by Mia Ford
“Thanks, son,” he said tapping his fist on the desk. “Oh, your mother wanted to know if you were coming to dinner Friday?”
“I have plans right now, but I’m not sure what time they start,” I replied. “I’ll let her know as soon as I can.”
“No problem,” he said. “We missed you at the last dinner.”
“Missed you, too,” I said, watching him walking from the office.
In all reality, missing me was probably the farthest thing from their minds. They missed Tiffany and the light she brought to the table every time she approached. I wasn’t going to lie. I missed her, too, maybe too much.
Chapter 4
Tiffany
I pulled my soft plush blanket from the dryer and wrapped it around my shoulders, soaking in the warmth it brought to my body. I sighed, rubbing the fabric against my cheek and dragging myself to the couch. I looked at the display I had laid out on the table in front of me. There were several bottles of wine, some snacks, a lot of junk food, and about five cheesy romance movies. It was like the divorced woman’s starter pack, and I had bought right into it. I had spent the week pretty much asleep most of the time and decided it was time I take the next step, moving my body from the bed to the couch and shoving useless calories, hand over fist, into it. I knew it was pathetic and not grown up of me at all, but my heart was broken, my brain was tired, and I still hadn’t had the chance to come to terms with being infertile, with not bearing my own children. It was extraordinarily depressing and read like one of the movies I was about to watch, except there was no happily ever after in my case.
I groaned as I reached across and grabbed the remote, laying my head down on the pillow and pressing play. I pulled the blanket farther over my head and placed the wine glass I was drinking from down on the floor below me. I plopped a straw in it and sipped slowly as my face still rested on the couch. It was probably the laziest thing I had ever done, and though I knew I had pretty much hit rock bottom, I didn’t really give a damn. While I was here, eating my twenty-thousand-dollar check in the form of Twizzlers and wine, Jordan, my now ex-husband, was out perusing the bars, looking for the next Mrs. Banks who could produce an heir to his pathetic and sad empire. I chuckled to myself wondering how he would ensure his next bride was fruitful. Would he require a gynecological examination as terms for the marriage? Would he make them sign a waiver saying they could produce human beings from their loins? I guess, for the right girl, especially one looking for the money, they would jump at the chance to give Jordan Banks a child. That would seal the deal and create a comfortable living situation for the rest of their lives. I guess I had been the guinea pig.
I knew I should get up, shower, get functioning, but I gave into my desire to spend my Friday night, Saturday night, and possibly Sunday into Monday, lying here on the couch crying away the minutes. Hell, I had accrued enough sick time and vacation that I could stretch this self-pity party out for an entire month if I wanted to. John, Jordan’s father had been so kind and sweet to me, knowing his son decided to skip out on our marriage but not knowing why. I was pretty sure if he knew why, he might punch Jordan over the head and as much as I would love to see that, I also knew it would completely destroy Jordan’s relationship with his parents. I was angry, but I had never been a vindictive person, truly believing that those who did harm to others would find their penalty later in life. I guess you could say I believed in karma. And Jordan’s karma wasn’t racking up too good in the background. I almost expected to see a nuclear explosion when all his bad deeds came rolling around back to him.
I had been so thankful for Jordan’s family, for their love. They’d sent me flowers throughout the week and insisted I not use my vacation time and sick leave when taking a month off. I loved my job, and I loved working for Mr. Banks. He was like family to me, and up to five days ago, legally, he was family to me. I didn’t know what to expect when Jordan first served legal papers about the divorce and was afraid the Banks would take his side, firing me from my job, and demeaning me to everyone. However, just as I knew it would be deep down, they reached out to me, and I couldn’t have been more thankful. Still, as I laid on my couch searching for an answer to my heartbreak, part of me didn’t even know if I wanted to go back to the company when the air had cleared. It was one thing to work for your ex-in-laws, it was another to work side by side with your ex-husband. I just didn’t know if I could sit back and deal with being around him on a regular basis like that. And God forbid the day he started dating someone else who worked in the office. I would have to endure the hell of watching him flirt and talk to another woman the way he used to with me. Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach, and I tried to push the thought from my mind.
I sipped harder on my straw, bleeding the glass dry and looking down into my empty glass. It kind of resembled how my soul felt, sucked dry and left to wonder where to go from there. Luckily, as far as my wine glass was concerned, I knew exactly where to go from there. I pulled myself up and situated the blanket over my shoulders, reaching for the next bottle of wine, or what I liked to refer to as, my next victim. I chuckled to myself wondering if that was how Jordan referred to the women in his life. Did he number them? Victim one, victim two, and so on? Did he sit back and laugh evilly from the throne room of his castle in Manhattan, looking down at all the “little people” of New York? I shook my head, realizing I really needed to put down the bottle, my imagination was starting to get away from me.
As I popped the cork on the next bottle of wine, watching it fall to the floor and roll into the kitchen, I heard a knock on the door. I rolled my eyes and groaned, wondering who in the world would come knocking, willfully destroying the flow of alcohol into my veins. I dragged myself, still wrapped in the blanket, to the door and opened it wide, staring at Mona, my best friend.
