The Other F-Word

by MK Schiller

  “I’m far from self-made.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My father was my first investor. He supported me no matter how crazy the idea.” Damien chuckled, shaking his head. “I dropped out of Northwestern after one semester to buy this dilapidated colonial on Diversity. No bank worth their salt would loan me a nickel, so my father gave me the money. He was a blue-collar factory worker, Jessie. It was his retirement. He never told me that, but I knew just the same.”

  “He must have had a great deal of faith in you.”

  “He did, and looking back, I wonder what I ever did to deserve that. I prayed every day I’d sell that damn house and pay him back. I lived in that piece of shit with its leaky pipes and broken furnace, working eighteen-hour days, doing all the repairs and upgrades myself. At the end of six months, it was a palace and I doubled the initial outlay. I paid my father back with interest. I used my share to buy the next house and the next, and so on.”

  “You must have sold a lot of houses to make enough profits to venture into ‘mogul’ territory.”

  “Are you familiar with the Devon District?”

  “Sure, that’s where all the new office buildings and shopping plazas are going up. They’re calling it Chicago Number Two, I believe.”

  “That’s right. I own that land. It was expensive, but I recognised its value—it was just a matter of time before someone wanted to build on it. I bought it up one plot at a time. All my profits were tied in it. People told me it was a fool’s purchase because the market was tanking. I just had this feeling about it. It was rich and ripe and ready to explode.”

  I took a sip of my water, trying to concentrate on what he was saying and not reading too much into each word. “What happened?”

  “It paid off. When the investors approached me to sell, I negotiated a buy-in instead. I guess that was my first windfall. They didn’t want to deal with a twenty-something college drop-out, but they really had no choice, since I held all the cards. That’s my first rule of business…own your hand. Don’t let someone else play your cards for you.”

  “So you gambled on the land.”

  “I don’t think of it as a gamble. It was more like intuition. Sometimes, you just have an instinct about something. It feels right and you have to see it through, no matter what obstacles you face. Do you understand, Jessie?”

  Was he referring to us? It sounded like it, but maybe I was searching for hidden meaning where it didn’t exist. I was acting like a silly, over-analytical girl with a crush.

  “I understand. You’re lucky it paid off for you.”

  “I’ve never backed away from a challenge. I have a feeling you don’t either.”

  I would have taken another sip, but my water was all gone. “I’m not a risk-taker like you.”

  “Maybe you are and you don’t know it.”

  “I know myself.”

  “Have you ever been challenged? I mean really had to make a choice that might conflict with the person you think you are? The one you think you’re supposed to be?”

  “I’m happy with who I am.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Finish your story. It sounds to me like your risks paid off and you are, in fact, self-made.”

  He shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell. When my profits reached a certain level, I started buying into hotels and other ventures. They call me a real estate mogul—I think that’s hilarious. I’m just a guy who got lucky and caught a few breaks. I’m definitely not self-made. I don’t think anyone is. My parents made me the man I am.”

  I hadn’t expected this depth of honesty from him. It didn’t sound arrogant. In fact, it was humble. “Your father must have been so proud of you.”

  “He was.” His cell phone went off again.

  I looked down at my empty bowl and the bill that sat on the table. How long had it been there? Where had the time gone?

  “I have to go, Jessie. I have a meeting.”

  “We didn’t finish talking about the party.”

  He smiled, his hazel eyes casting a mischievous glint that was only rivalled by his smile. “I guess we’ll need to meet again. How about in three days—same time and place?”

  Before I could respond, he was out of his seat, throwing down more than enough to cover the tab and a generous tip before leaving.

  “I look forward to it,” he said.

  I watched him walk out, wondering how he left me speechless.

  Chapter Six

  I tried to put it out of my mind, but I kept replaying the conversation with Damien Wolfe, wondering if he was trying to challenge me. Was he playing a game with me? Trying to see how long it was until I succumbed to his will?

