by Adair Rymer
I stabbed a teaspoon into the back of his hand before he could unzip me fully. He recoiled, cursing, then flared his pale blue eyes at me. He pried the sad weapon from my hands and pinned me to the cabinets with a hand to my throat.
In a strange way, I've dreamt about something similar to this. I would come home and find Maynard waiting for me, he'd push me up against the wall and we'd make love. With a similar build, eye and hair color, Anthony a was parody of Maynard. It was a terrifying perversion of one of my favorite fantasies.
“A lap dance for old times' sake?” Anthony's lips parted in a twistedly amused grin. I groped across the counter behind me as I flailed against him, trying to keep him away. Several potentially useful items slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor. “What do you say?”
It didn't feel like he was trying to kill me but his other intentions were plain as day. I would die before I let him touch me like that. For as cold as my parents' lessons had been growing up they did teach me to take care of myself in all ways.
I finally wrapped my hand around my coffeepot and smashed it against the side of Anthony's face. Bleeding and cursing, Anthony released me and staggered backward.
“Go to hell.” I coughed out the words while rubbing my neck. I was no one's victim.
“Okay,” he said, laughing. He blotted the small gash above his eyebrow with a handkerchief he carried in his pocket. “That's enough foreplay. You've got more balls than your boyfriend has these days.”
Foreplay? Did he think this was some kind of game? What kind of delusional psychopath would think that this was alright?
“Maynard is going to fucking kill you when I—”
“Ah ah ah.” He interrupted, sliding a flash drive out of his coat's breast pocket. “You're not going to tell him shit.” Anthony held the portable memory stick up tauntingly, then dropped it on the floor. “You wouldn't want the golden boy finding out about this.”
“What's on that?” What the hell could he possibly have that would make me not immediately call Maynard or even the cops for that matter?
“Play it and find out. There are obvious perks that come with owning a strip club, like sampling the buffet of talent. Sometimes, though, you get extra lucky.” Anthony grabbed his hat off the table and made for the exit. He turned back to look at me right as he opened the door.
“Oh, and let me know if you want more copies.” He winked. The motion made my skin crawl. “I can make tons of them.”
Then Anthony was gone.
I ran to the door and locked it. Then, remembering how he got in, I realized that wouldn't be enough. I slid the one wooden chair I had up against the doorknob locking it in place. He'd have to break the door to get back in. Feeling a little more secure, I slumped against my wall and started to cry.
I didn't want to be here anymore, but there wasn't anywhere I could go. I didn't have any friends I could spend the night at and I couldn't afford to fly back home. I needed someone I could trust.
I wanted Maynard.
A short while later when I finally stopped shaking, I opened the flash drive's files on my laptop. There were pictures of me, dozens of them. There were even some videos. I never did any more than the absolute minimum, but to see it again after so many years spent trying to block it out was mortifying.
Someone at the club had secretly recorded me stripping and doing lap dances. It was probably one of the skeezy owners. I worked there for less than a month when I was eighteen but things quickly got too intense. There were fights and rampant drug use all around me. I finally broke down and pleaded for help from my family when I couldn't take it anymore. My parents were furious at what I'd done, but they agreed to help.
Let me know if you want more copies. I can make tons of them. His words were thunderous in my head, reverberating like I had just left a rock concert. The implications were crystal clear: Stay away from Maynard or I show everyone, including Maynard, these pictures and videos.
My fingers shook as I hovered over Maynard's number. I should call him, explain everything and tell him I'm sorry. I may not have known him long, but we'd already been through so much together and I felt like I knew him well.
He would understand, wouldn't he?
Even if Maynard did forgive me for everything, Anthony would show the world my mistake. Could I really do that to Maynard? He had just started to do the right thing and look after his family's business. It would be terrible for his company if compromising pictures of his girlfriend showed up in the media.
It wasn't just about Maynard either, I didn't want that kind of negative attention. It was so hard for me to make friends as it was, and knowing that anybody I met might have already seen me naked made me feel ill.
I couldn't bear seeing Maynard's face on my phone if he tried to reach out to me again. I blocked his number, then drained the rest of the cheap bottle of vodka I had by my bed and immediately started crying again. I had never felt more hideously alone.
Anthony hadn't touched me sexually but I still felt like I had just been raped.
Chapter 19
Maynard
“I feel compelled to warn you, Sir. This route is extremely inefficient if you plan on arriving to your meeting on time,” Christian spoke over the limo's intercom system.
They can wait. This was more important.
I shook my head at his protest and absently thanked him as I scanned the streets for Claire's puffy winter jacket. She had never returned any of my calls or texts. It'd been two months since I spoke with her.
Christian didn't approve of my detour. It tacked on an extra forty minutes each day but it was the only path that took me by Claire's apartment. Driving by her place was the only part of my day that I looked forward to anymore. Christian slowly drove us by, I'd never seen her but that never stopped me from coming.
This was my pilgrimage and Claire was my patron saint.
We slowed down about a block past her apartment. Christian saw her before I did.
