Heartbreak for Hire

by Sonia Hartl

  “Glad you approve.” He handed me a single rose. Like this was a real date, not a networking opportunity for him and a personal obligation for me. “You look stunning.”

  “What? This old thing?” I swept a hand down the slinky emerald gown with a low dip in front and an open back. “I just wear this around the house on laundry days.” I turned to put the rose in a cup of water by the sink, since I didn’t own a vase, and had the pleasure of hearing his sharp intake of breath.

  “Let’s skip the party.” He came up behind me and rubbed his hands down my bare back, teasing the sides of my breasts with his fingers.

  Tempting, but… “Dr. Faber is an old family friend. Our only family friend, actually. It would reflect badly on my mom if I didn’t show up, and then I’d have to deal with her hissy fits for the next eternity because she holds grudges until the end of time. Maybe we can sneak away to the rooftop. You can bend me over the balcony and fuck me under the stars.”

  “Save that thought.” His eyes darkened as his gaze skimmed my body. “It would probably be poor form if I showed up to a work function with a raging hard-on.”

  “They’ll just think you’re really excited about your new job.”

  He laughed and took my hand. “Let’s go, sassy pants.”

  Nightingale Grove was an upscale club for the fifty-plus crowd who generally had a divorce or two behind them and money to burn into retirement. It had white walls with black trim and moldings. Potted orange and lemon trees spaced around the perimeter gave the air a citrusy scent. Round black tables with white-and-chrome stools had been placed around the open floor, giving people plenty of spots to enjoy a private conversation. A jazz band was set up at the back of the room, and a few people were on the dance floor, while most mingled near the bar. The academic crowd cleaned up nice. I didn’t see a single stitch of tweed.

  I spotted my mom and steeled myself for her inevitable questioning. “Incoming. Prepare yourself,” I whispered to Mark.

  “Brinkley.” My mom gave me a stiff nod. “I’m glad to see you arrived with a proper date for once. We met before you were hired,” she said to Mark. “I’m Dr. Saunders, head of the psychology department.”

  “Nice to see you again.” Mark shook my mom’s hand as he looked over her head. “I should go say hi to a few people, but thank you for birthing such a lovely daughter.”

  Jesus. He sucked in social situations.

  “Yes. Well.” My mom shifted her stance. “Thirty-six hours of labor. I should’ve known right then and there she’d be a handful.”

  Mark didn’t respond, focused on the other side of the room. I tried to tilt my head to see what had caught his attention, but he put a hand on my back and steered me in the opposite direction.

  “ ‘Thank you for birthing a lovely daughter?’ ” I laughed as I poked him in the side. “The look on my mom’s face when you said that was priceless.”

  “I panicked.” He grabbed us both glasses of wine off a passing tray and led me over to a table behind a lemon tree on the opposite side of the club. “After everything you’ve told me about her, I was expecting her to fillet my balls.”

  “She’d serve them with a nice rosemary sauce, so at least they’d have a tasty end.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Who did you see on the other side of the room?”

  “No one. Why?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “It just seemed like you were in a hurry to get away, and now you’ve got us sequestered in this hidden corner. What’s going on? You can’t be having issues with coworkers already; you just started.” Although, this was academia. I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the more eager adjuncts had already started a sabotage campaign.

  “Listen. There’s something I need to tell you.” He set his wine aside and took both my hands. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but it’s tricky and I don’t want you to—”

  “Brinkley! Is that you?” A shrill voice made me cringe. “It is you! What are you doing at an academic function?”

  “Hello, Eliza.” I’d hoped she wasn’t important enough to score an invitation to this event, but it seemed like the whole of Northwestern’s faculty and grad students were in attendance. “You know Dr. Faber is a friend of my mother’s. I came for him.”

  My old college roommate looked exactly the same: honey-colored hair, apple cheeks that always seemed to be a light shade of pink, little upturned nose, and a top-heavy lip that gave her a slight lisp. Pretty, in an apple pie kind of way. She was the one who had introduced me to Aiden, defended him after he cheated on me, and ditched me after I dropped out. I suspected that she and Aiden had hooked up behind my back, but I could never prove it.

  “Wait until everyone knows you’re here. They’re going to flip.”

  Great. More people I didn’t want to see.

  I gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m actually in the middle of—”

  “It’s fine,” Mark said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I threw him a pleading look to rescue me, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, and Eliza was already dragging me toward a group I hadn’t seen outside of my Instagram feed in years. No Aiden—he’d fallen out of their circle since he’d graduated and moved into private practice—but I still didn’t want to play nice with those who had hurt me just as badly.

  Eve stood with her husband, Quincey, who was an adjunct in psychology. It must’ve killed them that an outsider had gotten Dr. Faber’s spot, and it gave me some satisfaction knowing I’d had a hand in that. However tiny that hand might’ve been.

  They’d just started dating the last time I saw them in person, but social media made it nearly impossible to cut people out of your life completely. There was always the unfollow option, but that felt like admitting defeat. So instead I’d scrolled through pictures of her wedding day and tried to ignore the pang in my chest at not even getting a pity invite.

