Baby Batter

by Alexis Angel

  If it's one thing I don't have right now, it's control.

  The realization solidifies in my mind. Athena and Ben were … a couple. It appears that they made some of the biggest business deals together in this city's history.

  So, what's she doing with me?

  I ball both of my hands into fists, and slam one hand down on top of my desk. The force of it makes a cup of pens clink against each other, and a stray piece of paper slides off the mahogany and onto the floor.

  How could I be so fucking stupid?

  Ben has always wanted to get back at me. Is this how he's finally succeeding in doing it? Is he using Athena to bring me down?

  Are they both sitting back, and collectivity laughing at how gullible I've been?

  I keep a heavy set of weights in my office for times like these—when I'm so fucking pissed I need to release it without breaking something.

  I walk over to the weights and grab them, one in each hand. Then I tighten my muscles and curl, one rep after another until my biceps are burning and swollen under my button-up shirt. Even then I don't stop, rep, after rep.

  Engage.

  Curl.

  Burn.

  Release.

  I can picture them now, Athena and Ben sharing a laugh over an over-priced cocktail. I can almost hear Ben saying, look at this guy, we laid a trap and he walked right into it. Who knew it was this easy pulling the wool over his eyes?

  Curl.

  Burn.

  Release.

  Yes, Athena must be working for Ben. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I'm such a fucking idiot.

  Curl.

  Burn.

  It seems to be one woman after another that tumbles my life into chaos. But I need to stay focused. I refuse to let them sit back and have the last laugh at my expense.

  I curl the weight in my arm, and instead of releasing it I hold the weight, feeling my muscles tense and burn across my entire bicep.

  It looks like my cock has gotten me in trouble again. How many times am I going to allow that to happen?

  Malcolm

  "Lifting weights again, I see?"

  A familiar voice snaps my mind to the present, and lifts the fog from my thoughts. It's amazing what kind of clarity you can get when you're not alone with your thoughts. I look up and see Andrew standing in the doorway. He has his arms crossed over his broad shoulders and is leaning against the frame of the door. He's still wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses over his eyes from being outside, and he reminds me of a Tom Cruise circa Top Gun.

  "Just blowing off some steam," I say.

  "Well, I may have the solution to your problems," Andrew smiles, removing his glasses now. I watch as he folds them and hangs them off of his shirt pocket.

  "Fat chance," I say, shaking my head. "I'm now in shit deeper than the Grand Canyon, and I don't see a way out of this fucking mess."

  Andrew narrows his eyes at me. "Since when did you become such a pessimist?"

  "Since I found myself falling for a viper disguised as a vixen," I say, and just as quickly as I say it, I wish I hadn't. I honestly don't want to talk about her right now … especially not with Andrew.

  Just thinking about Athena causes me to pick up my weights again. I grab a barbell in each hand and begin lifting to stem the flood of anger that is threatening to surge back into my blood stream.

  Andrew eyes me up and down before proceeding. "Look, before you get yourself worked up over some woman and fall off the deep end—which is uncharacteristic of you by the way—there's a mystery investor, and this person wants in."

  I stop curling and look him in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that we have a solution!" he says, throwing his arms up as if I'm not listening. "Don't you see? This investor is willing to put in enough capital to solve all of your problems."

  "All of my problems?" I say, and the crease forming across my forehead says I'm skeptical.

  "Look, I can't speak for your lady troubles, but this empire of yours," he says, spinning around the room and pointing at all four walls of my office, "will be saved. And that's been the goal from the beginning, right?"

  He does have a point. I need to forget about Athena. The whole reason I met her in the first place was to save my company, and the people in it. I thought the '100 Days' contest was going to be easy, and it was … until I met Athena.

  "So, what now?" I say. "Where do we go from here?"

  "I'll be honest with you," Andrew says, his tone growing serious, "the margins will be razor thin. But with a few good trades, you'll be back in business and at the top in no time.”

