Life Before Damaged, Volume 4

by H. M. Ward

  “Regina, you have to go back to your room. We can’t disrespect your father’s wishes like this. I’m a guest in his house.” He whispers.

  I plop back down onto flat feet and stick out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Maybe the sad little girl look will work on him. What man refuses a middle of the night blowjob from his girlfriend?

  “But I want you, Anthony. Now. We hardly get to see each other these days and, besides, both my parents are sleeping soundly. I’ll go back to my room like a good little girl once we’re done. But please, I need this. Make love to me?” I place a kiss on his chest and he gently pushes me back.

  “No. Like I said, I won’t—”

  “You won’t disrespect my dad, yeah, I get it.” There’s no point in pushing this any further. I know him well enough to know that when he has his mind set on something, or rather when his mind is set on not doing something, there’s no way to make him budge.

  "I just wish, for once, that my needs came before my dad’s wishes." I bend down to pick up my nightshirt and my robe and put them on without a word.

  “Regina, I know you’re upset, but I’ll make it up to you this week, I promise. I go back on day shift as of Friday. Come spend the night then. Okay?”

  He takes a step closer to me and bends down to give me a small kiss. I try to deepen it by gently stroking his bottom lip with the tip of my tongue but he pulls back too soon.

  Once more disappointed I say, “Okay, but I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  And with that, I go back to my room, sullen, dejected and still very horny.

  LACK OF SEX IS BAD FOR THE COMPLEXION

  August 4th, 10:54am

  “So, how was Snobapalooza yesterday? As dull and drab as usual?”

  Erin takes out a piece of her art from a crate and removes the protective bubble wrap before carefully placing it on the table in front of her. I’m not quite sure what the piece represents. Since Erin is more of an abstract artist, it’s not always clear what she was thinking when designing her stuff. She specializes in collages made with old broken stuff that people throw away. Her motto is something along the lines of someone’s trash is someone else’s treasure. It’s a jab at consumerism and over-consumption, which is a strong message considering it’s coming from someone who willingly left so much money behind to do what she loves in a more simplistic lifestyle. Her breaking point was at our debutante ball – yes, those are back in style. That is a day I will never forget--I doubt the staff of the Waldorf-Astoria will either for that matter. That’s the day she ran away from her family and was shunned from high society. Now, she spends her Sundays in Brooklyn, selling her art at a rented table under a tent at flea markets. I’ve never seen her happier.

  “Actually, it was very good. Anthony and my dad were able to get a bunch of investors interested in our project.” I go to the back of the tent and start handing her the pieces, one by one. Erin yawns and takes a long sip of her coffee.

  “Anthony and your dad, huh? Not you? Did they put Baby in the corner again?” I nod, half-grinning. Erin always teases me about my tastes in movies. If there’s dancing, it’s a favorite of mine, no matter how cheesy or old. “Your dad’s an ass if he ignored you again. You should seriously consider moving in with me. Maybe if he sees that you’re a grown woman, capable of living on your own, he’ll respect you more at work. Right now, he still sees you as a kid because he still provides for you.”

  I shrug. Maybe Erin is onto something. Maybe he isn’t giving me professional recognition I deserve because, in his eyes, I’m still Daddy’s little princess.

  “What else? Any juicy gossip?” She puts her hands out and I give her the last piece of art from the box. I take a seat on one of the chairs and she takes the one next to me. I’m playing with a piece of bubble wrap, popping the bubbles one by one in between my thumb and my index finger.

  “Well, the Ferros were there.” Pop!

  That gets her interest. She sits up straight and props her chin in her hands, elbow on her knees. A woman walks by her table, a young girl by her side. The girl looks to be about 8 years old. They are both looking at Erin’s work with curiosity, the mom occasionally swatting her daughter’s hand away when she goes to touch anything. Pop!

  “Ooooh! Was your man Pete there?” I nod again, still concentrating on the piece of bubble wrap in my hands. He’s not "my man Pete" by any stretch, but I don’t have the energy to debate that with her. Pop!

