by Alexis Angel
I take two steps toward the counter and uncap one of the whisky bottles my father keeps around. Reaching for a glass, I pour myself a hefty dose, downing it in one single gulp. Then I pour myself another, giving it the same fucking treatment. It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to rage through my veins, a soothing sensation taking over me.
What the fuck do I do now? I was a fucking idiot! What the fuck was I thinking? She’s right… Whatever we had between us, it was doomed right from the fucking start. She’s my stepmother, for fuck’s sake! Did I expect my fucking father to give us his blessing? Did I expect the whole world to fucking applaud as we broke all sorts of taboos? How could I be so fucking naive?
But then I remember the first time I saw her, every curve in her body calling to me, her beautiful face like a fucking mirage… Maybe it was wrong, but it was fucking bound to happen.
I leave the kitchen and head to my room, walking up the stairs as if I was in a fucking daze. There, I close the door and sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes wandering to the corner of the room: the suitcase I thought of taking with me to Europe is still there, staring back at me as if it were fucking mocking me.
Maybe she’s right… Maybe I should just fucking pack up, leave, and put everything that happened behind my back. London, Paris, Berlin—all cities brimming with beautiful women… I can go anywhere I fucking want.
But it’s not that fucking simple and, deep down, I know it. I can’t wipe my memory clean and go on about my life as if she had never crossed my life. Because she did. She fucking did...
And now that’s she gone, I’m fucking lost.
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
Well if you ever wondered whether the stork that brings babies had any party affiliation, we now know he may very well be a Republican. That’s all because of the rather timely press release from the Mayor’s office today that he and his wife, Jocelyn Anders, are expecting a child.
That’s right, New York. Hizzoner is going to be a father.
The news of Jocelyn Anders being pregnant is expected now to burnish an already stellar view that the city has of him as a devoted family man. Who can resist a tiny baby wrapped up and looking cute?
It also comes with the added bonus of being impervious to any of the attacks that Mayor Anders’ rival, Jim Jenkins, has thrown at him in the past in terms of politicizing his family just to score points with the voters. You can bet that Michael Anders isn’t going to hesitate bringing out a pregnant Jocelyn to every ceremony and campaign stop now.
But what about the other male Anders in the family? The hot, bad boy? My sources in the Anders campaign confirm he hasn't been seen in the last couple of days, but here’s a bit of juicy gossip for you. Deep cover sources tell me that there was some sort of blow-up between the now pregnant Jocelyn and Lance. Can the pregnancy of his stepmother be vexing for the Mayor’s prodigal son? Well, we don’t know for sure, but it sure looks like it. Is someone possibly getting jealous that they won’t be getting all the attention from his parents? Well, New York, I’ll tell you this; if Lance ever needs attention or thinks he’s being neglected, I’m sure there are a million women in this city who will be more than happy to show him a good time and take care of his every need.
With about a month left until the election, it certainly looks like the Mayor has his re-election in the bag. Since his announcement of his wife’s pregnancy, he’s launched a vast array of proposals designed to better support the working women of the city—a demographic that he’s struggled with in the past. Is it going to be enough to push him over the edge? Well, let’s just say this; if the Mayor plays his cards right, he may actually end up not just winning, but winning with such a landslide vote that he’ll go into the next term with the people of the city united behind him.
But before you start getting comfortable and thinking that it’s time to move on to the next thing competing for your attention, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn’t say that I think there’s still questions that need to be answered. Isn’t it just a little too convenient that this baby is on the way right before the election? And does Hizzoner have any secrets that could end up coming out at the eleventh hour that might take away from his baby bump? A lot can happen in a little under four weeks—and there’s still a lot of balls in the air, so don’t get too comfortable, Gotham. Till we know more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Jocelyn
“This city was built on the values of family,” Michael says to an approving audience. “And it's gotten us through the tough times. We will only be great by continuing to cherish our values and holding ourselves to a higher standard!”
I look toward the clapping and cheering audience. They’re enthusiastically holding signs that read “Bring Back Our Values” and “Anders - Character Counts.”
If they only knew.
“I pledge that my second term in office will see the restoration of the old values that made this city the center of the world,” Michael declares. “And that people who flout those values don’t get a free pass while the rest of the city follows the rules and plays fairly.”
People nod and clap. Michael looks over in my direction. It’s just for a second and it’s a fleeting glance but I know he’s checking on me.
I bring my hands to clap and give a weak smile. It should be enough to let me continue to blend in the background.
Besides, I’m the pregnant wife, remember? I can be excused for having to leave. Or wanting to sit down.
Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.
Every. Single. Morning.
Just saying that I can’t make it due to the pregnancy. That I can’t stand next to this man and smile and clap while he tells the people of the city how much values are important to him.
“My friends, if every one of us cherished the same family values that are under assault, we’d have a stronger, more vibrant city without spending a single cent!”
The crowd loves this. Not surprising. They see a charismatic leader with his pregnant wife standing next to him and they think he’s figured out this world. Well, he's figured it out alright. He’s figured out the art of manipulation. Of blackmail and deceit.