  At least I hadn’t liked any of those pictures. I had to keep some dignity.

  “Brinkley, it’s so good to see you.” Eve gave me a limp hug—her signature embrace. Quincey followed up with a dead-fish handshake. I had to imagine their lovemaking looked a lot like spaghetti boiling in a pot. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Why was everyone so surprised to see me here? While I didn’t make it a point to attend most functions, it’s not like they were unaware of my mom’s relationship with Dr. Faber. Eve had been a psychology and anthropology double major, and she’d always been the one who pushed hardest for me to use my family connection to help boost her grade.

  “Just because I chose not to finish my master’s doesn’t mean I fell off the face of the earth.” Where was that waiter with the drink tray when I needed him? “I’m here to support an old friend. One of the few people who didn’t ditch me when my education ended.”

  Eliza let out an uncomfortable giggle. “You make it sound like we ghosted you. We just got busy. You have no idea how much time we had to dedicate to our theses.”

  “I’m aware of how time-consuming a thesis can be.” All of my hurt and frustration with my former so-called friends bubbled to the surface.

  “I don’t know why you’re taking this personally.” Eve frowned as she snuggled closer to Quincey. Or as close as two wet noodles could snuggle. “All our free time went to trading papers for critique and networking with future colleagues.”

  “Honestly,” Eliza chirped, “forming connections with others in our graduate classes had to come first. It took a lot of emotional energy to maintain a friendship with someone we had nothing in common with anymore.”

  “You mean associating with me was no longer a rung you could step on for your ladder of success. My friendship was worth maintaining when I was a rising star in academics, the daughter of Dr. Saunders, close family friend of Dr. Faber, but the moment I became just an administrative assistant at an insurance company, suddenly I required too much emotional energy.” Finally the waiter came around with drinks. I took two, downed the first in one gulp a
nd set the glass back on the tray, then took a third. “I know you want to tell yourselves that you’re good people, that you would never use someone to further your own careers, but the fact is, you’re all a bunch of two-faced assholes. I hope you enjoy the taste of flesh as you swallow your own tails.”

  I turned on my heel and stormed away. Now would be a good time to hit that unfollow on Instagram and get on with my life. I didn’t need the remnants of my past reminding me of all the ways I’d failed. I had something good now, with people who genuinely cared about me. The rest was just background noise.

  I made my way over to the bar. Those three glasses of wine weren’t enough.

  Dr. Faber stood in a circle of his admirers, but as soon as I caught his eye, he waved me over. “Brinkley, so nice of you to come and see me off.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” I’d never hear the end of it from my mom if I did, but he’d also been kind to me growing up. He’d always sneaked me butterscotch candies and quarters.

  “I saw you did some catching up with your old cohorts.” That was one way of putting it. “You all used to be thick as thieves. Reminded me of your mother when she took my classes.”

  “I didn’t know you taught psychology.” I gave him a gentle smile as I eyed the bar for an opening. Those academics could drink. The line was ten people deep. I’d have to find my old friend, the waiter with the wine tray.

  “Oh no, dear. This was back when she was a double doctoral candidate in anthropology and psychology. She never could decide which she liked better.”

  “Wait. What?” No way. “Mom studied anthropology? And dropped it?” After all the shit she’d given me about wasted time in wasted classes when I switched my major senior year. She had some serious nerve. “When was this?”

  “Right before she completed her doctorate.” He rubbed the patch of hair on his chin. “It was quite a shock to all of us, but she ended up where she needed to be. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you this before.”

  “I’m not.” I gave him a pat on the arm. “I’m really happy for you, and we’ll have to get together for dinner soon. If you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to attend to.”

  He chuckled. “Try not to give your mother too much grief. She’s under a lot of pressure.”

  We’d see about that. I wouldn’t ruin the retirement party with an all-out fight, but I’d certainly let her know that I knew. Of all the things she liked to pick at, changing my major was her forever favorite. And I was about to mark it off her list for good.

  I searched the lower level but didn’t see her with her usual band of ass-kissers. Mark stood near the dance floor, talking to Eve. Seeing them together unnerved me. I considered stopping to say something, but their conversation looked intense. She was probably just sucking up.

  My mom had disappeared, but she couldn’t have gone home already. This was too good of a networking opportunity. Maybe she’d gone to get some air. I climbed the spiral staircase up to the second floor, which had a balcony that got much more use in the summer.

  Out on the terrace, next to the Nightingale Grove’s signature potted orange trees, my mom faced Richard Vaden with her hands on her hips and a pinched expression on her face. That breakup must’ve been really ugly if she still had so much hatred for him after all these years. I wondered if I’d look at Aiden like that if I ran into him thirty years from now.

  I turned away to give them some privacy, but my mom’s clipped tone stopped me short. “I don’t care if Brinkley is your daughter. It’s too little, too late.”

  The world tipped as everything I knew to be true was pulled out from under me.

