by Wilde, Ora
“That’s not your neighbor,” Hayden said, even angrier than before. “That’s my father.”
Chapter 21
HAYDEN
“This is not the right place nor the right time to have this discussion.”
His words were unyielding. His tone was definitive. He probably thought that he was in the boardroom, when in fact, we were at his bitch’s living room on her behest. Please come inside, she said, we’ll all have coffee and sort things out.
“No time is the right time for you,” I answered him. “You could’ve told me the details of your trysts and this... this... this humiliating episode could have been avoided.”
“Watch your mouth, Hayden!” he commanded.
I replied with a smirk. I always did whenever I got him angry. I derived some form of satisfaction from that.
Phoebe, confused and concerned, was sitting on a bar stool at the end of the living room, just beside the counter which separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. Her mother, who turned out to be my father’s clandestine lover, was at the other side, preparing the cups of coffee she promised us.
I didn’t want anything from her. I didn’t want anything to do with her.
“Watch my mouth?” I repeated his statement. “You made me date my would-be stepsister! How sick is that?”
He shook his head in exasperation.
“Oh, I’m sorry, father,” I added. “It’s not that sickening, after all... at least not as sickening as you desecrating my mother’s memory... as if you haven’t done enough wicked things already.”
“Hayden!” he called my attention, which was just his formal way of telling me to shut my mouth. “You are out of line.”
I was so angry that I wanted to say more, but I restrained myself from doing so. It wasn’t because he instructed me to stop. Furious as I was, I still had to exhibit some manners. It wasn’t my house. It was hers. She didn’t deserve my respect, but being in her home required a modicum of courtesy.
“I just want some answers,” I said as I sat on the couch.
“You’ll get them once Martha’s here,” he replied.
As if on cue, he came back to the living room with a tray that had four cups of coffee. She was smiling. I wanted to ask the reason why. There was nothing funny with what was happening.
I grabbed a mug and checked if there were traces of milk. There was none. I took a sip before starting to speak once again.
“So... what’s the score here?” I asked both of them.
They looked at each other like kids who were caught fooling around. My father straightened the black coat he wore over his La Coste shirt, cleared his throat and delivered an answer that sounded so rehearsed to be true.
“Martha and I are in love and we’re getting married next week,” he explained.
“Yeah, yeah... I know that part,” I interrupted him. I didn’t have the patience for a summary of what I already knew. It has been a very tiring night, no thanks to Phoebe and the bet I was in danger of losing. It was made even worse by the discovery of the woman my father was dating. “I want to know the details. How long have you been lovers? Why do you have to get married so soon? And where the fuck are they going to live?”
“I told you to watch your mouth, boy,” my father reminded me as he indignantly pointed his finger towards me.
“Fine, fine... just get on with it. Answer my damn questions already.”
Martha sat beside him. She placed her hand on his thigh. They looked at each other. He gave her a nod.
“Hayden, your father and I have been dating for almost six months now,” she said. “As to why we have to marry so soon...”
“She’s pregnant,” a female voice joined the conversation. It was Phoebe, who was still sitting away from us.
Pregnant? My old man knocked her up? Fuck!
They’re going to have a child... and that child will have to go through the agony of having him as a father! What fate could possibly be worse?
“I didn’t think you could still get it up, father,” I scornfully quipped.
I saw the sense of discomfort on Martha’s face. I liked it.
“As for your other question,” my father started to say, “they will be living with us after the wedding.”
“What?!” I responded in sheer shock.
“Wait... wait... I didn’t know that,” Phoebe joined me in protest. “Mom... we’re happy here. We just moved to Van Nuys. Why’re we moving again?”
“Honey... this place is good for the two of us, yes,” Martha answered. “But there will be four of us soon... well five if we’d count this baby,” she added as she rubbed her stomach. “This place wouldn’t be able to accommodate all of us.”
That wasn’t the real reason. It was obvious. The woman’s a gold digger. She had the chance to live in my father’s three story house at Beverly Hills. Why would she pass up on that opportunity? She didn’t have to invent that ridiculous excuse she just delivered.
But what else could I do?
It was my father’s house. It was my father’s life. It was my father’s decision to make.
I stood up without finishing my coffee.
“I have to go,” I said without even bothering to explain myself.
