Mr. Sugar

by L. D. Fox

  He looked up at Kelly as she got out of her car, groceries in hand.

  God, he had horrible timing.

  When the woman spotted him, she gave him a big wave and an even bigger smile. She got a small wave in return. Kelly looked like she was going to say something, and then her eyes darted up.

  Her smile froze before slowly sliding from her face.

  He already knew he’d see Angel before he turned around.

  The girl ran up to him, jangling Penny’s keys from a finger. Her only accommodation to the chill in the air was that she’d put on her pink, fluffy slippers before coming outside.

  “Silly me,” she said, giving both him and Kelly a wide, disarming smile. “Forgot to move the car.”

  She flashed him her panties — possibly on purpose — as she climbed into the car. She reversed the VW from the driveway. Then she had the audacity to toot Penny’s horn at him.

  He turned to Kelly. Her eyes were the widest he’d ever seen, and she was clutching her grocery bag to her chest as if it was the only real thing left in the world.

  “Kelly—” he began, but she was already turning away from him.

  Angel tooted at him again, giving him a wave when he turned to glare at her.

  “You’re gonna be late, Mr. Sugar!” She pantomimed pointing at a watch that she’d probably never owned.

  He got into his car and slammed the door hard enough that Kelly gave him another wide-eyed look of surprise before disappearing inside her house.

  Penny had better show up today. If she didn’t he’d be kicking Angel out on her ass. Her sweet, luscious—

  He revved his Merc and sped down the road, trying to outrun the thought.

  He almost succeeded.

  *

  His brother waited at the elevator for him.

  “Rough night?” Bryce asked as soon as Drew stepped from the elevator.

  “Yeah,” Drew said, hefting the travel mug to take a large swallow. “You could say that. Eaton Foods had a shit load of paperwork outstanding.”

  Maybe his twin’s perfectly groomed face just made him that angry. Or the way Bryce tugged at his cuffs while he studied Drew as if it irritated him that his brother looked like shit on such an important day.

  “Hell, now I feel bad,” Bryce said, falling in beside Drew as he headed for the glass doors etched with the words Trent & Morgan Loss Adjusters. Behind it, the granite slab of a reception desk loomed like some monolithic altar stone.

  His brother laid a consolatory hand on his shoulder. “Should I get one of the admins to help—?”

  “All done,” Drew said, taking another swallow of his coffee in case Bryce could see how blatantly that lie crawled over his face.

  They’d never been the kind of twins that read each other’s minds. He’d always thought those that said they could were full of shit. He and Bryce couldn’t be more different. His mother had called them night and day without ever revealing who was who in the analogy.

  “I hope you didn’t lose too much sleep over it.” His brother’s voice oozed fake concern.

  He took another swig of his coffee. Jesus, had Angel put vodka in it? It had a nasty bite to it.

  “Had company,” Drew said, trying not to sound sour about it. He was still struggling to figure out how he felt about what had happened last night. Sure, once his hangover realized it wasn’t welcome anymore and got the hell out of his system, he’d probably feel like a new man.

  Drew 2.0. Reborn, revitalized—

  And a pervert. A thought he couldn’t shake, despite every reasonable, logical excuse he threw at it. They hadn’t fucked — at least, the memories lurking in the alcohol-induced fog of his mind didn’t contain anything that perverted — but did it matter? Every time she’d bent over to fill up his glass, he’d mentally been banging the girl from behind.

  In his defense — because he felt he needed one — the girl wasn’t precisely jailbait. He hadn’t been the one coming onto her. Well… technically he had cum onto her. But she’d wanted him to—

  “—you even listening?”

  Drew couldn’t remember the seconds that had passed between them going through the entrance and ending up at his office.

  “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I managed to stall Trent.” Bryce stepped into Drew’s office. Everything in the firm was monochromatic; from the ash-gray carpets to the darkly stained oak furniture – his office was no different. “Said you were caught in traffic. But we have to get in there and—”

  “Right behind you.” Drew slugged back the rest of the coffee — why not; it had almost annihilated his hangover.

