How to Bed a Millionaire

by Dieter Moitzi

  Mom strokes my hair. “Just a decent, honest mother-to-mother talk. Or mother-to-stepmother, as it is. You don’t need to know all the details.”

  “You’ve been talking about me, so…”

  “Of course, among other things, we also talked about you. That’s what moms do. You know, moms and stepmoms are there to try and help their kids when they’ve been stupid. But for now, give me a hand. There’s an apron in the closet to your left.” She pecks my cheek. “I love you, my darling boy.”

  “Love you to, Mom. Even though sometimes you make me want to scream.”

  I know I won’t be able to squeeze more information out of her.

  Anyway, the situation is what it is. I’m just glad the two women haven’t scratched out each other’s eyes.

  It’s early September

  It’s early September, and I’m still at my parents’. I’ve been hiding out in their house since Karim brought me here. He stayed for a couple of days, then Mom bought him a plane ticket for Nice and drove him to the airport.

  Little by little, Mom’s food has put more flesh on my bones, and Dad’s constant good humor has in turns cheered me up and made me want to strangle him. Judy has remained true to herself, teasing me whenever she finds a pretext, for which I’ll be eternally grateful. Because that’s what I need her to do. Distract me and make me laugh. Maybe she’s hugging me more often than usual, too, but that’s okay. Right now, I can do with all the hugs I get. Even from her.

  I’m sleeping a lot, reading a lot, taking walks, staying by myself, trying to enjoy the fields and forests around Sainte-Gudule. The village may be a dump, but it’s rather beautiful, I notice. All that gorgeous nature, and the fresh air, and the loneliness…

  God, I can’t wait to go back to Paris.

  And finally, there’s that morning when I wake up and feel… rested. Restored and recharged. Upbeat and happy to be alive, almost like I was before.

  I yawn and stretch. Then I slip into my blue gym shorts and a tank top and open the window. Judy is sitting right below on a deckchair, reading a book. Somewhere half-hidden in the messy jungle my Mom insists on calling her flower garden, I can see Dad’s polo shirt.

  In quite high spirits, I venture downstairs. I know I’m too late for the family breakfast. But maybe I can at least get myself a nice cup of coffee.

  Behind the kitchen door, I hear the chop-chop-chop of a knife, and my Mom talking in French. A warm feeling rushes through me. I love these normal everyday sounds. And I love my family.

  But with whom is Mom chatting so animatedly?

  I push the door open.

  Surprise, guys!

  Who would be sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hands, but Karim. Looking ruggedly handsome, as always, and schmoozing away with Mom, who’s standing behind the central counter cutting carrots.

  When he sees me enter, Karim hastily puts down the cup and gets up. “Hey, Trevor. Look who’s back!”

  “Hey, Karim,” I say, beaming at him. “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you, man.” I step closer and hug him. “Getting more handsome each time I see you.”

  “Same’s true for you, too.”

  “Well, in my case, that’s not too hard, right? Considering last time I was such a sobbing mess…”

  He grins and ruffles my hair. “My little cutie. I’m happy to see you smile again.”

  “When did you arrive?” I ask before moving to my mom’s side to kiss her good morning.

  “Oh, half an hour ago.”

  “We didn’t want to wake you up,” Mom chimes in. “You need your beauty sleep. But don’t worry, I took good care of your friends.”

  “Yes, she did. Thanks again, Mrs. Raven.”

  “How often do I need to tell you to call me Sarah?” my mom replies, pointing at him with her knife.

  “You’d better heed her words. She’s a mean knife thrower,” I say while pouring myself a cup of coffee. “What brought you up north again?”

  “Er, I’d rather you saw it for yourself.”

  Am I hallucinating, or does Karim look and sound awfully sheepish?

  I narrow my eyes at him, then at Mom. “What’s going on? And did you just say ‘friends’ as in plural, Mom?”

  My mother shrugs. “Oh, did I? Dear me.”

  At that moment, the kitchen door to the garden opens, and in steps Dad. Followed by…

  … Chao.

  Which…

  What! The! Fuck!

  My stomach somersaults.

  Chao is wearing tight, white jeans which make him look even taller than he is and underline all his best assets: the lean, muscular legs, the promising bulge, the tight ass I get a glimpse of when he turns around to close the door. His white button-down shirt is clinging to his beautifully sculpted chest and six-pack. The navy-blue blazer gives him the touch of a man who has just stepped off his yacht in Saint-Tropez.

  He shoots me an uncertain glance. I notice he’s still as beautiful as ever, despite his red-rimmed eyes and weary face. My heart does a backflip, then a foreflip for good measure.

  I stand frozen to the spot, only half taking in my dad whispering to my mom, “You’re right. He’s gorgeous. And he loves your garden. A very well-mannered chap.”

  Mom whispers back, “He ain’t gorgeous—he’s hot!”

  Judy comments from outside. “Mom! Gross!”

