by Kat T. Masen
Then there is the whole body-image thing. I expect only the finest of plastic surgery tonight—artificial breasts and pouty lips, Botox faces and still expressions.
“You’ll run circles around these women. They know it. You’ll feel the wrath of their jealousy. And the men… you just stay by my side.”
“But…”
He kisses my lips, softly, pulling back and gazing at me with his mesmerizing eyes. “You’re beautiful… and mine. Stop worrying.”
The calm of his voice eases my concerns. I pull myself off him, resting into his side as we continue the drive. I take note of his advice. This will be the first time I have ever attended such an event. I’ve done the prom nights, weddings, and the occasional bar mitzvah but nothing that involves rich people throwing around their money for a charitable cause.
The car turns the circle, past a massive stone fountain, and parks out front. The driver courteously opens the door, guiding Wesley out first. Wesley extends his hand, allowing me to hold on as these new stilettos are difficult to balance on.
I wonder if the driver sees anything behind the privacy screen, but as I watch his goodbye, he remains professional and doesn’t let on anything.
In front of the main entrance, a white strip of carpet leads to double doors which open, courtesy of the doorman. He kindly offers to take our coats. Wesley has his suit jacket on which he hands over without a thank you, and I take mine off, revealing my dress in full. I thank him, unsure if I need to tip him, but I’m not left with much choice as Wesley whisks me into the foyer.
“Again, you look sexy as fuck.” He kisses my neck, not caring that people lingering in the foyer are gazing at us.
“You said I dress like a nun.”
“Well, if nuns dress like this, I will be lining up at the convent begging for forgiveness.”
I slap his arm gently. “You look handsome… okay, kinda hot.”
“Kinda hot?”
“Okay, you look hot. But if I focus anymore on your hotness, I can mop the floors with my panties,” I tease, the excitement running through me.
“Damn, and here I was thinking you were going commando.”
“Maybe I am. What if I said that to throw you off? Nothing like an unsolved mystery of panties versus no panties.”
As if commando isn’t my thing. I haven’t even graduated to a thong. I’m wearing this lacy number—French cut which is as small as I can go without my ass cheeks hanging out.
He shakes his head, laughing. “Save it for later, baby. And thanks for your visual.”
With my hand in his, he leads us to the main room but not without a cheeky gesture of ‘accidentally’ brushing my hand against his crotch. He’s rock hard, testing me with a delicious smirk that only fuels the desire burning through me.
We enter the large room filled with guests. It’s such a beautiful room with high ceilings and fancy chandeliers that light up the room and create a warm ambiance. Each wall is covered in expensive-looking artwork, though put together with the lighting and silk drapes makes the room look amazing.
People are standing around, happily chatting in small circles. Almost everyone is wearing black or white, a few wearing some daring colors and stand out in the crowd. A waiter walks past carrying a tray of champagne, which brings attention to my thirst. Wesley grabs two for us, at least, I thought they were for us. Instead, he drinks both of them, one after the other.
Annoyed, I grab my own and follow on cue.
“Waiter,” Wesley yells, annoyed. “We aren’t done yet.”
The waiter, a young fellow, looks rather bored and uninterested at Wesley’s rude behavior. To avoid coming across like rich snobs, which I’m not by a long shot, I grab another and thank him kindly.
“Why don’t you just go to bed with him,” Wesley bellows, out of nowhere.
“What did you just say?”
“Never mind.”
I heard him.
Loud and clear.
Just as I’m about to bring it up again, a woman stops where the two of us are standing. She’s quite short, though wearing high gold pumps and a slimming white beaded dress. Her hair—platinum blonde—is curled nicely and pinned to the side. I say she looks mid-forties but hard to pin-point behind the obvious plastic surgery done to her cheeks and lips.
“You must be Wesley’s girlfriend, Milana.” She extends her hand, awaiting a shake in return. I don’t know who she is or whether I should acknowledge that my real name is Milana.
I thought I’d be Anita Dick for the night?
“This is my mother,” Wesley says flatly, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh!” I grab her hand immediately to shake it. “Please to meet you Mrs…”
I draw a blank, realizing I don’t know her surname.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ve change husbands more than I have underwear. It’s Mrs. Cole. But please, call me Gina.”
“Gina.” I smile politely.
“Now, tell me, how did you both meet? Are you an actress?”
“Uh no, I’m a personal assistant.”
Her eyes pique with curiosity. “To Wesley?”
“No, Mother, to Em, if you must pry.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you look beautiful, and I really hope you enjoy the night.”
“I’m sure I will Mrs… I mean, Gina.”
Gina examines both of us, following with a fake smile. She latches onto Wesley’s arm which appears to make him uncomfortable. “Have you said hello to Carson?”
“I said I will come to support the event.”
“Wesley, don’t start now.”
The tension mounts between them, broken by the guest speaker announcing the events of the evening. We turn our focus before applause erupts and the music carries on. Wesley excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the corner with a napkin and some shrimp. Upon my second bite, my clutch begins to vibrate, prompting me to retrieve my cell.
“Milly, what have you done?”
