Talk Dirty To Me

by Ali Parker

  “This is ridiculous. You’re being an ass.” He snatched the papers from me. “But that’s fine. I’ll give the damn money to a charity.”

  I laughed, hating myself for doing it. “And the world will be shocked. You’re known for many things, but generosity or kindness isn’t one of them.”

  He didn’t say another word as he stormed off, but he didn’t have to. The aftereffect of his disgust with me sat all around me like a well-worn coat, familiar.

  The world saw a very different picture than the truth of my family’s legacy.

  Clay stuck his head back into my office, his eyes wide. “You all right?”

  “Yep. Tell me about the Markham account. Did we get the exclusivity rights to serve our liquor in their bars?” I forced the ghosts of my past back into their graves and clasped my hands together on my desk. “Give me some good news. I could use it.”

  His concern bled into joy. “We did! I’m sending over the final documents now.”

  “Excellent. We should celebrate.”

  “Let’s take the team to their bar downtown. We could buy everyone dinner and drinks?” He slipped his hands into his pockets and beamed. His copper-colored hair and freckles made him appear as young as he was. I almost felt sorry for him, but he used what he had and made it work.

  I had done the same all my life.

  All the things people didn’t realize about me.

  Most thought like Vanny had, that I was a trust-fund baby with good looks and lots of money. She, like all the others, assumed good things came easily to me.

  Little did she know.

  “Sounds like a plan. Gather up everyone around six, and let’s head that way. I need to meet with one more investor before we go.” I nodded toward the door. “Close that on your way out?”

  “Absolutely.” He turned and walked out.

  I stood and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined my office. Pressing my forehead against the chilly glass, I stared at downtown Nashville. The Nissan Stadium rose up like a big soup pot out of the ground, and the waterway before it glistened in the late fall afternoon.

  If I’d had it to do again, I’d have followed Chris out of state. I loved Nashville, but being who I was, there was no chance to come into my own. My family legacy set in motion a set of preconceived thoughts in anyone and everyone who met me.

  My best friend’s little sister included.

  A smile brushed by my lips at the thought of her. What was she up to? Was she shocked that I’d walked away on Saturday after her declaration that I was everything I’d worked hard not to be? Did she even care?

  Better yet. Did I?

  Some part of me did. I needed to stop thinking about her. Chris was just about the only family I had outside of Gigi, and I still had my sights set on another woman.

  Nessa.

  The monitor on the wall to my left blinked. I hit the button and turned toward the screen at the far end of the room. A table of investors who’d logged in to our video call appeared, each more grey-haired than the other.

  “Mr. Daniels, thank you for making time to meet with us this afternoon.” Alfred, the head of the bank, nodded toward me.

  “Absolutely, sir. What business do we need to address today?”

  Another man spoke up. “Word on Wall Street is that your father is not well.”

  I slipped my hands into my pockets and steadied myself. The bank didn’t want innovation and new opportunities. They wanted to hold tight to the accounts they already had that had served them well for decades—like my father’s.

  “I’ve heard the same.” I tilted my head to the side and offered them a boyish grin.

  “You know it would be in your best interest to be listed as the beneficiary of his policies, Rhys. There is security and stability in your family name.” Alfred stood and crossed his arms over his chest. The old man understood me far more than anyone else at the table, but he still wished for something that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Mills, but I’ve proven myself a good investment as well all of these years. I’m asking for a credit increase that is not at all above what I’ve handled in my ten-year track record.” I took a step toward the screen and glanced around at the familiar faces.

  The only female around the table spoke up. “This is true.” She glanced at her colleagues as her grey-blue hair shined due to the light above the table. “I don’t think we need to rely on Jasper Senior’s funding to consider the increase Rhys is asking for.”

  Alfred offered a small shrug. “I agree, but I do believe that it would solidify just about any increase you might seek in the future. Consider your options. Just because the past has been a struggle doesn’t mean that you cannot turn this around for your own good.”

  “Not happening, and if that’s what you require, then I’ll work to find funding in another place. It shouldn’t be hard.” I shrugged and smiled. “I’d much rather stay with you guys, but business is business.”

  Alfred’s expression fell. “Let us discuss your proposition, and we’ll vote again today. Give us twenty-four hours.”

  “Done. Enjoy your evening.” I reached out and ended the video conference. I had asked for far more than I imagined they would give me in credit lines for the building of our new moonshine facilities in Kentucky, but I had faith in what we were up to.

  The need to beat my father at his own game was powerful fuel for the drive.

  Memories of my father berating me during my football games washed over me, followed up by him not coming to my graduation from high school because I graduated in the top five percent and not number one.

  He never failed to find an opportunity to remind me that I wasn’t the son he’d hoped to get.

  Sucked to be him.

  Clay stuck his head into the room. “You done?”

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you guys downtown.” I glanced over my shoulder before returning my gaze back to the stadium. It was my vision to purchase it and every other thing my father loved until nothing that he looked at didn’t have my name on it.

  “See you there, boss.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Now if there was just a beautiful woman to dance and drink the night away with. Maybe it was time to go back to being a slut. That had worked out in everyone’s favor, mine especially.