  Which just proves that when Mom and Dad whisper, even someone not in the same room can understand perfectly well what they say. In case you wondered.

  Chao blushes. He says timidly, “Hey, Trevor.”

  I straighten my spine. “Good day, Mr. Kinner. To what do I owe the honor of seeing you in our humble abode?”

  “Posh. Who has taught him to talk like that?” my father asks no one in particular.

  Karim seems to feel very uncomfortable by then. He gets up and says, “Er, I think I should be going.”

  “Tut-tut. You stay where you are, dear,” Mom replies at once. “You’ve been driving all night long—you aren’t going anywhere.”

  He sinks back down onto the chair, mumbling, “I wouldn’t say no. Believe me, a thousand kilometers with someone weeping beside you all the time… I’ll never get used to that shit…”

  I turn to face my friend as something dawns on me. “You’ve been driving through the night? What’s going on, Karim? Or should I call you Jezebel?”

  “Er, I think, er…” Karim stares at the cup he’s turning between his fingers.

  “I asked him to drive me up from Nice,” Chao states calmly.

  “And you accepted?” I don’t look at him, preferring to turn my attention to Karim.

  “Er, listen…”

  Chao interrupts him again. “Trevor. Can we talk?”

  I cross my arms before my chest.

  Dad takes things into his hands. He pushes me toward the kitchen door. “Why don’t you go upstairs with your visitor, Trevor? You’ll have more privacy.”

  Mom nods.

  I’m not sure they entirely grasp the situation at hand.

  After all he has done to me, why the fuck would they think I’d want to have a private talk with Mr. Kinner Junior?

  “So, this is where you grew up?”

  “So, this is where you grew up?” Chao says politely when I’ve led him to my room. He glances at the unmade bed, the teddy bears lying at its food, the YA books on the shelves, and the posters of handsome actors and singers on the walls.

  I harumph something non-committal.

  “Trevor… I came here to apologize.”

  “I wouldn’t know what you’d want to apologize for, Mr. Kinner,” I reply stiffly, sitting down on my bed. I glimpse yesterday’s boxer briefs at my feet and hastily push them out of sight.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Trevor! Cut that ‘Mr. Kinne
r’ shit, will you?”

  I stare at him and swallow. It still hurts to see him, so beautiful and… unattainable now. “What are you really doing here, Chao?”

  He stands before my bookshelves, looking very self-conscious.

  “Did your fiancée send you so you can get some sort of cosmic closure before your wedding?”

  “What fiancée? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Chao. I saw how happy you were when she showed up on your doorstep. Couldn’t keep your hands off her, in fact.”

  He glares at me. “Are you insane? There’s nothing going on between Lisa and me! I told you I was over her. We’re just good friends now.”

  “Yet you asked her to come visit you…”

  “I asked her to come to Saint-Jean to help me get my act together. She may not have been the person I needed in my love life, but she’s always given excellent…”

  “… head? Glad to hear it.”

  He tilts his head to the side and surprises me by saying, “Er, actually, no. She’s never been good at that, come to think of it. You were so much better…

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Gross!” I suddenly hear my sister shout up from the garden.

  “That’s what you get when you eavesdrop, Judy!” I shout back. I hear her mumble something, but apparently, she’s not willing to leave her vantage point below my window just yet.

  It’s more than possible that Mom asked her to listen for signs of violence so that she can send Dad upstairs to interpose himself.

  I sigh. “So, you’re trying to tell me that you simply asked her to come and advise you. That Lisa girl, I mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What kind of advice would you…”

  He covers the few steps that separate us in no time and sits down beside me. The bed creaks. It isn’t made for two male adults, and sleeping in it with Karim for a couple of days hasn’t really improved its stability.

  “Trevor.” He looks me in the eyes, very earnest, and swallows. “I’ve treated you like shit, and I’m really sorry for that. I threw all the trust we had between us out the window because I thought you had been scheming behind my back with my stepmother. But Lisa made me see the errors of my ways.”

  “Christ—have we been reading a handbook on clichés lately?”

  “Trevor. Listen to me. Please. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve any of this. I should never have believed what I wrongly believed about you. Lisa made me understand a lot of things. She and Lenny…”

  “You’ve talked to your stepmother?” Now, I am dumbfounded. I also have an inkling of what my mom talked about with Lenny the other day.

  “I have. And with my father, too. I’ll tell you all about it, but that’s not the point right now.”

  “What is? I still don’t understand why you asked Karim to drive you here… And how you succeeded in persuading him to do it, in the first place. I thought he hated your guts.”

  “I guess he does. Now more than ever. I all but forced him. Told him I’d hire a thug who’d chop off his dick if he didn’t help me.”

  “And I’m quite fond of my dick, thank you very much,” we hear Karim shout up from the kitchen.

  “As you should, dear, as you should,” Mom comments.

  “Guys! Where’s that privacy you were talking about?” I shout back.

  I see Chao roll his eyes. “This is harder than I thought,” he mumbles.