  “Who’s the investor?” I ask sharply. Who would swoop in now? “Why don’t they just wait till after the company is bankrupt.”

  “All we can piece together is that they want to be a silent investor and they believe in you as an investor,” he says to me.

  "Maybe," I mumble.

  Andrew folds his arms across his chest. "Maybe? Did you just say maybe? Where's your fire? Where's your confidence? C'mon Malcolm. You're good—almost too good. You make Wall Street tremble—you've always made grown men quake beneath their silk ties. You need to take this bull by the horns!"

  I shrug. "I guess."

  "Unbelievable. I'm standing here telling you that we have an investor—a solution—and I get the sense that you're not happy."

  "No, it's great … really, it is," I say. I put the weights down and take a seat behind my desk. I sink into the leather and tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

  "Why do I not believe you?"

  Andrew's my best friend. He's always had my back, and he's like a fucking brother to me, but I'm not in the mood for his poking and prodding.

  "Jut let it go—it's fine," I say, swiveling in my chair.

  Andrew shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong. Your fire is gone, man. I'm just hoping there's a few embers left that we can fan and turn into flames again."

  "That's fucking dramatic."

  "Just man up and tell me what's wrong," Andrew says.

  I decide that now's as good a time as any to pull out the bottle of whiskey that I keep stashed in my desk drawer. "Want a glass?"

  "Fill 'er up," Andrew says.

  I pour two ribbons of the amber liquid, one in each glass, and slide one over to Andrew. I take a gulp, allowing the liquor to burn a fiery trail into the pit of my stomach.

  "I think Ben Danvers is up to something."

  Andrew laughs. "Nothing new there. When is that bastard not up to something?"

  I shake my head. "No, I mean, I think Ben is plotting against me … with Athena."

  Andrew releases a shrill whistle between his lips. "Well, now. That changes things. What exactly do you think is going on?"

  "It's not worth talking about," I say, shaking my head. "It's a non-issue now that we have an investor."

  "It is an issue … if you love Athena."

  When Andrews says the word 'love' I feel a sharp stab in my chest. I pour myself another glass of whiskey, and drink it, trying to dull the pain I feel.

  If this is what love feels like—a stabbing, sinking, aching feeling—I never want to fall in love again.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Andrew eyes me critically, and he instinctively knows there's more I'm not telling him, but he has the sense enough to not prod me any further.

  "Let me just remind you of something," he says. "You got this far—to this corner office at the top of this fucking skyscraper in the middle of this glorious city, by being one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "By being a risk taker, man."

  As soon as Andrew says this, I know he's right.

  That's it.

  I need to take risks.

  The question is: How much risk am I willing to assume?

  Athena

  Sometimes I think that part of me is just too manly. I mean, the first thing I do when I hit a rough patch is head straight to the cl
osest bar and order a martini. Thankfully, I’m never alone when that happens.

  “You did what?” Julia asks me, her jaw dropping so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if it hit the floor. “Please, tell me I’ve heard wrong.”

  “No, you’ve heard right.”

  “Are you insane, Athena?” Julia continues, that tone of complete disbelief coating every word that leaves her mouth.

  “No, I’m… I’m in love,” I say, looking at her and doing my best to hold her gaze.

  “Jesus…” she mutters under her own breath, ordering two more shots of tequila by waving her empty glass at the waiter. We’re both sitting by the stools lining the counter and, even though the bar is almost empty, the music is loud enough to drown out our voices. “Let me get this straight. So, you’ve invested all of your personal assets anonymously in Malcolm’s company, right? To save him?”

  “Yeah,” I nod with a sigh. “Even if he admits he loves me and signs the declaration, putting it all down into writing, his company will have a financial net to fall back on. But I’m not even sure if that’s going to happen now… I haven’t heard from him in God knows how long.”