“Hayden,” Martha spoke. “It’s a pleasure to finally get to know you. I’m looking forward to -”
“Yeah, yeah... whatever,” I didn’t allow her to finish. What for? I knew she was just being polite. I didn’t like her, and that should be enough reason for her not to like me as well. Plus, her daughter - a fruit that didn’t fall far from the tree, I was sure - just refused my advances, and it might’ve just cost me my Hummer.
I went straight outside without even looking back.
Before I could get inside my vehicle, however, a familiar voice called my name.
“Hayden, wait up!” Phoebe yelled. I stopped to look at her. Was she already regretting her decision to turn me down? Did she change her mind? We shared something in common that night, after all: a feeling of being betrayed by the very people who we should trust the most. We were both mad... and angry sex can be a very intoxicating experience.
“Yeah, why?” I replied.
“You okay?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I dunno. You sounded so... hostile back there.”
“I don’t handle surprises well.”
“Neither do I.”
“Is there a particular reason why you stopped me from boarding my vehicle?”
“Well... uhm...”
“I’m sorry, Phoebe. It’s been an emotionally draining night. If I do sound impatient, it’s because I am. I can be very temperamental whenever I’m worn out like this. So, if you have something to say, just say it please.”
I saw her face waffle. She wanted to tell me something, yet, she didn’t know if it was the right thing to do.
“Well,” she finally said, “I just want to thank you for a wonderful night.”
And with those words, she tiptoed as her body reached for my face. She gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I was stunned.
More alarmingly, I was stunned wondering why I was stunned.
“So... is this your idea of it’s not you, it’s me?” I asked her, hoping to clarify the mixed signals she gave me that evening.
“Well... sort of... maybe... I dunno... I’m... complicated like that.”
I smirked at her comment.
“Aren’t we all complicated creatures?” I said as I turned around and proceeded to my Hummer...
My Hummer which I still had a chance of saving.
Chapter 22
PHOEBE
“And how was it?”
My mom was smiling as she asked that question. I was helping her clean up, clearing the small table in front of the couch, putting the cups of coffee - all of them unconsumed - on the tray and wiping the surface with a piece of cloth.
“It was alright,” I replied with simulated casualness. I didn’t want her
to know that I had, what could very well be, the best time of my life... not when we just discovered that her future husband was my date’s father, making Hayden my future... stepbrother?
Oh no...
I didn’t know how I’d feel about that thought. Was I supposed to be repulsed by the fact that I just dated and kissed someone who, by next week, would be my sibling? Was I supposed to be sickened by the memory of his fingers penetrating me in a place that no man - or woman for that matter - has ever touched me before?
I should. A normal person would find those quite revolting... stomach-churning, even.
But why was I feeling something else? Something odd. Something that I knew I shouldn’t be feeling?
Why was I getting excited over the faintest memory of his handsome face?
“New?” she uttered as she carried the tray back to the kitchen. I joined her march towards the sink, carrying the plate of biscuits that, just like the cups of coffee, remained untouched.
“New what?” I asked her.
“Your shoes. They’re nice. Boyish, but nice.”
“Oh...”
Oh...
I totally forgot about the Retro Jordans that I was still wearing.
“Uhm... thanks... I guess...” I uneasily responded, conflicted about whether I should tell her the story behind the pair’s acquisition.
“He bought you those?” she continued to question without even looking at me.
“Errr... yep!” It was a tentative confirmation. I could’ve lied. I wanted to lie to avoid further queries. I didn’t want our conversation to end up being an interrogation.
But she’s my mother. We talked about everything. There were no secrets between us. I doubt if a guy would be able to change that. So I told her the truth.
“I figured as much,” she said. “The moment I saw your heels in the lawn, I knew he’d buy you a new pair.”
“Oh my goodness,” I croaked. “I forgot about my heels! It’s such a huge relief that you found them for me, Mom!”
I wanted to tell her more about the wonderful, wonderful time I had, but I couldn’t. Especially not at that moment, with everything that has happened earlier.
“Will you go out with him again?” She was persistent about the topic, pretending that it was a small matter but the her body language, meandering and tensed, as well as her tone, shamelessly indifferent with calculated execution, revealed what she was truly feeling.
“Probably not, Mom,” I tried to assuage her fears. “He’s nice and all, but he’s just not my type.”
Argh!
“I’m so... sorry to hear that,” she said with restrained relief. “It’s for the better, I think. You and him... well... you’ll be living under the same roof after the wedding.
Eek!
