by Portia Moore
Jade materializes out of nowhere, dressed in a long, silky blue gown that plunges almost to her waist, the fabric gathered over her breasts. Her hair is loose, long, and silky, and I manage to tear my eyes away from trying to figure out how her breasts stay in place long enough to ask her why she wanted me here. “Does Blaire want to rub elbows with the help?” I joke, and Jade rolls her eyes.
“I wanted you to see the scale of this party,” she explains, waving a hand to indicate all of it. “Blaire was the one who wanted to make sure you saw it because she wants hers to be bigger and better than this. Whatever anyone else has, she’s got to top it.”
Of course she does, I think, and I catch sight of the girl herself, wearing a leopard-print catsuit with her hair still rainbow-striped and slicked back in a tight French braid, white cat-eye sunglasses perched on top of her head. The entire party is jungle-themed, I realize, and wonder what Blaire thinks of that since I remember Jade distinctly saying that that was Blaire’s choice of theme for her party.
Jade tugs at my arm, both of us following Blaire down the carpet, and we’re surprised by a photographer who waves at us to stop. I try to back out of the line of the camera, assuming no one wants my photo, but Jade’s hand on my arm keeps me there until the photographer has taken one of all three of us, then one with Jade and Blaire, one of Blaire, and finally one of just Jade as she preens for the camera. I can’t blame the photographer for wanting a photo of her; she looks like a model in her element. She seems to be thriving on the bustle and chaos of the party, and I just follow in her wake, making sure to pay attention to the bar setup as we approach it.
It’s more than a little intimidating, to be honest. The cocktail waitresses are all dressed in various skimpy faux-suede and faux-animal skin outfits, and one girl has a tray of drinks that are on fire, followed by a line of dancing girls all dressed as skimpy as decency allows. “Christ,” I mutter to Jade as the girls pass by, “I know you said we needed to prepare to pull out all of the stops, but where the fuck am I getting dancing girls?”
Jade laughs, swatting me playfully on the shoulder. “Now, you don’t need to worry about any of that,” she tells me. “I’ll handle the entertainment and everything else. You just need to make sure your servers are up to par and that your drink recipes are on theme. Look how busy it is already, and the party just started. They need to be ready for real chaos.” She wrinkles her nose as she looks around at the décor. “Oh,” she tosses over her shoulder, “you should know the theme isn’t ‘welcome to the jungle’ anymore. It’s Alice in Wonderland, now.”
I’m not at all surprised. I figured Blaire would change her theme the minute she realized her “friend” had poached her original idea. No pun intended, I think to myself as I glance over and realize that Jade has disappeared, pulled away by someone who needed her help or advice, no doubt. Or because Blaire is throwing a tantrum somewhere.
It’s a chance for me to take a closer look at how they’re running the bar without interruption, so I go up to order a drink, despite the fact that the line is three people deep at the moment. Before I even make it up to the bartender, three different women have hit on me, including a willowy blonde who looks me up and down from forehead to toes and back again, licking her lips as she does so; a curvy brunette who sidles up to me and asks how I know the birthday girl—to which I reply that I don’t, I’m here on business; and another lanky brunette who nudges a man standing next to her (her agent?) and has him hand me a business card with her name on it. The last one I find funniest of all because she can’t even be bothered to give me her number herself. I can’t believe how entitled some of these guests are, and I’m glad that my staff is as professional as I know they are—I can only imagine how some of these people will be after they’ve had a few drinks in them.
The bar is impressive in and of itself. There’s five bartenders, all dressed in varying outfits that fit the theme, and they’re running back and forth, making complex, cool-looking drinks while barely breaking a sweat. I can tell that a lot of it has to do with their bar-backs—all of them are getting fresh glasses and dry ice and liquors and mixers out faster than the bartenders can use them up, ensuring that none of them have to wait for ingredients. I wonder who they’re using for this one, since I’m going to want to hire some damn good bartenders soon when I’m able to open my own bar.
My train of thought is interrupted both by it being my turn to order—I order some fruity drink that looks complex since I want to see how they make it—and a handsome, younger-looking guy sidling up to me as I tell the bartender what I want. I wonder if he’s about to hit on me, but instead, he just grins and hands me a business card. “I’m a modeling scout,” he says over the din of voices, giving me a wink. “And you’re exactly the kind of guy I’m looking for. We’ve got a new underwear model campaign coming up. Give me a ring, I’d love to have you audition.”
Wow, I think, barely keeping myself from howling with laughter as I take my drink and look for Jade. In the space of less than ten minutes, I’ve been hit on three times and offered a potential modeling gig. This place is nuts, I think, and my first thought as I look down at the card with amusement, stuffing it into my pocket, is that I’ve got to tell Madison. She would get such a kick out of this.
The thought of her hits me like a punch to the gut, along with the realization that I can’t tell her anything, because we aren’t together anymore. It should have stopped hurting as much by now. I thought for sure after this long that the pain would have started to dull, but the thought of her and the reminder that she’s not mine anymore hurts just as much as it ever has, just as much as the first night.