“Oh,” I said turning and walking back toward the couch.
“It’s good to see you too,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
“I was hoping you were the grim reaper, come to take me to the land of plenty,” I said sarcastically.
Mona looked down at the array of junk food on the table and poked at the stale pizza sitting in the box. “Appetizing,” she said, looking down at my glass and straw. “Oh, that’s very inventive of you.”
“Yeah, I thought about just going in one hundred percent and starting an IV, but I figured I’d probably screw it up,” I replied, pouring the wine into the glass. “I didn’t want to be found with one lung full of chardonnay and be labeled the old lonely divorced woman with a thousand cats.”
“You don’t have any cats,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, but when I had finally died, I’m sure they would sense me and come crawling through the windows,” I replied, lying back down on the couch and sipping my wine through the straw.
“Girl, I think it's time for an intervention,” she said, picking up the empty bottle of wine and grimacing at the label.
“What? I’ve only had one bottle this afternoon,” I whined.
“No, not the wine,” she chuckled. “You need to stop moping around like this. You are starting to freak out the neighbors.”
“Whatever,” I replied. “I don’t even think they know I still live here.”
“Well, from the looks of your yard and the papers stacked up out front, they might think the house was taken over by squatters,” she replied.
“You do remember it’s only been five days since I signed away my future,” I said, feeling my heart drop back down into my stomach.
“Yes, I remember. But I also remember it’s been a month since you found out about it,” she reminded. “This guy is such a loser. Like, grade A loser. Seriously, on the women’s timescale chart, you seriously should have only spent twenty-two hours and thirteen minutes of grieving on him. That makes you, like, I don’t even know how many hours behind.”
“Why is everyone on my ass?” I was starting to get irritated, and Mona quickly caught on.
“He
y, weirdo, calm down,” she said, throwing a cork at me. “I was only kidding. Well, mostly kidding.”
“So,” I said taking a deep breath and changing the subject. “What can I do for you?”
“I came to get you out of the house,” she said triumphantly. “You need some air, some fun, and you need to take a damn shower.”
“No,” I groaned. “I have plans.”
“With what? These cheesy romance videos? Come on, girl,” she said pulling me up to a sitting position. “You are so much better than this. I promise Tom Hanks and Tom Cruise will be waiting for you here when you get back. I’ll even chill your shitty-ass wine so you don’t have to continue to drink it warm.”
“I don’t know,” I said, flinching at the thought of getting off the couch, much less moving toward a bar or club.
“You know I’ve never steered you wrong,” she said smiling. “And you’ll get to spend some of that hard-earned divorce money on booze and hot men, just what it was intended for.”
My eyes opened wide, and I smiled at the thought of spending his money on clubs and bars. “Fine,” I said, finally convinced. “But you have to let me get myself together.”
“Deal,” she said. “You go shower, and I’ll move this garbage around so it’s in neater stacks.”
I stuck my tongue out at Mona and headed back to the bathroom, letting my blanket fall from my shoulders halfway down the hallway. I stood in front of the mirror, waiting for the shower to heat up, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Mona looked like a human being while I looked more like something from a zombie movie. Mona was the voice of reason between the two of us and always had been. She had no problems sticking up for herself, and I always chalked it up to the fact that she was barely five feet tall. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, and her cute little features magically turned seductive when you put some makeup in her hand. She was that friend who was loud and slightly embarrassing, but you couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.
As I let the hot water of the shower wash the last few days of wine and sleep away, I could feel my body begin to react. I did not want to go out to the bars, nor did I have any intention of picking up a man, but I guessed Mona was right, it was time I started acting like a human again, at least for a few hours. I knew I would have a good time, dancing, drinking, and laughing, but I also knew I had the ability to come home and hide out again if I really wanted to. Jordan had completely twisted my life upside down, and I needed to start taking back my control. He was no longer part of my life, and I didn’t need to let him affect me even more than he already had, no matter how hard it was to see that.
Chapter 5
Jason
Desperately needing to get out of the house and have some fun, I agreed to join my buddies at one of the clubs in Manhattan. I really didn’t like clubs because they were so packed and you could never really see the girl you were talking to between the dimly lit room and the strobe lights, but I thought it would be a good change of pace from the bar and Rose. Don’t get me wrong. She was fucking hot, and I never got tired of dragging her off to the back room, but a little variance in my life would be nice. I just second-guessed hitting on girls because while I was not looking for serious, they didn’t know that, and it wasn’t often you found a girl like Rose, who was more than willing to screw your brains out and not want anything more than that. Sometimes, I wondered what her life was like outside of the bar, but then I stopped myself, remembering the rule to these kinds of relationships was never asking too many questions. I had gone to my loft apartment in SoHo to shower and change clothes before going out.
