by Alina Jacobs
"I…" Wes's jaw worked like he was trying to think of the correct thing to say.
"What is it?" Liz asked sharply.
"Nothing. I just," Wes said. "I just—I don't know."
"Was this not an enjoyable experience?" Liz spat. Maybe she should have spent more time at the gym. Maybe Allie was right.
"Nothing is wrong," Wes said. The smoldering look was back. His eyes were inviting. "I was just thinking about what your mouth would have felt like on my dick, what it would have felt like to have your tongue slide over the slit, those pouty lips sucking my cock." He was hovering half over her, and Liz lay back against the pillows.
"We can find out," she said, breathless. Wes smiled. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Liz lifted her head up to kiss him.
"Next time," Wes said. "I want you to be begging for it."
Liz smiled. Her fears were unfounded.
"Are you sure you can't stay?" Wes asked her later as she buttoned up one of his shirts that she borrowed. She had on a pair of his boxers too.
"I'm supposed to meet Rhonda this afternoon. We're planning Brandy's gender-reveal party. Who knew it was going to be so complicated? There are games, themed food items, and we have to have double the amount of decorations—a set for girls and for boys—and we have to make sure they don't clash. Rhonda's a little strange, but at least she's helping." There was that funny look again from Wes.
Liz tried not to seem suspicious as she studied his expression. He looked almost… guilty?
"Do you and Rhonda have some sort of history?" she asked him carefully. Wes looked at her, his face going neutral.
"No more than you do."
"Okay then. I'm off," Liz said. Wes helped her into her coat. "I guess you can keep the dress." Sometime last night Kal had stolen the scraps of fabric off the chair and had started chewing on them.
"Sorry, I'll buy you a new one." He pulled her close to him, resting his hands on her hips. "I'll surprise you. See if I can't find something even skimpier."
"If you're going that skimpy, I might just be wearing a tiny piece of lace or something."
"That can be arranged."
Liz hurried out the door before Wes could strip her naked again. She really was supposed to meet Rhonda, and she still had to go home and change.
At a coffee shop nearby, an hour later, Liz waved to Rhonda through the glass.
"Darling," Rhonda said, standing up to greet her, glossy hair swinging. Liz patted her own slightly frizzy hair. Rhonda smirked at her. "You smell like sex and like Wes."
Liz blushed and stuttered, "I—"
Rhonda winked. "Those Holbrook men. Am I right?"
Liz choked out a laugh. "Yep. Those Holbrooks."
"Mark does this thing with his mouth—" Rhonda started to say.
"So, the gender-reveal party," Liz cut in. She and Rhonda were not close enough to discuss sex.
Rhonda grinned. "The gender reveal, yes."
She pulled out a folder and arranged the contents on the large wooden table in the coffee shop while Liz surreptitiously sniffed herself. Did she really smell like sex? She'd taken two showers that day. Also, how did Rhonda know what Wes smelled like?
"…something tasteful… are you listening?" Rhonda asked.
Liz blushed. "Of course I am."
Rhonda winked. "Holbrook on the brain?"
Liz took a sip of coffee. "Something like that. For the color schemes," Liz said, "I'm worried about clashing."
"Warm grays and rich blues will work well with peach and cream," Rhonda said, showing her sample pictures.
"I think having the blue that nice dark saturated color is good. It almost feels like a neutral."
"For fun, I can program some LED art," Rhonda said. "Nothing obtrusive, just something to add some depth to the room."
Liz grimaced. "Just be careful. With what happened at Brandy's wedding, we can't have someone hijacking the production systems."
Rhonda blinked at Liz. "Of course not."
40
Wes
After Liz left, Wes's apartment felt empty. He knew he should be working, but instead, he lay on his bed, reliving the night with Liz. It had been perfect. But of course, his reality had to intervene. What was Rhonda up to?
Wes spent the afternoon on conference calls. It was mostly uneventful except for the last call of the day.
