by Portia Moore
“Did you just get in?” Tessa asks as a waiter brings champagne and fills our glasses.
“Yes, from New York, what about you?” I ask, trying to warm to the beautiful girl that just might be Russell’s mistress.
“Russell had business in Washington. I can’t wait until we’re able to get to California, I’m dying for some fun,” she groans.
“I’m not fun enough for you Princess?” Russell interjects and she gives him a teasing smile.
“Oh you’re plenty of fun.” Her tone is entirely suggestive. “But I mean the clubs in Texas and Washington are nothing compared to Cali, right Madison?” She laughs, looking to me for confirmation.
“I’ve never been to California,” I reply, and she looks at me as if I’ve grown another head.
“Jackson, what are you waiting on!” she giggles. Jackson takes my hand and kisses it. “How long have you guys been together?” I ask her, since it seems her and Jackson are pretty familiar with one another.
“These boys have been a bad influence on me for a while.”
I have to stop myself from frowning at her. I don’t like the way she’s included Jackson in a question I asked about her and Russell’s relationship, and I scold myself for acting like an insane jealous bitch.
“What about you two?” Tessa asked. “How long have you been going at it?”
“We met at a party,” Jackson answers for me. “And I thought she was the most captivating woman in the entire room. So I had to talk to her...and here we are.” That makes a smile spread across my face.
“Aww, how sweet,” Tessa coos. A waiter appears and takes our order and afterwards the men fall into conversation about business and numbers that I’m completely uninterested in, leaving me and Tessa to entertain one another. Tessa is actually older than me at twenty-six and I’m shocked, but I’m not surprised that she’s a model. And not just the Instagram kind—even though she says that pays her the most—but she’s been in a few print magazines and done runway shows for Prada and Gucci. She tells me she met Russell at one of the shows she was working and they’ve been seeing each other for seven months. Once the food arrives our conversations merge and dinner goes a lot better than I thought it would have at my first impression of them.
That could also be due to the two tequila sunrises I had. As we all stand out front of the restaurant after dinner waiting on the cars, Tessa turns to me.
“Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I say almost reluctantly. Tessa was nice enough but we didn’t have much in common aside from us dating best friends and being around the same age. Spending a day shopping with her, especially since I’ve been trying to save money, wasn’t exactly appealing.
“That’d be a great idea, Jackson’s treat of course,” Russell chimes in boisterously, patting Jackson on the back who then pulls me to him and kisses me on the neck.
“I’ll be in meetings all day and you deserve some shopping,” he tells me. I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable after knowing how much he just spent on me at Saks, but before I can protest Tessa squeals.
“We’re going to have so much fun!”
We exchange numbers and soon the valet pulls up with our car, and we say our goodbyes.
“So what did you think?” Jackson asks me, and I shrug with a small smile.
“They were nice,” I say. Jackson gives me a knowing look and arches a brow at me with a grin.
“You don’t like them?” he asks.
“No, I didn’t say that.” I swat him.
“Russell isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but he grows on you. What about Tessa?” he asks.
“She was cool, babe,” I tell him honestly.
“But…” He waits for the other shoe to drop. I stop to think; this is his best friend, one he’s been friends with since he was a kid. I can’t tell him he’s sort of smarmy and ask if Tessa is his mistress.
“But nothing, I’m excited to get to know her more tomorrow,” I say trying to bring my mood up several notches. When Jackson’s hand lands between my thighs and trails upward, I know my mood’s about to go up organically. I lean back and close my eyes as he begins to play. My attempts at trying to remind myself how different they are from us disappears.
I feel Jackson kiss me while half asleep. My eyelids are heavy and my body exhausted from the night before. By the time I sit up in bed I spot Jackson already dressed, slipping out the door. I turn to see an envelope on the nightstand with my name on it with Have fun! written underneath it. When I open it I shouldn’t be surprised but it’s still shocking seeing the sleek black card and knowing I’ve been given permission to use it, with no limit. The magnitude of it hits me like a brick to the face. How much do I spend? Do I spend anything? Maybe this is a test. Is there etiquette for this type of thing? What if I don’t spend enough and embarrass him in front of his best friend’s girlfriend, his best friend that is still wearing a wedding band? I put it down, deciding not to think about it and order a light breakfast. I then call Parker and tell her about dinner the night before.
“So his friend’s girlfriend is young too?” Parker asks as coherently as she can while brushing her teeth.
“Yeah and he called her his girlfriend while wearing a wedding ring.” Parker gives me a what the fuck? look.
“I know. It was kind of weird. Their vibe was too and now I’m supposed to go shopping with her,” I tell her while brushing my hair. I leave out the part about Jackson leaving me his black card. It feels too strange to even say, not that Parker would judge or be envious since, well, Parker’s parents are rich as hell, but I can’t help feeling somewhat embarrassed about it. But I’m sure it’ll pass; retail therapy is a cure for everything, even if temporarily.
“Well, what did Jackson say?”
“We didn’t talk about it; I didn’t want to ruin the night,” I tell her almost sheepishly. She arches a suspicious brow at me.
“Since when do you think before the words tumble out of your mouth?” I roll my eyes at her.
