Copyright © 2019 by Dori Lavelle
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Contents
Clyde
Dixie
Dixie
Dixie
Dixie
Clyde
Clyde
Dixie
Dixie
Clyde
Dixie
More Mr. Billionaire Short Stories
Also by Dori Lavelle
CLYDE
When the Misty Cove, Florida, town hall meeting comes to an end, I wave at my supporters and head for my car outside. It’s time to fly to the next meeting in New York.
That’s my life, hopping from one meeting to the next. It’s what keeps me in business, what makes the billions that pad my pockets.
Before my driver pulls away from the building, the door opens. My mother, dressed in one of her dark gray business suits, slides into the back seat next to me.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave now,” she says in a clipped voice. “The elections are two weeks away. You need to spend more time mingling with the citizens.”
I sigh and rake a hand through my wavy hair. “Mother, I have an important shareholder’s meeting in New York. There’s no way I can skip it.”
“Do you not think serving your town is more important than pleasing your shareholders?” Her china blue eyes—that match mine—flash with disapproval. I have never met anyone more loyal to her town.
After graduating from college, she had turned down a job at the White House, where she worked one summer as a communications intern. She just couldn’t get herself to stay away from her hometown.
I’m pretty sure one of the reasons she pushed me to run for mayor was so she could keep me close to her. Since my father died a year ago from a heart attack, she had become a shadow of her former self. But when I agreed to run for mayor, I saw the sparkle in her eye return.
“Let’s go, Randall,” I say to the driver, then I return my attention to my mother, a small smile on my lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a few days. There’s a lot I need to do before I’m voted mayor.”
There are no doubts in my mind that I will be the winner at the end of this race.
Given that I have created a lot of jobs in this town, it wasn’t hard to get supporters. But to be completely honest, I’m not sure being the mayor of Misty Cove, or any other town, is something that really interests me. I don’t know if I’m ready to move back to the small town for good. I left when I went to college and only returned when my father died so I could help my mother through her depression.
“There’s something else I needed to speak to you about,” I mother says, tucking a lock of her salt and pepper hair behind her ear. “You need to make some changes in your lifestyle, Clyde.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” I stretch out my legs and lean my head back, willing away the headache brought on by too many sleepless nights. Although I’ve been based in Misty Cove for a year now, I’m constantly traveling around the world, and my second home is in New York, where my business has its headquarters.
“Don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about.” Her lips have thinned now. “You’re too charming with the ladies. It has to stop. It’s time for you to grow up.”
I shake my head with frustration. “I’m twenty-eight years old, mother, a grown man. And what I do in my private life will have no effect on my ability to be the best mayor this town has ever seen.”
“Don’t be naïve, darling.” She inhales sharply. “Once you become mayor, you will have no private life.”
I glance out the window just as the car whizzes past an ice cream shop I used to frequent as a child. Then I take my mother’s hand in mine and squeeze it. “I promise to be very discreet.”
“Discretion has never been one of your strengths.” She withdraws her hand from mine and ruffles my hair as she used to do when I was a kid. Sometimes she seems to forget I’m a grown man. “The time has come for you to settle down. Stop chasing short skirts and find yourself a nice girl. There are plenty of them in this town. You should start thinking about getting married and having children.”
“I’m not the marrying type,” I say, my voice firm. “And I would really appreciate it if we don’t have this discussion yet again.”
“Nonsense, Clyde. One day you’ll find a girl who will change that mind of yours.”
“I doubt it.” I reach for a water bottle and pour myself a glass. “Do you want some?”
She shakes her head. “There’s only one thing I need from you,” she says, her expression even more serious. “Get your act together. And keep your dirty laundry out of the papers.” She sighs and turns to gaze out the window. “If you do get into a situation, make sure to let me know immediately so I can fix it before your reputation is tainted.”
Neither of us says anything more until we reach the plane that’s waiting to fly me to New York. My mother’s lips are still thin with displeasure when she kisses me goodbye and watches me disappear inside.
As soon as I get settled in my seat, I pull out some documents my PA sent me for signatures. Above them is the black and gold Garnet Group logo, a billion-dollar luxury jewelry manufacturer that I built from the ground up.
Before I can sign the first page, my phone rings. It’s Allan Casteel, my best friend since college.
“Are you back in New York yet?”
“On my way as we speak.” I glance out the window as the plane lifts into the sky. “The election is almost coming to an end, and from the looks of it, I might win.”
Allan chuckles. “Do you ever not win at anything?”
I join in the laughter, then I stop. “Before I become mayor, I need to have a good time. When I arrive in New York, I have several meetings scheduled. But after that, I need to let go and have a little fun. It’s been a while.”
“I know just the place to take you.” Allan is the owner of several private clubs for men who want to have a good time. Whenever I need a woman, he always provides the best in the city. I’ll settle for nothing but the best.
