by Tia Wylder
“I have cancer, Honey,” Dad said. He coughed wetly, then spat into a tissue. It was crumpled and torn in his hand – judging by the looks of it, he’d been clutching it for a long time. I stepped forward and clasped my hands awkwardly in front of my chest.
“Dad,” I said softly. “How…how long have you been sick?”
Dad sighed. “I don’t know, exactly,” he said.
Magda clucked her tongue and tutted. “For a long while, Miss Honey! But he forbids me from contacting you.”
I frowned sadly. “Dad, why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Dad gave me a long, searching look that made me feel like he could see right through me.
“There’s some bad news, Honey,” Dad said softly. “Magda, would you leave us for a moment?”
Magda nodded, but she was reluctant to leave the room. As soon as she was gone, I knelt by the side of my father’s chair. He smelled odd – almost like a dying animal.
“Honey,” Dad said. Tears filled his eyes and streamed down his pale cheeks.
“Dad, what is it?”
“I need some money.”
My heart sank.
Shit.
Chapter 3
Peter
Ryan shrugged. “Better than mine,” he said, shaking his head and whistling.
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “All peaches and cream. And as soon as I marry and knock Pamela up, the company is mine.”
Ryan frowned. He took a long swig of beer, then clapped his hand on the bar. When the waitress appeared, Ryan ordered two shots of the bar’s most expensive tequila.
“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Ryan countered. He shrugged.
“What, are you kidding?” I turned to him with my mouth hanging open. “Have you met her lately? She’s awful.”
“Then why are you with her?” Ryan asked. When I didn’t answer, he snickered. “I bet the sex is great, really,” he continued. “But if you don’t love her, I don’t know. Cut her loose.”
I sighed. “Ryan, I don’t believe in love. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have time for it. I work sixty-hour weeks. And when I get control of the company, those will likely turn into eighty-hour weeks.”
Ryan laughed. “You sound like an old man,” he said. “You should really cut back, have some fun.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, I go home to Pamela.”
“Well, just marry her then, shit,” Ryan said. He slammed his hand down on the bar again, signaling for two more shots of tequila. “And just get her pregnant, then spend all your time with me and a few call girls.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I replied, sipping the last of my beer and pushing the glass forward on the counter.
“How else are you going to get the company?” Ryan asked. “It’s not like you can just put out an ad for New York City’s hottest and most fertile woman.”
I frowned. “No,” I said. “And I don’t have time to date.” I sighed. “And even if I did break up with Pamela, she’s going to drag it out. She’s been living in my condo for years. She’d probably say that I owe her common-law support.”
Ryan blew out his cheeks. “Fuck that,” he said. “Like you need that shit from her.”
“Yeah.” I frowned, gnawing on my lip until I tasted blood. “You know, it wasn’t always like this. I know we used to be happy. Somehow, I know that I used to make her happy.”
“Well, it’s been a while,” Ryan said. He shrugged. “You know me, man. I can’t hold down a girl.”
I burst out laughing. “And who’s fault is that?”
Ryan laughed. “Mine, I guess,” he said. He gave me a wicked grin. “But I don’t care. I have too much fun.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I said dryly. “You and Katrina lasted what, two weeks before you slept with that stripper?”
“She was worth it,” Ryan said, closing his eyes and purring like a cat. “She was the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. Besides Pamela, I mean. No offense.”
“Hey, if you want her, you can have her,” I said darkly.
Ryan fell silent, and I took a deep breath, leaning against the back of my bar stool. Deep down, I knew it was true, somehow – I knew that once upon a time, Pamela and I had been happy.
I could still remember the night we’d met.
I was walking through the crowded party, dying for a drink. It was the last of a week of parties, all celebrating Spyros Magnate. I hated parties – the only reason why I was there was because of my father. He wanted to show me off, his wunderkind son, and talk about how I would make a good replacement CEO one day.
That was when I saw her. A gorgeous, skinny blonde by the bar. She had bright blue eyes and tan skin, and I felt my cock twitch in my pants when I saw her. More than that, she was smiling seductively and twirling her hair around her finger even though there was no one standing in front of her.
I smirked as I walked over.
“Peter Anastas,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Pamela,” the blonde said, licking her lips. “Pamela Green.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, taking her fingers and lifting them to my mouth. To my surprise, her skin smelled musky and dark, almost like a man’s cologne.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, reaching over the bar and pulling a bottle of whiskey free.
Pamela giggled. “I came with a date, but he’s busy,” she said, glancing across the room.
“Well, I’m not busy at all,” I said. “Have a drink with me.”