“Since I wanted to make sure I could hop up and down on his dick,” I tell her and she can’t help but laugh, but truthfully I’m nervous and I don’t know why.
“Are you going to ask her today?” she says, her teeth all clean now and washing her face.
“About the ring?” I’m stalling, deliberately.
“Yes,” she laughs and tilts her head at me, staring at me curiously.
“What’s up with you?” She’s smiling and looks a little amused but there’s a hint of concern in her tone.
“Nothing…” I trail off, wondering what’s wrong with me. But I don’t feel like me. All of these feelings are new, caring so much about someone, what they think and how they feel. Not that I’ve never cared before but not like this, not where I am almost altering who I am to not tip the balance of— no, not one of—but the best relationships of my life.
“Talk to me Mad Maddy,” she says, her nickname for me since our sophomore year. When we found out her boyfriend was cheating on her we bleached all of his clothes and left them at the front door of the girl he was screwing around on her with.
“I hate this feeling…everything being so raw and open and I feel so…exposed,” I reveal. Her face lights up, her eyes widening.
“Maddy, I think you’ve grown a heart!” she exclaims sarcastically and I give her the finger.
Tessa picks me up in a cherry red Mercedes.
“Hi Hun,” she squeals happily as I get in. My eyes sweep over her and I suddenly feel severely underdressed. Tessa’s platinum blonde hair is in a perfect blowout, bone straight, her makeup expertly done, wearing a fitted orange short bandage dress and heels. I have on a Victoria’s Secret pink sweat suit, my hair in a messy bun, and Nikes on my feet.
“Are you ready to burn up some plastic?” she says excitedly and I have to admit her enthusiasm is almost contagious.
“I am,” I tell her with a concealed laugh. Tessa speeds off blasting Ariana Grande.
“So, is this your first shopping trip with the card?” she asks in a way that isn’t condescending but almost playful. I feel my cheeks go hot.
“I only asked because last night you seemed so hesitant. Trust me, they have more money than they could spend in six lifetimes, so don’t hold back today,” she says with a flip of her perfectly dyed hair. I let out a soft sigh.
“You seem…sort of an expert at all of this,” I comment, trying to put it in the most inoffensive way that I can.
“You can say that this isn’t my first rodeo with a rich guy. This is your first time though, isn’t it?” she smirks.
“You can say that,” I admit honestly.
“I remember my first,” she says with a wistful smile.
“I was sixteen and he was twenty-two. A total trust fund baby. While my friends’ little boyfriends had scraped together enough money to buy them Michael Kors wristlets, Chad had me on my third Louis Vuitton.”
My eyes go wide and she laughs at my shock.
“Ever since then I knew I couldn’t go back to dating guys whose entry level paycheck could barely afford dinner at Ruth Chris. I moved on from Chad, to Zander, to Evan, and now Russell.”
“You only date rich men?” I ask her, and she laughs haughtily but light.
“Not rich, wealthy. There’s a big difference. Men with as much money as Russell and Jackson don’t see it how other men do. A guy our age takes you out on a $40 date and they expect you to blow them for their effort. Money is...I won’t say meaningless to wealthy men, because of course that’s not true, but let’s just say they know how to place the right value on what’s important.” She looks at me.
“Which is us,” she tells me straight-faced, and I don’t feel as guilty as I did earlier when I first saw her and thought she was a gold digger, as she’s proudly admitted to it.
“Russell knows you only date rich men?” I ask her as we walk through the entrance of the mall. With the sky high heels she’s wearing she’s about five inches taller than me and I feel like a little girl being schooled by her older sister. She looks at me as amusement dances in her eyes.
“He should…” She laughs as she heads straight into the Prada store. We’re instantly greeted by sales people who flock to her, probably because she screams sell to me! From the large Celine on her arm, the platinum watch on her wrist, and the red beneath her shoes, they know she’s here to spend and it won’t even be a hard sell. She gives them a million-dollar smile. Compliments are thrown from all directions: “Your hair is gorgeous,” “I love your dress,” “That’s the newest season Celine?” I watch as she moves through the room, noticing an older man in his fifties following her with his eyes even though he’s there with what seems to be his wife.
“I think these would look great on you,” she says, pointing to a pair of large thick black oval-framed glasses. They are gorgeous, but I’m hesitant.
“Come on. Once you make your first swipe all of this will be easier,” she encourages me with a charming smile.
“I’ll try them on,” I say to appease her. She claps her manicured hands in excitement. I let out a small sigh and try them on.
“They look great on you, they highlight your bone structure perfectly,” a sales girl says.
“How much are they?” I ask, and Tessa frowns at me.
“The price doesn’t matter to you…you’re not paying for it, remember?” She laughs lightly. I ignore her and look back at the sales girl.
“Just $470,” she says easily with a grin.
“She’ll take two, a white pair as well.” My eyes bulge and Tessa just laughs and squeezes my shoulder.
“I can’t believe I spent almost a thousand dollars on two pair of sunglasses!” I tell her as we leave the store.
“You didn’t spend anything. This is Jackson’s treat,” she reminds me.
“How long have you been seeing Jackson again? I can’t believe you just now got the card.” She laughs.
