by Rye Hart
“It isn't just Dad's company to give away, you know,” I said, making a last-ditch attempt. “It's just as much yours.”
A faint smile crossed her lips, and she looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“Not many people realize that, Malcolm,” she said softly.
“I know the truth, Mom. Dad couldn't have done it without you,” I said. “You have as much say as he does.”
“I wish that were true, Malcolm,” she replied. “But, you know your father won't listen to me.”
“He would, Mom. He listens to you more than anyone else,” I argued.
“That's not true. Things with your father have been more difficult these last few years. Ever since – ”
She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. I knew when things went downhill for the two of them. It was the day that Adam came into the picture. He came into our family like a tornado, destroying everything in his path. There was so much anger and resentment, on both sides, and he'd eaten it up. He savored the destruction and reveled in the chaos he caused.
For a while there, I'd feared it might mean the end of my parents’ marriage. Somehow though, they'd pulled through. My mother, however, had never been the same. She'd taken a backseat to everything in the family – including the business – and stopped arguing with my dad. She seemed to have folded into herself.
It killed me to see her submit to him like that – even if it had saved their marriage. My mom deserved better than that. She was a great woman and didn't deserve to be forced to the sidelines the way she had been.
“I think a better option is to move forward, honey. To do as your father asks,” she said quietly. “Besides, you've always wanted to be a father yourself, Malcolm. I know you and Danielle had names picked out and everything. You'll just be doing it without her now.”
My chest tightened up at the mention of my ex. Yes, we'd had names picked out. Several of them. Girls and boys. We'd wanted several kids – sons and daughters. She'd wanted four or more, while I was content with two or three. Nothing had been set in stone, of course. We were just going to see where life took us.
I'd had no idea, back then, that life would bring me here. Contemplating the idea of being a single father, of having a child with a woman I didn't even know or care about – it felt wrong. It felt wrong on so many levels.
“I've made an appointment with a surrogacy agency,” she said. “We'll speak to them on Monday.”
I cringed. “Mom, I'm really not comfortable with you doing all this,” I said. “It's my child, so I should be making the arrangements.”
Her face fell, and I immediately felt terrible. She probably liked being useful; having a purpose and a mission again. She looked like I'd just taken it all away from her and I felt like a total ass.
“It's just – awkward. Think about it,” I say. “My mother comes with me to a clinic where we discuss – ”
There was no way I was going to talk about sperm with my mom – in a public place, no less – so I left it hanging. Talk about an inappropriate discussion to be having at the table.
“I understand, Malcolm,” she said. “The appointment is at nine o'clock, Monday morning. I'll text you the address and you can go alone if you'll feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
I actually wasn't feeling entirely thankful in the moment. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go about it that way, but I was running out of time – and without Danielle in the picture, I didn't have many options either. In fact, unless we found a way to convince dad to change his mind about all of this, I was pretty much out of options, period.
My phone buzzed. “Danielle,” I muttered, deleting the message. “She still wants to talk. I have a feeling Adam told her about the deal, and she says she can help me. Yeah, sure you can, Danielle. Not that I'd even know the child was mine for sure if we did go that route.”
“Did she ever explain why she came to the house with Adam?”
I nodded. “She said it was to see me, but the way he was hanging all over her, I seriously doubt that,” I said. “She wanted to get even with me. Make me jealous.”
“Manipulative little whore,” my mom muttered.
I stifled a laugh. My mom wasn't one to call people names, but her loyalty to me knew no bounds, and I loved her for it.
I looked at the time and downed the rest of my wine. “Sorry, Ma, I have to get going,” I said. “Hanging with Greg tonight.”
“Another night on the town?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You know that when you have a baby, you can't do this.”
“Exactly why I need to have fun now. Before I'm strapped down with responsibility,” I said, giving her a wink. “Don't worry. I won't be out too late.”
“And you'll make that appointment on Monday?”
“Yes, Mom,” I sighed.
It was worth at least talking to them and explore any options I might have. Especially if it made my mom happy. After all, it sounded like I was going to need to have a baby sometime within the next nine months or so if I wanted to make sure my father's company didn't end up in Adam's hands.
That meant that, unless I met the girl of my dreams at some point within the next few days or so, and things moved very fast, it was likely not going to happen.
Hell, I'd have had better odds at winning the lottery. Damn my dad for doing this to me. Damn him.
~ooo000ooo~
The Obelisk was the club for playboys with disposable income, which was exactly why Greg always chose it when we went out. Situated in Beverly Hills, it was nearly impossible to get inside without knowing someone or being known yourself.
Celebrities often posted selfies from inside the club, in front of the waterfalls that are several stories high, surrounded by glass so the water and light created rainbows and other prismatic effects. It was a work of art in and of itself, and perfect for Instagramable moments.
Such was life in the digital age.
Of course, the beautiful cocktail waitresses didn't hurt the club's reputation either. Especially since the outfits had gotten skimpier recently – another reason Greg always wanted to go there.