I get another drink and a shot from the bar. The shot is layered, blue and pink and yellow, but I hardly pay attention to how they make it as I down it and then take the drink, another of those fruity concoctions that packs a way harder punch than you expect based on the taste. I want to drink enough to forget about Madison, but I can’t seem to. All I can think about is how much fun we’d be having if she were here, how she’d make fun of all of these overpaid influencers with their overblown egos, and we’d crack jokes about the stupid outfits they’re wearing, and she’d tell me how much better my drinks were, and then tease me about how it’ll be my ego that’s overblown next.
And then I’d make a joke and tell her she could blow me, and wink at her, and she’d tell me: In your dreams, but the look in her eyes would tell me that she was seriously considering it…
I can hear all of it in her voice, exactly the way she’d say it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I think over and over as I finish the drink and start on another. Why did this have to happen? I had the perfect girl after my first marriage failed so miserably, and I thought everything was fine. I was so ready to start a life with her, to make our life everything we’d ever dreamed, and then that bombshell was just dropped on me out of nowhere. It’s not fair, and it hurts how much I miss her, how much I want her here with me, how much I want her to be in my bed tonight.
Before I can stop myself, I walk out towards the courtyard where it’s quieter, pulling out my phone as I down the drink in one swallow. I have Madison’s number in my phone still even though I know I should delete it, exactly because of times like this, when I’m drunk and my self-control is slipping.
Even as I’m telling myself that I shouldn’t, I dial her number.
She’s not going to answer, I tell myself. It’s a strange number and it’s late at night. She’s not going to pick up.
But she does.
I don’t say anything. I can’t think of anything to say—what do I even want to say to her? Do I want to yell at her again for ruining my life, or beg her to come back, or both? Do I want to tell her that I’m on the verge of screwing another woman, to hear her voice just so I can be reminded how bad she hurt me and not feel guilty about what I want to do with Jade?
She doesn’t say anything either. I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line and I know she can hear me, and w
e stay like that for several long moments before finally I hear her voice. It’s a small whisper, but I can hear it as she says my name. “Alex?” and pain stabs my heart so deeply that it almost brings tears to my eyes.
But before I can say anything back, there’s a tap on my shoulder, and I spin around to see Jade there. I can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s slightly tipsy, and I have just enough time to end the call and stuff the phone back into my pocket before she gently pushes me back into one of the alcoves in the courtyard, her body arching against mine as she slides her hand behind my head and kisses me deeply, her tongue sliding into my mouth and tangling with mine.
For a second I’m stunned, too stunned to do anything, and then I let myself kiss her back, just momentarily. After all, she tastes sweet, like those candy-flavored drinks, and her soft breasts are pressed into my chest, the silky fabric of her dress running through my fingers like water as my hands go to my waist.
Her mouth goes to my neck as her hand slips between my legs, her palm sliding over my erection, and I bite back a groan as she pulls back and looks at me, smiling mischievously as she squeezes my dick through my pants and then starts to kneel, her hand going to my zipper.
She’s going to give me a blowjob here in the courtyard, and for half a second my brain insists that I consider it. Christ man, it’s been at least a month since you got laid, and this beautiful woman wants to suck your dick in the middle of a party. That’s hot, right? Why the fuck would you say no?
But I can still hear Madison’s voice whispering my name, echoing in my ears, and it’s enough to make me grab Jade’s arm and pull her up to her feet as I shake my head.
“As much as I want to, I don’t mix business with pleasure,” I tell her firmly, trying to speak clearly despite the fog of alcohol and the persistent ache of my frustrated dick, making it hard to think. It’s just not a good idea, especially with so many of my employees' livelihoods on the line.
I expect her to be pissed, or at the very least embarrassed or offended, but instead she just throws her hair over her shoulder and smiles seductively at me. “Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing our business will be finished next week, isn’t it?” she asks, turning to head back into the party. She pauses in the doorway. “I’ll let you get yourself calmed down a little, and meet you inside,” she says, winking at me before disappearing back into the venue.
I stare after her, my mouth gone dry and my cell phone heavy in my pocket. It’s clear that she’s not giving up, and after next week I won’t have the excuse of work anymore. I could tell her no—and I’m not sure why I haven’t, other than the fact that I don’t want to lose the gig.
Are you going to tell her no next week? I wonder as I watch her go back inside, and shake my head.
“Fuck if I know,” I mutter to no one in particular.
Chapter 12
Present day
Madison
My heart is racing a hundred miles a minute as I sit up in bed, clutching my phone.
It was Alex on the phone, I know it!
I know it’s the middle of the night but I can’t help myself. I’ll explode if I don’t tell someone. He misses me! Does he regret things ending? I jump out of bed and run down the hall to Parker’s room without thinking, knocking frantically on her door.
She opens it a second later, wearing a short nightgown with a robe thrown over it, blinking groggily at me. Behind her I can see Brad sitting up in bed, and I wince, realizing I’ve woken both of them up. “Sorry, Brad,” I say apologetically, and he just shakes his head, sliding back down under the covers as Parker looks at me with confusion.
“Madison, what’s going on?”
“Alex called me!” I tell her excitedly, and Parker’s eyes go wide. She hurriedly shuts the bedroom door behind her, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the kitchen as she switches on a light. “Are you serious?” she asks, looking at me intently. “You’re sure Alex called? You’ve got to tell me everything!”