Phoebe’s desperation catches me off guard, forcing me to move toward a room less noisy to be able to listen properly.
“Phoebe, what are you talking about?”
“Liam, he came back home, and he’s been—”
“What, Phoebe? I don’t have time for this. Liam is a big boy,” I tell her, covering my guilt.
“Liam is a big boy? So, what Liam said is true. You’re screwing Wesley Rich? My God, Milly, have you lost your mind? You know what diseases he must carry. I can’t believe you would do this to Liam. And why didn’t you tell me about Wesley?”
“Because he’s just a friend. I don’t know what Liam’s told you, but yes, we are now in a relationship. Liam and I are over. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I don’t want to expose this just yet. It will not be good for my career. I hope you understand that.”
I can hear her breathing on the line, Phoebe’s wrath of fury ready to unleash.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You said you wouldn’t become one of them. You cheat on your boyfriend and with the worst possible guy. Next, you’ll be snorting lines and shooting up like your new boyfriend.”
“That’s uncalled for!” A waiter walking past turns my way, quickly moving on with his head bowed. “You don’t know Wesley. Just because you read it doesn’t mean it’s true. I haven’t changed. Maybe you’ve changed. I have to go now.”
“Well, just to make you feel better, Liam is fucking Sienna, the hot blonde from the pub.”
“Thanks a lot,” I respond rudely. “I have to go.” I hang up the phone without haste, letting out an annoying huff. How dare she say those things to me? Despite our close friendship, her words are mean and hurtful. I turn the corner in a fluster, only to be blocked by a man. I don’t recall seeing him before, older yet dashing in his black tuxedo.
“You must be Wesley’s new girlfriend. Gina told me all about you.” He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “I’m Carson Cole. Gina’s husband.”
“Oh, right.” I
return the gesture, ignoring the fact that he holds onto my hand much longer than I anticipated. “Wesley’s stepfather. Have you seen him around by chance?”
He’s standing awfully close to me, making me somewhat uncomfortable.
“I haven’t, but you know, Wesley isn’t one to commit. Take it from me, darling, you don’t want to put all your eggs in that basket. You’re a pretty girl.” He glances rather obviously at my chest, his breathing fast-paced.
“I should probably go find him.”
Carson grabs my arm, a little forceful. “Why don’t we go find him together? I think I saw him upstairs.”
“How about you let go of my arm?” I point out, biting down to stop myself from screaming. “I have to go.”
I turn left, unsure where I’m heading. It’s a dead-end, making me anxious as I know Carson’s close by. A door opens, a waiter exiting what looks like the kitchen with a tray full of canapés. I go inside, zig-zagging between the kitchen staff busily preparing meals. The other entrance opens to a small patio where a few people are standing around smoking. I scramble through the grass, stilettos digging into the dirt until I’m back at the front.
Wesley is beside the fountain, a young woman in front of him standing rather close. I stop fast in my tracks, watching them from afar. I can only see her physique from behind—curvy backside in a tight white dress that stops just short of her ass. If it were any shorter, I’m certain her anatomy could be seen by everyone here at the party.
The pumps she wears are gold and strappy, wrapping around her ankle and reaching her mid-calf. Her figure is slim, and exactly how the magazines depict actresses. No doubt she is one.
I do, however, admire the color of her hair. A bright-colored red that’s paper straight and falls just above her waist. Though my gut is telling me I shouldn’t be admiring a woman who has casually placed her hand on my boyfriend’s chest.
Wesley seems agitated, removing her hand abruptly and lighting up a smoke. “Fuck off. What are you doing here?”
“Stop the games. Let’s go… c’mon, a quick fuck upstairs. You can take me up the ass… I know you love it that way.”
Wesley smiles, my stomach swarming with this sick feeling from his enthusiasm. This isn’t the way to start a relationship. I could butt in, interrupt this so-called hookup, or I can act mature and trust my boyfriend.
I so want to trust him.
His smile becomes a sinister laugh. “I took you up the ass, so I didn’t have to look at your face. Go away.”
The woman attempts to slap his face, but Wesley is quick to hold her back.
“You asshole!” she shouts, defiant and stomping her feet. “The last time you chose to act like this, you paid a very high price, Wesley. I’m not sure you want to make the same mistake again.”
“Sweetheart…” he touches her face, admiring her lips with a longing gaze, “… you are the mistake. You’re everyone’s mistake. Now carry on, I’m sure Carson is waiting for you in his office. I’ve heard he likes young ass, too. Right up your alley.”
Her words are jumbled, and with an irritated huff, she disappears back inside the house, leaving Wesley alone. Whatever I just witnessed, seems surreal. It’s like I walked onto the set of a soap opera. People sleeping with random people. Deceit. Lies. This isn’t me.
No, me is hanging out with my best friend back home, lying on the grass out back and counting the stars while we consume large bags of marshmallows and discuss Phoebe marrying a prince of some small country which leads her to become a queen. Foolish, out of this world but nevertheless, it’s what we did.
Tonight is too much for me. The events, the people, losing my best friend, and Wesley’s promiscuous ways. I can’t rid myself of the ill-feeling that nestles its way and sits in the pit of my stomach. It might be the shrimp, but I know deep down it’s more than that.
