Played

by Tasha Fawkes

  "It's absolutely gorgeous," I breathed.

  "Thank you."

  We continued the tour, winding our way through a small sitting room and then upstairs to the bedrooms. All I kept thinking was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Why, one of the master bathrooms alone, its glass-enclosed shower, wood beam ceiling and marble sink tops and semicircular windows, was probably more than half the size of the apartment I shared with my mother.

  By the time we finished the tour of the upstairs and we returned to the downstairs foyer, I felt my heart thumping. My mouth felt dry. I blinked back dismay, hoping that Scott didn't notice. It was hard not to feel left out when you saw a home as gorgeous as this. Not that I would've wanted to own something this fancy; why I couldn't even imagine what the electric bill cost, but still, it just brought home my failures; my inability to be a success and to achieve my dreams.

  Even the nice home that I had lived in before my father's death wasn't even close to this. Neither had Scott's home, which I had been in a few times prior to my leaving the private school. But this… and all for one person?

  From what I had noticed, Scott didn't have a pompous or stuck-up bone in his body. While he took obvious pride in his home, he wasn't obnoxious about it. I had a feeling, however, that Kristin wouldn’t be the same. I knew she was going to be difficult, and it would take every fiber of my being to keep my mouth shut when she started ordering me about, which I knew would happened, but then again, I had to remind myself that beggars couldn't be choosers.

  I needed the money. I needed it not just for myself, but to give my mom at least a mental sense of relief. She couldn't quit her job; it wasn't that much money, but we could tuck a good portion of it into a savings account. It would be nice to have a real safety net, as ours rarely exceeded a few hundred dollars.

  Yes, it would be a long six months, but then again, I had never been one to walk away from a challenge.

  Seven

  Scott

  It had been a long week. A long week filled with ups and downs. The upside was that I enjoyed seeing Megan, even if it was only for brief moments. The downside was listening to the way Kristin was treating her. It was getting to the point where every moment I spent with Kristin was like… how to explain it? It was like a fly buzzing around, and you've got the flyswatter, and you're taking swings at the pesky fly, but you never could quite swat it. It just buzzed around you, seemingly slipping through the grid of the flyswatter, bent on annoying you.

  I tried to be patient with Kristin. I tried to be more understanding, but the plain fact of the matter was, I didn't like her very much. She was lording it over my house staff and Megan. I had gently tried to talk to her about it but she'd only nodded, then shrugged it off. She had continued, and we'd gotten into an argument. Then she'd run crying to our room, slammed the door and didn't come out for hours.

  Kristin was a spoiled, rich brat. I was rich too, and for sure, I had been spoiled growing up, and looking around at my home, my car, and other benefits of my wealth, I was sure a lot of people would agree.

  The difference was that I didn't—at least I tried not to—feel as if I was better than those who didn't have what I had. I had worked hard for my position, hadn't I? Sure, I had been born into wealth, but I was making my own way in the world, or would soon be anyway. In addition to my inheritance, I got paid for being the CEO of the Holbrook Property Company. And paid well. I knew that being the son of a multimillionaire had its perks, and, of course, was among the reasons I had gone to work for my dad even though more than anything else, I wanted to branch out on my own. But I couldn't. Not just yet.

  Waiting for Craig to get to the bar and grill where I waited for him, I nursed a beer, trying to decide which was worse. Had it been the look on my father's face, that expression of smug satisfaction, when I told him that Kristin could move into my mansion? That smile had proclaimed victory. It made me madder than all get out. As far as my dad was concerned, I had little choice but to settle down, raise a family, and focus on my future as a CEO and perhaps, way down in the future, to take over the company.

  The other side of my mental seesaw had to do with Kristin. That self-satisfied look I sometimes saw on her face when I glanced at her. She covered it quickly, but I could just imagine what she was thinking. She had finally found a way to dig her claws into me, to strap me to her, to stake a claim on me, whatever you want to call it. I just didn't—

  "Hey!" Craig said, sliding into the booth seat across the table. He placed an iPad and his phone down on the burnished wood tabletop. "I see you started without me."

