Sundays are for Hangovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  That is…until he opens his mouth.

  His words come tumbling from his lips, and I realize my dad is king for a reason.

  And I’m nothing more than a princess he intends on locking in a tower.

  My happily ever after is officially over.

  Mondays are for Making Lance Eat a Knuckle Sandwich

  Restructuring.

  That was my warning from my boss at this morning’s meeting. But it smelled fishy. Super fishy. Like Bart Hamilton trying to meddle in my life because he’s a damn prick kind of fishy. My boss stated that shit was about to hit the fan and that it would benefit me to start looking for a new job and soon.

  I’m the best damn internal auditor they have.

  I can’t believe I even tried to help her father. Won’t make that mistake again. I pull out my phone once I’m inside my office and text Lilith.

  Me: I think I might be getting fired soon.

  She doesn’t respond and I get caught up on working on my résumé until lunch. I check my watch and then my phone. Still no response.

  Me: Call me when you get a chance, babe.

  Another half hour goes by.

  I call and she doesn’t answer. I call again and again.

  Me: Please answer. I’m worried.

  Crickets.

  I turn on my computer and switch on her radio show. It doesn’t take long for me to realize she’s not on the air today. Big D is solo and doesn’t allude to where she’s at. Maybe she’s sick.

  Unease trickles through me. I won’t feel good until I speak to her. Since I’m probably getting let go soon anyway, I shut down my office for the day and go hunting for my girlfriend. Her radio station is closest, so I swing by there first. But when I realize her car isn’t in the lot, I keep on my way home, calling her along the way.

  No answer.

  What the fuck?

  By the time I reach our neighborhood, my anxiety is at an all-time high. Lilith is a grown woman and has things she does, but it’s unlike her not to talk to me all day. I’m freaking the fuck out that she’s hurt or something.

  When I make it to our street, I’m thankful to see a car in her driveway. I think it’s her car at first until I realize it’s just another red, shiny vehicle but doesn’t belong to her. A man in a suit is taking pictures of her house. I pull into my driveway and barely get the key out of the ignition before I’m stalking over to him.

  “Can I help you?” I growl as I approach.

  The man turns, flashing me a megawatt smile. “Killian Vanderpool at your service. They call me the realtor with the killer deals.” He winks at me. “Would you like to take a peek inside? This one’s new on the market today.”

  “This is my girlfriend’s house. She’s not selling it,” I snap, irritation making my blood begin to boil.

  His brows furrow together. “I’ve been on the phone with the homeowner all morning working to get this house on the market. I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have to get this property on my website today.” He trades his camera for a sign that he pulls from the trunk.

  For Sale.

  Killian Vanderpool’s big smile is splashed across the sign and I want to punch a hole through it.

  With gritted teeth, I dial Lilith again. No answer. I’m a storm about to let loose if I don’t get in touch with my girlfriend. This is unlike her.

  I call the station and land in a queue as I climb into my car. Big D is babbling about a Meg Myers concert coming to town on the radio.

  “Caller number nine, you’ve won tickets to—”

  “Where’s Lil?” I demand, cutting off Big D.

  “The infamous Wonka,” he says with a chuckle. “My partner in crime is taking a day of vacation.”

  “I need to know.” My voice is low and deadly.

  “Ahhh, a Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers fan. I’ve got ya, dawg.”

  “I Need to Know” starts playing on the speakers and I almost hang up when he comes through the line again.

  “She quit this morning, Wonka,” he hisses, as if he’s trying to be quiet. “She called me in fuckin’ tears and quit. Before I could ask her what’s up, she hung up. Somethin’ didn’t sound right with my girl. I thought maybe it had somethin’ to do with you, man.”

  I blink in confusion as I haul ass out of the neighborhood. “It’s not me, I can assure you. She put her house up on the market too. Something is wrong and I’m going to find out. She loves that job, so there’s no way she’d just up and quit.”

  “Back at ya, brother. Her ghostin’ you like this is fucked up. I’m wonderin’ if it has somethin’ to do with Daddy Warbucks. He’s always on her shit.”