“I know that I personally am a stronger candidate since Jocelyn got pregnant,” Michael says, running out the tired phrase all over again. He’s got to remind New Yorkers about his pregnant wife. In case they missed it on the ads that are on the subways, buses, and taxis. Or the commercials playing on television. “She tells me I have to be home by 8 pm so you know what it makes me do? It makes me work harder and get up earlier. So I can be there for her exclusively in the evening.”
Yesterday Michael didn't even come home in the evening. I only saw him this morning, wearing the same clothes. He looked well rested and I knew he had been with someone else. He didn’t even think to explain it to me. He just nodded in my direction and went to shower as I watched him silently.
As he was showering, I looked at his clothes. I still remember the smell of the cologne. It took me all of two seconds to know where I’ve smelled it before—that’s Kenneth’s signature fragrance.
I mean, how many times has Lance told you about Michael cheating on me. How many times have I?
But I’m sorry, hon. I don't mean to come across like what I just sounded like. I’m not trying to be a bitch.
And before you tell me it’s okay, I’m not upset that Michael is cheating on me with a man. I’m really okay with that part, if you can believe that. I mean, God works in mysterious ways. If Michael is attracted to Kenneth, or to another man, me spreading my legs and flashing my tits isn’t going to work on him. Considering that he’s never even kissed me, I don’t really feel betrayed or hurt.
No, what really riles me more than anything else is that Michael gets to go have his fun while the on
e man that I want—that I crave—is out of my reach. The one man…
“Lance, my son,” Michael booms and just hearing that name snaps me back to reality. I don't really care what crock of bullshit Michael’s feeding them. I want Lance. I want his arms around me. I want him squeezing me against his hard body. I want to feel his giant cock pulsing against my pussy as he grabs my ass and squeezes it. I want that salty semen of his to fill me up, like it has so many times. I want to ride him until he makes me cum and the world’s problems melt away.
And then afterwards, I want him to hold me as I bask in contented satisfaction. In his arms, I know that I was happy.
“Lance,” Michael continues. “Couldn’t be here today, because he's doing some important work for the campaign in the Bronx, but I’m sure that even he would agree that his life has turned around greatly since he’s come home and had the stability of family.”
Now that’s a low blow. Michael not only neglected his stepson to the point where Lance acted out. But now he’s taking credit for Lance’s turnaround?
You know what, I really don’t care anymore. I miss the man who's the love of my life. But I can’t be with him because I’m blackmailed into staying in a loveless marriage. To have a baby for a man that’s hiding his identity from the world.
“Lance would be the first person to agree that a happy, trusting, and honest home is what makes him successful,” Michael says.
I can’t help but scowl. There are times that I hate this man. They seem to be happening more and more frequently. If there was only some way to get out of…
“Not liking what you hear?” a voice whispers into my ear.
It’s too low to be caught by the crowds or the cameras.
I turn around slightly to see Kenneth standing next to me.
My first thought is if it looks odd that Kenneth is talking to me during Michael’s speech. But after doing plenty of these campaign stops I realize that form the crowd it’ll only look like logistical discussions between members of the campaign. They’re fixated on Michael’s oratory. Not on me.
“Did you not hear me, Mrs. Anders?” Kenneth asks again. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of the Mayor.”
Now my body freezes. I don’t know if it’s fear. Kenneth isn’t one to inspire fear. He’s more catty than anything else. But there is caution. And wariness. Whereas Lance could kill someone if he got angry enough, I know Kenneth could meticulously plan their complete destruction.
“Your posture is telling me that you can not only hear me, but that I’m right,” Kenneth says and this time I turn toward him.
“What do you want, Kenneth?” I hiss under my breath. I can hear the audience break out into cheers and applause at one of Michael’s lines and I only hope that I wasn’t supposed to be smiling and waving.
But the moment passes and Michael continues on. Kenneth simply looks at him. “I want what’s mine,” he says to me. “I want to be with the man I’ve fallen in love with, and the man you’re trying to take away with that fake pregnancy of yours.”
“What makes you think this baby is fake, Kenneth?” I ask him.
He smiles at me sardonically. “Silly rabbit, I know you’re really pregnant, but I know that’s not Michael’s baby.”
Now the hairs are rising on the back of my neck. If Kenneth knows that this child isn’t Michael’s then who else knows. And if Michael thinks I told, then all bets are off. He’ll go after dad as easily as he throws away garbage.
The look must be translating across my face because Kenneth lowers his voice.
“Relax, Jocelyn,” he says to me. “No one gossiped, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It is. But if no one has been gossiping, then who could…
“As far as everyone knows, you and Michael are in so much fucking love,” Kenneth says. “And you're expecting that child like two proud and happy parents. It makes me sick.”
How does Kenneth know?