  Bryce gave him a considering frown. “Penny, right? Didn’t you say she’s coming back for Fall break or something?”

  “She’s shacked up with some blond guy in a villa somewhere.”

  “Then who?”

  “You don’t know her.” Drew set his briefcase down on his table, travel mug beside it. “Do you have the claim form?”

  “Of course. Ready?”

  Drew gave him a thumbs-up.

  He wasn’t ready. Not even close. Preparing for this meeting had been on his list, of course… right after his paperwork. He’d done neither. Which meant he didn’t have a strategy. Nothing to use to impress Trent in handing him back the reins.

  Before Juliet, he’d always been the one to take lead.

  He’d been ruthless back then, tearing apart claims and reducing them to husks of their former selves. And, to Trent’s glee, all in one-hundred percent legit ways.

  He’d lost that burst of confidence his wife had given him every time he’d stepped out the front door of their house. The kiss she’d given him, the whispered encouragement in his ear; it had been his fire.

  Until today.

  The entire drive to the office, he kept rehashing those bits of last night he could still remember. He’d kissed that blue-eyed beauty, that she’d had her hands around him. She’d been so wet for him he’d felt it through her yoga pants.

  Angel had done him a tremendous service.

  Bryce frowned at him when he led the way into the conference room. Here, the walls were a dreary gray that almost matched the slate carpet. Most of the loss adjusters were in today; there were only four empty seats around the gleaming conference table. Bryce unbuttoned his ink blue Gucci suit with exaggerated care as he sank onto the padded chair.

  “Did you dress in your car?” his brother murmured. “Fix your tie.”

  Drew ran a hand through his hair and tugged his tie into some semblance of order. “I know we discussed this yesterday.” Drew leaned close to Bryce so their conversation could be quasi-confidential. “But I think it’s best if I take lead on this.”

  Bryce gave him a curious, sidelong glance. “You? You get here late, looking like shit—” Bryce dropped his voice to a hiss “—stinking of booze—” he straightened again “—and you want to take lead?”

  Just like a balloon animal the day after the party, now limp and barely resembling the proud poodle it had once been, the last vestiges of his courage deflated.

  “I thought you were off the sauce?” Bryce shifted in his chair before tweaking his tie. “What happened? You run into an old drinking buddy? I told you to call me if you ever—”

  “I’m not an alcoholic!” he whispered furiously. “You’re not my fucking sponsor. Yes, I had a few drinks last night.” He glanced at the other loss adjusters, who had all coincidentally gone quiet. “I can handle it.”

  “Sure doesn’t look like it from where I’m sitting.”

  He opened his mouth, ready to lash out, when the conference room door opened again. Gregory Trent stepped in, gave the room a disinterested once-over and sat at the head of the long, oval table.

  “Glad you could join us, Drew.” The man’s platinum-blond hair and sun-darkened face spoke of many hours on the deck of his yacht. Yet he’d attended every Monday morning meeting for the past seven years.

  He gave the man a s
mall nod

  “So, now that we’re all here…”

  Trent began the litany of follows ups, moving onto each investigator and loss adjuster until he came to Drew and his brother. There, his eyes took a moment to weigh the two of them, as if deciding who he would be addressing.

  “Mr. and Mr. Sugar.” There was a very faint, very brief murmur of mirth from the other claims adjusters. It never got old. Not if it was the boss. “You two look thick as thieves this morning. I assume you’ll be double-teaming VDK Manufacturing?”

  Bryce sat forward in his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “Actually—”

  “I’ll be heading up this one, Greg,” Drew cut in, giving his brother a light pat on the shoulder. “Bryce is a bit overwhelmed with paperwork at the moment.”

  There was a moment’s hush in the room. He could feel his brother’s shoulder stiffening under his hand. “That’s not—”

  “You know what?” Gregory said in a light voice, “You two sort it out. As long as the preliminary lands on my desk first thing Thursday morning, I don’t care if you outsource to India.”