In the shower, I thought about Tiffany, wondering what she was doing in that house in the Greek District. I remembered when my brother found out she wanted to live there and not the penthouse he had bought the year before. He was pretty damn irritated, but he seemed like he loved her so he agreed as long as he didn’t have to sell his place in Manhattan. She didn’t care, as long as he came home to her every night. I didn’t know what he did with the place since they seemed to be pretty much attached at the hip until he’d left her. Well, it turned out it was a good thing he kept his place, and Tiffany got to keep her house. I guess in a way, it would be nice to leave the city every day, get out into the suburbs where you could enjoy some peace and quiet for a little while. I thought her house was awesome with all the amenities Jordan would love, like a big screen television and pool in the backyard, but with the same feeling you get when you went to your aunt’s place out in the country for the weekend.
When I got out of the shower and dried off, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and shook my head. As usual, I was still thinking about Tiffany. It was starting to drive me nuts, but I guess I cared about the girl and took personally the fact that someone with my name screwed her over. I had always had a small sort of crush on her, but I figured everyone did. I mean, how could you not? She was intelligent, beautiful, forward, and caring toward everyone around her. I saw what Jordan was talking about when he would gush over her for hours when they had first started dating. It was the first time in my life I had listened to Jordan talk about someone other than himself. He had obsessed over Tiffany for years, and when he’d finally caught her, he was smitten as hell. I thought it was good for him, since his taste in women outside of her were usually blond bimbos with very little brain power.
I walked back to my room and pulled out my outfit for the night, putting it on and looking in the mirror. Immediately, I took the shirt back off and tossed it in the corner. I looked like my brother, and it was not what I was going for. Sure, we had a lot of similarities, but it was mostly aesthetic. When it came to business, though, we tended to agree more often than not, and we saw the company going in the same direction. That probably had more to do with having the same educational background and being raised by the same father, but I put a mark on the positive side for our relationship. When I was done getting ready, I checked my hair one last time and gave my reflection a charming smile. I grabbed my keys and took the elevator down a floor and hopped out, glad to see the car I called was already parked out front. The driver opened the door for me and then climbed into the front. He already had my destination, so we pulled off, watching the apartment fade into the background. I looked around as we drove, watching all the people getting out of their cars for an evening out in town. You could tell who the clubbers were and who the rich people on their way to dinner were. The excitement was a completely different level, and with winter quickly approaching, the rich bitches had pulled out their mink stoles and fancy jewelry. Driving through Manhattan on a Friday night offered more glittery sights than a jewelry store.
We pulled up in front of the club, and I hopped out, giving the driver my card so he knew my number when I called for a ride home. The doorman greeted me with a hug and a hand shake and opened the ropes to let me straight into the club. I winked at the blond girl standing in the front as I passed and laughed as she blushed and giggled with her friends. When I got inside, I went straight to VIP, finding my friends pulled up around a table, gawking at the girls on the dance floor and pounding back shots of vodka. I ordered a whiskey tonic from the server and pulled up a chair, listening to their mindless chatter about who they were going to be banging in the bathroom at the end of the night. I didn’t really like these guys very much at all, but now that hanging out with Jordan made me sick to my stomach, I had called up my old college buddies and got them into the good clubs. We were all relatively successful, but I was the only billionaire of the group, and they knew I could get them in the good spots. I was pretty sure they used me just as much as I used them to not feel like a loser coming to a club by myself. I didn’t want to be that creepy guy in the corner staring girls down while I sipped my drinks and picked my next victim. I was an ass, but I was not a creepy asshole.
As I took a sip of my drink, I choked. Was that—? Yes, that was Tiffany standing there with her best friend. Immediately, I was floored at how absolutely stunning
she looked. She was wearing a short, tight black skirt that barely came over her ass and a low-cut top that was open in the back. Her long sexy legs ended where her six-inch heels picked up. Her long blonde curls fell over her shoulders in ringlets and her smooth fair skin was highlighted with subtle makeup. She was laughing at whatever Mona was saying, but she didn’t look like she was being genuine. I had this overwhelming feeling driving me to go and talk to her. I set my cup down and straightened my shirt, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows to look more comfortable and relaxed. I pushed the chair back and took a big gulp of my drink as I walked forward toward her. As she fake laughed again at whatever the douche in the group was talking about, she turned her head toward me, her fake smile forming into a genuine one. She stepped away from the group and met me across the floor. I leaned in and half hugged her, stopping to kiss her lightly on the cheek. She didn’t think anything of it because that was the normal greeting in our household, but I felt the electricity surge through me as my lips touched her skin.
“How are you?” I had to yell over the music.
“Okay,” she said shrugging. “You?”
“I’m good,” I said nodding. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Yeah, I saw you called,” she said, smiling awkwardly. “Sorry I didn’t call you back.”
“It’s alright. I understand. I’m just glad you’re doing good,” I replied. “The office hasn’t been the same without you.”
“Yeah, right,” she chuckled. “I bet no one has even noticed.”
“I noticed,” I said feeling an awkward silence coming on. “Look, I just want to say that what my brother did was wrong.”
“It’s okay,” she said taking my hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but still, he’s my brother,” I replied. “Even after all the stupid shit he’s done, I thought he was a better man than that.”
