by Kat Addams
He flinched. I noticed his chest rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe or struggling not to cry. He coughed again and touched the back of his hand to his forehead.
“I’m going to go now. I’m really sorry. I came over here with the best intentions. I thought I could make it up to you. Money”—he shrugged—“it’s all I know. It usually works. I’m happy you’re not one of those fake assholes hanging around me to see what I can do for them with all of my assets. That’s what I love about you. You’re genuine, and you made me comfortable, being myself. I don’t know when or if or how I’ll ever be able to take this fucking mask off. But at least you made me want to.” He stuffed the key back into his pocket, hung his head, and shuffled out the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I followed out after him.
“I’ll manage,” he said before collapsing against the wall.
“All right. Come back. You’re not okay. You might be an asshole, but I’m not. Come here.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back into my apartment. “Jeez! You’re burning up! I can feel it under your shirt! Come on. Bedtime. I’ll run down and tell your driver I got this.”
I helped Victor into my bed and put a cold washcloth on the back of his head. He fell asleep before I left the room. I ran outside to talk with his driver. This was not the day I’d had in mind. Victor Beaumont had shown up on my doorstep and bought me a house. And all I wanted was my paycheck.
I made my way back into my apartment and tiptoed across the bedroom, making sure he was comfortable. I set a glass of water and medicine on the nightstand beside him for when he awoke. I thought about making him chicken soup, but then I remembered how much of an asshole he had been the night before. He would have to wait on all of that. I wanted more conversation when he woke up.
I grabbed my latest Christopher Kaiser novel and lay, reading beside Victor. The steady sound of his breaths lulled me to sleep.
“Shit like tickle me this. Boing!” he muttered beside me, waking me up.
“Uh, excuse me?”
He rolled over toward me and then back away from me. The heat radiating off of him made my body begin to sweat.
“I’m going to take your shirt off, Victor,” I whispered. I didn’t want to wake him, but I was getting a bit worried about how hot he was. It had been a long time since I dealt with a fever.
“The hat trick,” he whined.
I tried not to giggle at his misfortune. I’d had fever-induced delusions before. They were straight-up scary. But I could make the most out of this terrible situation. I rubbed my palms together and smiled.
“She’s calling for you. Samantha Masson. What do I tell her?” I whispered into his ear.
He kicked his legs from under the sheet, tossed himself to the side, and mooed.
What the fuck does that mean? He thinks I’m a cow?
“Moooo,” I mooed back.
“Squawk! Moooo! Squawk!” The stupid parrot next door started up.
“Fuck!” I banged my fist on the wall.
“Squawk! Fuck! Squawk!”
“Moo, moo, moo, moo,” Victor whimpered next to me.
This was bullshit. I had my own circus to deal with. I would take Victor Beaumont to bed but not like this.
He shot up in bed and laughed before falling back down again in a coughing fit.
“Victor?” I nudged him.
His breaths became heavy and rattled.
“The light shit mask force. Be there.” He gave me a salute.
I wondered if he had taken any drugs before he came here.
I dialed Lisa’s number.
“Lisa! Hey! Thank God you answered. I have a question for you. A mom question.”
“You’re pregnant?” Lisa screamed into the phone.
“No! Gosh. No! Victor is here, and he’s sick. I don’t know what to do. He’s got a high fever, and I’m pretty sure he’s hallucinating. Think I need to call the hospital or someone? Anyone other than me? I’m not the best at this type of stuff. Help.”
“I’m on my way.”
“No, you don’t have to—” I said, but she’d already hung up.
I wet his cold washcloth again and continued to listen to him and birdbrain moo it out over the next half hour until Lisa arrived. She barged through my door with an armload of bags.
“Lesson number one in being a mom: you always have a sick stash.” She set her bags down on the table, unpacking them. “Bucket for puke—check. Meds for fevers, congestion, sore throat, nausea, the shits—check. Thermometer—check. First aid kit—check. Something to knock them out, so they shut the hell up—check. Tissues—check. Soup—check. Gatorade—check. Wine—check.”