  The family came over on Saturday, temporarily releasing me from the spell Damien Wolfe had cast. I spent most of the day with Bobby. Playing peek-a-boo with a baby is a cleansing experience for the soul. Stevie and Adam cracked me up—they were like helicopter parents, constantly fretting if the boy even coughed. They’d learn. Resilience was inherent in children.

  We all sat around my dining table with the sounds of Neil Diamond singing Forever in Blue Jeans. It was the perfect soundtrack for an easy listening brunch with the family. Marley and Rick were back from their honeymoon. We’d talked about the wedding and their trip to Jamaica. Their happiness was tangible, and it was infectious, making us all giddy.

  Except, Marley did seem a little jittery. In fact, everyone at the table was displaying their nervous habits. Adam and Stevie looked tired as new parents usually did, but why did they keep turning to each other with pleading looks like they held onto a troublesome secret? Was Dillon building an extra tall skyscraper today? Rick rubbed the back of his neck. My best friend and Adam’s mother, Kate, ran her finger down the crack on the dining table repeatedly. Something was going on that I wasn’t privy to.

  “We should dish now,” I suggested.

  Dishing while having dessert was our family tradition. I’d started it because my girls never told me what they’d done in school, so I’d threatened to withhold dessert until they shared their day. After a while, it seemed like they weren’t able to spill information without something sweet to entice them. It had become our version of show and tell.

  “I’ll start,” Stevie said, scooping the homemade apple sauce into bowls.

  “Stevie, we made that for Bobby.”

  “Make some more, Mom. I’d rather have this than the vegan carrot cake. I love this stuff,” Adam said, passing out bowls to everyone.

  I took the small plastic spoon and fed Bobby, who’d taken up residence on my lap. He was just starting on solids. Stevie had decided to make all his food, so we’d spent the morning blending up healthy concoctions for him.

  “Besides, the kid already gets dibs on all my other favourites.”

  A knowing look passed between Stevie and him. She returned his playful smile with a disapproving frown.

  “I can’t believe you’re jealous I’m breastfeeding our son,” Stevie said.

  “Not jealous, I just think he should learn how to share…the sooner the better.”

  “Gross,” Marley blurted. “Do you really have to talk about this now?”

  “What’s your dish?” I asked Stevie before they got any more graphic.

  “Dish…we’re doing a swear jar. We don’t want Bobby to have a potty mouth.”

  “Is that why you brought over that plastic jar?” I gestured to the coffee table. It was actually more of a small barrel—it seemed too ambitious for a swear jar.

  “I have one too. What’s the deal, kids?” Kate asked.

  “We brought one for all your houses, including you, Dillon. It takes a village as the saying goes,” Stevie explained.

  “I don’t swear,” I said. At least not out loud.

  “Yeah, but this way if we’re over, we can use it. Everyone’s accountable,” Stevie replied.

  “The kid’s censoring us,” Adam quipped, making a silly face at Bobby, who gurg
led in response.

  “I’m on board. This one can get pretty dirty,” Rick said, pointing to Marley.

  “Me?” she said with mock innocence.

  “You sound like a sailor on shore leave, baby,” he said, pulling her close to him.

  “You’re right. I promise to never talk dirty to you again,” she said.

  I stifled a giggle, watching Rick’s smile disappear.

  “You can still talk dirty, I just meant—”

  “Nice way to screw yourself, Magic Man. That ship has sailed, bro,” Adam said, smacking Rick on the back.

  Stevie cleared her throat. “We’re going to use the money in these jars to start saving for Bobby’s college, so if you guys do get the notion to…talk dirty, just make a sizeable deposit first.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Kate said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  Adam slapped Rick on the back. “Ever had to pay for a girl to talk dirty to you, Rick?”

  Rick shook his head. “I’m sure you’ll tell me how it works.”

  We all chuckled, except Adam, who scowled.

  “I’d give you some butter for that burn, but there isn’t any at this house,” Dillon said.