"We have some bad news." Walter's voice sounded dispirited over the phone.
"Someone's bankrolling your stepfather, Hank," Kate interjected. "He's hired Harrington Thurlow, one of the major law firms in the city, and they aren't cheap. Trust me. That's my father's law firm."
"I see," Wes said. "Can we fight it?"
Kate sighed. "Harrington Thurlow is so successful because they have a deadly public-relations arm. They can spin a story however they want because the media eats out of their hand. This is… not good for us."
"I just don't understand where they found the money," Grant said. His voice sounded gravelly coming through Wes's phone speaker.
"Do you have any rich relatives you don't know about?"
"Besides you all?" Wes asked. "No." Wes stared out the window while Kal snored on his bed.
Walter sighed through the phone. "We're having a meeting with Hank and Harrington Thurlow tomorrow," he said. "Hopefully we can easily straighten this all out."
The next morning, as Wes sat across from his angry stepfather and the team of slick-haired lawyers, Wes knew that it would not be straightened out easily or otherwise.
Hank had that mulish look on his face that Wes knew all too well. It was the look that had confronted him whenever he tried to argue with his father or change his opinion about something. It was the look that said, "I am right. You are wrong, and I will grind you down to dust."
Charles Thurlow, Adam Walsh's lawyer, opened up his leather notebook and took out a shiny fountain pen. "Shall we begin?"
Walter nodded.
"We are prepared to settle," the Holbrook's' lawyer said smoothly. "Walter understands that this is a difficult time, and he fully accepts the part he played. We can offer you a check today for 1.5 million. Wes Holbrook and his sister Dana are wonderful people, and Walter acknowledges and is grateful for the service Hank Walsh has provided."
"The service I have provided?" Hank spat, half-standing up. Wes tensed as he watched his father's eyes narrow. "I didn't provide a service. I raised the children I thought were my own."
"I understand that," said Walter. "But maybe you should at the very least drop the suit against Wes. He's the victim in this situation."
"Victim," Hank roared. "He's the one who owes me! He slept in my house, ate my food."
"We understand," the Holbrook's' lawyer said. "We will pay on Wes's behalf."
"No, that's not good enough. I want a trial. I want my day in court. Did you know, Wes, that I wanted to walk the Appalachian Trail? But I didn't because I had to take care of you."
"You barely took care of us," Wes muttered.
"What was that?" Hank yelled, slamming his palm down on the table. "I provided for you!"
"No, you didn't! You drank, and Mom had to support us. You were unemployed for years."
"Because of you and because of people like you," Hank snapped.
"What do you mean people like me?" Wes asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Wes, please," warned the lawyer.
Wes ignored him.
"I mean," Hank said, "corporate sociopaths who don't care one whit for the little guy, who bob along in their fancy cars and screw everyone over just because they can. I hate you. I hate what you've become, and I tried to steer you right, but of course, there's no fighting genetics. I bet you knew who you were this entire time."
"I didn't know," Wes said quietly.
"Of course you did!" Hank yelled. "You aren't stupid. You went to Harvard after all, on my dime I might add."
"I had a scholarship," Wes said through gritted teeth. "You didn't send me a cent."
"This sounds like something for a therapist to handle," the Holbrooks' lawyer said.
"On the contrary," said Charles Thurlow, taking notes. "This is completely applicable for Mr. Walsh's situation."
"It sounds like he actually didn't contribute that much to Wes and Dana at all," Walter said. "I think our offer is more than generous."
Kate's father just laughed. "I think we'll let the court decide. Shall we? There are a number of men out there raising children that aren't their own. Hank Walsh is a beacon of hope for them."
"What are you hoping to gain from this?" Walter asked. "How much money do you want?"
"Walter," his lawyer warned.
"It's not about the money," Hank said. He looked like he was trembling in anger.
Charles put a steadying hand on his client. "Exactly. It not about the money. It's the principle of the thing, Walter."