“Great. I need to do something extremely irresponsible before I become a responsible man.”
DIXIE
Today is my twenty-fifth birthday, but I’m not celebrating. I never do. Who would celebrate a birthday that reminds them of the worst day of their lives?
The thing is, I was pretty much unwanted from the start. The day my mother gave birth to me, she walked out of the hospital never to be seen again, leaving me behind in my hospital bassinet. I don’t know who she is, and I never bothered looking for her. A woman that does such a thing to her own child is not a person I’d like to meet.
I enter my apartment to find my best friend, Samantha Nichols, sprawled out on the couch. Several bottles of alcohol stand lined up on the coffee table in front of her.
“Where were you, Dixie? I’ve been waiting for two hours.”
“I promised to do Mrs. Briggs’s shopping.” My stomach is already starting to get knotted up because I know why she’s here. I’ve been trying to avoid her all day.
“You’re such an amazing fake granddaughter,” she says, pushing herself to her feet. “Happy birthday, darling.” She kisses me on both cheeks, then pulls me into a hug.
After squeezing her right back, I pull away. “Sam, you know those are forbidden words. I thought we had a deal.” I toss my handbag onto the
couch and sink down next to it.
“But today is your twenty-fifth birthday, silly. I have the right to break the rules. I still feel guilty for not forcing you to celebrate your twenty-first.” She sits next to me. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You know I don’t like surprises.” I frown at the alcohol. “And I also don’t drink... alcohol.”
“Come on, Dixie. How often does one turn twenty-five? Please celebrate today, for me. You never have to do it again.” She shrugs. “Well, not until you turn thirty. When that happens, I’ll break the rules again.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head, laughing. “Fine, what do you have in mind for tonight?”
“You’re looking at it.” Samantha picks up a bottle of rum and unscrews the lid. “Remember that cocktail mixing course I took last year?”
“How could I forget? You were pretty much drunk every time you left a class.” I throw back my head and laugh out loud.
“Well, I’m going to put my skills to use. Now that I no longer have to study, I’m looking for a job as a cocktail waitress. I already applied at a cool bar called the Little Black Dress. Have you heard of it? It’s quite popular. I think there’s at least one in every major city.”
I blink several times. “You just graduated with a degree in hospitality and you want to work as a cocktail waitress?”
Samantha tosses her straight black hair over her shoulder and peers at me through her bangs. “What’s better than being surrounded by hot stuff every night?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I pause. “I thought we agreed to work for wedding planning companies until we start our own business.”
We met in college while pursuing degrees in hospitality. Since we’re both obsessed with weddings, we decided that after graduation we’d start a wedding planning business.
“Don’t worry, darling. I can do both. I’ll be a wedding planner by day and a cocktail waitress by night. How cool is that?”
“Fine,” I say, shelving the topic for a later discussion. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to sample your concoctions.” The first and last time I drank alcohol was at Samantha’s twenty-second birthday party two years ago. I’ll never forget waking up the next day feeling as though I was having an out-of-body experience.
“Dixie, why are you so allergic to fun? Why don’t you just let your hair down for once and do something irresponsible?”
I shrug and kick off my leather sandals. “One of us has to be responsible.”
“Not tonight, girlie. Tonight, we’ll both drink ourselves silly.”
Samantha nudges me some more until I finally allow myself to be pushed into celebrating. Maybe drowning my sorrows is just what I need to do.
Her cocktails take a little getting used to, but to my surprise I soon find myself liking the taste. The coconut-based cocktails are my favorites. I don’t exactly know how many glasses I accept from her, while we watch a silly black and white movie. All I know is that two hours later, I’m barely able to stand. And I’m laughing harder than I’ve ever given myself permission to do.
“Here’s your last choco colada.” She hands me a glass.
“No way.” I clutch my stomach. “I can’t take anymore. You mix in too much rum. My stomach is on fire.” The slur in my voice makes me giggle.
“Fine.” She throws her hands in the air. “My job is done here. I’m so proud of you for stepping outside your comfort zone. It’s nice to do something crazy every now and then.”
“You know what the craziest thing would be?” I ask, giggling so hard my stomach cramps. “If I lost my virginity tonight. Maybe we should go out and find me a one-night stand right now.” I wag my finger at her. “I’m kidding. Don’t get any ideas.”
“You better be kidding.” Samantha shakes her head as though in slow motion. “You’ve held on to it for far too long. If you’re going to give it up, it should be with someone who deserves it. After all this time, it must have increased in value.”
Both of us burst into laughter until tears trickle down our cheeks.
“You know something?” Samantha swipes at her cheek with the back of her hand. “I once read an article about a woman who sold her virginity online. A man bought it for two million dollars. Isn’t that crazy?”
“You’re kidding.” I turn to her so fast, my head starts to swim. “Who would do such a thing? And who would buy someone’s virginity?”