  A growl rumbles from me. “Did you tell anyone about her quitting?”

  “No, man. I was hoping she was just having her period or was hungover. I didn’t tell Leon. He thinks she’s got the shits and is contagious. Find our girl and tell her to get her skinny ass back to work.”

  “Thanks, D.”

  I hang up and haul ass toward Hamilton Investments.

  The entire time I drive, I try her cell. Restructuring at my job. Her quitting hers. The for-sale sign in her yard. Her ghosting me. This all reeks of Bart Hamilton. Fucking bastard.

  I’m tired of this asshole bullying my girl.

  Hang on, Lilith, I’m going to make this right.

  I storm past the receptionist, uncaring of the way her heels clack after me. She calls out to me, but I ignore her, opting to pay Bart a surprise visit. When I burst through his door, the smug fuck leans back in his leather chair and flashes me a wide grin.

  This isn’t the smile of a man whose daughter’s life he’s single-handedly ruining.

  No, this is the smile of a man who thinks he’s just won a game. A deal. Some match that wasn’t particularly even to begin with. Why the hell he’s so dead set on hating me, I’ll never know. But screwing with Lilith’s life like this is unforgiveable. It makes him the shittiest parent in my book.

  “Mr. Grant. Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, smirking.

  I charge over to his desk and slam my palms down on the solid surface. My glare must be scary as fuck because his eyes widen for a moment as he rolls back in his chair.

  “I’ve called security,” the receptionist says from the doorway.

  He raises a palm. “We’re two grown men who are going to talk like adults. Just have them wait outside, Tiffany, in case Mr. Grant decides to start acting like a child.”

  She closes the door with a soft click and I growl at him.

  “Where the fuck is my girlfriend?”

  His nostrils flare and he rises from his chair, no doubt hating the disadvantage of being seated. He straightens his jacket as he sneers at me. “My daughter is done with her sabbatical. The little rebellious vacation of hers is over.”

  I stand up straight and crack my neck, rolling it over my shoulders. My hands form into fists. It takes everything in me not to pummel this motherfucker. “Whatever bullshit you’ve filled her head with to get her to agree to this is just that…bullshit. Tell me where she is. I need to talk to her.”

  “So you can bully her into staying, Mr. Grant?” He huffs and his face burns bright red with anger. “Your past is a nasty stain that will soil the pure future of my daughter. Lilith has had her fun, but it’s time for her to get serious. There are things—people—who have been waiting on her for a long time. As her father, it’s my duty to be firm with her when she’s making the wrong decisions.”

  I clench my jaw and shake my head. “Lilith isn’t some business deal,” I snap. “She’s my girlfriend and she deserves better than this. Do you even hear yourself right now? You’ll make her hate you.”

  “Says the man with no father himself. How is Barbara anyhow? Your grandma still living in the duplex on Oak Avenue? I happen to know the fella who owns those duplexes over there. He mentioned he might be interested in selling. What a shame to have poor granny out on her fanny.”

  Realization washes over me in a w
ave.

  He’s threatened beyond taking away my girlfriend’s house.

  Bart Hamilton, that dirty dog, used me and my fucking grandma to get Lilith to do his bidding.

  I’m pissed as fuck at this man but mostly, I feel pity for him. He’s so caught up in having his perfect world and perfect family that he doesn’t realize it’s blowing up in his face.

  “It’ll catch up to you,” I tell him, my voice cold and calm. “You’re so busy putting up this façade that you’re destroying the very foundation of everything you fucking care about. Your company. Your daughter. Sure, you may have won thinking you’ll intimidate her into going home, but you’ve done nothing but break her heart. A dad is supposed to love and guide his daughter. And one day, I’ll show your grandchildren how a real damn daddy is supposed to act. Now tell me where Lilith is before I throw your goddamned desk out that window.” I point to the glass and glower at him with every ounce of hate and hostility I have in me.