  CHAPTER 29

  I must’ve made a noise, which seemed impossible, since I wasn’t actually breathing. Both of them turned to me with matching looks of horror on their faces. If I hadn’t been rooted to the spot in shock, I would’ve run. Instead, I stood there with my dropped jaw flapping in the wind.

  I had a father.

  I didn’t know what to do with that information, how to act, how to feel. My fingers had gone numb, as if my brain was using so much energy trying to process this information, it had forgotten to tell my heart to keep pumping blood.

  “Brinkley. Darling.” My mom took a step toward me, and I stumbled backward. “I don’t know what you just overheard, but I can explain.”

  The earnest pleading in her expression snapped something in me. My entire life had been a lie. How had I missed the signs? Why hadn’t I pushed her harder when she fed me that bullshit story about him being a TA while she was an undergrad? She’d been so cagey and weird about the whole thing. Way more than a simple breakup warranted.

  “How are you going to explain this, Mom?” I exploded in a bright flash of claws and teeth. She flinched as I advanced on her with my fists balled. “How are you going to work around the fact that you told me you picked my father out from the local sperm bank?”

  Richard cleared his throat. “I’m going to give you two a moment.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” I burned him with a searing glare, but even through my rage-haze I examined him, looking for the similarities, hungry to see something of myself in him that would explain my entire existence.

  “You should talk to your mother,” he said.

  “Are you really telling me what to do? Wow. Now I know where I get my gall.”

  “I’m…” Indecision clouded his expression. “I don’t know what to do here. I’d like a chance to talk with you, if you want, but I don’t think this is my place.”

  “No, it’s not,” my mom said. “You made your choice twenty-seven years ago. You don’t get to come back just because you’re old, your life is a sad, pathetic mess, and you want a second chance now that the hard part is over.”

  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen this way. I’m terribly sorry for the trouble this might cause both of you.” He walked away, pausing for only a moment beside me. My father. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  Whatever he saw on my face had him making a quicker exit, and I turned back to my mom. I was pretty sure I’d let out an honest-to-God snarl. She moved closer to the balcony railing, and her pale lips trembled.

  There was a time not so long ago, like fifteen minutes ago, when I would’ve given anything to see my mom lose her shit. To just once have her trade places with me and know what it felt like to be under constant scrutiny and never measure up. It didn’t make me feel happy or superior the way I’d always imagined. I just felt tired.

  “Tell me everything,” I said without much heat. “Now. I deserve the truth.”

  “Richard was a professor in the anthropology department when I was studying for my doctorate.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “So he wasn’t a TA after all. Fascinating.” Huh. Turned out I still had some anger left. “I gave you a chance to explain this to me weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I would’ve been upset, but I would’ve found a way to deal with it.”

  “I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”

  “You prefer me groveling for your affection, is that it?”

  “I’d prefer if you respected me.” She let out a sigh. “But I’ve probably lost any chance of that for good.”

  “I don’t even know who you are. You lied about everything, even the stuff that shouldn’t have mattered. Like how you weren’t always just a psychology student.” Her head snapped up, and I nodded. “Yeah, I learned that little tidbit down at the bar.” My palms hurt from pressing my nails into them so tightly. “Thanks for making me feel like a complete loser when I changed my major as an undergrad though. Really puts that time into perspective.”

  “I tried to push you in the right direction because you changed your major to something utterly useless.” It amazed me how quickly she could flip the switch and bring back that haughty attitude as if all of her lies hadn’t just blown up in her face. “And now look at you, an administrative assistant for an insurance company. Brav
o.”

  “Are you really going to lecture me? Right now, of all times?” I’d never had a stronger urge to tell her what I really did for a living than at this moment. Not because I wanted to come clean, but because I wanted it to eat away at her at night. I wanted her to lie awake and contemplate all the ways she’d failed as a parent.

  “Now isn’t the time. You’re right.” Her back stiffened on those last two words, like it physically pained her to admit I was right about something.

  “I want the full story.” Every gory detail. Maybe I’d rehash it every year at Christmas, just to make the season a little more merry and bright for one of us.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” She wrung her hands. “It’s not a very pretty story.”

  “Might as well get on with it.”

  “I had an affair with Richard while he was a professor and I was his student. That’s bad enough on its own, but it gets a little more complicated from here.”

  As much as I didn’t want to feel any kind of pity or empathy for my mom, I knew how dependent grad students were on the approval of their professors. The power differential in that scenario made my blood run cold. “That makes him a predatory piece of shit, but I already have an abysmal opinion of him.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, as if she wanted to get the words out in one rush without having to pause. “He was married, and I knew he was married when I got involved with him.”

  Whoa. Even though a part of me had known that confession was coming, I leaned a hand against the rough brick building. After everything I’d gone through with Aiden and his cheating, that hit me nearly as hard as finding out I’d had a secret father this whole time. He’d been married when I was conceived, but to hear it out loud like that was a shock to my system. My mom, who judged and turned her nose up at all of my decisions, had willingly and knowingly had an affair with a married man. Even in my worst and most self-destructive moments—and I was far from angelic—I’d never crawled into that particular swamp.