This, all of this, is another world to me. It terrifies me.
And when something drives fear into me, my reaction is always to make it go away. Do whatever it takes. Taking slow breaths, I walk toward the fountain.
Wesley’s eyes meet mine with an annoyed expression. “I’ve been looking for you,” he barks, irritated.
“Not hard, I assume. Can we go now?”
A gust of wind blows between us. Wesley’s expression softens as he puts his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. “Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”
“Just not my thing,” I lie, coupled with a forced smile. “Let’s have some fun. Take me somewhere fun.”
It’s as if he knows what I need is to escape reality. A sardonic grin spreads across his handsome face, his intentions anything but good.
“You want to have fun? I know just the place…”
Chapter Sixteen
Wesley Rich is on a mission.
My heels drag across the dirt with my balance compromised as he pulls my hand, stopping at a locked fence. There’s a large padlock hanging off the latch, and a sign that reads No Trespassing.
Between balancing a smoke in the corner of his mouth and trying to break the latch, he’s getting nowhere.
Inside my purse sits a pocketknife. An impromptu purchase during my first night here. Removing it from the secret compartment, I slide the knife out and jimmy the lock until the latch opens.
“How?” Wesley asks, scratching his head in confusion.
“Do I know how to break a lock? Let’s just say back in high school, I had this constant need to hang out under the bleachers.”
He tilts his head with an impressed grin. “So much I have to learn about you. But for now, you wanted fun… I will give you fun.”
I follow his lead, keeping close, with my eyes searching the surroundings. The sign outside says Funland Amusement Park. It’s no Disneyland, just a small booth at the front and some rides scattered around the field.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You said somewhere fun. This is called Funland, so why the hell not?”
His hand disappears into the pocket of his jacket, and moments later, he removes a flask. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
After tonight’s phone call from Phoebe and Carson’s sleazy moves—which I decide to keep from Wesley so as to not anger him—I’m more than happy to drink anything and make it all go away.
“Okay, shall we hit the games, first?”
I can barely answer. The spirit I swallow burns my throat and makes my head spin. God, this tastes awful. It almost makes me dry heave, yet I manage to stomach whatever sits inside that flask.
I don’t know why he bothers to ask me what I want to do, since he does what he wants anyway, pulling the tarpaulin off the game and finding a switch nearby. The clown’s head turns on, eerily moving in the dead of the night while Wesley laughs and shoves balls in its mouth.
“Everyone’s a winner, right?” He climbs over the clown’s head, a large thump sounding when his feet hit the metal floor. “Take a pick, my lady,” he says, bowing.
“We can’t steal that.”
Minutely shaking his head with an annoyed expression, he yanks some bills out of his front pocket, shoving it in the clown’s mouth. “Better? I’ll fucking pay for one. Now pick.”
“Wesley, you don’t have to.”
“So, what if I don’t win it?” Another cigarette makes its way to his mouth, the smoke lingering in the air. “I want to buy it for you.”
“Fine, the purple monkey.”
With a pleased smile, he pulls it off the wall, passing it to me. “Sweet, aren’t I?”
He jumps off the side, spinning around like a crazed lunatic. “If only life is like this… an amusement park. Laughing all day long. Cotton candy on tap.”
“I’m sure there’s a downside to it,” I say out loud, without thinking.
“Why do you have to be so cynical?”
“Uh… hello? Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vigorously shaking his head, he finishes
the remnants of the flask, following with a satisfied moan. “Now, you wanted to have fun. Have fun with me.” He grabs my hand, taking the monkey and placing it on the ground, bringing me closer to his body and leading me into a waltz, right in the middle of the amusement park while he sings Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You. It’s corny, cheesy, yet perfect at this moment.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh as he dips me. “Who would have thought you were a closet Barry lover?”
“And you’re beautiful. Just for tonight, be crazy with me.”
I laugh again, spinning around. “There, crazy enough for you?”
He shakes his head, determined for me to let loose and be wild. “You can do better than that.”
I look around us. There’s a bumper car lot on the right, but bumper cars aren’t exactly living on the edge. In front, are a few kiddie rides, and beside them, a spinning octopus. It isn’t the ride that catches my attention, it’s the crazy adventure house beside it, standing tall, oddly-shaped mirrors in front with stairs and a spinning circle on top. It reminds me of the movie Grease when Sandy gets her groove on at the end.
“Okay, you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.” I pull his hand, leading him to the adventure house.
The mirrors show our reflection as we walk past while our bodies morph from abnormally short and fat to tall and skinny. We both laugh at ourselves, moving inside where the ground becomes uneven, and it’s incredibly dark. The moonlight provides limited light, but I don’t care. My adrenaline is high, something that often happens whenever I’m around him.
My hands clutch onto his shirt, pulling his body to mine, allowing me to bring his lips closer. The beat of my heart quickens while his lips warm mine and taste so goddamn good.
“I don’t know what it is when I’m with you…” I breathe between kisses, lost in this man who’s consumed me in a way I’ve never experienced, “… you’re so—”