#B!TCH (#Jerk #2)

by Kat T. Masen

  “It’s the contract for Jennifer Ryan’s five-book deal. I just explained it to you.” Clint pauses, scanning my face. “Is everything okay?”

  Blinking, I try to refocus. “Sorry, yes, everything is fine. Can you leave this with me?”

  Clint folds his arms as he continues to stand inside my office, tilting his head with a raised brow. “Pres, you’ve been away with the fairies lately. Is it Haden? He’s been all moody, too. Honestly, between the two of you, it’s been like walking on eggshells.”

  I shake my head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing, I promise. Now, please go. I’ve got an important call to make.”

  Clint reluctantly leaves my office. I hate lying to him and everyone, but it is for the best. There is no need to announce the news of the miscarriage. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy.

  I stare at the paper again attempting to read it, but I can’t concentrate. The last few days are a haze of emotions.

  Everything at home has changed. Masen wanted to sleep in his own bed. It should be a welcoming change, but it means Haden and I are alone. He knows better than to push for intimacy, and he hasn’t laid a single finger on me nor has he tried. A part of me wishes Haden will be his normal jerk-like self rather than an over-protective husband treating me like a fragile vase.

  Then parts of me feel like he blames me.

  Like this was my fault.

  Why else won’t he touch me?

  As Dr. Sommersby confirmed would happen, I bled slightly, expelling the pregnancy. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but for the most part, it was painless and only slightly uncomfortable.

  I chose not to research anything to do with miscarriages, accepting my fate and the failures of my body. There is no point dwelling on it, and the freedom of my body adjusting back to normal is a welcoming change. I don’t quite understand why everyone makes such a big deal out of it. Life happens.

  Yet there are moments, they creep up on me unexpectedly triggered by something, or sometimes, nothing at all. Moments of self-blame, moments of guilt for wanting a way out of this pregnancy, but I have learned to push those feelings aside rather than waste time trying to work through the emotions.

  I can’t change the outcome.

  My body failed, and that’s that.

  Haden walks into my office, closing the door behind him. He hasn’t gotten much sleep of late, tossing and turning each night, waking up early to go for a run. For a man who likes to push my buttons, he rarely engages in conversation unless it is about me. The fretful concern has become a broken record.

  “Are you okay?” He leans against the wall, removing his glasses as he cleans them against his shirt. “I know it’s been a week, but I really think you should take time off.”

  Time off to sit at home and do what? The man is impossible. This over-protective manner is wearing really thin. I am not a fucking fragile bird, and he needs to get that through his stubborn head.

  “I’m fine. I just need to read through this. So, if you don’t mind, a little bit of solitude.”

  As he leans in to place his hand on mine, I retract, reminding him of the rules. From the moment we began our relationship, we both agreed to remain professional in the workplace. Our decisions should not be influenced by outside matters, nor should we make anyone uncomfortable because we are married. It’s one of the only things we agree on.

  “Pres, it’s fine to be upset. And fuck the rules.”

  “I’m not upset, okay?” My pitch rises, laced with frustration. “It happened, and we’ve moved on.”

  “You’ve moved on,” he states. “I’m still processing.”

  “Processing what?” I laugh. “The baby is gone. There’s nothing to process.”

  Haden casts his gaze onto the floor as his eyes darken. I don’t understand why he holds onto this. I was carrying the baby, and my body is the failure, not his.

  “Okay,” he utters. “But I want to discuss something with you over lunch.”

  Haden and I rarely take lunch together. We are always too busy and usually our lunch meetings involve taking out important clients. Our schedules always seem to clash.

  “I’m busy. I’m actually behind.”

  “That’s why you have a team,” he snarls. Letting out a sigh, his face softens. “Please?”

  “Fine.”

  The answer satisfies him. Thank God! His need to spend time with me right now is getting on my nerves.

  “Listen, Cassandra is arriving any minute now, so I’d love it if you can join me in my office.”

  I let out a deep breath, forgetting about Cassandra, the Chief Editor of Indie Press, arriving today. Clint informed me that most of my afternoon will be spent with her. I am not in the mood to entertain, or even train someone, but perhaps I need the push to get my head into action.

  An hour later, Haden calls me into his office. Reluctantly, I grab my mug, stopping at the kitchen for a coffee refill and running into Clint.

  “So, word in the office is that Susan is banging the coffee cart guy.”

  I shake the packet of sweetener. “The young guy, probably half her age?”

  Clint nods, scanning the area to make sure no one can hear us. Susan worked in our finance team and sat only a few offices away.

  “Her husband left her for his secretary. This is sort of payback. Susan said she’s having the best sex of her life. He gets her off like three times a night.”

  “Don’t you think you should be focusing on work rather than someone else’s life?” I remind him. “I have to go.”

  “Presley. You thrive on stuff like this. Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Clint. I mean it, get back to work.”

  I walk out of the kitchen without another word. Clint’s gossiping has become tedious, and I no longer care for it. I have better things to think about than Susan getting laid three times a night.

  Knocking on Haden’s door, I open it slowly, careful not to spill my coffee.

  Haden stands, extending his hand to introduce our Indie Press Chief Editor.

