by Tara Sivec
Melinda gives me a kind smile as I reach out and take her offered hand.
“Eric, this stunning woman is clearly out of your league. Did you drug her? Force her to date you against her will? Sweetie, blink once for yes if you need help getting away from this heathen.”
I let out the most unladylike snort, and Eric huffs in protest next to me.
“Ariel, this lovely woman with no filter is Melinda, my former nanny.”
My smile falters just a bit as I shake her hand.
Shit. Not his mother. It’s okay. It’s fine.
“Stop introducing me like that,” Melinda scolds. “I’m the house manager, thank you very much. I deserved a promotion after raising your stubborn ass and you flew the coop for college.”
Melinda drops my hand and ushers us further into the foyer as Eric closes the door behind us. There’s nothing but white marble everywhere I look. White marble side table, white marble floor, white marble figurines that I know aren’t antiques but I can tell just by looking at them that they cost more than what I make in a month with the Naughty Princess Club. And of course, more fucking marble pillars extend from the floor all the way up to the top of the three-story vaulted ceiling.
I swallow nervously as Melinda leads us into a room next to the foyer that I realize is a formal dining room. Formal as in, Holy shit, does his mother brunch with the queen from time to time? The table is shiny, dark cherrywood and seats twenty-four. Twenty-four. I don’t even know twenty-four people. High-backed chairs with gold and dark-red brocade cushions surround the table; the design on the chairs matches the wallpaper. The table is set with white china with gold filigree, crystal goblets, and so many pieces of sterling silver dinnerware, I’m starting to feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman again, wondering which fork to use first.
“Your mother is talking to the chef, making sure everything is to her liking. You know how she is,” Melinda tells Eric with a roll of her eyes. “Why don’t you two have a seat and I’ll get you something to drink and let her know you’re here?”
Eric pulls out a chair for me two down from the head of the table, where I’m assuming his mother will sit, then takes the seat directly next to it, to the left of me. Thank God for that at least. My nerves are back in full force now, and having Eric in between us makes me feel a little bit better.
He rests his arm on the back of my chair and his fingers start twirling a strand of my hair, which I had curled into gentle waves and left to hang down around my shoulders.
“Melinda is amazing,” I tell him as he leans closer to me and nuzzles his face into the side of my neck.
“She is. But you’re amazing-er.”
I laugh softly and let out a little sigh when he kisses the side of my neck.
“That’s not even a word,” I mutter, my eyes fluttering closed when he gently bites down on my neck.
“Christ, I just want to strip you out of this dress and fuck you senseless,” he whispers, kissing his way up to right under my ear.
Good God, this man is amazing. With just a touch of his lips and a few words, my nerves slip away, replaced by desire. Probably not the best thing to be feeling when I’m getting ready to meet his mother, but it’s better than feeling like I want to throw up.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
Eric pulls his head away from my neck with a sigh and I open my eyes, a loud gasp flying out of my mouth when I see a familiar face standing behind the chair at the head of the table, looking between Eric and I with a pinched expression.
Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone right now?!
“It’s nice to see you too, Mother. This is my girlfriend, Ariel.”
I don’t get the same warm and fuzzy feeling when he calls me his girlfriend that I did a few minutes ago with Melinda. Right now, in the pit of my stomach is a huge flaming ball of dread, eating away at my insides.
“Ariel, this is my mother. Ursula Sailor.”
I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I should have known the other shoe is always hanging there, waiting to drop. And of course it isn’t a dainty, pretty, glittery shoe. It’s a fucking combat boot, getting ready to kick me right in the gut.
Chapter 24: Fuck You, Combat Boot
This is just a dream. Any minute now I’m going to wake up covered in sweat and panting, and I’m going to laugh because it was all just a horrible, horrible dream.
I pinch my thigh under the table, and when I don’t immediately find myself under the covers in the bed on my boat, I start wondering if maybe I died at some point in the last fifteen minutes and this is hell. Maybe I tripped walking up the steps, cracked my head on the stairs, and bled out before anyone could save me. Maybe the chandelier in the foyer had a loose screw and it came crashing down on top of me, crushing my skull. Or maybe Ursula shoved a knife into my back when she walked into the dining room and saw her son canoodling me with at her table.
That would actually be more believable than anything else since right now, since I feel like she fucking stabbed me in the back as I sit here listening to her talk to him about what’s going on with Sailor Yachting, acting like she’s never met me before. Acting like she didn’t look down her nose at me the two times I’ve interacted with her. Pretending like she didn’t just walk onto my fucking boat yesterday and ruin everything Cindy, Belle, and I have worked so hard for without a care in the world. Pretending like she didn’t know exactly who I was, even though I’m living on her son’s goddamn boat. And she broke my ceramic bust of Eric. I figured it was an accident when it happened, but there is no fucking way anything about that was accidental.
Eric’s hand is still draped over the back of my chair and he’s still twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers as he talks business with Ursula. He’s turned away from me and has no idea how much I’m freaking the fuck out right now. No idea how much I want to shove this chair back from the table, stand up and point at her and scream, “AH-HAH! YOU CONNIVING BITCH!”