  I shook my head, offering a wan smile. "Not really. I've just had a couple of sips."

  "Sorry I'm late, I was on the phone with a client and couldn't get him to shut up," he chuckled, shaking his head.

  "Not to worry," I said, gesturing for the bartender to bring over two more mugs of beer. "I just got here a few minutes ago."

  "So what's up?"

  I didn't speak until the bartender placed the foaming and chilled mugs on the table. Craig reached for one as I nodded my thanks.

  "I just need to clear my head," I sighed. "Kristin moved in a week ago."

  "And?" Craig said, sipping his beer, eyebrow raised in question.

  "I'm going crazy," I admitted. "I knew Kristin could be…" I hesitated. I shouldn't be sitting here bad mouthing my soon-to-be wife with my best friend, should I? But we had both grown up with her, even though it had been years ago back in high school, and then my first two years at college before she transferred to Princeton.

  "Obnoxious, spoiled, entitled?" Craig offered.

  I nodded. "All of the above. She's going crazy with the wedding planning."

  "So, tell me about the new personal assistant that you hired for her."

  I glanced up, surprised. "How did you know?"

  He gestured to his iPad. "She posts everything on Facebook, don't you know? In fact, while I think most of them are Photoshopped, there's photos of you two plastered all over her page."

  "What?" I didn't pay much attention to social media. I didn't have time for it. Too many self-serving people, so wrapped up in their own lives that they had to take pictures of every bite of food they ate, every new outfit they bought, and it went on and on, ad infinitum and ad nauseum.

  Craig flipped open his notebook, connected to the WiFi of the bar and grill, tapped a few keys, and then flipped the tablet over so I could see the screen. I had been in the process of sipping my own beer when I glanced down at Kristin's Facebook page and nearly choked. Oh my God. I stared at a huge picture of us, both smiling, head-to-head. "Where the hell did she get that?" I stammered. "We haven't taken any pictures together!"

  "But wait, there's more," Craig said, using his fingertip to scroll down the page.

  And there they were, at least half a dozen photos of Kristin and I doing things together. Hiking. Out on my yacht, sunbathing. Sitting hand in hand in front of a vineyard. A couple of us sitting on the couch in the house, and one with a background I didn't recognize. I felt a surge of annoyance rising and took a deep breath, counted to five.

  "Photoshopped?" Craig asked.

  I leaned back against the booth seat and heaved a greatly put-upon sigh. "Yup. I haven't gone anywhere with her. Not hiking, not boating, not posing for cutesy little photos on the sofa." I was rather proud of myself for the calm tone even though inside, my heart thudded with dismay and anger.

  "She's always had a crush on you, you know," Craig said, flipping the tablet around and tapping a few more keys. He paused long enough to take another sip of beer, then continued typing.

  "I know." I asked myself for the millionth time why I had slept with Kristin. I hadn't really wanted to, but she had offered and, well, that's what came of having one too many. I had done it, and now I had to pay. At the same time, I couldn't help thinking of Megan. My situation had been difficult enough before. Now, with Megan in the picture? It made me feel even worse. Seeing her again after all this time affected me
. I didn't realize until the moment she came into my office last week how much I had missed her. We had been good friends, but I didn't think she ever realized how much I truly liked her. And now?

  Now it was too late. Even though I tried to mentally distance myself, I couldn't help but wonder what might've happened if she'd not left private school when she had. Where would our relationship have gone? Even more so, what if she had walked into my office the other day and I wasn't literally tethered to Kristin? What if she and I had casually met at a bar, or hell, even at the beach?

  "Listen to this," Craig said. "'Trying very hard to train my new personal assistant which my loving fiancé hired to help with the upcoming wedding.'"