Charles pulled out a leather-bound day planner. "Now the judge is one of my fraternity brothers, and he's put our trial date in January. We'll see you in court."
After they left, Wes slumped in his seat. Kate looked equally unhappy.
"So that's your father, huh?" Grant asked.
"You've never met him?" Wes asked.
"Nope."
"Now you see why," Kate said. "He's the very definition of a psychopath. You should have seen what he did to my mother when she filed for divorce. He dug through her whole background and dragged her through the mud. The media was at our house constantly. He' fights dirty, and we can't let this escalate. You need to convince your father to settle, Wes. Not just for your and Dana's mental health but for the company. That much negative publicity could ruin the stock prices."
Wes nodded. "I'll try. He likes Dana more than me. Maybe she can talk sense into him."
"I don't understand who is funding him," Walter said as he came back into the room after walking the lawyers to the elevator.
After the contentious meeting, Wes's week didn't show any signs of improving. That Thursday, Wes had to go back to the Walsh Systech offices and lay people off.
"You don't have to do it yourself," Liz said.
"I owe them that much," Wes replied. All the warm fuzzy feeling's he had toward Liz had dissipated under the searing anger directed at him by his father. Hank had been right. Wes was just like the Holbrooks—he was about to lay people off and ruin their lives.
As Wes drove up to northern Connecticut, he wondered how many more Hank Walshes he was creating by laying off his workers.
"I hate the Holbrooks," Robert snapped when he saw Wes. They set up in two conference rooms; they were going to do the layoffs simultaneously. The director of human resources sat with Wes while one of the operating managers sat with Robert as their employees filed in, one after the other.
"I'm sorry," Wes said to each one. "I'm so sorry. This is not what I wanted." He expected at least one person to scream or be angry. But they all seemed so understanding as the human resources director handed each person a folder with their notice of separation, a little booklet with generic information about how not to kill yourself after being laid off, and a check for their severance pay.
After the last person was laid off and the human resources director made sure security had escorted them out of the building, Wes had to lay her off as well.
"Oh," she said. She started to cry.
"I'm sorry," Wes said, giving her a hug.
She sniffled. "It's not your fault."
"It will be fine," Wes lied. She was an older woman, and Wes knew the market was not strong for someone her age. She would be hard-pressed to find another job, especially one as high paying as the one with Walsh Systech.
Wes helped her carry her things to her car.
"Take care of yourself," she said, wiping the tears off her face. Wes sat outside on the curb in the parking lot, watching her car drive away.
After an hour, Robert came outside to sit next to him.
"That sucked," Wes said, picking at a weed growing out of the mulch.
"It was unnecessary," Robert said. "I had to lay off people my father hired that he made promises to." Robert jumped up and started pacing back and forth in front of Wes. "What progress are you making with the Holbrooks?" Robert asked.
"I don't even have the energy to talk about that."
"We have to fight, Wes," Robert snarled.
"We can't fight them. Big corporations like the Holbrooks, they always win."
41
Liz
"It's not your fault that they were laid off," Liz said. She knew Wes and Robert had to tell the employees the news that morning.
Hoping to cheer him up, she had waited for him in his apartment that evening. He hadn't taken Kal up to Connecticut with him, so she knew he would be back that night. His eyes were downcast when he walked into his apartment.
"I'm sure a number of them already had jobs lined up."
"I guess," Wes said as he shrugged off his coat.
"They were probably just hanging around, waiting for their severance pay," Liz continued.
Wes didn't look at her.
"Look," Liz said, trying to cheer him up. "I brought you Malaysian food. It's from this new place. It's spicy."
"I'm not hungry."
"Well, I could cheer you up some other way," she said, sliding her hand down his back.
He shook her off. "Can you just leave me alone?" he said in a clipped tone.
"Okay," Liz said and slowly gathered her things. "The gender-reveal party is this weekend. You're still coming, right?"
He didn't answer.
"Wes?"
He grunted. She hoped that meant yes.