Pamela laughed coquettishly as I poured her a glass of whiskey. She wrinkled her nose but threw it back like a champ.
“Who are you?” Pamela asked.
I rolled my eyes. “The CEO’s son,” I told her. “My father wants me here, so he can show me off to all the potential investors.”
Pamela giggled again. “I have a feeling you’re very inspiring,” she said, running a finger down the front of my shirt.
I shrugged. “I try,” I said.
“So, do you live around here?” Pamela asked, raising her eyebrow.
“Maybe,” I said coyly. “Why, you interested in finding out?”
Pamela and I left the party. We’d spent the whole night having sex in my penthouse apartment. She had been an incredible fuck, although somehow, I came away from the whole thing thinking that she’d been giving a performance as opposed to enjoying herself. I sent her flowers and didn’t expect to hear from her ever again.
But then we kept running into each other. I’d see her at the organic grocery store, I’d see her in museums. Hell, I even saw her in my favorite bar just two weeks after we’d slept together.
I felt like it was a sign. My father was starting to pressure me, and Pamela was hot. Why shouldn’t I make her my girlfriend?
“Yo, Peter,” Ryan said, leaning close and snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You gonna finish that, or not?” He pointed to the double shot of tequila sitting on the bar in front of me.
“Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes and pushing all memories of Pamela out of my head. When had things changed? When had I started resenting her?
And why did I suddenly feel trapped, like she was chasing me into an endless tunnel, miles, and miles of darkness?
Ryan watched me as I picked up the shot and brought it to my lips. I tilted my head back and drank the whole thing at once.
“You know, I realized earlier, I have no fucking idea where my life is going,” I said, more to myself than to Ryan. “And the only thing I care about is work. If I lose that, I’ve got nothing.”
“You have Pamela,” Ryan said.
“Not really. We barely talk – we barely have anything in common!”
Ryan shrugged. “So do a lot of people,” he said. “Why else do you think people get married and start popping out rug rats?”
I didn’t answer.
“It’s because they’re bored,” Ryan said savagely, draining his beer and slamming the empty glass
down on the bar. “People get married and have kids because there’s only so much sex you can have with someone.”
“I never thought about it like that before,” I said, frowning deeply.
Ryan shrugged. “Well, think about it now,” he said. “And then go home and ask Pamela to marry you. At least you know she won’t let herself go and get fat. She’ll be the perfect trophy for your arm.”
I frowned. “You sound like my father.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s because we’re both men, unlike you, you indecisive pussy,” he said.
I punched him in the arm. “Hey,” I said sharply “Just because I care about my work doesn’t mean I’m not a man.”
“Whatever, man,” Ryan said. “Do it or don’t, I don’t really care.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped three twenties on the table before grabbing his briefcase. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “My cousin is in town, she expects me to buy her dinner or some shit.”
“Is she cute?” I raised my eyebrow.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Forget it,” he said. “Go home and ask Pamela to marry you. Then you get the company! You can always divorce her,” he added.
I groaned. “Like I would do that,” I muttered. But Ryan had already turned on his heel and walked out of the bar. I pulled out my own wallet and left a stack of cash on the bar as a nice tip, then walked into the blistering heat of the New York summer.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d given Renaldo the night off, and I loathed the idea of taking the sweaty, crowded subway. So, I pulled out my aviator sunglasses and set off at a fast clip towards the condo.
That’s when I saw the jewelry store. It was on the corner of Fifth Avenue, and the robin’s egg blue awning was instantly recognizable.
This is a sign, I thought.
It was just what I’d thought when I met Pamela.
I pushed my way through the heavy glass doors and strode inside, glancing around at the cabinets. They were loaded with gems of all colors and shapes. Shining gold reflected off the glass surfaces.
“Hello, sir,” a smiling woman said. “May I ask what you’re looking for?”
I sighed. “An engagement ring,” I said. “The biggest one you’ve got.”
The woman beamed. “And who is the lucky girl?”
“Her name is Pamela,” I said.
The woman smiled again. “I bet she’s going to be thrilled,” she said. “Come with me.”
I spent half an hour combing through the rings put forward by the eager girl helping me. In the end, I settled on a five-carat emerald cut diamond with two flanking baguette stones.
“This is the most beautiful ring in the store,” the salesgirl said, her eyes shining with envy.
I shrugged. “Pamela is very picky.”
“We have a return policy, but I’m sure she won’t be upset about this ring,” the salesgirl said. She smiled brightly. “Any girl would be crazy not to fall in love with this.”
I shrugged again. “We’ll see.”