“Think that hottie will be here tonight?” he asked me as we pushed past some models puckering for their iPhone cameras in front of the waterfall.
“Which one?” I laughed, looking around us. “We're surrounded by hotties.”
“You know which one,” he said, his voice colored with excitement. “The one that takes no shit from anyone. I love a feisty woman.”
Yeah, I knew exactly which one he'd meant. He was right, she didn't take shit from anybody. Small, but fierce. There was definitely something sexy about that. I could see why Greg was practically wetting himself.
“Carly or something like that...”
“Casey,” I said.
Greg shot me a half-grin. “Ah man, you know her name,” he said. “Maybe she can help you forget all about Danielle.”
“No, I think I'm going to pass,” I said. “Not into rebounds, Greg. You know that.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I'll make sure to tell you how she is in the sack.”
“Yeah, you stand as much of a chance of getting her into the sack as I do of driving my car to Mars.”
Greg was strictly a trust-fund kid. Daddy's money took care of him, so he could travel the world and claim to be a socialite. Nightclubs had even paid for his very presence – and for what? Just to claim they had a billionaire playboy frequent the club? I guess it brought in the ladies or something like that. Still, I had a hard time calling it a job.
He'd always had the inside scoop on the best places to party, though, which was why we'd made a good pair. Even though I found him to be a raging doucehbag most of the time, we'd practically grown up together, so he got a pass from time to time.
We slid into a corner booth that faced the dance floor, which was currently filled with bright lights, more prismatic colors, and lots of women wearing next to nothing, bumping an
d grinding with the music. Lots of skin, long hair, long legs, short skirts, big tits – suffice it to say, the view was pretty incredible from our booth.
The wall behind us was a large, ever-flowing waterfall with more lights streaming out of it. The name, Obelisk, came from the fact that the nightclub itself was several stories tall, with different levels, some of them feeling like hidden retreats. I had no doubt about what happened in some of the little nooks and crannies within the club – places where the light did not shine. There were stories aplenty about the goings-on in those hidden spaces.
High-end call girls could almost always be seen around the bar. You could just as easily order up a blowjob as you could a vodka-tonic. Your choice of blondes, brunettes, redheads – and even one fierce looking femme with pink, green and blue mermaid-inspired hair was available if you were into that.
Mermaid girl caught me staring. She gave me a toothy smile and slipped from the bar, walking toward us.
“Oooh, she might be the answer to your Danielle problems,” Greg said, licking his lips as he checked the girl out. “No rebound, just a night of unbridled fucking. Sounds like the perfect way to get over her to me. Just hate-fuck that girl and get Danielle out of your system, brother.”
“I don't need to fuck around, Greg,” I said. “I've got bigger things to worry about than getting over my ex.”
Mermaid girl leaned over the table with a big smile, her face covered in glitter. Maybe without all the makeup and glitter, she might have been attractive, but I didn't have a sea creature fetish and glitter was a pain in the ass to get of your clothes and hair.
“My name is Leilani,” she purred, her voice like velvet.
It's magical how high-end hookers can do that sort of thing with their voice. I've never known other women who can sound so sensual and sultry doing nothing more than giving you their name. I highly doubt her name was Leilani though. She looked more like a Jamie or a Sarah to me. Plainish, girl-next-door, with garish makeup to help her stand out.
“Greg,” he held out his hand. “And this is Malcolm, my good friend who happens to need a world-class humping.”
“Shut the hell up, Greg,” I said, annoyance and embarrassment flooding my body.
Leilani looked over at me, and asked, “May I join you?”
“No thanks,” I said.
She pouted.
“I'm not into paying for sex,” I explained.
Greg slapped me on the arm and I gave him a look of sheer irritation.
“What? It's the truth,” I snapped. “If you're into it, go for it. But I've never had to pay someone to fuck me, and I never will.”
Leilani saw that she was getting nowhere and left with an annoyed roll of the eyes. Greg stared at me, mouth open.
“What? I didn't want to waste the poor girl's time,” I said. “Unless you wanted to fuck her. If so, have at it. I'm not going to stop you.”
“I always forget how blunt you are, man.”
“No point in beating around the bush,” I said. “She wasn't going to get anywhere with me and she needs to earn a living after all. Better she finds somebody willing to pay for her services.”
Danielle had always hated this place, and I could see why. Temptation and vice lurked in every corner. Beautiful women threw themselves at you left and right. She'd never had anything to worry about when she was with me, though. I took my promises very seriously, and cheating went against everything I stood for. If you're not happy with your current partner, leave. Don't fuck around with them and don't fuck around on them.
Not that I'd always felt that way but seeing how an affair turned my mother's life upside down and changed her, I'd sworn to never get caught up in that sort of thing myself. For her. Because I knew if my mother ever discovered I was unfaithful like my father, it would kill her. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do.
“Well, look who's here,” Greg said.