  “I’m sorry, babe, but you have officially lost your mind. You know that, don’t you? It was cheaper when you were just a slut.” she says to me with a wink, but her tone is so jolly that I can’t help but smile. That’s Julia for you—from disbelief and anger to excitement faster than you can snap your fingers. Some friendships are like that, a true rollercoaster. And God bless her for that; I’d have gone crazy by now if it weren’t for her.

  “Yup, I’ve finally lost it, Julia.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest about that,” she shrugs. “Nothing left to do except drink to your madness, then,” she chuckles, raising her shot of tequila up in the air. I do the same, touching my glass with hers, and then we drink it at the same time.

  “But, seriously, Athena,” she continues after the usual grimace that follows the bitter tequila, “if you love him this much, enough to sink both your company and your personal life … I don’t know, but maybe you should tell him the truth about everything.”

  “I… I don’t know about that, Julia…”

  Look, I know that she’s right, but I simply can’t bring myself to do it, okay? In a way, I’m afraid of letting it all out in the open. I have no idea how he’d react to the truth, and I’m not sure if I want to find out. What if… he hates me? He’ll be mad at me, that’s for sure, but what I fear the most is that he’ll be disappointed with me.

  I have no idea when my change from cold-hearted to hopeless romantic happened, but the fact that it happened remains. And, even if I could, I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, I’d wipe Ben off the whole thing (that bastard could be wiped off the face of the Earth, for all I care), but I’d keep all the rest.

  “You don’t know about that?” Julia slams her empty shot glass onto the table, doing it so hard that even the two bartenders behind the counter jump back. “How the hell can you say that? Oh, I don’t know about that, Julia,” she starts mimicking my voice, doing a very lousy and exaggerated impression of me. Perhaps watching a frown on my face, she sighs heavily and then asks one of the bartenders for another round.

  “Look,” she continues, this time more gently than before, “you’ve committed both your company and your personal assets, right? And you did it to protect him. Even if he gets mad at first, if he’s the man you say he is … he’ll eventually see what a great woman he has.”

  “It’s not that easy… I mean, I’ve basically colluded with Ben. I tried to destroy his company, and I --”

  “Oh, girl, stop being so dramatic!” she sighs again, exasperated, and runs one hand through her already disheveled hair. “It won’t be the end of the world, trust me.”

  “You’re single, Julia. It’s not like you’re an expert in relationships,” I tell her, and now it’s her time to frown.

  “Thanks for that, Miss I-got-a-hot-boyfriend.”

  “I’m sorry… This whole thing is just stressing me out.”

  “And that’s exactly why you need to tell him everything,” she finishes, drinking her shot without waiting for me. Following her lead, I drink mine as well, throwing my head back and closing my eyes as the bitter taste of the tequila claws at my tongue and throat. Ugh.

  “I know, but...”

  “But…?”

  “God, Julia, is it that hard for you to understand?” I ask her, smiling at her even though I feel my heart breaking inside my chest. “I’m ashamed of the things I did… of the things I let Ben talk me into. I’ve never been that kind of person, and I’m ashamed of myself. And I don’t know if I can take the disappointment in his eyes as I tell him everything, I really don’t…” The words flow out of me in a torrent, and I feel tears stinging my eyes. I grit my teeth and breathe in deeply through my nose, trying to calm myself.

  “Hey, hey… It’s gonna be okay,” Julia whispers, placing her hand on top of mine and squeezing it softly.

  “I don’t… I don’t want Malcolm to know that person, the one I became when I… when I started working for Ben,” I tell her, having no idea on how the hell I’m managing not to burst into tears.

  “No! You can’t say bullshit like that, Athena! You never worked for Ben; he was blackmailing you. It’s completely different.”

  “I know, but --”

  “Not buts or ifs, Athena. You’ve told me that you love Malcolm, and I believe you. I really do. But love without trust… It’s worthless,” she says, her final words becoming just a whisper.

  How do you even argue with something like that?

  Malcolm

  Just as Andrew and I finish our second glass of whiskey, the door to my office flies open. We both turn to look as Ben Danvers walks in.