Ursula glances over at me every once in a while as they chat, and she looks like the cat that ate the fucking canary, so smug and full of herself. I don’t know what the hell her agenda is. Why didn’t she tell Eric we’ve met before when he introduced us? And for that matter, why didn’t I? I can easily blame it on shock, but what’s her excuse? All that bullshit on the phone with him yesterday about how she was excited to meet me—what the hell was that even about?
The doorbell suddenly chimes with an obnoxiously long, fancy sound, and Ursula looks right at me and smiles, which makes my blood run cold.
“Looks like our other guest has arrived. If you’ll both excuse me,” she tells us, walking away from the table and disappearing into the foyer.
“Oh, shit,” Eric mutters. “I’m just going to apologize now. She probably invited the mayor or the governor or some shit to try and impress you.”
“The-the mayor?” I squeak when I hear laughter coming from the foyer.
“Yeah. He went to college with my dad. They’ve been family friends for as long as I can remember. Nice guy, but boring as fuck,” Eric tells me.
Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST!
I told Ursula that day in the courthouse that PJ was a close personal friend of the mayor, who would be more than happy to vouch for the Naughty Princess Club. The lie detector test says THAT’S A FUCKING LIE! Not only is she close personal friends with the guy, I’m sure she was secretly laughing her ass off when I told her that bullshit to try and prove to her that we had friends in high places.
While I paste a fake smile on my face, my panic level has reached an all-time high.
A few seconds later, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor make Eric turn around in his chair while I stare at the silverware in front of me, wondering if it would be better to stab Ursula with a fork or if I should stab myself, to put me out of my misery.
“Son of a bitch . . . ,” Eric whispers, quickly removing his arm from around my chair, reaching down under the table and grabbing my ha
nd.
He laces his fingers with mine as he rests our joined hands on the table between us.
“I promise I will make this up to you. Whatever you want, it’s yours. You want your own goat-yoga farm? I’ll buy it for you. I was already planning on replacing the broken bust you knocked over, but if you want a hundred of them, I’ll have them commissioned. Fuck it, make it two hundred. You want a Pringles factory? Done. Seriously, make a list. It’s all yours.”
Yes, I told Eric I bumped into the fucking bust and broke it, don’t even ask me why. Also, what in the actual hell is he rambling on about?
“Eric, darling. Look who’s decided to move back home,” Ursula announces as she walks back into the room, her hand linked through the elbow of a woman around my age.
But not just any woman. A stunning one, with long, shiny black hair, a flawless olive complexion, full heart-shaped lips, perfect cheekbones, big green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes, and not an ounce of fat on her tall, statuesque frame. She’s wearing a sky blue, A-line tea dress with a full skirt and a satin belt around her tiny waist, and Ursula beams at her as she approaches Eric’s chair.
Eric lets out a displeased sigh that only I can hear as he pushes his chair back and stands up.
“Eric! Oh, my goodness it’s wonderful to see you. You look as handsome as ever,” the woman gushes, resting her hands on his shoulders.
“Vanessa, it’s nice to see you again,” he says as she air kisses both of his cheeks, her hands still clinging to his shoulders while she stands entirely too close to him.
Looks like I’ve found my target for the fork stabbing.
Eric shrugs out of her hold as he turns to smile down at me, which makes the smile on my own face feel not as forced.
“Ariel, this is Vanessa Kostopoulos. Vanessa, this is the love of my life, Ariel.”
Oh, this man is totally getting laid before we even get back to the boat.
Not that I needed him to add that overkill when introducing me, since I can damn well take this chick if she has any ideas. But it sure as shit doesn’t hurt.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Aria,” Vanessa says, the smile she gives me not meeting her eyes like it did when she was gazing at Eric.
“It’s Ariel,” I correct her. “You know, just like the princess.”
I give her a bright smile as she moves around to the other side of the table, and Eric chuckles softly, bending over to kiss the top of my head before taking his seat again.
As Ursula settles at the head of the table and Vanessa sits on the other side of her, directly across from Eric, he reaches over and grabs my hand again, giving it a squeeze as he holds it against his thigh under the table.
No one speaks as the chef and a few servants enter the dining room through a swinging door, carrying plates that they set down in front of us on top of the plates already at our settings.
Plates on top of plates. Jesus, rich people are ridiculous.
I stare down at what was just put in front of me, hoping to God the chef comes back out with more food. When a few seconds go by and no one comes back through those swinging doors, and everyone else starts picking up their silverware, I realize I was wrong before. This is hell.
The tiniest egg-white omelet I’ve ever seen with some sort of leafy green shit in it sits in one corner of the plate, three pieces of honeydew cut in the shape of roses are next to it, and right in the middle of the plate are two brussels sprouts with nary a drizzle of melted butter or bacon bits on them. The whole plate has some sort of fancy design painted around the food using a green sauce that I’m sure was made out of a vegetable.
Where’s the bread? Where’s the crispy bacon? Where’s the biscuits and gravy? Where’s the donuts? There isn’t a carb in sight, and I think my stomach is starting to eat itself.
“We’ll go to a Taco Bell drive-through on the way home, don’t worry,” Eric says, leaning over to whisper in my ear.