I never gave it that much thought. To be that close to him? Each and every day? Each and every night? How was I supposed to forget about him... assuming that I did want to get him out of my head?
“Hey!” I tried to change the subject which has uncomfortably focused on me since Hayden and his dad left the house. “Why are we talking about me, Mom? You’re the one who’s getting married, and you’re the one who never told me that you’ve been dating William Summersmith!”
She coughed, seemingly trying to clear the lump that might’ve formed in her throat.
“I just... I just wasn’t ready to tell you about him, that’s all,” she explained. “He’s famous, and he’s rich, and everything was just so fast. I’m trying to deal with everything that has happened and everything that is happening. I’m sorry, honey... I guess I didn’t have the opportunity to plan how to tell you about him... about us... and about what our life will be after we get married.”
He’s rich?
She talked about him like he was just some guy who owned a Mom and Pops store at the corner of the street. William Summersmith was so much more than that.
Everyone knew who William Summersmith was. He wasn’t just some rich guy. He was the wealthiest of the wealthy. His name is so up there with the likes of Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Jeff Bezos, Oprah Winfrey. If she was going to be his wife... her life will instantly change. She will leave behind the simple existence we have always been satisfied with, and she will enter a world of glitz and glamor and eccentricities that only the affluent would be able to understand - like extravagant parties, lavish jewelries, Italian clothing, Swarovski crystals, and polo.
The Summersmiths have owned and operated the biggest electricity and railway companies west of the United States since like forever. Throughout the years, they have branched out to other industries, many of them they have managed to monopolize. Just recently, their parent corporation, Summersmith Holdings, has taken over AmTel, the second largest telecom company in the western hemisphere.
My mom dating someone? I could take that.
My mom getting pregnant? That’s a cause for joy.
My mom marrying one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in America? Whoa! That’s just too much to even consider, more so accept.
“You’re just dealing with a lot of things, Mom,” I replied. “I understand. But I still can’t believe you’re going to be Mrs. William Summersmith. I mean... wow! Just... wow!”
She turned around to face me. Her eyes looked deeply into mine.
“Honey, nothing has to change about us, okay?” she stated. “Who we are right now, it’s who we will be even after I get married. Given his stature, we will have to adjust our lifestyle correspondingly... but we wouldn’t allow that to change us, okay?”
“O-Okay,” I responded.
It was an honest answer.
As I was growing up, she thought me how to appreciate the simplest things in life... the fact that we were able to afford our necessities while indulging in some small luxuries from time to time... the bond that we shared which was beyond reproach... the contentment we had with what we have without needlessly wanting more... she wanted us to keep these values. She didn’t want those to change.
“William... Bill... he’s quite a prominent figure,” she continued to say. “But he’s a good man. A very good man with the kindest heart. People respect him a lot. And he’s very excited about us moving in with him.”
“Really?” I asked. William Summersmith may be excited, but I didn’t know if I felt the same way. A part of me was thrilled about it. But an even bigger part of me dreaded that eventuality.
“Yes!” she enthused. “But please understand that, given his public stature, we may have to be a little more careful about our dealings, too. What we do, what we say, how we react... all of these will reflect on him.”
“I understand, Mom.”
“We don’t have to change, honey, but let’s not do anything that may jeopardize how people would view him, okay?”
“Okay!” I replied. I completely got her point. The perils of fame, they called it. If we were going to be one, big happy family, it goes without saying that we shouldn’t do anything that would compromise a family member’s name... more so a family member who was as distinguished as my soon-to-be stepdad.
“Good,” my mom remarked.
We held each other’s hands, just like how we used to, and smiled.
“It’s settled then,” she added. “You won’t be dating Hayden anymore.”
What?!
Chapter 23
HAYDEN
“I’m so sorry, boss! I’d go bash their heads when I see them. They shamed you. They shamed me. I couldn’t allow that!”
Zack has been very apologetic the whole morning, which we - he, myself and Donnie - spent in our spot at the corner of the Proprietor’s Office and the Main Library. Donnie has been laughing at him the whole time, remembering the story behind Zack’s overly regretful behavior.
“No harm done, Zack,” I told him, something I couldn’t say to one of the two guys he helped me hire. His groin must still be aching the day after that incident.
“Well, how was it?” Donnie asked, excited about what I woul
d share regarding my rather disastrous date. The stakes were of particular interest for him, after all. If I lost, my Hummer was his.