  I frowned, glanced at Craig, whose eyes were riveted to the tablet. "What does she mean, trying to train?" I leaned forward, and Craig swung the tablet around again. I saw a selfie Kristin had taken of herself, up close and personal, rolling her eyes. A side profile of Megan was in the background, frowning slightly as she glanced down at a sheaf of papers.

  "Oh my God," I snapped. "This is just nuts. She should be lucky—"

  "So who's the lovely assistant?" Craig asked.

  "A nice young woman I hired. And I'm paying her plenty for having to put up with Kristin, believe me."

  "She married?"

  I glanced at Craig, my frown deepening. "Are you serious?"

  Craig took another sip of beer and shrugged. "Why not? She's cute."

  I watched as Craig continued to flip through Kristin's Facebook feed, growing more annoyed by the moment. I couldn't be upset with Craig or anyone else except myself. On the one hand, I'd gotten myself into this. I was the one to blame. I was the one who messed up and got Kristin pregnant. I shook my head. Nothing seemed to be going according to my plans and my timetable. Working for my dad was only supposed to be temporary, maybe a couple of years, but now almost a decade had passed.

  Still, by year's end, I had planned on filing my resignation. I was putting my ducks in a row, making plans, prepared to take the plunge into opening my own business, but not in Southern California. Maybe northern, or out-of-state completely, I hadn't quite decided yet. But one thing I knew. I had to get out of Orange County. I had to make my own way. Still, something always seemed to hold me back from taking that last step. I didn't want to admit it, but perhaps it was a lack of self-confidence. Despite the fact that my dad and I butted heads often, he was always there. So was the company and my position in it. It was safe.

  "So who is she?"

  "Craig, let it go, you're not tapping that," I snapped.

  He looked at me, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Spill."

  I shook my head in aggravation. "I've got nothing to spill. I just don't like the way Kristin treats people."

  "How long has she been working for Kristin?"

  "A week," I sighed. "Why?"

  Craig chuckled softly. "She's lasted this long, so I'm sure she can hold her ground. And I'll tell you what, Scott, I've gotta hand it to anybody who can go toe-to-toe with Kristin and come out unscathed." He glanced down again at the photo with a soft whistle.

  I could tell he was intrigued by Megan. A surge of jealousy swept through me, on top of my already well-established annoyance with life in general. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I couldn't. I had no right to lay any claim on Megan. I was engaged. I closed my eyes, once again held my breath and counted to five. My attempts at calming myself weren’t working.

  "Buddy, what is it?"

  I opened my eyes, shook my head, and offered a lame shrug. "I feel like I'm not in control of my life anymore. It was bad enough feeling like I was always squirming under my dad's thumb, and still am, and now I've got Kristin to deal with. She and my dad are like this." I lifted my hand, crossing my index and middle fingers. "I swear, the minute I don't give her everything she wants when she wants, she goes crying to her dad or mine."

  "You know, Scott, one of these days, you just have to take the leap. Cut the umbilical cord and the purse strings if necessary." He took another sip of beer, his expression serious. "You can make it on your own, Scott. You just have to believe in yourself."

  I nodded. How pathetic was I? Here I was, rich and entitled and at the same time, constantly hampered by my own feelings of insecurity. I had become an expert over the years, hiding those insecurities behind a smartass persona, constantly rebelling against not only my dad, but other authority figures, mainly at school. In the business world, I challenged, pushed boundaries, always looking for a way to better a deal, crush an opponent. I had—

  "One of these days, Scott, you have to learn to trust, not only yourself, but others. Not everyone is out to scam you or take advantage of you." He lifted a hand. "Not necessarily speaking of Kristin here," he amended.

  I said nothing, knowing that he was right.

  "I have to tell you, buddy, that—"

  "I know what you're going to say," I said. "That I sabotage all my relationships, always have, and maybe always will. I don't know. But I do know one thing. The longer I work for my dad, the longer I'm the CEO of Holbrook Property Company, the harder it is to give up the power and the money that comes with it."