  Rick placed the bottle of Olive Oil in front of Adam. “Cheer up, I have a feeling your son’s going to be able to go to any college he wants.”

  “That’s what we’re banking on. Thank you in advance, Marley,” Adam said, tipping his head to her.

  “Stevie, I think we should talk about the other…dish now,” Marley said. They all exchanged nervous glances before turning to me.

  “Why are you ducks all looking at me like that? Start quacking.”

  “We’ve discussed it and we think you should start dating again,” Stevie explained. “Billie agrees too. I’m acting as her proxy.”

  “That’s nice of you, but my social life is not a group decision that you all get to vote on.”

  “Mom, it’s been so long, and it’s time for you to get out there again,” Marley said.

  “I don’t need a man to make me happy. I have all of you and I don’t need anything else.”

  “We can’t do everything for you,” Dillon muttered, starting a new tower of sugar cubes.

  “Funny. Thanks for your concern, but I’m doing great.”

  Adam cleared his throat, acting like the group moderator. “Emmie, this is awkward for me because my mom’s here and my wife. And you’re my mother-in-law.”

  “What are you trying to say, Adam? Just spit it out.”

  “I’ll let Rick say it.”

  “What? You don’t think it’s awkward for me? I’m married to her daughter too, asshole.”

  “I believe someone needs to make a swear jar deposit,” Stevie said.

  Rick sighed. “Sorry, you’re right.” He got up and stuck a five in the jar.

  “Look at that, we’re making money already, buddy,” Adam said, smiling at Bobby. “This scam…I mean idea was pretty smart, babe.”

  Stevie gave Adam a cutting look. “That’s too much, Rick.”

  “It’s for a good cause,” he said, returning to his seat.

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I interrupted.

  “Dillon, why don’t you tell Emmie what Adam was trying to say?” Rick suggested.

  Dillon ran his hands threw his perfect curls. They all sprang right back where they belonged. “Thanks, man.”

  “What is it?” I demanded, exasperated.

  “Adam thinks you’re hot. He always has. Everyone does. Rick too. You’re the hot mama in the neighbourhood.”

  “Wow, I didn’t mean for you to say all that, McKay.” Adam smacked Dillon in the back of the head.

  Dillon rubbed his head. “Next time have the balls to say it yourself then.”

  “Swear jar,” Stevie said, gesturing to the coffee table.

  “Balls isn’t a swear word.”

  “I think in that context they could be,” Adam replied.

  Dillon opened his mouth to argue, but instead stood up and walked over to the barrel, digging into his pocket for the money clip that held the crispest, greenest bills I’d ever seen.

  “Wow, Dillon, do you iron your money?”

  “No, he launders it,” Adam said.

  Dumb jokes yielded big laughs in this house.

  “Look,” Dillon said, drawing our attention back to him. “I’m a gay man and I’m telling you that you are hot stuff and you know when a gay man says a woman is pretty, it’s the truth because we have no ulterior motives. You can take that shit to the bank.”

  Adam cleared his throat, pointing to the wealth-taking receptacle. “Or in your case, the swear jar.”

  Dillon muttered something under his breath. It sounded like a fast-paced repetition of several four letter words.

  “Ah…okay, why are you telling me this?” I was embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

  “I think the boys, in their own misguided way, are trying to give you confidence. Unfortunately, it’s coming off creepy,” Kate said.

  “Very creepy,” Stevie agreed, glaring at Adam. Marley shot Rick a similar expression. It was just a little too cute not to laugh, since neither of the boys had actually said anything.

  “Thanks for that. I’ll take it under advisement. Now, do you guys want to eat my real dessert? The carrot cake?”

  “There’s something else,” Marley said.

  “We sort of need you to get on board with the idea now, not take it under advisement,” Stevie said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I set you up with my boss and he’s coming over to pick you up at eight.” Adam spoke so fast, I had to replay the words in my head over Neil’s strumming guitar.

