by Kat T. Masen
Both times, we were mad at each other. The difference was, we made up within an hour.
It’s impossible to be mad at Phoebe, yet this time is different. We’re miles apart. She said words that can’t easily be forgiven, and she said I’d changed.
I don’t understand her defending Liam and making such a false statement on how much I have changed. I’m living life the only way I know how. Okay, so maybe I have to toughen up a bit, the LA crowd is sometimes heartless and unforgiving. You make one mistake, and it spreads like fire. As far as my job’s concerned, I seem to be doing fine. Emerson often compliments my organizational skills and talent to retain information.
And then there’s Wesley.
He’s not like any boyfriend I’ve had—dangerously smart and equally as sexy. Something about him excites me, allows me to live on the edge if only for this one moment. And then, out of the blue, I think about Mama.
I dial her number, realizing I haven’t called her in a few days.
“Milly, is that you?”
“Yes, Mama,” I croak.
The exhaustion, coupled with missing her, brings a tear to my eye. I manage to hold it back, widening my eyes in a failed attempt.
“I was wondering where you’ve been. Flynn says you’ve been busy with work. You know, Milly, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Work has been busy, Mama…” I pause, letting out a sigh. “So, what else has Flynn told you?”
“Nothing much. He has a gig two Fridays from now, and one of the executive producers of Platinum Records will be there watching them.”
I have no clue, but happy Flynn will finally get this opportunity. That is until I realize I’ll be in Vancouver.
“Shoot,” I say. “I think I’m in Vancouver for work.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure Flynn won’t mind. Vancouver sounds exciting.”
“It’s not that, Mama…” I yearn to tell her what’s going on, needing to get it all off my chest, requiring some guidance as to whether or not it’s possible to fall head over lust for a man in such a short time. But instead, typical me bottles it all up, not wanting to burden her with my troubles.
There’s a slight muffle in the background, voices amongst some music. Mama asks me to hold on for a moment, returning a minute later. “Milly, I have to go. We have this dinner thing tonight, and I promised to help set up. It was nice talking to you, sweetie. I’m glad you answered for once.”
“I called you, Mama.”
Mama laughs, quick to correct herself. “That’s right. Silly me. I love you, honey. Take care, will you?”
“Always, Mama.”
I hang up the phone, holding it against my chest and letting that lonesome tear fall graciously down my face. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I listen to her voice inside my head, opening my eyes in what only feels like minutes later.
It’s dark, and the clock on the car says it’s eight-fifteen.
Shit! I’ve fallen asleep in the car.
In a state of panic, I turn the ignition on and speed out of the street and onto the freeway toward home. By the time I reach our apartment, it’s just after eight-thirty. Joe’s out on the pavement, playing a game of backgammon with an undefeated Clifford from across the street. They’re both ranting, as usual, something about their fathers in the war and ungrateful children of today.
I quickly say hello, then run upstairs urgently needing to pee. When I open the apartment door, Flynn is lounging with some redheaded chick—a face that doesn’t look familiar, and therefore not the woman from the other morning. I wave hello before bolting to the bathroom, relieving myself, then exiting in a happier mood.
“Have you guys eaten?” I grab a menu off the table, realizing only now that I haven’t eaten since lunch.
“We can grab some pizzas,” Flynn suggests, eyeing me cautiously. “Kail, my sister, Milly.”
“Hey,” she mumbles, unimpressed.
“Hey…” I respond back with a quick smile. “Sure, order me my usual. I’m just going to get changed.”
I begin tearing my blouse off as I walk into my room. All of a sudden, I halt when the image of Wesley sitting on my bed startles me.
How?
Why didn’t Flynn tell me he was here?
My brother is a significant pain in my backside.
Wesley is anything but happy.
He’s grinding his teeth with his nostrils flaring at the same time. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts, tee, and sneakers, looking rather casual. His hair appears like it’s grown since this morning, which is impossible, yet, limp against his face until he combs it back with his fingers in a frustrating move.
“Oh, you’re here.”
Silence falls. I throw my bag onto the bed, and the second it lands, he grabs it unzipping the zipper and fumbling around removing my cell.
Holding it up, he gestures with an agitated expression. “Would you look at that? You do have battery… and your cell does work. Did it not occur to you to respond to any of my calls or texts?”
“I fell asleep,” I tell him. “I was exhausted from last night.”
“You fucking read my texts,” he yells, erratic and throwing my cell onto the bed. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Milana.”
“Bullshit?” I question, equally annoyed at his childish behavior. “Last week, you didn’t speak to me for days.”
“That’s different. We weren’t in a relationship.” He’s quick to remind me. “Do you know what happens in a relationship? You communicate. You don’t tell lies. I don’t know what type of a relationship you and that little farmer boy had, but that’s not how it works, okay?”
I don’t appreciate him putting Liam down or making me feel stupid. Of course, I know how a relationship works. Obviously, he doesn’t.
“Really? You want to talk about lying? Tell me, what meetings do you have scheduled for tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, work stuff, probably.”
I place my hands on my hips, shaking my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable! You’re going to lie to my face? We’ve been dating for like two minutes, and already we’re arguing. I swear, Wesley, you’re so up and down you could be a woman.”