"Okay, can you pick me up early Saturday? I have to help set up."
"Fine."
Liz scurried out of his apartment.
"He was probably really shaken up by the layoff," Anastasia said to her at the Salt House restaurant.
"Why are we back here?" Liz complained.
"The New York Times gave them three stars for some reason," Anastasia said.
"I don't even like the food here," Liz complained.
"Just because your boy toy is pissed at you, don't take it out on me!"
"He's not angry at me."
"You stole his company," Anastasia reminded her.
"Right." Liz swirled the remains of her cocktail around in her glass. "Do you think he's going to hold a grudge against me forever?"
Anastasia shrugged. "Maybe. That's the problem with being a woman with even a small bit of power. Men hate you. You should see some of the things the restauranteurs say to me after I skewer their restaurant."
"You need to be careful," Liz said. "They could be crazy."
"I'll tell you who's crazy," Anastasia said. "Brandy. You should see her Instagram posts about her pregnancy."
"Come help set up," Liz pleaded.
"Only for you, Liz," Anastasia said as a waiter put the next dish in front of them. "But I won't be happy about it."
Wes also didn't seem happy about the gender-reveal party when he showed up at her apartment promptly at seven a.m.
"At least Kal is happy to see me," Liz said, petting the dog as Osman helped her load the boxes of centerpieces into the back.
"Don't eat those," she warned Kal as Wes pulled the Tesla away from the curb. She couldn't read his expression behind his sunglasses. "Are you feeling better?" she asked as she unwound her scarf.
"Not really," Wes replied, "but business is business, I suppose. This is part of the job."
"I promise I'll find jobs for your employees," Liz said. He sighed. "I'll find them good jobs, better than Walsh Systech," she said. Wes didn't seem like he believed her. Liz made a mental promise that she would follow through.
"Change of topic," Wes said. "Why are men invited to a baby shower?"
"This isn't the baby shower. This is the gender reveal," Liz said. "It's like a surprise party for the gender of the baby. We have themed decorations and games. Rhonda is even rigging up some sort of el
ectronic artwork piece for people to vote which gender they think it is."
There was that scowl again.
"You don't like Rhonda?"
"Mark could do better," Wes said.
"At least she's helping."
Wes snorted. "Oh shoot," he said. "I didn't bring a gift."
"I already have you covered," Liz said.
"You do?"
"I'm looking out for you," she said and was rewarded with a small smile.
Eric, Grant, and Carter were sulking in the foyer when Liz walked into her parents' house, followed by Wes, who was carrying the boxes of centerpieces. One box had a partially chewed corner, but otherwise, Kal had left them alone.
"Thank you for volunteering," she told the men.
"I was told to be here," Carter said. "Also I am very hungover, and I would like to be excused."
"I think you're fine. Just don't climb any ladders." Liz sipped a green tea latte as she directed the men on where to hang the long strings of lights and paper flowers.
"Wow, that's impressive," Liz said as Rhonda walked in, heels clicking on the marble floor. She was followed by Mark, who was carrying the art piece. It consisted of hundreds of tiny LED bulbs hanging from a reclaimed wood beam. It looked like an elaborate chandelier, each tiny glowing orb suspended from a black filament.
"It's beautiful," Liz said. Rhonda beamed then busied herself with hooking up the wires to an iPad and a wireless camera as Mark and Grant hung up the art piece from hooks on the ceiling.
"It's lighter than it appears," she said to Liz's concerned look.
"I hope it works," Rhonda said.
"It's beautiful, whatever it is." She caught Wes giving Rhonda a scowl. Rhonda looked at him coldly then turned back to Liz. "You're so sweet. Mark helped me program it."
"What does it do?" Liz asked.
"Watch," Rhonda said and waved her hand on one side. The piece glowed blue. Then she waved it on the other. Some of the lights turned pink.
"It's like a voting system. The lights will change based off what people think the baby's gender is. When we reveal it, the piece will glow with that color."