“People do crazy things all the time.” She shrugs. “But I actually don’t see anything wrong with it. Many guys most girls lose their virginity to are so not worth it. If I were still a virgin, I would probably consider it.”
“Well, maybe I should sell mine.” I’m joking, but it takes a moment for me to realize that Samantha is not laughing.
“Maybe you should,” she says in a voice that sounds quite clear suddenly. “You could list it on Bidders. They put up all kinds of weird stuff for auction on there. And you have some of those sexy photos from our spring break holiday in Boca Raton. You could use them to advertise your untainted flower.”
“Sam, you’re even crazier than I thought.” Without thinking, I reach for the choco colada she had offered me earlier and drink it by the mouthful. My taste buds welcome it like an old friend.
Samantha, who seems to be deep in thought, doesn’t say anything until my glass is almost empty and I can barely think straight.
When she restarts the conversation about me selling my virginity, I humor her by pretending I would do it. Or maybe I’m not pretending. I’m not sure because the rational part of my brain seems to have left the room.
“What the heck, let’s do it.” I giggle. “But I don’t think anyone would buy it.”
Big mistake, I think as I retch over the toilet bowl, my body jerking as vomit spews from my mouth. It reeks and tastes bitter, sour, and disgusting as it coats my tongue and makes my eyes water.
I’m about to straighten up when another wave of the revolting liquid floods my throat and shoots out of both my mouth and nose.
I should never have listened to Samantha. What was I thinking?
After what feels like forever, I finally get a break. Panting, I rinse out my mouth and splash water on my flushed face.
When I reach for the faded towel on the rack, the doorbell rings. I meet my bloodshot eyes in the mirror and blink, surprised.
Who would visit me at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday? Mrs. Briggs never gets out of bed before eleven, when I head over to make her breakfast, which I do every Saturday morning.
Mrs. Briggs is seventy-five years old with a body suffering from arthritis and cataracts in her eyes. When I moved into the apartment building three years ago, she told me how she lost her husband only months after they got married. He left her pregnant and alone. Even worse, her daughter, Rosie, a cop, died in the line of duty five years ago. I hated the idea of her spending her life alone. I started visiting her when I had free time until we became so close, it’s now hard to imagine we’re not related in any way.
My hand is on my throbbing forehead as I make my way to the front door.
“Who’s there?” There’s no peephole for me to see the person on the other side.
“It’s me, Sam. Open the door.”
“Why didn’t you use your key?” I ask when I let her in. I didn’t expect her to show up this early. “And why are you here at this hour?”
I thought she would be sleeping off her hangover, but for a person who drank more cocktails than me, she looks quite alert. Her normally sleek raven bangs are disheveled as they hang above her oval eyes, and her voice is a bit slurred, but her eyes are wide awake.
“I forgot it here last night.” She closes the door behind her. “Did you check your listing on Bidders? The auction is ending in less than five minutes.”
“What listing?” I head to the bathroom. My stomach is starting to roll again. Samantha follows me inside. “Enter at your own risk,” I say, warning her about the stench that lingers in the air.
“Bloody hell.” She wrinkles her nose. “Looks like someone wasted my alcohol.”
“Shut up.” I flush the toilet. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Alcohol is the devil.”
“You’ll be happy you listened to me about something else.”
“What are you talking about?” I grab my toothbrush.
“You need to see this.” She removes the toothbrush from my hand and gives me her phone. Through my blurry eyes, I glance at the screen.
“What am I supposed to be looking at?” It takes a moment for my brain to register what my eyes are seeing. When it finally does, a fist of shock hits me square in the gut. I stumble back in horror until my calves hit the bathtub. I sink onto the edge.
“Oh my God.” I clutch my throat.
Samantha comes to sit down next to me. “That’s what I also said when I saw it.”
I shoot her a look of shock. “Please tell me I’m stuck in a dream. This can’t be happening.”
“Freaky, right? See, I told you your virginity has value, 250,000 dollars’ worth apparently. Congratulations.” She sweeps her bangs from her eyes. “Why the fuck did I lose my virginity to Dannie, the library guy? I would have been rolling in cash right now.”
I shove the phone back into her hand and fall to my knees in front of the toilet again. I retch until there’s nothing left inside me.
Then I turn on Samantha, who still has a satisfied smirk on her face. “This is not funny. It’s a complete mess.”
“I disagree.” She peers at the screen. “Shit, someone else just bid. You’re at $300,000 now.”
I don’t even dare to take the phone from her to see for myself. My entire body and mind feel numb.
“This is great news, Dixie. Weird, but good.”
“No. No.” I pace the small bathroom, my hand tight around my blonde braid. “It’s a mistake. I thought it was a joke. I can’t believe I actually—”
Mr. Garnet: A Mr. Billionaire Short Story Page 1