“Wine?” I asked.
“That one’s for you. You’re dealing with a sick man. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?” She put her palms on the edge of the table and leaned forward.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Should I? I don’t do personal space or comforting well. You know that.”
“How are you going to have your fifty-two kids you’ve told me you wanted if you can’t take care of a man? Look, it’s simple. But it’s annoying as hell. And this is Victor Beaumont we’re talking about here. No telling how he will behave. Probably milk it for all he can. Even more so because of his fuckup last night.” She looked me up and down, but I kept my mouth shut. “Mmhmm. More on that later. You got a case of the man flu on your hands.” She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her purse and shoved her hands inside them.
“Is this all necessary? This seems a bit … much.”
She looked me dead in the eyes and loaded the puke bucket with the stash of meds. “Man flu.”
“Man flu. Got it. So, should we …”
“Take me to him. Then, you’re going to start pouring us some wine.”
I led Lisa into my bedroom, where Victor was sitting up, looking confused.
“Mom?” he asked.
“Nope. It’s Lisa and Sam. We’re going to be taking care of you. Lie back down. Stick this in your mouth.” She pushed the thermometer into his mouth and held it until it beeped. “Phew. One hundred two-point-four! Let’s get that down and get you comfortable. If you hurl on me, so help you God. Take this.” She set the bucket in his lap.
I stood at the end of the bed and watched her work her magic. She swooped in here like a fairy godmother. I mentally took notes while she shoved medicine down his throat and made him sip the water and eat a few crackers.
“Lie back down and let it start working. You’re going to need to sleep this off.” She patted his shoulder.
“I’m dying!” he cried out.
Lisa rolled her eyes and turned to look back at me, mouthing the words, Man flu. “You’re not dying. You just have a cold. You’ll survive.”
“It’s the end for me! I can’t survive it. Call my work. Call my mom and dad.” He tossed and turned, thrashing about in the bed. “Don’t call that asshole Malcolm.”
I noticed Lisa’s back tense up. I knew she had spent a lot of time with Malcolm at the party.
“I’m going to open this bottle of wine. Be right back!” I rushed into the kitchen.
“Can I get another pillow? And a foot rub? I’m on my deathbed!” Victor hollered to me before I left.
“Sit your butt back down. You aren’t going anywhere. And for goodness’ sake, you ain’t dying!” Lisa groaned.
I came back with two glasses of wine. One for me and one for her.
She unpeeled her gloves and set them on the nightstand. “I got kids at home. I’m not bringing home any germs. Screw that.”
“Thank you for doing this and helping me out. I had no idea. I just put a washrag on his head and left him,” I whispered to her as we watched his breathing change from rapid to steady.
He was already asleep again.
“Wow, that’s some meds you had!”
“I drugged him up good. He won’t be giving us any trouble for a while now. But I’ll likely be gone when he wakes up. Just give h
im another dose of this stuff. Keep a watch on his fever. If it gets any higher and the meds don’t bring it down, he might need to be seen. I think he’ll be fine though. He’s going to be the biggest pussy when he wakes up. Watch out for that.”
“Got it.” I sighed and motioned for her to come to the kitchen. “I need your help on another matter too.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows and followed me out of the bedroom.
“Come sit with me. Tell me what you think I should do with this house he bought me.”
Lisa’s mouth hung open. “He bought you a house? What the hell? When are you moving?”
“I can’t accept it.” I set my glass on the table and leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest.
“Oh, yes, you can. Someone bought you a house! Do you have any idea how long a mortgage lasts? He just saved you thirty years. You’d better take it. Don’t play tough, kiddo. Take it.”
“But he ignored me last night when I needed help! William was there—”
She held up a hand to stop me. “Yep. Victor’s an asshole. We knew that from the beginning. But he’s not all asshole. He just bought you a freaking house. No one has ever said I’m sorry like that to me! Doesn’t mean you have to be with him. Just take the house and dump him if that’s what you want.”