I turn my head to find him smiling at me.
“That’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I whisper back.
“Vanessa and Eric went to college together at Yale University,” Ursula says. Eric and I break apart as we both push this healthy shit around our plates with our forks. “Ariel, where is it you said you went to school?”
Jesus, definitely not an Ivy League one.
“I didn’t. Say it or go to college. Unless you count the school of hard knocks. I got straight A’s there,” I tell her with a sweet smile.
Eric is still clutching tightly to my hand down on his thigh, and he gives it another reassuring squeeze.
“You and Ariel have something in common, Mother. Remember, I told you she’s a business owner as well, with two of her friends? The idea she came up with is brilliant, and this new business is growing so fast, it’s amazing. You two would probably have a lot to talk about, sharing ideas and things like that,” Eric says.
“It’s a stripping business, is it not? You take your clothes off for money and dance for other men?” Ursula says, not even bothering to hide her judgment. “I don’t know how you’re able to handle something like that Eric. Having her do something like that with other men.”
I’m squeezing the fork in my hand so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bend right in half. Eric starts to open his mouth I’m sure to defend me, but I quickly cut him off.
“Eric’s a pretty confident man. He knows he has nothing to worry about because I’ll always come home to him at the end of the night. And it’s not as indecent as it sounds. We conduct parties for people in the privacy of their own homes. We dance for them, show a little skin, and make a hell of a lot of money doing it. Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your son part owner of a strip club?” I ask, stabbing my fork into a piece of fruit and shoving it into my mouth.
“Eric made a business investment that has been very profitable for him. That doesn’t mean I approve of the business he’s conducting,” Ursula replies, dismissing me as she turns to her son. “Eric, did you know Vanessa was offered a position at a law firm here in town as partner? Twenty-eight years old and already a partner. Your parents must be so proud. I can’t believe a man hasn’t snatched you up yet. Eric, why did you two ever stop dating?”
Ursula smiles over at Vanessa, who is starting to look nervously around the table.
For fuck’s sake, I’m sitting right here!
“We never dated, Mother,” Eric sighs, squeezing my hand again.
“Just friends, Ursula. Eric is a wonderful man, but he was just a good friend,” Vanessa adds, glancing over at me. “Ariel, I love the idea of your business. It sounds fun and very unique.”
Well, maybe I won’t have to stab this woman after all.
“It’s definitely fun. Especially since I’m doing it with my two best friends. And like Eric said, it’s growing really fast and making us good money. Well, for now. We seemed to have had a little problem with some paperwork recently,” I add, giving Ursula a pointed look.
“You’ll get it figured out,” Eric reassures me, turning to look at his mother. “Wait a minute. You’re still the head of the board of directors for the county, aren’t you? Maybe you could help Ariel and her friends out with this paperwork bullshit.”
And that, folks, is the screeching sound of a needle being dragged across a record. I am such an idiot. Of course she’s on the board. And not just on the board, the head of the damn board. I knew something was weird about them sending an assistant to make a house call, and I should have gone with my gut.
Fuck you, combat boot. I’m putting you on my own foot to do a little kicking.
“Language, Eric, please. We’re at the dinner table,” Ursula scolds. “The board is very busy right now. I’m sure Ariel will be able to figure it out on her own if she’s as brilliant as you say she is.”
I smack my fork down against the table so hard it makes the crystal goblets around my setting rattle.
“Yes, well, it seems someone at the county has i
t out for us for some crazy reason.” I laugh humorlessly “Some judgmental person with a stick up his or her behind who thinks they’re better than us and looks down their nose at what we’re doing. It’s quite pathetic really, the lengths they’re going just to try and prove something.”
Ursula narrows her eyes at me, but she’s also looking a little nervous right now. She clearly doesn’t want Eric to know that she’s the one I’m talking about. That she’s the reason our business that we worked so hard on might be shut down.
“If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to take a look at your paperwork, pro bono,” Vanessa interjects, making me want to run around the table and hug her skinny, perfect ass.
“Oh, you wouldn’t want to waste your time with a small-business problem when you have multimillion dollar industries you deal with, Vanessa,” Ursula tells her.
“Jesus, Mother, that’s enough,” Eric mutters.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so rude. Of course it wouldn’t be a waste of time. I’m sure it’s very important to you that you do whatever you can to make sure it doesn’t fail,” Ursula says pointedly, and that feeling of dread starts taking root again in my stomach.
The rest of brunch goes by just as uncomfortably as the start of it, Ursula droning on and on about all of Vanessa’s accomplishments, while Vanessa looks like she’d rather be anywhere but at this table right now.
Join the club, sister.
While the plates are cleared just as quickly as they came, Ursula reaches over and pats Vanessa’s hand.
“Is your car still making that strange, rattling sound when you start the engine?” Ursula asks.
“Um, yes. But it’s fine. I’m taking it into the dealership tomorrow.”
“Nonsense! Eric used to fiddle around with our cars when he was a teenager, always taking things apart to see how they worked. Sweetheart, why don’t you go outside with Vanessa and see if you can figure out what the problem is so the poor girl doesn’t get taken advantage of by the mechanic?”