  Chapter 9

  Vanessa

  “Lean back and relax. You want some coffee, wine, or tea?” Dr. Langford crossed her dainty hands on her narrow lap.

  “No. I just finished a Mountain Dew before coming here.” I took a long breath and let it out slowly, letting my eyes close.

  “Let’s pick up where we left off last week. On your feelings of inauthenticity.” Her voice was calming. Was that something they taught in shrink school? I didn’t know, but asking her seemed a little bit off the beaten path.

  “Right.” I crossed my hands over my stomach and sank down into the chaise lounge that supported my weight. “It’s my job.”

  “Tell me about why you’re determined to keep your identity hidden while at the radio station, Vanessa.”

  “It’s not because I’m worried that all of Nashville will hunt me down with flowers and chocolates.” I opened one eye and offered her a mischievous smile.

  She smiled back. “Or Mountain Dew and donuts, right?”

  I loved that she knew me so well. I paid for her to know me well, but it was nice that she was keeping up her end of the bargain.

  “Honestly? I just don’t want to be judged.”

  “Dive into that for me.”

  I nodded. “I’ve never really been in a relationship before. How many people would find my advice valid if they knew that?”

  “And you think that if the world finds out you’re Nessa that they would then dig up information just to defame you?”

  A chuckle slipped from my pursed lips. “Absolutely. The world is filled with judgmental assholes that don’t support deep love and romance the way I do. I’m
sure they’d love to have the show go completely off the air altogether.”

  “What backs up this theory?”

  Great. She never wasted time poking holes in my theories. Though it was annoying as hell, it helped to set me back to thinking right. In the end, I was grateful.

  We worked through my negative beliefs for the next forty minutes, but in the end, I was still firmly planted in the truth that no one needed to be made the wiser about my career choices.

  “The public doesn’t need to know about my alter ego. They can know what I’m comfortable with them knowing. That I’m a girl who works at a clothing store for skinny people. I suppose there’s some inauthenticity there, too.” I laughed. It was a bitter sound in my ears.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I sighed heavily. “My stupid store never has my size. I mean, sure, every now and then a dress or a top comes along that fits. But it’s so rare.”

  “Do you suppose that’s because you’re the average size of most women in America? You’re beautiful and curvy. Your body serves you well. It does more for you than just fits into clothes.”

  “I appreciate all of that, but it isn’t because everyone size sixteen and above rushed in and stole up all the dresses. In the order, there were only size tens and below. Um, right. Not happening. Asshats. Butt clowns.”

  Her cheeks grew pink. “Colorful.”

  “I try.” I reached down to grab my purse when I saw the clock behind my therapist had struck the hour of our time together. Standing, I offered her what I hoped was a smile that said I’ll be fine. “I wish it were fair in the world of weight, but it’s not.”

  “Maybe it comes down to the old adage that you want what you don’t have?” She got to her feet as well and walked me to her office door. On a small table beside the door was an essential oil diffuser. Her office always smelled like eucalyptus and mint.

  “I guess. Either way, it feels very unfair.”

  “I understand. I want to hear more about this Rhys character when you come back.” She crossed her arms over her tiny middle. “You think he’s Mr. No Name, or are you wanting him to be?”

  “A bit of both?” I smiled and walked out the door. Rhys was my favorite caller on the show. Of that, I had no doubt.

  Too bad I’d offended the hell out of him the weekend before.

  Some childish part of me wanted to feel hurt by him walking away after I laid out the truth about his character, but I couldn’t muster it up. Namely because I was the one that was full of shit. If he was my caller, then he was everything but a conceited rich boy with his head up his ass.

  My phone buzzed, bringing me out from the rabbit hole I was headed down.

  It was Kim.

  “Hey. What’s up?” I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the bright afternoon sunlight as I emerged from the office building my shrink had her clinic in. It was an unusually warm day for fall and I considered shrugging out of my light jacket. A group of three young men on a smoke break outside an SUV parked three spaces down from my little Honda made the decision to keep the jacket on very easy.

  “I’m in town for a few days again,” Kim said. She sounded slightly out of breath.

  “Good. I’ve missed you.” I got in my car and wrestled with the seatbelt. “You want to have a girls’ night tonight?”

  “Are you working at the station?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be done around nine or so. We can do a late dinner?”

  “Sounds good. Are you headed back to the dress shop?” Kim sounded almost out of breath. It made soft static sounds on the other end of the line.

  “No. Where are you?” I already knew the answer. I shouldn’t have even bothered asking.

  “The gym. On the elliptical. Finishing up my sixth mile.”

  “Is Mr. Forty there?” AKA Mr. Bag of Dicks.

  “No, but I slept with him last week after you said he was a dick.”

  “What?” Heat flushed my chest and neck. “He was married! That’s what you said.”

  “Yep. Not my problem. I needed a tussle in the sheets, and the gay man that Jack set me up with would never do.”

  I could almost hear her shrug. “That’s the kind of shit you’ll get karma wrinkles for, Kim.”