  “They’re a bit intrusive…”

  “Never mind.” He takes a deep breath. “Trevor. Please, let me finish. I’ve realized I can’t live without you in my life. I don’t want to. You challenged me from day one. You not only made me see things differently—you made me see things I hadn’t noticed before. You grounded me.”

  “What am I—an electric plug?”

  “Trevor—I want you by my side. If you can forgive me, if you’re willing to have me back…”

  I’m dangerously close to crying again. And I’m melting, guys. “Maybe we’re really too different,” I say weakly.

  “That’s what makes it so perfect. You’re that other half of my soul I’ve been looking for. All my life.”

  I remember having read that stuff somewhere. Was it Plato? I also remember how much I swooned over that story of the half souls running around desperately until they find the half that complements them.

  “But you’re rich, and I’m not. You’re Asian, I’m black.”

  “Who the fuck cares? Trevor, I…”

  “I really don’t know if…”

  “Trevor, do me a favor, for once.” Chao sighs. “Shut your trap.”

  “But…”

  My sister yells up from the garden, “Listen to the hunk, you fuckhead, and shut! Your! Fucking! Trap!”

  Then we hear Mom. “Yeah, Trevor—cut the crap, shut your trap!”

  And Dad bellows, “I wholeheartedly agree with your mother, son!”

  “Hey, guys, do you MIND!” I shout.

  When I look at Chao, I notice he’s doing that annoyed-face thing again. Then he smiles, and the sun seems to come out from behind thick clouds.

  “I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “My family doesn’t believe in privacy.”

  “It’s okay,” Chao replies softly. “They’re… special. But they love you. And so do I. Trevor Raven—I love you.”

  And that.

  Well, that definitely shuts me up.

  “What do you say?” Chao moves closer, takes my hands, and stares at me. “Will you have me?”

  “But…” My breath catches in my throat. “But you like cats. And I prefer dogs. That’s, like, a surefire sign for failure.”

  He encloses me in a hug and murmurs into my ear, “I’m willing to take a chance. And a parakeet if you want. Or a goldfish.”

  That’s when I realize he’s serious.

  And I finally do shut my trap, because there’s only so much resistance one can muster when the vast majority is against one, and because I do want to take a chance, too, and because Chao is so close to me that I smell his expensive cologne and a faint whiff of his sweet personal scent, and because owies of the heart always heal, even if they hurt like shit, and because I love that stupid fucker before me.

  I close my eyes, heart racing, and touch his face. “Oh, sunshine. I missed you so much. I missed you so fucking much!”

  And then we kiss.

  And it’s bliss.

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  Other Books by the author

  Murder Mystery series

  Till Death Do Us Part (Poireaut & Di Angeli Book 1)

  The Stuffed Coffin (Damien Drechsler’s Investigations Book 1)

  Standalone Novels

  Ordinary Whore

  Poetry

  Twenty-five: poetry 3.0

  the solid and thoughtful cow: poetry 2.0

  and somewhere under: poetry 1.0

  Short stories

  Small Portions

  Miss Otis Regrets

  Available on Amazon and Kobo

  * * *

  1 These are the famous first
words of “La Marseillaise”, the French national anthem: “Allons enfants de la Patrie!” In English: “Arise, children of the Fatherland!”

  2 A French gourmet food and delicatessen company considered a major reference in contemporary French gourmet foods. There are 81 outlets around the world as of 2019.

  3 A famous five-star luxury resort hotel in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, built in 1908. Amongst its most famous guests one can cite Somerset Maugham, Charlie Chaplin, Winston Churchill, and Aristotle Onassis.

  4 Richard III, King of England and Lord of Ireland from 1483 to 1485. He was defeated at the Battle of Bosworth Field by the future Henry VII. Shakespeare dedicated a play to his rising to power and downfall, where the famous line “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” can be found.

  5 Celio is a French men’s clothing retailer with over 1,000 shops in more than 50 countries (pre-Covid numbers).

  6 An Italian bitter aperitif created in 1919, with a vibrant orange hue and an alcohol content of 11%.

  7 A specialty of Nice, this is a sandwich composed of a round little whole wheat bread bun cut in two and enclosing raw vegetables (sliced tomato and onion, olives, sometimes arugula and basil), tuna or anchovies, and hard-boiled eggs. The bread is typically soaked in olive oil, hence its name (pan bagnat means bathed bread in the local Provençal language).

  8 The chemin des douaniers or coastal path is a trail along the seashore. Many of those were originally created for use by customs or coastguard officials looking for smugglers, hence the name (customs officers’ path). You’ll find these trails in many areas in France as the country has very strict coastal laws protecting the coasts from construction works. The most famous and beautiful stretches of that coastal trail can be found namely in Brittany, Corsica, and the French Riviera. Fun fact: in roughly an hour and a half, you can tour the entire coastline of the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat peninsula. None of the owners of all those very expensive villas you’ll glimpse high up on the rocks is allowed to have a private beach.