“That would be terrible! I can’t do it. I can’t take the house or him. He didn’t even acknowledge me last night, and he’d been telling me all week how much he loved me and couldn’t wait for his circus.”
“I think it’s a Beaumont thing. His brother is already all over me, telling me how much he loves me too.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, what the hell happened with that?” I sat up in my seat. “Do you know about Malcolm and Kelsey and all that mess?”
“He told me. He thought he had seen her last night, so he brought the story up. That was before we fucked, obviously. I still would have fucked him though. People screw up and do stupid shit. That’s life. Everyone has baggage, and everyone has problems. The only thing that matters is if they learn from them or if they keep wallowing in their stupidity and keep making the same mistakes. I’m feeling it out with Malcolm. He told me he hadn’t screwed anyone else who was engaged to his brother. Also, that man knew how to work every inch of me.” She fanned herself and tugged her collar.
“Because he’s in the business of that.”
“Oh! I know. I think it’s pretty hot. He invited me on set next week.” She wiggled her brows and finished her wine. “I’ve got to get back. I’m getting the kids back tonight, and I need to freshen up a bit. I’m not feeling too hot myself. I might have indulged a little too much last night. Whatever. It happens. I had a good time. With a clown. That was a first.”
“I can’t believe you two hooked up.” I laughed. “Go on, get your kids. I hope you feel better too. And thanks again. For everything. You know you’re the only one I have to talk to.”
“Anytime, honey. Anytime.” She hugged me while we stood in the doorway. “And think about what I said. Everyone fucks up. Everyone has a past. No one is perfect. I know you’re getting back in the dating world, but not everyone will be like William. They will fuck up but not like that.” She kissed me on the forehead and left.
I shut the door behind me and heard a faint, “Moo,” coming from my bedroom.
This heifer would have me up all night.
Eleven
Victor
The rumbling of thunder outside the window nudged me out of deep sleep. I sat up in bed, confused and covered in sweat. I glanced around the room, letting my eyes adjust to the dark so that I could get my bearings. I remembered the house, the key, feeling hot in the hallway, and … farm animals? That couldn’t be right.
Samantha’s soft breathing brought me back to reality. I was in Samantha’s room.
I pushed myself off of the bed, shuffling toward the bathroom. I ached with each step I took.
“Ugh,” I groaned as quiet as I could. But Samantha usually woke at the drop of a pin.
“Victor? Is it time for another dose? You okay?” She sat up and turned on the light beside her.
“I’m okay. I feel a bit better. I think I broke my fever. I left a wet spot on your bed, and it’s not the good kind—no cuddle puddle.” That didn’t come out right. “I didn’t mean that I peed the bed. I meant that, I sweat it out …”
“I know what you meant, goof. I’ll change the sheets. You look like an old man walking to his grave.”
“I feel like it too. I’m sore. My whole body feels tense. Where are my clothes?” I asked, realizing I was standing in front of her, butt naked.
“I took them off of you. You were burning up! You kept getting up in the middle of the night and trying to take them off anyway. So, I just did it for you.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do all of this, you know.”
“Oh, you mean, I didn’t have to hear you whine and moo all night while I force-fed you meds and adjusted your pillow five hundred times, oh King Victor?”
“I was that bad, huh?” I winced, turning my feet.
Samantha sighed and hopped up to help me to the bathroom. “Look, Victor, I’m not an asshole. Of course, I would help you. But what you did to me the other night made me feel invisible. And then you tried to buy me off. I can’t accept the house, and I think we need some time apart. You need to work on getting that mask off. And also, I need time away from Sara.”
“I understand.” I nodded at her before hanging my head and shutting the bathroom door.
I glanced at my face in the mirror. I, Victor Beaumont, looked like shit, and I had just been dumped. Now, I definitely felt like a truck had steamrolled me. I did my business and went back into the bedroom. Samantha sat on the edge of the bed, circling her foot along the carpet.