Claire's overstuffed winter jacket bobbed down the street, bristling against the cold. She was walking to the subway. As much as I wanted to, I knew that I couldn't pick her up, she was very clear on that in the letter. It was a hard lesson but she had shown me that life wasn't always about what I wanted.
God, it was so good to see her again, even if it was from behind the tinted window of a limo. I put a hand to the glass as we pulled up next to her. Claire brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. Seeing her made my insides melt. I could take her in my arms and be kissing her in seconds.
Every fiber in my body demanded that I open that door, she should be in here with me.
I prayed for a purse-snatcher or just some aggressive asshole to try something with her. I was close enough that I could step in and save her before anyone laid a hand on her. It was a messed up thing to hope for, but at least then I would have a real reason to talk to her.
I had us follow her to the subway to make sure she made it alright. She turned back as if someone had called her name, but just for a moment. It was enough for me to see a glimpse of her button nose and soft rosy cheeks. My heart swelled and ached, then just as quickly she disappeared down the stairs into the subway.
“Sir?” Christian's voice chimed in over the intercom.
I sighed. We were double parked, we couldn't linger any longer here. I was frustrated and seriously missing her. Why wouldn't she let me see her even if just on the weekends? I'd have given anything to go to her.
“Go ahead.”
“Very good, Sir.” Christian pulled us out into traffic that was already slowing for rush hour. He was right. We'd never make it in time for that meeting now, I'd have to join remotely. I waited while my laptop quickly booted up.
All the trivial pursuits that I used to find fun didn't do anything for me anymore. I hadn't even been in my Lamborghini since the night I met Claire's parents. I stopped driving it because it reminded me too much of Claire. Every time I drove her around in it she would warn me about hitt
ing eighty-eight miles an hour and make other bad Back To The Future jokes.
I never thought I would miss bad jokes.
The other reason I had to stop driving myself was because I needed the time to pore over data and reports and to prepare for endless meetings. It was a heavy burden knowing that so many people were counting on me for their livelihood.
I had delegated most of the CEO stuff to those I trusted so I could focus on getting the charity organization off the ground.
I thought about Claire's father. Hal's words had been lodged in my head whenever I worked on the foundation. He said, Actions are all that matter. I didn't give that much thought until Bianca was fired. I almost gave up on the foundation on a whole because of the work that was involved.
I never wanted to be in charge of anything. Every day was a struggle but if there was one good thing that came out of taking over it was that burying myself in work got my mind off of Claire.
When the fuck had my life become so complicated?
“Madam appears to be in fine spirits, Sir.” For as much as Christian protested about these trips, he understood what I was going through and genuinely wanted to help me.
My father was a good man, but he was terminally busy trying to make the world a better place. I wasted the fleeting time I had with them. They died before I got the chance to ask them so much.
What would they have thought of Claire?
“Christian,” I tapped the speaker button. I was hesitant to continue but Christian was my father's chauffeur and trusted confidant. I knew I could trust him. That was why I sent him to pick Claire up the night of my holiday party. “What was your impression of Claire?”
“I only met her the once, Sir. It would be unmannerly for me to offer a judgment.”
I chuckled with a bit of exasperation. I should've known better. Christian was ever the professional. He would occasionally council me against things for the sake of keeping a schedule, but never shared his personal opinions about the way I lived my life.
“If I may, Sir?” He added.
“By all means.” I perked up.
“Considering your usual affinities, I do believe your parents would have liked Claire. They probably would have acknowledged and agreed with your deviation toward betterment as well.”
The intercom clicked off. Christian spoke softly and thoughtfully. That was all he was going to say and that was all he needed to say. I would never be certain where he stood, but I could take solace in his words.
I would've loved if they'd had the chance to meet her.
My phone rang in its charging dock a few minutes later. I checked my watch— ten minutes to five. The meeting was just about to start. I grabbed my laptop and logged into the network. My phone rang as I gathered a few notes I'd made earlier.
“Answer. Speaker phone,” I said, accepting the call. Usually one of my vice presidents would brief me on the highlights just prior to the meeting. “Hello?”
“Hey there, Mayday.” Anthony's voice made my knuckles tighten.
“What do you want?” I slid the laptop on one of the side seats. I hadn't spoken to him since accepting the CEO position. Between our meeting at his office and him not letting me know that the Board was planning to replace Bianca, he was the last person I expected to hear from.
“Listen, man. First and foremost I want to apologize. I was little fucked up when you and your girl came to visit and I said some shit that was out of line.” Anthony sounded remorseful. “I've done a lot of soul searching in the past few months and I realized just how much of a prick I've been to you.”
I took a few moments to wrap my head around what he was saying. In all the years I'd known Anthony I'd never heard him apologize for anything. What was his game here?
“Yeah? You also didn't tell me about what the Board was planning to do to Bianca.” Sorry or not, I wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. I was still pissed.
“I didn't know anything about that! I'm just a shareholder; I'm not on the Board. They might have emailed me something but you know I've always been terrible about checking that.”