  “Let me guess. Your hoo-ha is sore, making it hard to walk this morning, and Anthony is in the hospital for trying to defend your honor?” The woman raises her head and looks at us with a curious stare. I smile at her politely and she resumes browsing Erin’s work. Pop!

  “No. Nothing happened.” I say in a hushed voice. This is so not the conversation we should be having in a very public place in front of impressionable young ears. Pop!

  “So you didn’t follow my advice and bang his brains out? Fuck him ‘till the cows come home? You don’t have his DNA under your fingernails from all the clawing? Gina, we are disappointed in you.” Erin is pointing a scolding finger in my face and talking loudly enough for the woman on the other side of the table to hear. She gasps and covers her daughter’s ears before stomping away. Pop! Pop! Pop! Erin yanks the piece of bubble wrap from my hands and tosses it to the side.

  I sigh, reach for my own cup of coffee, and take a small sip. “Who makes up this collective 'we' you are referring to anyway?”

  “Me, myself and I. How come nothing happened between you and Ferro? He was all over you that other night at the club.”

  “Erin! I despise him! And, besides, I have a boyfriend!”

  “Yes, and I'm willing to bet our boy Anthony makes YOU as wet as the Sahara Desert while making your Father as hard as the Washington Monument. Really Gina, if you don't get some serious hanky-panky going on before you start your life as the perfect housewife, counting your husband's millions and ordering your household staff around, you're going to shrivel up like an old prune down there.” She points to my girly parts and I cross my legs in response.

  “You're gross. And slightly disturbing. You know that, right” I shudder at her mental imagery. No one wants to imagine that.

  “And you know I'm right. Admit you're not just a bit curious as to what a night with Where-for-art-thou-Romeo Ferro would be like. Hell, I hate rich people and I'd do him.”

  “You’d do anyone and you are rich people.” I kick her foot with mine, teasing.

  “Former rich people. I hate to be the one to point out the obvious, Gina, but has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're not actually in love with Anthony? That maybe you’re only in love with the idea of him and what he represents?”

  “What do you mean, the idea of him? He’s not a concept, Erin. He’s a real person and, yes, I do love him.” I take a long sip of my lukewarm coffee. It’s disgustingly cold, but I need all the caffeine I can get. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since the warehouse rave and my body is starting to feel the effects. I’m walking more and more like a zombie and looking like one too, deep circles forming under my eyes.

  “What I mean is, you may have convinced yourself you’re in love with Anthony when really, you’re only in love with the idea of having the perfect little rich family portrait with him. Your parents love him, he’s involved in the family business, and he's going to be a doctor. That image alone would have any woman’s ovaries bursting at the seams. Speaking of ovaries, how are things between you and Dr. Doolittle these days--and I do mean sex.”

  “Could be better."

  “Gina, This is me talking to you as your best friend, not as someone who's on the dump Tony's ass to shag Ferro team. I really think that you have to fix this problem with Tony the Tiger if you’re so set on staying with him. He should be all over you, ripping your clothes off every chance he gets and you should be drooling all over him instead of pretending he’s someone else."

  My eyes dart to Erin's. How
did she know?

  "I'm not blind, Gina. It's written all over your face and you shouldn't feel guilty about it either. This is all on him. It’s not normal for a guy to be so lukewarm towards his girl the way Anthony is with you. He’s left the door wide open for another man to step in and stoke your fire down below, and it just so happens that it was Pete. He’s been giving you the sexy attention that you need. That’s all there is to it. You need to have a serious talk with Tony. Tell him how you feel. If that doesn’t work, toss him out, get over him and get in the sack with Ferro. I don’t care how much your dad loves Tony, you can’t spend your entire life being sexually frustrated. It’s not good for your complexion. Hey, you think maybe Tony’s into spanking?”

  Aaaaaaand there goes another shocked customer.

  “Jerk.” I laugh. Based on the look he gave me last night when he caught me under the covers with his pants halfway down, I can just imagine what his face would be like if I asked him to spank me or better yet, if I spanked him.