“I’m going to call my driver. I can take it from here. I appreciate everything, Samantha. I really do. And I love you. Take all the time you need. I’ll still be here.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t know if I want this. I told myself never again, and I jumped right back into a relationship and got hurt.”
“I’m not perfect. But I’m trying. I admit, I fucked up. I also admit, I’ll never do it again.”
“And that’s where my trust issues come up. I just need time. I can’t right now. I want to buy my own home and get out of here. I don’t need a distraction or a complication.”
“Are you still going to work for Fleur-De-Lis? I have the Mardi Gras event coming up. I need you for that.”
“I will see that one through. But I’m giving you my notice two months early. I can’t. I just can’t. It’s hard enough, being around you right now. I need time and space.”
I gathered my clothes and dressed. Every move I made sent an ache throughout my body. I felt the key still heavy in my pocket.
“I’m leaving this here.” I set the key down on her nightstand. “Consider it your Christmas bonus.” She began to protest, but I put my hands up to stop her. “I know; I know. You said you can’t accept it. If you’d like, you can sell it for money and consider that your bonus check. I’ll still send your regular check, but your bonus is in that house. I can have the name on it signed over to you in a matter of hours, or you can move there and figure things out while you find someplace else. Do what you want. It’s yours.” I turned to leave.
You’re mine, and I’m yours, I thought. Not anymore.
“Victor,” she sighed, following behind me. “We’ll see. I’ll be in touch with the events. I’m working through Lisa though, or I’m not working it. I can’t be around Sara. Not after what she did.”
“I’ll take care of that.” I nodded toward her, but I couldn’t look at her. I felt like a gaping hole was in my heart, and I didn’t trust that my voice wouldn’t squeak. I was in pain—inside and out.
“If you say so,” she whispered before closing the door.
I heard what I thought was her back hitting the door as she slid to the floor. I hesitated. I wanted
to comfort her and fix this, but she’d said no. I couldn’t do anything to help.
I hobbled outside toward my ride. The rain pelted down on me as I slipped my mask on, straightened up as much as I could, and plastered a fake smile across my face. The Phantom Man had left the building.
I spent most of Christmas morning locked away in my home, alone and depressed. I texted Samantha to tell her merry Christmas, and she texted me back the same, but the conversation ended there. There was no, Hi, how are you, or, What have you been up to? I stared at those blinking dots on my screen for ages, but they disappeared just as quickly as she had. I began to text her more but stopped myself. Only an asshole-in-chief would be pushy, and I didn’t want to be that.
Besides, I would work with her soon enough on our annual Mardi Gras event.
I lay in my bed, flipping through my phone and looking for a distraction to fill this void she’d left me with. I found a few old pictures of us in the back of the limo and us at the bar listening to that sexpot Jason Jones sing. The way she had turned her head to look at me in the photographs made my heart plummet into my stomach. I loved that look.
I rolled myself off of my bed and tidied up my room. Beer bottles, empty food containers, tissues, and piles of clothes littered the floor. I had spent the entire last week sick in bed. At least, that was what I had told everyone. I had been sick but not too sick. My fever was gone, and my body had stopped aching, but my heart was broken in two. I didn’t want anyone to know tough-man Beaumont had been dumped. Instead, I had ordered takeout, played too much on my phone, and written a handful of e-mails to Samantha that I never planned on sending.
I had poured my heart out, discussed my childhood, bitched about Kelsey and Malcolm, and I’d even told her my hopes and dreams of marriage and ten kids. That number was growing on me—for Samantha, anything. I glanced at the pile of crumpled and discarded papers and sighed. I wanted to light it on fire and burn away that past life. I would love to throw my mask in there with it.
I dragged myself into the shower. I had to be at the usual family Christmas dinner, sans a date. I had never attended our Christmas dinner dateless. I had always found someone to go with me even if we’d just started dating. No one had ever turned down a Beaumont.