  “Cassandra Reid, please meet our Editor-in-Chief, Presley Cooper.”

  Typical Haden to forget my proper surname.

  “Presley Malone Cooper,” I correct him, much to his annoyance.

  From behind, all I see is a perfectly straightened bob, just touching her chin. The dark brown hair sways as she turns around, only for me to meet the largest of eyes, a sea of blue, fixate on me.

  It couldn’t be.

  Sandy, as I knew her, went to the same college as me. We were the greatest of friends in the final year but had a fallout. I can’t quite remember why, I was too busy dating this guy, Kyle, who was a complete jerk. I sure know how to pick them.

  “Sandy?” I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. “Is that you?”

  I could spot the smile anywhere. The same smile that sat beside me during boring lectures. The same smile that laughed at me while I threw up beer in the bush from a sorority dare. Who would have thought beer could taste so vile?

  And the same smile that reassured me everything would be just fine when the world felt so big, and I felt so alone.

  “Elvis?” She reaches out her hands, but I throw her into a hug, thrown back by the annoying name she called me during our time many years ago. “I had no idea it was you. Haden, I mean, Mr. Cooper, spoke about you but the surname threw me off.”

  In the comfort of an old friend, I linger, then pull back, taking a moment to examine her. It has been a good ten years since we last saw each other. Sandy has aged well, she’s thinned out since college and not as muscular as she was back then. She dyed her hair from the ash blonde she used to sport in college and surprisingly, dresses rather feminine.

  I always remembered her to be a tee-and-ripped-jeans kind of gal. Seeing her in a fitted cream blouse and tailored black pants is something different. She’s even wearing heels—black pumps with a crocodile skin pattern.

  Haden clears his throat to interrupt. “So, you two know each
other?”

  “Back in college.” I grin, unable to contain my happiness. “God, we must have spent like, what? Every day together.”

  “Yeah, we did, but then you met that jerk of a boyfriend, Kyle,” she reminds me.

  “Young and foolish.”

  “That you were, Elvis.”

  I cringe. “We can leave that name in the past, please.”

  “It was our thing.” She laughs

  Haden is crossing his arms waiting for us to finish speaking. He appears unimpressed. I’m not sure why, this will make our working relationship much easier.

  “Would you look at the time? I believe Noah is taking you out today, and you will have to accept my sincere apologies. Presley and I have something to attend to.”

  “Of course, don’t let me keep you.” She shuts her laptop and collects her things. “So, we have a meeting later, right?”

  “Yes, I won’t be too long. Promise.”

  Sandy offers a warm smile. “Take your time, I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  Haden chose an upscale restaurant for lunch on Melrose. The restaurant serves American cuisine with a French influence. It was fancier than the lunch spots Clint and I frequent, though Clint’s lunchbreaks involve scoping out potential men to add to the ever-growing list he could jerk off to. Most of them straight.

  “So, what’s so important?” I push my food around, not really hungry and desperate to get back to the office.

  “I’ve been thinking, and I want you to hear me out first…”

  Every time Haden starts a sentence like that, something major is on the horizon. Something life-changing. So, I brace myself for what he is about to share. I suspect it has something to do with Manhattan since he had mentioned us going back for a month or so.

  “You know I love our house. It’s a great first house. But with Masen growing bigger, our family growing one day, I’ve been looking at potential real estate.”

  “What do you mean you’ve been looking?”

  “Just seeing what’s on the market.”

  I know Haden very well. He has found a place. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already bought a house and placed ours on the market.

  “Lex has a broker, and she showed me a place in Hidden Hills. It’s not that far from Charlie and Lex, you could probably walk there. You’ll love it.”

  I place my fork down. “Hidden Hills? Firstly, we can’t afford that. Secondly, why didn’t you consult me before even looking? I don’t want to move. I love our house.”

  “I just want you to see the place before you say no.”

  “I am saying no.”

  His eyes tighten as he bares his teeth. “C’mon, don’t be a bitch.”

  There is no winning with Haden. Our marriage is all about him.

  “Great, now I really want to see it,” I argue back. “It’s all about you, isn’t it?”

  He throws his napkin onto the table, rubbing his temple to cue his aggressive behavior. “It isn’t about me. Goddammit, Presley, it’s about our son. I want him to have more space, a nice pool to practice in. I want space for our parents to visit.”

  My anger toward him begins to digress. Averting my eyes, I lower them toward the table. My hand is sitting beside the fork, and on my hand, my wedding band glistens against the sun shining through the large window. If his intentions are purely for his son, then I shouldn’t be the so-called bitch getting in the way of that.

  “Fine, I’ll see it. But that’s all I’m agreeing to.”

  With a satisfied smile, he calls the waiter for the check, pulling out a black American Express card.

  “When did you get a black Amex?” I question, taking the card in my hands and examining it. I know they’re rare, and I believe, only by invitation.

  “A week or so ago.”

  “Oh, and you never mentioned it.”

  “You were…” he pauses. “We were busy, you know?”

  Of course. I decide, after an already eventful day, not to question the card or how he got it. When it comes to finances, I rarely get involved because it isn’t my passion like Haden’s.