  He blinks in shock, momentarily stunned by my words, but then sneers. “As soon as we arrived earlier, she told me she was going to go see Lance. You remember him? The successful, wealthy, worthy Lance Peterson.”

  I don’t spare him another glance as I stalk out of his office.

  “Lance is going to make her very happy,” he calls out, his robust voice chuckling behind me.

  And I’m going to make Lance eat a knuckle sandwich.

  Right before I steal the girl who makes me very happy.

  Lance’s office isn’t far from Bart’s and I’m unnerved when I see Lilith’s cherry red Mustang parked crookedly in front of a meter outside a tall building. Her meter is almost up, so I shove some change into it so she won’t get a ticket before I hurry inside. The building is fancy as fuck, reminding me I’m just a damn boring bank auditor.

  But boring bank auditor or not, I know how to make Lilith smile.

  I know how to make her laugh.

  I know how to make her come.

  Lance, the successful lawyer, doesn’t know her like I do. He doesn’t know she likes fifteen extra minutes to sleep in. That you have to set the alarm fifteen minutes early to trick her so she won’t be late. He doesn’t know she secretly loves cinnamon even though she claims it’s not her fave. Because when I make her coffee and add a pinch, she always gushes about how much better coffee is those mornings. Lance, the motherfucking boring billionaire in training, doesn’t know Lilith loves hip-hop rap from the nineties and can sing every single word in annoying perfection. The asshole doesn’t know she cries every damn time during the SPCA commercials and snort laughs at every episode of Friends. He doesn’t know she’ll claim her clit is too sensitive to be touched anymore but will grind it against the heel of your palm, greedy for just one more orgasm. And what he really doesn’t know about her is her eyes shimmer with delight when you brush the hair from her face, kiss her nose, and tell her she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

  Lance doesn’t know shit about her.

  Because she’s not his.

  She’s mine, dammit.

  I’m met with more gatekeepers at this building, but I ignore them all as I locate his suite number on a board near the elevators. More clacking of heels run after me as I stalk down the idiot who thinks he can take my girl.

  Even his office is ritzy and pretentious. A silver, shiny plate indicating his name on his door. Big, expensive mahogany separating me from her. I turn the knob and push through. As soon as I see her, I let out a sigh of relief.

  That is, until I take in the scene.

  Lance, the balding motherfucker, grins at her as she laughs—fucking laughs—at whatever he’s just said. Chinese food is spread out all over his desk. Food they’ve apparently just eaten together. She’s beautiful today but doesn’t look like herself. No, she’s gone full-on Hamilton from the Hamptons in her white cardigan, smooth brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and a knee-length pale yellow dress.

  When he sees me, he straightens and his smile falls.

  Yeah, you better stop looking at my woman like that, motherfucker.

  “Mr. Grant,” he says smoothly.

  Lilith snaps her head my way and gapes in surprise. Her eyes are swollen from crying at some point in the day, but her makeup has been touched up. A lingering smile remains on her lips.

  What sort of alternate reality have I walked into?

  “Lilith,” I bark, my blood boiling with fury at her father and confusion at the way she’s dressed. “Why are you here?”

  Lance rises. “Mr. Grant, if you’d like to make an appointment, my secretary—”

  “Does it look like I want a goddamned appointment with you?” I roar, my rage rattling its cage inside me. “I came for her.” I point at my girl.

  Tears well in her eyes and she shakes her head. “You have to leave, Will.”

  I deflate like a balloon. “What?”

  When I take a step toward her, Lance comes around the desk and intercepts me. “You heard the lady,” he starts.

  “I suggest you move or I’ll make you move,” I threaten.

  Lilith jumps to her feet and grips his arm. My eyes dart down to how she clutches him. Acid bubbles in my veins. I don’t understand what’s happening here.

  “You can’t be here,” she chokes out, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “The hell I can’t,” I snap. “You can’t do this to me, Lil. I was so fucking scared out of my mind. I want to know what the hell is going on with you right now.”

  “As her attorney—”

  Lance’s words die in his throat when I snap my fiery gaze his way.