  Gregory stood, gathering up the papers he’d been passed by the various reporting adjusters. Then he looked up and fixed Drew and Bryce with a hard stare. “Clearly, you can’t outsource to India. I’d fire the lot of you faster than—”

  A cheery, electronic jangle cut him off.

  A cellphone? In the conference room? Anathema!

  Drew glanced around, giving Bryce a double-take when he saw the man’s astonished face.

  “What?”

  “You brought a phone in here?” Bryce widened dark eyes at him, and then stared pointedly at Drew’s pocket.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  His hand darted into the breast pocket of his suit. It came back holding a glittering, diamond-encrusted phone.

  Angel’s cellphone, blaring out a hip-hop ringtone.

  What the hell was her phone doing in his—?

  He stabbed at the screen with his thumb, all too aware of the deafening silence that the phone’s hip-hop ringtone kept slicing apart.

  Facetime? What in the name of—

  “Hey, Mr. Sugar.” Angel’s face bloomed into view as her voice, husky and loud as shit, flooded the conference room. “Thank God. I thought I lost it.”

  “Angel?” It was more a whisper than anything else. He stabbed at the cellphone’s touch screen, trying to get the call to end, to lower the volume, fucking anything. But his hands were shaking so badly, he had trouble even holding onto the phone.

  “Drew?” Bryce’s voice was urgent and low.

  “Are you going to be home soon?” Angel said, completely nonplussed. “I thought we could go for a swim.”

  Angel’s bikini-covered breasts filled the screen.

  Drew closed his hand over the phone, yanked it away, and managed to find a button that — after he’d held it down for a heart-hammering few seconds — made the screen go black.

  When he looked up, Gregory’s pale eyes were unreadable. The man cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “I’d have been late, too,” Gregory murmured as he exited the conference room. “In fact, I’m surprised you even made it to work.”

  And with that, the loss adjusters of Trent & Morgan Associated filed from the room.

  He could feel his brother glaring at the back of his head. Drew slid Angel’s cellphone into his pocket, adjusted his tie, and turned to face his brother.

  “Who is she?”

  Drew shrugged. “Angel.”

  “I got that,” Bryce said. “Who is she? And why the hell is she video calling you in the middle of—”

  “Does it matter?” Drew straightened his shoulders and pointed at the file. “Trent said we had to sort this out between us. I’m taking lead on this.” Drew flicked his fingers. “And, this time, you can do the paperwork.”

  His twin smiled at him, but there was no mirth on those lips. “I’ve got better things to do.” Bryce walked past him, slamming the Van Der Kloof folder against Drew’s chest. “It’s all yours, big brother.” Bryce paused at the threshold of the conference room’s oak paneled doors. “You do realize she’s a gold-digger, right?”

  Drew stared at his brother’s departing back, pressing the claim file against his chest. His fingers tapped a slow tango on the plastic.

  That garish cellphone was a lead weight in his pocket.

  He was right of course. Bryce. But to hear it being said made it real. Made it a problem. Made it something to be dealt with so he wouldn’t look the fool… Or, more of a fool.

  Grimacing, he inhaled a sharp breath and stalked out of the conference room.

  Angel had to go.

  7

  A Ride on the Carousel

  “Happy days!” Drew leaned against the balcony railing, a cigarette trapped between the cold steel and his fingers, his cellphone pressed to his ear. “My daughter’s finally putting her Ivy League education to good use. Did it take you all weekend to figure out how to turn your damn phone on?”

  There was a pause, and then Penny’s voice. Hoarse. Disorientated. “Dad? What… what time is it?”

  “Jesus, past eleven. In the morning.” He took a furious tug at his cigarette and let the crisp breeze toying around him snatch it from his mouth. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “Been busy,” Penny mumbled. “Can you… can you hold on?”

  She sounded fast asleep, or possibly hungover. A righteous stab of fury tore through him before he remembered he’d woken up with his first hangover in almost three months. Would it be hypocritical of him to get pissed off at her?