Wesley bows his head, running his hands through his hair again with frustration. “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he says in a low tone.
“Of course, you didn’t.” I let out a frustrated sigh, my shoulders slumping from sheer exhaustion. “I don’t care what you think. I fell asleep tonight, in the car, tired as hell. I raced home to shower then call you. Right now, I want to eat pizza, and I want you to leave. No good will come of you staying here.”
“Milana,” he calls my name softly, extending his hand to touch mine.
I allow him to touch me, but just for a brief moment, scared he’ll consume me once again, and any chance I have of surviving will be minimal.
“Please, Wesley, go. Just for tonight, I need some space,” I beg of him.
I stare at the floor for what seems like forever.
His shoes make this squeaky sound against the wood until the sound stops at my door. Wesley holds onto the doorknob, clearing his throat, lifting his head to meet mine. “Space is never a good thing. You have twenty-four hours.”
I quirk my brows, glancing at him, confused by his ultimatum. “Twenty-four hours to do what?”
“To do whatever it is you have to do to understand you’re with me now. You’re my fucking girlfriend, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
The door opens wide, and before he leaves the room, I call for him to wait.
“I don’t think so. You have twenty-four hours for you to decide whether it’s her or me.”
I hate that I’ve bared my soul, allowed him to see how jealous and vulnerable I am. The thing is, I have nothing against Emerson. What I do have is the underlying feeling that my connection to her is somewhat of an asset to him.
And this will be the test.
“Her?” he repeats, confused, inching his way closer to me.
/>
“Emerson,” I murmur.
I bow my head in shame, hating myself for feeling this way. The warmth of his hand graces my chin, his footsteps toward me unheard. With a slight lift, our eyes meet. All I see is him, Wesley Rich, the man who makes my heart thump like a crazed organ on steroids, the man who’s so easily crawling under my skin, consuming me whole.
“I don’t need twenty-four hours or even a second. It’s you, okay? You’re the one I want.”
I fight to hold back my smile, but his eyes dance with such passion that I struggle to do so, my mouth widening instantly. “Stay,” I beg, softly, tracing his bottom lip with my finger.
“Here?”
“Yes, here. Why? You afraid of my hood?”
He exhales, with a grin. “Please, Joe loves me. I beat Clifford in backgammon earlier, so now I’m his best friend.”
“You beat Clifford in backgammon? No one has ever done that. He’s the street’s legend. So many hidden talents. What else do you have up your sleeve?”
His hands slide around my waist, bringing me closer to him. I miss him, and it’s only been since the morning when he last touched me. The concept seems crazy to me.
“You really want to know?” He kisses me softly, rolling his tongue against mine, then sucking my bottom lip before pulling away. “How quiet can you be?”
I giggle softly. “How about some pizza first, I’m starving.” My stomach growls on cue, making Wesley laugh along with me.
“I guess you need it. A marathon with Wesley Rich requires stamina.”
I snuggle into his side, following him out of my room and into the living area. Kail is nowhere to be seen, Flynn briefly telling us that she’s a no-go, therefore, he sent her home.
Wesley snickers, encouraging the boy talk, while I order pizza. By the time I come back from the kitchen, the two of them are playing some game on the PlayStation totally ignoring my presence.
“Sorry, babe,” Wesley says, paying full attention to the screen with the remote in his hand and a character on the screen in some sort of battlefield. “Just after this level.”
I let out a fake groan, but deep inside, I’m happy.
My brother and boyfriend becoming friends? Yeah, there’s no better sight than this.
Chapter Eighteen
I’ve always considered myself an even-tempered person. I’m not one for drama, don’t enjoy attention, or have any need to be the focus of anyone’s life. I plod along, work different jobs to make ends meet, and am not one to have many aspirations. With no disrespect to Mama, I’ve watched her do the same thing almost every day, and there’s nothing wrong with that in my opinion.
Occasionally, someone in town has a bright idea to start a business, move away, and the next minute, they’re front page on the local newspaper as our newest successful export.
Los Angeles is completely different. People are itching to climb the corporate ladder of success, and after spending some time here, I have somewhat caught the success bug.
Even with Wesley around, I still manage to work hard and make sure I’m going above and beyond what Emerson requires. It’s a juggling act at best.
Wesley demands attention, and in his presence, it’s all about him.
He left the apartment at the crack of dawn, telling me he wanted to hit the gym before heading to work. He kissed me goodbye and attempted a last-minute quickie which he won.
Then poof—gone.
We didn’t get to talk much last night since most of the night was all about Flynn. I’m sure they’ve formed a bromance. I even overheard Wesley setting up some gig that Flynn can play at this super popular club.
They talk about music, laugh about some show on MTV, and despite my invisibility in the room, I’m genuinely happy they get along so well. It’s one less battle to fight, and hopefully, Flynn will break the news to Mama and tell her how much of an awesome boyfriend Wesley is to make it easier on me when I drop the bomb to her later.
He’s incredible, except for when he’s not, like when he’s in a mood or acts like an overly hormonal teenager with a brooding face. And his obsession with my whereabouts and responding to his messages is a total pain in my ass. Actually, now I think about it, it is borderline creepy.