  “Her attorney?” I seethe.

  She releases him and steps my way. Confusion may be clouding around us, but my body seeks hers. I eat up the distance and haul her into my arms. At first, she’s stiff, but then she relaxes in my grip. Her fingers grip at my dress shirt as she whispers tearfully. “Will, listen to me, you have to leave.”

  Gripping her biceps, I pull her away from me. Her watery eyes plead with me to understand. I don’t fucking understand.

  “No,” I snap, my eyes falling to her trembling bottom lip. “I’m not going anywhere without you, baby. Don’t make me carry you out of here over my shoulder because I so fucking will.”

  She laughs through a sob. “You’re so stubborn.”

  I slide my palms to her cheeks and kiss her red nose. “You’re mine,” I murmur as if that explains everything.

  She sniffles. “I’m trying to fix things. Why can’t you just let me fix it?”

  “Nothing is broken. We’re perfect,” I tell her, my voice hoarse.

  “But he was going to break everything. I was just trying to fix it for us.”

  I jerk my head to glower at Lance. He holds his hands up in defense and says, “Not me.”

  “Daddy,” she utters, dragging my gaze back to hers. “He…”

  “Was going to get me fired?”

  Tears roll down her cheeks as she nods. “And Babs…”

  “Grandma can handle herself,” I assure her. “As for me, my job means nothing if I don’t have you to come home to. Why didn’t you tell me your dad was up to more shit?”

  “His threats were so awful. He said he could ruin you in an instant. Your career. Your grandma’s home. Your reputation. To make it all go away, all I had to do was go home and meet with Lance.” She smiles. “So I did exactly as Daddy asked. I’m here. Meeting with Lance.”

  “And as her attorney,” he says, visibly wincing at my hateful stare. “I’ve been advising her on what to do.” He chuckles nervously. “Not whatever is going through that head of yours, Mr. Grant. I’ve known that ship between us sailed a long time ago. Her parents and mine have had these grandiose ideas of us dating, but I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’ve been seeing my massage therapist for months.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Lilith tells me happily. “And using my advice, he’s going to tell his parents to shove it and marry Gillian.”

  Lilith’
s lips beg to be kissed, so I press my mouth to hers. Then I lean my forehead against hers. “And what’s your attorney’s advice?” I question, grateful to have her in my arms.

  “To talk to you,” she murmurs, her hot breath tickling my face as her lips hover close to mine.

  “Smart man,” I say. “And what did he suggest we talk about?”

  “He wanted me to ask you if I was worth it. Was I, Lilith Hamilton, worth all the hell my father was going to rain down on your life.” She sighs. “I mean, he has the power to make me homeless and jobless, your grandma homeless, and you jobless. Am I worth all that stress?”

  My palms slide to her bottom through her prissy dress and I squeeze, uncaring that Lance is a witness to our intimate reunion. “Of course you’re fucking worth it, baby. I’d live down by the river with you, Grandma, Skippy, and Björk in a cardboard box if that meant I got to wake up to your sweet smile each morning.”

  “Oh, he’s good,” Lance chimes in from nearby. “I’m using that line on Gillian.”

  I smirk and then kiss her pretty mouth. “So what are you going to tell your mean, meddling daddy?”

  “I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself.”

  Wednesdays are for Breaking Ratings

  Three weeks later…

  “And there you have it, folks. ‘The End’ by The Doors. Kinda symbolic right now for—”

  “For how when one door closes, one opens. That’s right, Lil. Let’s take a break before our morning commute updates and coffee call-ins. We’ll have a special guest on today too so make sure to tune in.” The Live on Air light goes off, and D pulls his headphones from his ears. “Girl, you need to quit it with this funk. I thought things were good on the home front. You’ve been like this ever since you came back from your hiatus.”

  “It wasn’t a hiatus. I really quit.”

  Daryl laughs and rolls his eyes at me. “Yeah, and that’s why your man carried you back in here the next day and sat you on your chair, kissed you, and told you to have a nice day?”