  “You there?” There was shuffling as if she had the phone by her side and was walking. A door closed and then her voice returned — strengthened but still hoarse.

  “Yeah, I’m—” she cut herself off with a yawn. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up? What’s up is I was expecting my daughter on Saturday. Instead, I got… well, I got Angel.”

  “Didn’t Angel tell you—?”

  “Oh, Angel told me, all right,” Drew said with a harsh laugh. “You, little missy, are going to take your phone, and call her the second I put down. Then you’re going to tell her to get the hell out of my house—”

  “I spoke to her yesterday. She said you were all right with everything.”

  “Amazing.” Drew let out a strangled laugh. “You didn’t think to phone me? After the hundreds of messages and goddamn SMSes I send you, you phone Angel to find out if everything is all right?”

  “Woah. Why are you so—?”

  “The second I put this phone down.” Drew had to unclench his jaw to speak, and only barely managed. “Which is about ten seconds after you tell me where in the hell you are and why the hell you thought you didn’t have to bother asking me if—”

  “Asking you?” Penny’s voice rose a few octaves. Suddenly, she didn’t sound sleepy anymore. “I’m twenty, Dad. I don’t need your permission for anything. And if you don’t want Angel staying there until I come back, then kick her out! I mean, shit, it’s not like there isn’t enough space in your hotel of a house.”

  “Don’t you dare speak—”

  “You know what? I was coming back today, but suddenly I don’t feel all that fucking welcome anymore. Bye, Dad.”

  “Oh, you’re getting your ass—”

  But she’d put down. Drew held the phone away, glared at it for a few seconds, and then shoved it in his pocket. It rattled against Angel’s gem-encrusted monstrosity.

  It was only with monumental effort he managed not to take that pink, glittering thing and throw it into the street below. His knuckles went white when he gripped the railings and leaned forward, jaw tight and breath whistling through his nose.

  He’d been so angry that his own daughter had decided she’d rather be somewhere else than with him. And he hadn’t even found out where she was.

  A hand on his shoulder made him spin around and break into
a volley of headache-inducing coughs.

  “Scare you?” Bryce asked, leaning with his hip against the railing.

  “Jesus, you think?” He gave a final cough.

  “Got a smoke?”

  “For you?”

  “Yeah, for me.”

  Drew stared at him for a few seconds, and then fumbled in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes. He shook one out for Bryce and lit it for him with his Zippo. “You should be glad you never had kids,” he muttered, watching as Bryce took a pull at the cigarette.

  “Guessing you were yelling at Penny.” Bryce shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “She up and leaves me with her friend when she’s supposed to be spending her break here.” Drew tugged out Angel’s cellphone, flashing it at Bryce before shoving it back in his pocket. “That’s how we met. I tell Penny to get rid of her, and she throws a tantrum like a five-year-old.”

  “Why the hell do you want to get rid of her?” Bryce’s eyebrows drew together.

  Drew let out a blustering laugh and lit himself another cigarette. “Because Angel is the last thing I need in my life right now.”

  “Yeah?” Bryce murmured, “I also went through a stage where I’d had enough of women video calling me.”

  “She’s ruining everything.”

  “What, like your bedsheets?”

  “Kelly.”

  “Who?” Bryce straightened, the end of his cigarette glowing at he drew on it.

  “My neighbor?” Drew frowned at him and made a rolling gesture with his hand. “You know, the one I’ve been trying to…”

  Bryce let out a dry chuckle. “So you’d rather flog a dead horse than ride a wild one?”

  Drew’s scowl didn’t seem to have an effect on Bryce’s taunting smile. When it came to business, Bryce couldn’t be more serious; his professionalism was absolute and unwavering. But when it came to his personal life, nothing ever stuck. He treated women like paper cups — great for holding his coffee, but he didn’t give them a second thought after he’d tossed them in the trash. It was no wonder Juliet had only been with Bryce for a few months; she’d wanted to buy the fairground, but Bryce had only been willing to give her a few rides on the carousel.