I looked up and followed his eyes to see what he was staring at, and spotted Casey – the feisty, take no shit waitress he'd talked about earlier. She saw us and smiled, a huge, genuine smile that showed off her full lips. Her dark, nearly black hair had caramel highlights I'd never noticed before – and I only noticed then because the light hit her hair just right. Her thick, wavy hair fell down around her shoulders and down her back. Her skin was almost too pale for hair that dark and reminded me a lot of Snow White. But, it was her large brown eyes that seemed to tie all together.
“You should go talk to her,” Greg said.
“I told you, I'm not interested in dating right now,” I said. “I have a lot of family stuff to deal with. I don't have the time or interest for anything else.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “So, what was that important family meeting about anyway?”
I hesitated and wished I had a drink. I wasn't sure it was something I wanted talk about outside the family – even with Greg. He may have been my friend, but he was not the most level-headed of guys out there. Not to mention the pressure he'd put on me to sleep around would have been even stronger, because he'd be able to hold the whole baby thing over me.
Not that I'd wanted to impregnate some random woman I met in the club anyway. That's not how I wanted to go about doing this. I wasn't sure how I wanted to go about it, but I knew that wasn't the way.
“My dad has a brain tumor,” I said.
I looked up again, and saw that Casey was making her way toward us to get us some drinks, which couldn't have come at a better time. I had the sudden urge for something stiff to take the edge off.
“Fuck, man,” Greg said. “I'm really sorry to hear that.”
Casey asked, “Sorry to hear what?”
Greg answered before I had the chance to shut him down. “His old man is dying.”
“I didn't say he was dying.”
I flinched as I remembered what Dad had said. It was terminal, even if the tumor was benign. Casey looked at me, wide-eyed as if she was trying to decide whether or not she should stick around. There was nothing but kindness in compassion in those big doe-eyes of her.
“It's okay,” I said. “It's a brain tumor, it's benign, but he's still terminal. He's got a few years left in him, at least.”
Casey's eyes softened, and she said, “I can come back, if you need to talk to your friend.”
“No, it's fine. I need a drink,” I said, smiling up at her. “Can I have the usual?”
“Scotch on the rocks, got it,” she said and turned to Greg. “And for you?”
Greg slid over in the seat, making it obvious that he was checking out her ass, his neck craning to get a view. A slick, greasy smile made its way across his face and I just shook my head.
“I'll take whatever you're offering, sugar,” Greg said, his voice dripping with suggestion.
The smile on Casey's grew, and she spoke with the sweetest voice possible. “You couldn't handle what I have to offer up, sugar.”
The last word dripped with sarcasm, and I stifled a laugh. She continued grinning down at him, as if everything was fine. Greg, on the other hand, didn't take a hint easily. If anything, he seemed encouraged by what she said. Dumbass.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, sounding like a greasy, used car salesman. “Well, I'd certainly like to try –”
He reached out to grab her ass, but she was faster than he was. A lot faster. She grabbed his arm with the well-practiced ease of a woman used to fending off creepers. She gripped his arm and held it tight.
“Listen, I just had a run-in with Jon Lincoln – you know, the big asshole football star that's built like The Hulk?” she sneered. “And you've got nothing on him. If I can make him run out of here like a little bitch, you sure as hell don't stand a chance, dude. So, do yourself a favor and back off.”
I tried not to laugh. Greg finally got the hint, a flash of embarrassment in his eyes.
“It's alright. I was only joking around anyway,” he said, sounding a little more subdued than angry. “Give me a rum and Coke.”
&nbs
p; “Sounds good,” Casey said. “So, one pussy frat boy drink, and a real man's Scotch on the rocks. Comin' right up.”
She winked at me as she turned to go get our drinks. Greg leaned back and licked his lips, checking out her ass as she walked away.
“She's totally into me,” he declared, about as self-aware as a rock.
“Sure, man,” I chuckled.
My own eyes, almost seeming to be acting of their own volition, followed her back to the bar. She did have a nice ass and curves for miles. I couldn't blame Greg for wanting to check her out.
“Nah, seriously, she's playing hard to get,” he said. “But, before too long, she'll be begging for my cock. Just wait and see, brother. Wait and see.”
I rolled my eyes and reminded myself to never, ever tell him about needing to knock a girl up for my inheritance. The last thing I needed was him trying to push me on every hot woman that walked our way. Hell, he was already doing that and didn't know my inheritance rested on me having a baby within the next year.
Some things are better left unsaid between friends. Especially when you had a friend like Greg.
“I'm going to take a piss,” he said.
Casey was right. Greg still acted like an immature little frat boy. In most ways, he was. He never had to grow up and out of that mentality because his dad always pulled his ass out of the fire when needed. It was needed pretty often.
We'd gone to college together – not that Greg had actually tried to succeed in college. He'd just showed up to party and join his dad's fraternity. Partying and girls were the only things he'd been interested in, knowing he was set for life. Being the only child of a billionaire had to be nice. It had to give you a sense of security – and had to kill any desire or sense of urgency to succeed on your own.
At one time, I'd known what that was like.
Greg got up and walked toward the bathroom, leaving me alone at the table. A couple of moments later, Casey came back with our drinks.
“Did I scare your friend away?” she asked.