But the best sex-you’ve-ever-had outweighs creepy by a longshot.
This is what happens when your boyfriend’s insanely sexy and has the stamina of a wild stallion. Your vagina becomes a bossy bitch, and boy does she boss me around.
Sitting at the dining table, I drink my coffee and take small bites from my toast and answer some emails to distract myself from thinking about Wesley.
Remembering Liam and Phoebe, I contemplate texting both of them just to say hello. A part of me misses them terribly—even Liam—and the other part of me tells me to let them be for now. Wesley’s rule echoes in my head, and the last thing I need is another battle with Mr. Unpredictable.
If I want a chance to build my life here, I need to distance myself from them and spend more time with Wesley and Flynn.
And Wesley keeps me busy, anyway.
I remember how Liam and I would lie on his bed for hours on end, watching television shows or talking about random things. Wesley’s the polar opposite. When he’s with me, he keeps me on my toes. There’s never a moment to stop and talk. It’s unimaginable that something so simple can be so difficult with him.
The coffee doesn’t help calm my anxiety. I decide to leave home early and get a start on the day and try not to remind myself for the hundredth time that Emerson and Wesley are meeting up around lunchtime.
Their meeting’s going to happen downtown. I didn’t ask too much because the less I know, the better as far as I’m concerned. That fact, though, doesn’t stop me thinking about it, and it’s not like me to be so obsessive over something, or should I say, someone.
***
“Don’t you just love this fall line that Emerson will wear in New York?” Aurora hands me her iPad. The designs are beautiful, long coats and earthy colors. “I was also thinking about a line for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you do have this eclectic style, very… um… what’s the word I’m looking for?” She brings her finger to her lip, tapping while she’s thinking. Her eyes light up the moment it comes to her. “Retro.”
“Um… thanks, I guess.” I smile politely, unsure if she’s complimenting or ridiculing me. “What were you thinking?”
Aurora’s iPad is her life. She carries it around like a priest carries a bible. It’s even covered in a Louis Vuitton case which is specially designed for her.
On the screen are some sketches and designs of dresses, different from the ones she showed me earlier for Emerson. I really like what she has planned for me to wear. I just can’t justify or afford to splurge on anything right now.
“It’s really nice of you, Aurora. It’s just that I can’t afford to spend money right now. Part of me working this job is to pay for my mom’s care.”
She laughs, slapping my shoulder gently. “Don’t be silly. It’s part of your package. Didn’t Emerson tell you that?”
I shake my head, distracted by my cell ringing. “Speak of the devil—”
“Milana!” Emerson’s high-pitched voice barrels through the speaker, forcing me to distance my cell until the echoing stops. “I need your help!”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, worried.
“Yes… no. I don’t know. Can you meet me in the office in twenty minutes?”
“Of course. I’m only a few blocks away.”
Emerson says goodbye, giving me no inkling as to what’s happening. When Aurora asks what’s going on, I shrug, unsure of why Emerson sounded panicked. We part ways, Aurora heading to a fabric meeting and me to the office.
It takes me only around ten minutes to get there, and thankfully, I don’t trip during my sprint to get to the office on time. I’m wearing my black pumps, the pointy ones that go with every outfit but aren’t designed for
running, along with my A-line charcoal dress, coupled with a black patent belt. The dress—also not designed for running—bunches up around my waist which I fix in the elevator.
My hair is braided back and away from my face. I thought long and hard about cutting it since the heat and long hair don’t particularly mix, but I’ve erred on the side of caution wondering what Mama will think. It’s always been her thing, and I’m not sure why it never bothered me so much until now.
Jana, Emerson’s receptionist, tells me to head to the boardroom where Charlie is sitting, laptop in front of her and a stack of papers. She lifts her head to greet me, brushing her hair away from her face in annoyance. “Hi, Milana. Glad you’re here early. We’ve got a lot to work on.”
“Emerson told me to come straight away, but I have no clue what’s—”
Behind me, the sound of feet tapping against the tiles cuts me off. Charlie looks up, smiles quickly, though forced, and then stands to extend her hand. The hand reaches past me—manly, slight hair on the knuckles and fingers—the same ones that have traced all over my body.
Breathe.
Repeat.
Shit.
“Charlie, always a pleasure.”
Charlie ignores his comment, gesturing to me. “Milana, have you met Wesley, Emerson’s business partner? Oh, wait a minute, you mentioned you have.”
I stand, only having just sat down, and take the deepest of breaths as if I’m preparing to sing at the opera, and finally turn around.
His eyes are dancing sinfully, and he’s sporting a small smile that plays on his lips intending to make me quiver beneath my dress. The crisp white business shirt that sits beneath his navy suit is unbuttoned more so than usual, exposing his tanned chest.
Honestly, I could eat him whole.
Stop, you need to act professionally here.
I extend my hand while keeping my eye contact simple. “Yes, we’ve met. Pleased to see you again, Mr. Rich.”
There’s amusement in his eyes as I call him Mr. Rich, and I nervously pull my sweaty palm away and sit back down. Wesley walks around the table, positioning himself in front of me, placing his cell on the table.