  Kate took Bobby from me. She knew me well—this was not the moment to be holding a baby. “Well, I need to get going. I’m gonna take Bobby over to my place. Adam Senior should be back from golf and he’ll want to see this little fella. See ya, Emmie.”

  “Thank you, Kate.”

  “Don’t yell at my boy too hard. He’s got a good heart,” she said on her way out.

  I stood up, placing my palms on the table, staring at all of them. Some of them hid their faces, others smiled innocently, but I was fuming. Before I let loose on my tirade though, I had to take care of something. I marched over to my purse. I rifled through it until I found a five dollar bill, throwing it into the swear barrel. Then I thought about it and added another ten.

  “Mom?” Marley said.

  “What the hell is wrong with you people?” I demanded, hands on my hips.

  “What do you mean? We were just looking out for you,” Adam said.

  “Looking out for me? Adam, what the fuck were you thinking?”

  “And you said you never swear.” Dillon smirked.

  “Enough!” I said, cutting the air with my arm.

  Stevie sighed. “Why are you so upset about this? It’s just a date.”

  I took a deep breath. “Because you’ve taken all my choices away. I haven’t dated in forever, and I certainly don’t want to start with a blind date. On top of that, this man is your boss, Adam, so I really can’t be myself, can I?”

  Adam and Stevie exchanged glances. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “No, you sure didn’t. And now you tell me he’s coming over tonight?”

  “That’s the thing, Mom. The special surprise,” Marley said. “Stevie, Dillon and I are going to give you a makeover.”

  “I’m in charge, but these two are helping,” Stevie said. “If Marley were in charge, you’d be wearing combat boots. If Dillon were in charge, you’d look like Marilyn Monroe…if she were in Rocky Horror.”

  “A makeover?” I laughed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “For the record, Adam and I both said you didn’t need one,” Rick offered.

  “You’re not helping,” Marley said.

  “This is fucking brilliant,” I said, holding up my hands in defeat.

  “
Look, I didn’t mean to spring this on you. Rod and I were having a drink after work. He was talking about how lonely he was, and I felt so bad for him. I thought about the other lonely person I know. You. And then I just sort of suggested it and he got really excited,” Adam explained.

  “That’s just great. So you all think I’m lonely?”

  They all shook their heads quickly, but the look was there. The one that said that was exactly what they thought.

  “Who the hell are you guys to make that kind of judgement on me?”

  “Your family, who cares about you and loves you,” Marley replied.

  What could I say to that? Their intentions were rooted in goodness, from a place of concern. I took a deep breath, willing my frustration to fizzle. “I guess I just have one more thing to say.”

  “What’s that?” Dillon asked.

  “Let the makeover commence.”

  * * * *

  I don’t know why I’d overacted so much. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want to start dating again. Perhaps I was just nervous, especially at the prospect of going out with Adam’s boss—a man who held Adam’s career in his hands.

  Regardless, a few hours later, I was feeling much better. My girls, Dillon and I had been manicured, pedicured, massaged and facialed, and we were all feeling pretty damn…pretty. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they served wine at the spa.

  “Thank you, guys. I’m really sorry,” I said to all of them.

  “Um…hold off on that thought,” Dillon said, as a portly blonde woman came towards us.

  “Who is that?”

  “Emmie, meet Helga, you’re aesthetician.”

  Helga took me to a back room, which was painted a soothing pink and adorned with soft candles. A large vase brimmed with fresh peace lilies and classical music filtered through the quiet space, creating a calming effect. It only took a few seconds to figure out it was all an illusion. I deduced Helga must hate women, because she didn’t explain what was going on. She just grunted orders and handed me a towel. She waxed my legs, which wasn’t so bad, but then she started waxing other areas, which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. If there’d been a swear jar in the room, I would have been be penniless.

  “You could have warned me,” I snapped when I came back out, trying not to wince with every step.