  “Oh please. I’m way less of a bitch than your Nannie. And that’s what Botox is for.”

  I turned the ignition. My car rumbled and sputtered as it came to life and music flooded the stereo. I hurried to turn it down. “Dinner tonight then?”

  “Dancing.”

  “Not a chance. I’ve got nothing to wear. I’m not going.”

  “Yes, you are. Wear that hot black number we bought you a few months back with your red heels.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Tell me yes. I’m your bossy as fuck best friend, and I need to dance tonight. Come with me, lest someone snatch me up, rape me, and kill me. Then I’ll cry your name out from the grave for the rest of eternity.”

  “Seriously?” I reversed out of my space and drove toward the parking lot exit, where I took a right and slammed on my brakes as a teenager rode his bike into the intersection without looking. “Fucking teenagers.”

  “I swear it on Mr. Forty’s infidelity that I am serious right now. And if you don’t come out with me, I might just end up tangled in the sheets with him again. He has a huge—”

  “Kim! I don’t want to know!”

  She snickered. “I was going to say penthouse.”

  “Sure you were.”

  “Come dancing. It’s not a request.”

  “I hate you.”

  “You love me and wish you were a dude so you could marry me,” Kim said.

  “I’m hanging up.” I ended the call and laughed, unable to help myself. She was a hot mess in heels. Always had been and most likely always would be. But she was my hot mess in heels and I wouldn’t have traded her for the world.

  The drive to the station was short, and I spent most of it on my hands-free phone with my mom. She’d apologized for Nannie several times and the way she’d behaved. It was the same old song and dance.

  “I don’t need you to apologize for her, Mom. She’s hateful. That’s it.” I pulled up to the station and parked the car. “She was berating me for being fat when Rhys walked in.”

  Mom changed the subject, which was her specialty. “Oh, wow. He’s gotten so handsome, right? And I saw him talking to you by the fire.”

  “Firstly, no man that looks that good and is that rich is worth anyone’s time. I’m sure he’s a terrible person.” I got out of the car and wondered who I was trying to convince, her or me. “Secondly, no way he’d be interested in a big girl like me.”

  “Vanessa! You’re not a big girl. You’re perfect. Stop that. I’m serious. I don’t like it.”

  When I was mean to myself, she checked me on it. But when her mother was? God forbid she lifted a finger to put a stop to it.

  “Fine. I need to go.”

  “You’re beautiful, and I would bet the farm on the fact that Rhys thought you were the most attractive woman at the gathering.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, Mom. I was the only one not married or eighty. Lots to choose from. And don’t bet a farm you don’t have.”

  “It’s an old saying, silly girl.” She paused for a second. “I love you. You’re going to find a good man. The right man. The one that will love you like your daddy loves me. And then the rest will be a happily ever after. Promise me you believe it.”

  “I believe it,” I mumbled and finally got off the phone with her.

  There was no way that was my future. Only my mother could believe something so silly and fiction based. As if life was a W. Parker book made into a film.

  “If only that were possible.” I walked down the hall toward my set and let myself live in that fantasy for a moment.

  Mr. No Name was there.

  And funnily enough, he had a face and a name.

  Chapter 10

  Vanessa

  The dress was tig
hter than I remembered.

  I glared at my reflection in Kim’s mirror closet doors and was personally offended by what I saw. There was too much thigh showing. Too much thick calf. Too much arm. Too much boob. It was all just too much.

  Tugging self-consciously at the hem of my dress, I raised my voice and called through the bathroom door to Kim, who was having a quick shower before getting ready to hit the club. “Kim! This dress is atrocious. Why the hell did you let me buy this thing?”

  “It looks fabulous on you. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hang on. I’ll be right out.”

  I sighed.

  This was my fate. I was destined to be the girl packed into a tight-fitting dress for the rest of my life. The girl standing at the back of the crowd. The girl with the pretty smile but no waist. The girl with the weight to lose. The girl with the whispers behind her back of at least she has a sense of humor.

  I gnawed at the inside of my cheek and wished I had a backup outfit. There were plenty of things in my closet I could’ve worn tonight instead of this sausage casing. Hell, the dress I wore to Nannie’s eightieth would have been better than this atrocity.

  The bathroom door swung open. Steam that smelled like vanilla and coconut wafted out and Kim emerged with rosy skin all wrapped up in a towel. She turned to me and planted a hand on her hip. I tried to resist admiring the long lines of her bare legs and arms. It was damn near impossible. Standing next to her made me wish I could disappear altogether.

  But there was no disappearing in this dress.

  There wasn’t enough fucking fabric.

  “I hate it.” I tugged again at the hem with displeasure. “It doesn’t fit. It certainly doesn’t flatter. I’m not going.”

  “Don’t be such a sorry sport. You look great! I mean look at those tits!”

  “How can you not look at them? They’re practically falling out.”

  I wasn’t lying. The dress was what might have been a sleek little number on a thinner girl. On me, it was a rolling wave of velvet fabric that clung to me in all the wrong places. I was a cinnamon roll of curves nobody would want to take a bite of.