  “I promise you won’t regret looking at the house,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles. “In fact, I bet my whole life you’ll fall in love with it.”

  #BITCH

  We drive up the semi-steep driveway stopping just shy of the three-car garage.

  Haden turns the engine off while I sit quietly, admiring the outside of the house. On the drive over, Haden didn’t say much aside from the home being Hamptons’ inspired in a quiet cul-de-sac in Hidden Hills, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

  It is still daylight, and surrounding us, aside from the house, is a manicured lawn with perfectly landscaped gardens. A few trees surround the front entrance, giving the property some privacy.

  “The gardens are so pretty.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, two cars pull in behind us. I recognize the beaten-up yellow Jeep with an eager-looking Gemma in the front and equally excited Masen in the back. The black Porsche, beside her, must be the broker.

  Both Haden and I exit the car, Masen running straight to Haden for a hug. I wait patiently until he breaks free, then runs off to the front door. I ignore the pang, knowing his excitement over the house rules his four-year-old mind.

  Lex’s broker, Carolina, is top of the league as far as brokers in Southern California. The second she gets out of her car, I spot the longest of legs, tanned with a silky glow. I hate to admit that I like her white midi-dress with the gold buttons down the middle. She is rather thin with a large bust, and upon removing her sunglasses, she has the skin of a twenty-something-year-old.

  She greets Haden, flicking her platinum-gold hair to the side in a flirtatious manner before shaking his hand. He introduces me, Gem, and Masen before requesting to take us into the home.

  As soon as the front door opens, my jaw almost completely drops. Masen has run past me at full speed with Gem on his tail.

  The ceilings are high with gorgeous timber beams running across. It gives the house so much character and reminds me of an old church back home in Virginia.

  “The house has six bedrooms, all of them with baths plus a spacious master suite,” Carolina tells us, leading us through one of the living rooms, past the breakfast room with the vaulted ceiling and into the kitchen. “We have a center-island kitchen with open-beam ceiling, copper-accented range hood, professional, stainless steel appliances and wine storage. A chef’s dream.”

  The kitchen is gorgeous. I can easily imagine myself cooking dinner here, barefoot with a glass of red while listening to an audiobook.

  “Before I take you out back, I’ll show you the rooms upstairs.”

  Each room is large with plenty of space for all our things. The master is more than spacious, boasting its own private sitting area and small balcony looking out toward the canyon.

  Carolina takes us back downstairs, toward the back where she shows us a game room with attached home theater, and down the hall, a home office plus den.

  I step into den, gazing at the beautiful oak shelves filled with books and knick-knacks.

  “This room is perfect,” I mumble as my eyes move toward the stone fireplace. “The fireplace is… wow.”

  Haden grabs my hand, pulling me outside to the backyard.

  Masen is jumping beside the pool, the biggest smile planted on his little face. The pool looks refreshing, and equally nice is the jacuzzi beside it. But what really catches my attention is the breathtaking views of the canyons with the sunset in the distance.

  “Momma! There’s a waterslide, and Daddy said I could have swimming lessons so I can learn to dive just like him.”

  The house is beautiful, Haden is right, I have fallen in love with it. A combination of the perfect retreat and charm I have always wanted in a house.

  Once Haden left to join Masen, I ask Carolina for the asking price, nearly combusting on the spot when she tells me the figures.


  I call Haden over, asking Carolina to give us a moment of privacy.

  “We can’t afford this.”

  “Yes, we can.”

  When it comes to our financials, I only half pay attention when Haden throws numbers at me every so often. We are secure, but by all means, this house is on another level. A level I don’t believe we can afford.

  “Haden, I’m serious.”

  “We can afford it,” he reiterates. “Our investments have done well. However, we need to sell the bungalow.”

  My heart immediately sinks. I didn’t think I would be so attached to a house which I refer to often as the money pit, but clearly, I am.

  Masen comes running up the paved stairs, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Mommy, please, please say yes. I love this house.”

  Gem is out of breath, stopping just shy of us, hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. “This is some place, Pres. If you end up buying it, I call dibs on the room with the giant tub.”

  “That’s my room, Aunty Gemma!” Masen pouts, crossing his arms.

  I turn my head around one more time to look at the house. After the past few weeks and what feels like a tiring few years, maybe what we need is a fresh start. A new place to call home.

  This could be the answer to pull me out of whatever is causing this unwanted tension within me. I’ve been stagnant for too long.

  Change will be good.

  For Haden, for Masen, and hopefully, me.

  I take a deep breath, ignoring the price tag but remembering Haden’s stipulation regarding the bungalow. Suddenly, I’m torn again, riddled by that sinking feeling in my stomach.

  Haden picks up Masen whispering something into his ear which makes him giggle. The two of them look remarkably alike. It’s unbelievable that Masen looks nothing like me.

  “So, what’s the verdict, Momma?” Haden asks, his face almost bursting with anticipation while Masen nods his head, trying to encourage me to say yes.

  I can’t win against them, no matter how hard I try.

  “Where do we sign?”

  #BITCH

  Working with Sandy has become the highlight of my workdays.