I didn't reply. I was gauging the sound and inflection of his voice to see whether I trusted him or not.
“You know there wouldn't have been anything you or she could've done to stop it, even with advanced notice.” Anthony continued. “What could I possibly gain by keeping that from you?”
“Bianca wouldn't sell you our Chicago properties.” I was trying to think pragmatically, like my sister. “Now she's out of the equation.”
“C'mon, man. I know there's no way that you're going to sell anything to me after everything that's happened. I take all that stuff I was saying back, I was out of my mind. I've been clean ever since, minus a drink here and there.” Anthony sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “My twenties are over, it's time I get serious. I want to make my father proud and do right by him.”
I never liked Anthony's father. The few times I met him he came off like a vindictive asshole. He was one of those guys that claimed everyone was either holding him back or trying to screw him over. If our fathers hadn't gone to college together I doubted they'd have been friends.
Anthony's father died a few years back from an aggressive form of cancer. I didn't have to like the man to understand the powerful emotion behind earning your parents' respect, especially after they died. It was a very familiar pain for me.
“Alright, you've said your piece.” I'd have to think on his words before I even thought about forgiving him. This whole display was weird, I needed time to process it. Still, it was a shame that only two recent experiences destroyed a friendship that was over a decade old. “Is that it?”
“Not exactly.”
Ah, here it comes. I fucking knew he had an ulterior motive for calling. I was an idiot to think Anthony had changed.
“It's my birthday. I'm officially an adult today. Can you believe that shit?”
Really? I checked the date on my laptop to be sure. It was March eighteenth alright. He wasn't joking about his twenties being over. Despite being mad at him, I felt bad for forgetting. Thirty years old was a big milestone. “Happy birthday. You doing anything for it?”
“That's why I called. I'm having a small get together at Valley Chez tonight. ”
“I don't know, man. I've fallen out of the rowdy party scene and I've got a ton of work to do.” I really didn't want to go. I was still way too fucked up on Claire to enjoy myself.
“Are you shitting me, Mayday? I turn thirty tonight. I need my best friend there to usher me into the next decade.” Anthony was insistent. “Don't make an old bastard beg.”
I knew it was a bad idea. I was trying to stay away from my old habits not just because of Claire but also because I was going for more of a positive public image these days.
“I'm sorry to hear about you and your girl splitting by the way. She seemed like a good girl.” Anthony's voice lowered.
“How'd you hear about that?” I asked, skeptically. Sure, that was two months ago, but it hadn't leaked to the media yet and I wasn't exactly the over-sharing type.
“I was chatting up your assistant at the last shareholders' meeting and she spilled the news. You really should go to those meetings more often.”
I hadn't expressly told Janet what happened, but she helped me organize all the events I took Claire to. With the sudden lack of date night plans being made, I'm sure she figured it out pretty quick.
As far as the shareholder meetings went, I'd rather swallow broken glass than attend those. They weren't worse than any of the other hundred fucking meetings I did in a day, but I wasn't obligated to go to those, so I didn't. When I took this position, I didn’t realize how much of it was just talking to people. I made it a point to go to the bare minimum of meetings so I could actually get work done.
“I understand if you're not up for it, but if you feel like swinging by for one drink, we'll be there around eleven.” I could hear Ant shrugging, he knew I wasn't g
oing to commit.
My laptop lit up as one of my VPs saw that I was online and tried to add me to the group.
“A thing just started. I have to let you go.” I paused, then reluctantly added, “But I'll keep the party in mind.”
Chapter 20
Maynard
Fuck Fridays.
Since Claire left they were always the worst. We did a lot together most days but it was Fridays that I pulled out all the stops. She didn't have class the following day so we could sleep in and be lazy. And Sundays she dedicated to homework and her part time job.
I looked over a small mountain of financial printouts. There never seemed to be an end to it. How in the hell did Bianca deal with all this? The sooner I could get her back in as CEO the better.
Getting a hold of Bianca had been like pulling crocodile teeth. She still wouldn't talk to me directly, but I was finally able to schedule an appointment with her through her assistant. It wasn't much but it was a start. The hard part would be convincing Bianca that I wasn't that same selfish, flippant asshole that I had been for the last fifteen years.
How could I convince her that I'd really changed?
“That's it, I'm done looking at this shit for one night.” I pushed myself away from the table. My eyes were beginning to cross from staring at numbers and reports all day. That was the other thing about being a CEO that I couldn't stand. If I wasn't in a goddamn meeting I was reviewing other people's work.
If I was honest with myself, I would recognize that I didn't have to drown myself in all this bullshit to the degree that I had been. I was punishing myself for Claire. If I stayed busy I could keep her out of my mind.
I checked my watch: it was nearly eleven. I needed to get out of my apartment. I was becoming a social recluse. I had every reason to go to my friend's thirtieth birthday party.
My gut told me that this was a terrible idea, but why did that matter? I splashed some water over my face in the bathroom. I felt older. My blue eyes looked a little dimmer than they had a few months earlier.