The girl reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Oh, I know it’s nerve-wracking, asking the woman you love to be your wife. But I’m sure she’ll say yes!” She looked into my face and flushed. “After all, you’re gorgeous!”
“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. I handed over my credit card and then signed the receipt without even looking at the amount. After all, no matter how much the ring cost, it was nothing compared with the value of Spyros Magnate.
I took a cab back to my condo. By the time I got into the lobby, it was dark outside. The elevator was silent as I rode up to the penthouse, and I closed my eyes, trying to picture how Pamela would react. What should I do, drop down on one knee and ask her to make me the happiest man in the universe? Or should I just hand it over and ask her if it was the right size?
It almost felt like I was making a mistake, but I knew in my heart of hearts that Ryan was right. Men and women didn’t really fall in love. It was all chemical, something built on lust and friendship. Pamela and I could afford the best care for our future children, and my father hadn’t been lying when he’d mentioned that Pamela would make a good society wife. She’d be docile and obedient by turn, then vivacious and charming when it was her turn to shine.
I knew I should feel lucky and excited, but somehow, I couldn’t manage to summon either of those emotions.
When I got to the front door, I tried the key, but the door swung open as soon as my hand was on the knob. I frowned.
“Pamela?” I called loudly. “Why was the door unlocked?”
There was no response.
“Pamela?” I called again, stepping into the foyer and setting my briefcase down.
Again, nothing.
Frowning, I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I was still feeling a little buzzed from being at the bar with Ryan, and the hot weather outside had made me thirstier than ever.
“Pamela,” I yelled loudly. “I’m in the kitchen!”
There was still no answer. Frustrated, I downed my wine in one gulp and walked into the hall. There was a faint noise from the bedroom.
She’s asleep, I realized as I padded quietly down the hall. She must have taken a nap waiting up for me.
The thought was oddly touching.
I pushed open the bedroom door. “Wake up, Pam,” I called loudly. “I have something for you.”
What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks.
Pamela was naked, in our bed, on all fours. Behind her was a naked man with a hairy chest. Both of their eyes were closed, and Pamela let out a loud moan as the man gripped her hips and started plowing her harder than before.
“What the fuck,” I yelled, dropping the ring box onto the floor. It bounced on the carpet and rolled under the bed.
Pamela opened her eyes. When she saw me, she shrieked and pushed the guy away. She pulled the silk sheet up over her body and covered her breasts, her face red and sweaty.
“Peter, it’s not what it looks like,” Pamela said in a shaky voice. Her tits were heaving, and her blonde hair was mussed and tousled.
“I don’t give a shit,” I growled, stepping forward and swinging my fist back in the air. It connected solidly with the other man’s face, and he cried out, falling back on the bed.
“Hey,” the guy cried. “Don’t fucking attack me, she started it!”
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I growled, grabbing the guy by the back of the neck and hurling him off the bed. He crashed into the nightstand, and the antique carnival glass lamp went crashing to the floor in a million shards of brightly-colored glass.
Trembling, the guy got to his feet. That was when I recognized him.
“Andrew?” I asked. “Andrew Coughburn?”
Andrew growled. “Fuck you, Peter,” he said. He got to his feet, grabbed his clothes, and darted out of the bedroom buck naked. I tensed and waited for the front door to slam before confronting Pamela.
“Peter, I can explain,” Pamela said quickly, but I held my hand up in the air to shut her up.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I growled. “I don’t give a shit if you want to fuck all of New York, you’re not doing it in my condo!”
Pamela squealed. “I live here, too,” she said. “You can’t just throw me out!” Her eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment, I thought she was going to slap me. But I stepped forward and puffed out my chest, glaring down at her until a look of fear came into her eyes.
“Did you know what I was coming home to do?” I asked in a deadpan voice.
Pamela didn’t answer.
“Answer me!” I roared loudly.
Pamela squeaked again and shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t.”
Rolling my eyes, I dropped to my knees and reached for the fallen ring box. “I was coming home to propose to you,” I said. “I just bought this today.”
Pamela’s chin crumpled, and tears began to stream down her face.
“Get out,” I said.
“Peter, I—“
“Get the fuck out!” I yelled. “I don’t give a shit what excuse you could possibly give me, this is unforgivable! We’re done!”
Pamela was trembling as she climbed off the bed and pulled on her silk panties, followed by a pair of distressed jeans. I knew I shouldn’t be watching her, but I didn’t care. Something inside of me felt both sickened and curious. I’d never thought Pamela would ever cheat on me, and suddenly it felt like being inside a room with a stranger.