“Well…my phone rang, and it was a strange number, and I thought it might be Alex, so I answered…and it was silent for a while. I could just hear him breathing on the other end. He didn’t say anything, and then I said his name…and then he hung up.” As I explain what happened I realize how it sounds, and embarrassment washes over me as I realize that I got Parker out of bed for what’s really not much of a story.
“Oh…wow. That’s good,” Parker says, but I can tell that she’s having a hard time being enthusiastic about it. She leans back against the counter, and I feel guiltier than ever for waking her up. “Madison…” she says gently, and I know what’s coming. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes!” I insist. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m sure with everything in me that it was. I tried to call it back after he hung up, but the number was private, I couldn’t get through.” I hesitate, looking at Parker’s skeptical expression, but I can’t wait a second longer. I have to do something. I can’t let this opportunity go by. If Alex misses me, I have to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to get distracted.
I turn on my heel and hurry back down the hall to my room, leaving the door open as I snatch a pair of jeans off of the chair that I threw them on. Parker follows me into the room, and when I turn around, I see her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at me. “Madison,” she asks slowly. “What are you doing?”
“I have to go to Alex’s, now,” I tell her. “I know it sounds crazy, but he called me! I know he did. And I need to see him while he’s still thinking about me.”
“Madison, no. Be reasonable. It’s one in the morning, you can’t go over there right now.” Parker sighs and rubs a hand over her face, exhausted. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Yes, it is,” I insist. “This is the first time that he’s tried to contact me. I can’t waste this opportunity!”
“You don’t even know it was him…” Parker trails off as she looks at my expression. “God, you’re stubborn. Fine. I’ll drive you there.”
“What?” I look up from digging under the bed for my shoes. “No, you can’t do that. You have to work in the morning.”
“Maybe, just maybe, you could have thought about that before waking me up?” Parker rolls her eyes. “I’m not letting you take an Uber at one in the morning to go over there. Just hang on two seconds, I’ll get my keys.”
I hear the bedroom door open, and then a second later, Brad’s voice coming through the walls.
“Where on earth are you going, Parker?”
“Madison got it into her head that Alex called, and she has to see him. She’s going to go no matter what so I’m taking her so that she’s not relying on a rideshare at one in the morning.”
“I don’t want you driving around New York at one in the morning!”
Parker’s voice drops, but I can hear bits of it.
“…still upset, needs me…”
“She’s over-emotional! …talk some sense into her…”
“She’s going to go no matter what…”
“This is ridiculous!” Brad’s voice rises on the last one, and I’m not about to sit here and let them fight over me like they’re my divorcing parents. I shove my feet into my shoes and dash out to the elevator and down to the street to catch a cab, digging in my purse for my phone to call Alyssa as I slide into the taxi. To my surprise she answers, less groggily than I expected considering the time.
“Madison? What’s going on?”
“Are you at home? I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to let me in…”
“Um…I don’t live there anymore.” Alyssa is quiet for a second. “Alex kicked me out…” she mutters quietly.
My eyes go wide. “Why?” I ask her, afraid to hear the answer. There’s a long pause.
“Because he found out that I knew about you and Jackson.”
A wave of guilt washes over me. “I’m sorry, Alyssa,” I say contritely, “that you got kicked out, and that I’m calling so late. I’ll let you go…”
&n
bsp; “Where are you?”
Embarrassment floods me as I realize exactly how it’s going to sound if I tell her that I’m already on my way to Alex’s at one in the morning. I realize that I shouldn’t be doing this; it’s entirely possible that it won’t end well. I should have just waited for tomorrow when I’d planned on going to tell him about the baby, but I know with everything in me that it was him on the phone, thinking about me and missing me. So how can I wait? I have visions of myself showing up on his doorstep, of his face lighting up when he sees me, and him pulling me into his arms, kissing me and telling me that he forgives me and that it was all a mistake.
“Madison?” Alyssa asks, right as the car makes the turn onto the street that Alex lives on.
“I’m sorry, I’ll call you back,” I tell her quickly, hanging up the phone. “You can stop here,” I tell the driver quickly as I get out, leaning forward to hand him cash for the fare, and then I freeze in place as I turn around.
There’s an expensive-looking Tesla parked at the curb, doors opening as two people get out, and I realize that it’s Alex and some gorgeous brunette woman, tall and dressed in a blue evening gown. Alex is dressed up too, and it’s clear that they’ve been somewhere important. To my horror, as he turns to tell her goodbye, she leans forward with a hand on his chest and kisses him, reaching up to touch his cheek before getting back into the car and pulling away from the curb.
Hot tears spring to my eyes, and I shrink back against the wall before Alex can see me, my heart shattering in my chest at the sight of someone else kissing him. I’m so stupid, I think to myself, so stupid for thinking he missed me, that he’d wait around after I stomped his heart into the dirt. I shouldn’t be there, I realize. I shouldn’t be turning up on Alex’s doorstep at one in the morning, no matter if he called me or not, because no matter how I feel, he deserves a chance to move on and be happy.