s office, he looks up from his computer and shakes his head. He already knows why I’m here.

  “You can’t berate them, man.”

  “Then, find me someone competent. I’m sick of these so-called Ivy League grads. They can’t fucking follow simple instructions and give me what I need. The Yalow meeting is at two, and I have nothing. I might as well do it myself.”

  “Calm down. It’ll be fine. I’ll help them. Control your shit, or get laid.” He laughs.

  I narrow my eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Touchy. I’m just saying look at me. Every time I get laid, I come into work happy as hell. Sex is healthy, man. Shall I make a phone call for you, dear cousin?”

  “Fuck off,” I mutter as I leave his office.

  Upon entering my office, I take out my phone and open my Contacts list. I scroll through the numerous names. No one’s appealing to spend the night with to ease my stress. Tossing my phone on my desk, I rub my eyes and loosen my tie.

  “Brenda!” I yell for my assistant.

  She nervously comes in. “Yes, Mr. Powers?”

  “Tylenol and a venti dark roast, black. Please,” I calmly tell her.

  She nods her head before leaving my office.

  My life is all about Dawson and this company. I’m a great father and businessman. Everything I do, I do for Dawson, and I work my ass off all the time to ensure he has the best life.

  My own father is a great role model. He’s fierce, intelligent, and wise, and he has a heart of gold.

  Growing up, I had the best of everything, and my parents supported every decision I made. One time, I wanted to take dance lessons, and my parents loved the idea. Then, I wanted to play soccer, and they came to every game. Although work was hectic, they never missed any event I had. When I went to college, they’d visit every time it was parents’ weekend or when I had a soccer game. Seeing them in the stands, cheering for me, fuck, it was great.

  I want that for Dawson. I never want to miss anything of his. It takes a strong man to be a great father.

  My grandfather built this company with a few hundred dollars and brought it up until my parents took over. The ethics they instilled in me, I carry at all times.

  Since I’m expected to be on my game with everything on point, that’s what I expect from my employees.

  Recently, I’ve been given the nickname Asshat from the female associates. I know what goes on around here. I’m not blind. I like what I like, and I know what I know. Business is all about knowing your audience, understanding body language, negotiating deals, not taking shit, and closing the deal. Those are the basic principles of running a business.

  My eleven o’clock meeting is about to start so I prepare my files and call in, listening to the updates from our clients and answering any questions they have.

  I’m ending a conference call when my mother comes into my office with an annoyed look on her face.

  “Andrew Oliver Powers. How dare you say those things to your employees. Poor Ashley and Savannah are puffy-faced and red-eyed because Asshat was being a true asshat today. How dare you. I warned you.” She wags her finger at me. “I will give this company to Remy, and you will remain CFO and never CEO. You need to learn how to control your temper.”

  “Mother,” I simply respond as I lean back in my chair, “how am I supposed to run a company and obtain clients when I receive errors in these reports? I’m molding this company and showing everyone that we take business seriously around here.”

  “And that, my son, is why you’ll never be CEO.”

  “What?”

  She sits down across from me, crosses her leg, and stares intently at me. “A CEO is someone who is powerful, compassionate, intelligent, quick on their feet, and understanding. Drew, you are so very intelligent and quick on your feet. You’re missing the pieces to be a great man. You’re missing that piece of yourself that allows you to understand that people make mistakes. You need to learn patience and how to talk to people without making them cry and call you Asshat.”

  “I am a distinguished businessman, Mother. I strive for the best and expect my team to do so as well.”

  “How can you expect that when even you, yourself, won’t listen to what’s right?” She folds her arms across her chest. “And, another thing, you don’t have an assistant anymore.”

  “What?”

  She sighs. “Brenda requested an immediate resignation. So, now”—she raises her hand and lifts one finger at a time to tell me how many assistants I’ve been through—“you will be assistantless until I think you’re ready for one. Going through nine assistants in less than two years is unheard of.”

  “Assistantless?” I slowly repeat. “How the hell will I get anything done?”

  “You’re a smart and distinguished businessman, sweetheart. You’ll figure it out.” She winks. “Now, I expect you to be here at eight sharp. We have several meetings tomorrow.”

  With that, she gets up and leaves my office, while I'm left to think about my attitude and actions. Maybe Remy’s right. I need to get laid and get rid of this pent-up energy.
r />   8

  Reagan

  "You got this, girl. Walk in there like you own the company. Hold your head up high and rock it."

  "Ugh. Okay. Okay. I can do this."

  She stands at the vanity, getting ready for work, as I have a mini panic attack at her side. I can’t stop my hands from shaking, and I’ve changed shirts three times. Sweat marks aren’t cute, and I don’t want to make a bad impression my first day at work.

  Aimee turns and places her hands on my shoulders. “Breathe.”

  I do.

  “Okay, good. You can do this, Reagan. Positive thoughts equal positive results.”

  “Are you Gandhi now?” I laugh, and she does, too.

  “I’m serious, babe. Don’t let your nerves get the best of you. You’re so smart.”

  “I haven’t been in the corporate world. I’m not used to being around important people. What if I mess up? What if I break something or send out the wrong response to an email?”

  “I know, babe. Everything will work out. And, if you need anything, I’m a text message away.”

  “Aren’t you going to be in court today?” I ask.

  She waves me off. “Yeah, but the judge loves me. Plus, I’m only assisting on this case.”

  I let out a sigh. “Thanks, girl.”

  “Anytime, my love.”

  After I finish touching up my hair and makeup, I grab my purse and coffee mug. I’m still a nervous wreck. My stomach is in knots, and my hands are sweating so badly. If I drop my coffee, I'm going to take that as a sign it'll be a bad day. My usual tactics aren’t doing a thing for my current state. No amount of counting or deep breathing will eliminate the nervous energy I currently feel inside me.

  I’m a hot mess.

  The door attendant, Henry, opens the door for me and wishes me a good day. I smile and walk to the curb to wait for my Uber. I'm only waiting for a few minutes when the driver pulls over and I get in the car, letting her know the address of where I need to go.