  Erin gives me a quick hug. “I love you too, babe.”

  SURPRISE ME

  August 7th, 10:38am

  Wednesday morning. Commonly known as hump day. Oh, if only…

  I’m back to the ol’ routine, sitting at my desk, looking at spreadsheets with numbers and dollar signs and statistics.

  Every once in a while, I allow my thoughts to drift. I swivel on my chair, chewing on the tip of my pen and staring at the newspaper in front of me. Coma guy is still coma guy and I can’t help feeling responsible for him, even though he may be the one of the people responsible for starting the fire. Erin says he’s an asshole and to forget about it, but how can you be an asshole while you’re in a coma? Is he popping out his IV all the time, pissing off the nurses? So he has a criminal record and a long list of misdemeanors, I just can’t help but feel like he deserved his own chance at redemption. I flip the newspaper over and knock over a picture frame. I put it back on my desk and look at it. Anthony. I let out a long sigh. Now that is another issue altogether.

  Erin’s words have hit a strong chord and I just can’t shake them off. I need to find a way to fix the problems between me and Anthony or I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life. I need to make this second chance at life count. I refuse to spend it coasting along on neutral for the sake of others all the time. I want to feel passion and heat, and I need to feel desired by the man I’m most likely to marry.

  Step one is bringing back the spark in our relationship. He’s promised me a night at his place this coming Friday and I have just the plan to make the most of it. I hope this works. I can't live in a relationship with no passion whatsoever for the rest of my life. My parents would be crushed if I broke up with him. I have to fix this. We’re so close to being engaged, it’s just a simple formality of putting a ring on my finger.

  “Regina?”

  Charlotte’s voice comes out of the speaker from my desktop phone, making me jump out of my daydreams. My pen goes flying out of my hand and I let out a little squeak. Putting a hand over my heart, I take a deep breath and answer,

  “Yes, Charlotte?”

  “I have a message for you. You have a lunch date today at noon with Anthony at the French café by the hospital, the one you usually go to. Oh, and I cleared your schedule so that you can go. You can thank me by bringing me back a chocolate croissant.”

  This is a surprise. How come he never told me about this and why didn’t he call me himself? I’m suddenly hopeful this is the turning point I was wishing for. Maybe my little nighttime escapade at my parents’ house got him thinking about me in a different way and he just couldn’t wait until Friday.

  “Thank you, Charlotte! You’re the best.”

  Lunchtime finally arrives. I get out of the company car and head straight towards the cafe to avoid the sweltering city heat. My stomach starts to grumble embarrassingly when I’m hit with the smell of fresh baked bread and coffee. Waiters are walking back and forth at a fast pace, carrying trays of sandwiches, soup, drinks and various pastries, making sure the lunch crowd gets served as fast as possible. Nice mellow music is playing over the sound system and people are chatting away and laughing. I scan the small room, trying to find Anthony, but can’t see him anywhere. He’s not sitting at our usual table by the window and I’m starting to get the sinking feeling he may have been asked to stay at the hospital for an emergency.

  “Are you Miss Regina Granz?” A waiter asks. I brace myself for disappointment. I was right. He called the café to let me know that he can’t make it. When I nod, the waiter ushers me farther into the café with his hand, leading me towards the stairs that lead to the upper level.

  “Your table is upstairs and your friend is already here. I’ll take you to your table.”

  “Thank you.” The waiter turns and leads the way. I follow him up the stairs and when we reach the top landing, I scan the room trying to find Anthony, but can’t see him anywhere. He’s usually easy to spot because he’s so tall. The waiter keeps on walking towards the center of the floor and I stop dead in my tracks.

  Sitting alone at a table set for two is Mrs. Ferro. Pete warned me to stay away from her. He never said why but he seemed very adamant that I steer clear of her.

  LUNCH IS GETTING COLD

  August 7th, 12:15pm

  She looks as imposing as ever in a perfectly tailored dress suit, her hair impeccably styled and no trace of emotion on her face whatsoever. I look down, hoping that she won’t see or recognize me but it’s pointless because the waiter is leading me right to her table. What the hell? My heart rate speeds up, not knowing what to do.