  Instantly, my stomach flips, and a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. It doesn't help that I've been drinking. The whiskey just adds fuel to the fire—stoking it nice and high.

  "Perfect," Ben says, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "You're here."

  If I'm honest, I'd like to wipe that smile right off of his fucking face with one closed fist.

  I push my chair back from my desk and stand. I'm not going to let him control this situation, or this room.

  "What are you doing here?" I growl. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that you aren't welcome. If you don't leave right now, I'm—"

  Ben cuts me off. "Easy there, tiger. I'm here to make you an offer."

  "No thanks," I say, pointing Ben to the door.

  "It'd be a real shame," he says, in a patronizing tone and looking around the office, "To lose all of this—these things you've worked so hard for, and this view."

  "I thought we've been over this," I say. "I'm not fucking losing anything."

  "I appreciate your bravado, but c'mon, let's be honest," he shrugs. "You're not fooling anyone here. It's just a matter of days before this so-called empire of yours comes tumbling down. And then where will you be? Huh? Well, let me spell it out for you. You'll be on the street; that's where."

  I can feel my pulse hammering in my temples. I wonder if my face looks as red as it feels—hotter than any raging fire. I try to steady my breathing.

  Ben goes on, "Instead of you becoming the next guy to panhandle on the street corner with an empty coffee cup and a cardboard sign, I'm prepared to make you an offer. I'll give you a penny on every dollar. That way, you can walk out of here on your own two feet, and save yourself the humiliation."

  "Go fuck yourself, Ben," I growl. The insult of his offer feels like a straight kick to the balls.

  I watch as Ben takes his wallet from his pocket and pulls a $100 dollar bill from its fold. Then he pulls out a lighter and a cigar from his briefcase, and without hesitation, lights the cigar. He shrugs, sucking in a few puffs. "Have it your way."

  Once the cigar's tip begins to smolder, he brings the edge of the bill to its tip, holding it until it catches fire. I watch the flame blacken the bill
.

  He grins wide. "Is this what you really want?" he says, his thick eyebrows dancing on his brow line. "You really want to throw money away like this? Because this is what's happening to your money right now. It's all going up in smoke."

  "You're nothing more than a joke," I say, holding his steady gaze. "You're a natural born loser."

  Ben laughs. It's shrill and almost maniacal. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who's going to lose the 100 Days contest. You can kiss that pot of money good bye."

  As soon as he mentions the contest, it almost feels as if my heart skips a beat. I can practically feel my stomach hit the floor.

  My suspicions must've been right. He knew about the contest. He must be working with Athena; that's the only thing that makes sense right now.

  I take a step closer to him, and point my finger in his direction. "You can leave. Now."

  I lost my patience a long time ago.

  Ben continues to grin, and then throws his smoldering cigar and hundred-dollar bill down, crushing them with his shoe, and grinding the black ash into the carpet.

  "I see I've hit a nerve," he grins. "And I must say … Athena is quite good in bed. That ass. Those tits."

  "You wish," I say, my hands balled into fists and my shoulders now tense.

  "There's no wishing," Ben chuckles. "I've fucked her good. And I have the tapes to prove it. Would you like to jerk off to them sometime? The way she moans when I stuff her with my cock… yeah, that part always gets me."

  "You fucking bastard!" I growl, closing the distance between us.

  Without saying another word, I reach back and punch him square in the face. As soon as my fist connects, I hear a snapping sound, like twigs crunching beneath a boot, and a stream of blood leaks out of his nose.

  He stumbles back, wiping a finger under his nose, and when he sees the blood, he springs toward me.

  He throws a punch, but I duck out of the way and it grazes my ear. Then I throw my body at him, tackling him to the ground with the force of a linebacker, and we tumble. A throbbing mass of muscle, we knock over a vase from a side table, and the flowers fall to the ground and are crushed by our bodies—like sad confetti after a party.