  Craig didn't come from a family as wealthy as mine, but he understood. He had moved out of his family home years ago, striking out on his own like I should be. I lifted my beer, glanced down at it, and then put it back down on the table.

  "I know I have to do the right thing," I said. I knew it was my fault that Kristin had gotten pregnant. I couldn't un-sleep with her. "I'm just venting, trying to process all of this. I know I have to marry her to make things right. For the kid’s sake."

  "A rather old-fashioned idea these days, don't you think? You could pay her off, promise to pay for the kid's schooling—"

  I shook my head. "I'm trying to be responsible here, Craig. Don't tempt me. Besides, Dad gave me the ultimatum." I didn't even have to repeat it. Craig knew what I inferred.

  But it was more than that. Some part of me knew that the ultimatum given to me by my father was much less about me holding onto my wealth than it was about proving to my dad that I was better than him. I think, in my own way, I was trying to show my dad that I was the responsible one, that I was behaving responsibly. Not like he had treated my mother with his string of escorts, affairs, and likely, common street prostitutes.

  I had gotten Kristin pregnant, and as much as I didn't want to, I knew that I had to step up to the plate. I glanced at Craig and shrugged. "Thanks for listening. I think I just needed to get it out."

  "You feeling better?"

  I shook my head. "Not really, but thanks for listening."

  Eight

  Megan

  “What a bitch!"

  "Megan!"

  "Well, she is," I told my mom as we set up early for the Saturday morning farmers’ market. I'd worked with Kristin for a week, and I was tempted to ask Scott for a raise. Not that I would, but the woman was an unmitigated, obnoxious, smartassed, condescending, bitch! I couldn't believe that the Scott I knew would even consider marrying a creature like that. Sure, she was gorgeous, but underneath that layer of skin, she wasn't at all pretty.

  It took less than twenty-four hours of working with Kristin to realize how difficult she could be. It wasn't just her attitude. It was her indecisiveness. I was trying to tackle the items on her ever-lengthening list of things to do, but it seemed as if every time I managed to make a little progress, she changed her mind.

  "One minute she wants Calla lilies, and when I arrange for those, she changes her mind and wants roses. Roses, can you believe it? And not just any roses. Do you know how difficult it is to find twenty-dozen Grandiflora roses, even in Southern California?" I shook my head, carefully arranging this week's pastries in the display cabinet.

  "Why Glandiflora roses?" Mom asked.

  I rolled my eyes. "Because that's the exact shade of flowers that she wants to match the bridesmaid's dresses. But then, after I finally tracked a dozen down and broug
ht them back to the mansion to show her, she decided that they were too pink. Can you believe it?”

  Mom smiled, setting up our cash station and idly waving to fellow vendors. I hadn't spoken much about the job because I knew she disapproved, and disapproved heartily, of my working for any member of the Holbrook family, but I countered every comment with the money. It was always about money, wasn't it? Money made the world go around, and we needed it. Desperately.

  Nevertheless, I had underestimated the difficulty of dealing with Kristin. I thought I was doing a good job, and I was now familiar with Scott's mansion, but I swore, I thought I had lost at least five pounds since going to work for the wicked woman. She had me running from one side of the house to the other, indecisive about just about everything; where to have the bridle shower, which rooms to allot for overnight guests who would be coming to Southern California for the wedding. Naturally, most of those were from her side of the family.

  In the short space of a week, or five business days to be exact, Kristin had already fired two wedding planners. It wasn't just her brittle attitude, either. It was the same thing that tormented me and made my job fifty times more difficult than it needed to be. Kristin Bruno was absolutely, positively, horribly unable to make a decision. Everything required a phone call to mommy or daddy. Or worse, Scott.

  I could tell Scott's patience was wearing thin. In fact, just yesterday, I had overheard his voice on the phone call with Kristin.

  "Kristin, I don't have time for this. That's why I hired you a personal assistant."

  Kristin glanced at me, and then turned her back as she retorted, thinking, I supposed, that the fact of turning her back would nullify my ability to hear either side of the conversation.