“Going on two months, and shopping sprees have never come up,” I say, still thinking how difficult it might be to return the glasses. If I was going to spend this much I might as well get me a new Mac Book but Jackson thinks I’m going clothes shopping. How the hell does this work?
“Tessa, I don’t know how you get used to this. You don’t feel the least bit uncomfortable spending other people’s money so freely?” I inquire. We’re in the Chanel store now as she tries on her third pair of shoes…and not to be hypocritical, but she doesn’t ask or even look for the price on a single pair of them.
“While Russell and I—or whoever and I—are together, it’s our money. And he wants to keep me happy. He has it, I don’t. Why wouldn’t they want to share in their good fortune? If they didn’t, they’d be selfish assholes.”
I frown but her simple logic isn’t exactly insane.
“Besides, we’re young and beautiful and at our peak, so for them to enjoy us during this time of our youth then they should pay,” she explains almost indignantly and the statement almost knocks me out of my seat until my eyes land on a striking metallic blue bag. Tessa’s eyes follow mine.
“Get it,” she says simply, almost sternly.
“I know for a fact that bag is almost six thousand dollars,” I mutter.
“It’s like sixty bucks for Jackson and I’m sure you’ll show him how thankful you are later tonight.”
“I’ll have the garden salad and a mimosa,” Tessa orders.
“Same,” I tell the waiter. I’ve never been a salad type of girl but my stomach feels like it’s on a cruise ship. I am now the owner of a Chanel bag and two pairs of Prada sunglasses. Aside from Jackson’s gifts from me, these three items total the entire worth of my closet right now—hell, the worth of my closet for the past three years. My stomach is too nervous to accept anything more than lettuce.
“You are so cute; I can’t wait to see you in a few months once you get used to all of this!” Tessa says, not bothered one bit by what she’s spent. She bought so much it’s going to be couriered to where they’re staying.
“What if Jackson freaks out? I can’t believe I just spent this much! I’m going to take it back.” I stand and before I’m halfway from the table, Tessa grabs my wrist.
“Madison.” This is the first time she’s ever said my actual name.
“Call Jackson now and tell him. You’ll see that you’re completely overreacting.” She laughs as if it’s simple. My stomach drops.
“I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.” The reality of what I’ve just done hits me. It’s one thing for Jackson to choose things for me himself but another for me to just swipe his card like this…it’s crazy. Tessa huffs, pulls out her phone, and puts it to her ear while looking annoyed.
“Hey babe, is Jackson with you?” she asks lightly. My eyes go wide.
“Hang up!” I whisper-shout, but she waves me off.
“Yes, can I talk to him a minute?”
“What are you doing!” I ask her frantically.
“Hi Jackson, yes everything is fine. Me and Madison are having lunch. We just did some shopping.”
“Give me the phone. I’ll talk to him,” I relent, feeling lightheaded. She gives me a smile.
“Hold on a sec, she wants to talk to you.” She hands me the phone and I let out a deep breath.
“Hey sweetheart, everything good?” he asks. I hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, yes…no. Not really. Jackson…I bought a Chanel bag and I don’t know what I was thinking but I’m about to take it back.”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he interjects so lightly I almost drop my phone.
“It’s…okay?” I repeat, and I hear him laugh.
“I told you to get what you want. So is that something you wanted?”
“Uhm yeah but Jackson that—”
“What color did you get?” he asks and I’m totally thrown off.
“Uhh…blue,” I say awkwardly.
“Go back and get a black one,” he
says and my heart stops beating. I’m dead.
“Enjoy today….you can thank me later,” he says suggestively.
“I’ve got to go but I’ll see you this evening sweetheart.”
“Oh, okay.” I feel a weight lift from my chest as I hand Tessa her phone back, who is smiling at me widely.
“Feel better now?” she laughs and I nod. I do.
“I think that deserves a drink. A real one.” She giggles, and we do have another. We drink the mimosas and then order cocktails. Once the bottom of mine is finished I realize I like Tessa so much more than I did yesterday.
“So are you in looove with Jack? You seem like it,” she quips, her voice a tad slurred, and I laugh at her because who could blame her?
“I don’t know, it’s so soon and new, but I’m close,” I confess, and I realize she’s the first person I’ve admitted this to…the first time I’ve admitted it to myself.
“What about you and Russell? You’ve been together so much longer…you think it’ll eventually get to marriage and kids?” I ask her. She lets out a cute laugh and smiles almost secretively.
“What?” I ask and laugh with her.
“I can’t marry Russell, he already has a wife.” She says this as if I’ve told a ridiculous joke that she’s trying to hold her laughter back at.
“He’s married…” The words leave a distinct taste in my mouth, foul and disgusting. What an asshole! I was right! And the nerve he has to wear his ring while flaunting his girlfriend around.
“Did you know?” I ask, trying to contain my judgment. Maybe she didn’t know when they fell in love, which is still terrible, but it will allow me to finish out the lunch with her.
“I’m not an idiot, and he was upfront about it, which I appreciated. It makes it easier to get things out of him when I make him feel guilty about being his young little side piece.” She giggles and I feel sick. Her eyes narrow in on me.