  When we reach her table, the waiter clears his throat and Mrs. Ferro looks up, a ghost of a smile on her face. It’s barely there but it’s not the usual unfeeling scowl like she usually wears.

  “Mrs. Ferro, Miss Granz has arrived.” The waiter says as he pulls out the empty chair and motions for me to sit. Seeing as I don’t really have a choice, I take the seat and Mrs. Ferro waves the waiter off. An uncomfortable silence settles around us. What the hell am I doing here and where is Anthony? I crane my neck and look around to see if perhaps he’s somewhere near, but I still can’t find him. I suddenly feel like a caged animal. Mrs. Ferro puts down her menu and places both hands on the table, one on top of the other.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice. You can stop looking for your doctor friend, he won’t be coming. I apologize for the little deception, but I wanted to make sure you would be here.”

  Okay. So much for avoiding her then. She planned this meeting? Might as well see what this is all about and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. At this point, I’m even willing to bypass food. Heck, I’ll grab a bagel at the corner shop next to the office on my way back if I have to but I’m not sitting here any longer than needed.

  “I thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Ferro, but forgive me for being a little confused as to why.”

  “Polite yet to the point. I like that. All right then, Miss Granz, let me explain. I notice things. Many things. And I couldn’t help but notice the tension between your father and yourself the other evening. One might think that you are unhappy with your current state of employment. Am I correct?”

  My current state of employment? She wants to talk about my job?

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mrs. Ferro. I’m quite satisfied working at Granz Textiles. It’s the family business after all.”

  “Hmmm, loyal too. Yes, well, unfortunately for Granz Textiles, your father is not utilizing your full potential. I see that you are a bright young woman, Miss Granz, and your father is holding you back.”

  I hold back a snort. No shit, Sherlock! Tell me something I don’t know. I just shake my head and smile politely.

  “With all due respect, Mrs. Ferro, I’m still very new to the industry and I’m slowly learning the ropes, as I should. My father is just making sure I don’t skip over any important stages of my training.”

  “I see.”


  When the waiter shows up at our table, Mrs. Ferro’s eye never leave me and it’s freaking me out. But I keep my cool and place my napkin on my lap. The waiter puts down food and drinks in front of each of us. I haven’t placed my order yet, so seeing food in front of me is a little surprising. Even more surprising is that my plate has my usual, a French baguette with black forest ham and Brie with a side of tossed green salad with an aged balsamic dressing, accompanied by a cup of coffee, cream, no sugar. I look back up at Mrs. Ferro and raise an eyebrow at her.

  “As I said, Miss Granz, I notice things.” Now I’m really freaked out but I don’t let it show. How does she know what I order when I come here? She takes a sip of her soup and puts her spoon down, patting the corner of her mouth with the elegance that only comes from living in high society for years. “Now tell me. Are you or are you not working for the new medical division of Granz Textiles?”

  “Yes, I am, Mrs. Ferro. But as my father explained, I’m interning in the financial department, doing mostly observational work.” I cringe inwardly at my father’s words coming out of my mouth but I can’t show her that there’s a bit of dissension in the ranks. I look down at my plate, but the sight of my sandwich does nothing for me. My stomach is in a twisted knot and I can’t bear the thought of eating anything, but she went to the trouble of ordering so I take a bite of the salad, not wanting to offend her. It’s light enough that it won’t send me running to the bathroom due to a bad case of nerves.

  “So how is the project coming along? Any new advances?” She keeps on eating her lunch, waiting for me to answer.

  Is she fishing for inside information? Is that the purpose of this meeting? Well, if she thinks that I’m the weak link in the company she has another thing coming. “Everything is going as planned and we are very pleased with our progress. I believe my father pretty much brought you up to date the other evening but if you wish, we can add you to our mailing list, updating our partners and various associates on our progress.” There. Polite and professional.