“And in case you were wondering, I heard about your baby straight from the horse’s mouth,” Kenneth says, his eyes traveling to Michael. There’s an inescapable look of lust in them. Michael has just finished a line and the crowd is clapping again. He turns his head slightly and sees Kenneth and I speaking. “That’s right. Straight from the horse’s mouth. As he was fucking me doggy.”
I cringe at the thought of my husband having pillow talk with this man. He’s so fucking slimy.
“And Michael told me it was a secret, sure,” Kenneth says, gently touching me on the arm. But there’s no warmth to it, despite what it may look to the crowd. “But I don’t like it.”
At last, I get the courage to reply back.
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t like it, hun,” I tell Kenneth. “If that’s what Michael wants.”
The fingers squeeze harder on my hand.
“Michael doesn’t know what he wants half the time until I tell him,” Kenneth says. “He doesn't realize that you don't deserve him. He doesn't understand that the population of this city doesn't care who he’s sleeping with.”
I remain silent as Kenneth continues. “But that’s fine. He doesn’t have to make the hard choices. That’s why he has me. And I’m making the choice for how he has to deal with you, Mrs. Anders.”
“What do you mean?” I ask Kenneth. His eyes are looking at me coldly, evaluating me.
“You’re no good for him,” Kenneth says to me matter-of-factly. “If anyone ever finds out that baby isn’t his, it could mean ruin politically for his future. We’d be stopped at the mayoral level.”
“We?” I ask, with an arched eyebrow.
The crowd cheers again and Kenneth waits until it dies down.
“You need to leave him,” Kenneth says to me.
I shake my head. I can’t do that. He doesn't know the conversation Michael and I have already had.
“I don’t think you understand, Jocelyn,” Kenneth says to me, looking at me shaking my head. “Michael may have threatened you, and he may carry through it, but it’s nothing compared to what I’ll unleash on you if you don’t leave him.”
Now I’m curious. What's worse that Kenneth could do?
“I’ll not only expose your father, but I’ll pull enough strings that when you finally do have that baby, Social Services will come take it away because you’ll be an unfit mother,” Kenneth hisses. “And Michael will be long gone after that shit comes out. He won’t be able to protect you.”
I’m frozen as I hear the words that my baby might be taken away.
“Sure, you’ll be able to deny that the baby isn’t yours, but once Michael starts getting hit, he’ll throw you overboard to save himself. And then no one will be around to defend you, dear,” Kenneth says, taking a moment to pause and look into my eyes.
“You won’t win in this situation, so it’s time to make sure you end up losing the least,” he tells me. I’m still frozen. In shock. Awe. Disgust. Revulsion. “But Mrs. Anders, if you cooperate with me and do exactly what I tell you to do, maybe you can mitigate some of those losses.”
I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. My baby is being used as a bargaining chip.
“If you leave Michael, and do it convincingly, and make the world believe you guys split,” I’ll not only not hurt you, I’ll help you land on your feet after Michael starts destroying your father.
I stare at him.
“But you only have one week to end things with Michael,” Kenneth concludes. “One week to break off your ties to that man.
I wonder if I’m in a weird twisted dream brought about by pregnancy. I can’t believe just a few weeks ago I was routinely enjoying mind-numbing sex with Lance. And now, this?
“Why?” I ask, simply. That’s all I need to know.
Kenneth seems to consider a moment before answering, “Because I love that man in ways you would never understand,” he replies. “And I want what’s mine without you taking it away from me.”
I try to reply, but Michael finishes his s
peech and the crowd goes wild. News reporters and bodyguards crowd around us with the reporters asking questions or taking pictures and the bodyguards ushering off the stage.
I know Kenneth wants to speak more, but he just looks at me and says, “One week,” before a bodyguard comes over and ushers me off the stage and toward the waiting limo.
One week in which to end a marriage.
And lose my soul at the same time.
But anything to protect my baby.
No, our baby. Lance’s and mine.
Our baby.
Lance
Since Jocelyn broke up with me that I haven't been the fucking same. How could I? It might be a fucking dumb thing to say, but she ripped my fucking heart out and stepped all over it. And I still can't take her out of my fucking mind. I'm going fucking crazy here, that much I can tell you.
I thought of packing my shit up and catching the first plane out of the fucking States, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet, at least. Not while my mind is in fucking tatters. Before I make a decision, I need to fucking unwind, and what better way to unwind than to be in a place packed to the ceiling with hot sluts? That's exactly the reason I'm out tonight. Yes, that's right; Lance Anders is fucking back, ladies. At least for today.
"Whisky, neat," I ask the bartender, leaning on the counter and scanning the dance floor. The fucking nightclub is completely packed, and since I've chosen one of the most exclusive venues in New York, it's packed with hot young ladies. Just what I fucking need right now—women, bright lights and loud music.
A few of the women on the dance floor are already eyeing me, but I don't feel like going up to them. If they're that interested, they can be the ones to approach me, and they can also buy me a fucking drink, once they're at it. It’s a brave new fucking world, ladies, fuck chivalry. Yeah, I’m in a foul fucking mood, in case you still haven’t noticed. Can you fucking blame me? Thought so.
