Played

by Tasha Fawkes

  As had been the case since Megan walked back into my life, I couldn't help comparing one with the other. When I saw Megan, I compared her to Kristin. When I saw Kristin, I compared her to Megan. Kristin was challenging, beautiful, temperamental, and liked getting her own way. I knew she wasn't all bad, but my opinion of her had been skewed since that day when she walked into my office and bluntly announced that she was pregnant and we had to get married.

  I couldn't understand the rush, not in this day and age. Even more, I resented her for taking the situation to my dad. His heavy-handed method of dealing with the entire situation was ridiculous. So, what was preventing me from putting a stop to it all?

  I was a chicken shit. Plain and simple. I detested myself for my weakness, for my lack of self-confidence, my uncertainty that I had what it took to make it on my own. To be successful on my own. I wondered if, subconsciously, I was afraid that in many ways I wouldn't be able to live up to my father's success—to my own ideals. That I would fail if I struck out on my own. But did I want his legacy? Did I want to screw women and then leave them high and dry when they got pregnant? I had always worn a cover, but the first time I didn't… I groaned out loud.

  Everybody thinks that being rich is wonderful, and it is, in many ways. Unlike Megan, I didn't have to worry about how I was going to make a rent payment. If I wanted a car, I'd go buy one. We had both grown up in the same world, but due to her tragic situation, she had learned to do without. And she was surviving just fine, wasn't she? She was a strong, self-confident, and well put-together woman who knew how to work hard, how to devote herself not only to her own goals, but to make her mother's life easier.

  So what the hell was my problem?

  Was I really going to choose between Megan and my inheritance, my wealth? Should I just let sleeping dogs lie and accept my responsibility for having sex with Kristin and knocking her up? That was my baby she was carrying. Didn't I owe her, the future mother of my child, at least a modicum of respect and consideration?

  I flopped over onto my side, staring out the window into the darkest of nights. That's how I felt inside. Black, vast, and empty. Why did Megan have to show up in my life? Why did I have to hire her?

  "Shut the fuck up," I growled. I couldn't blame any of this on Megan. This was my own doing. All of it.

  I had told Megan the truth about my relationship with Kristin—that I didn't love Kristin and wanted to continue seeing Megan. I had meant it when I said I loved her. When I was with her, everything seemed so bright, so sure. But when she was gone, when I was by myself, like now, lying here thinking, perhaps too much, I found myself wavering. This wasn't fair. Not to Megan and not to Kristin. Not even to myself.

  I couldn't have my cake and eat it too. I knew Megan well enough to know that she didn't want to be any man's mistress. I knew she was waiting for me to break it off with Kristin. But would I?

  Could I?

  On just a few hours’ sleep, I rose, and went to the office, and tried to bury myself in work. I was successful, for the most part, although every time I stopped, my dilemma loomed in front of me. Dilemma. Dilemma: a situation that prompted a difficult choice, especially undesirable ones. And that was the conundrum. Either I chose to stay with Kristin and keep my inheritance, or I chose to stay with Megan, break off the engagement with Kristin, and lose my inheritance.

  "You're a jerk," I muttered to myself, focusing once again on the contract in front of me.

  I managed to struggle through the remaining couple of hours of my workday, nearly dreading the thought of going home. Home didn't have the same meaning to me that it used to. Not since Kristin had arrived. All she talked about was the baby shower, the bridal shower, and the upcoming wedding plans. Not once since she had arrived had we just sat down at the table or on the sofa and talked about what we expected out of this relationship.

  During the past few days, she had been acting oddly. I didn't know if it was the stress of planning the wedding. Although, I didn't know why it would have been because she was supposed to be relegating the bulk of it to Megan to handle. Was it hormone surges caused by her pregnancy? I had no idea. All I knew was that she was acting a bit… offish with me. She snapped at the staff, snapped at me, and refused to eat with me down in the dining room. She insisted that my cook bring her a dinner tray every evening.

  I wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, at least more than lately, and I was seriously considering having a good private, sit-down talk with her, to tell her I didn't appreciate the way she treated me or my staff. I knew I could take what she dished out. After all, I'd gotten her pregnant so in a way, maybe I deserved her fits of pique. It wasn't like she had been planning on a pregnancy, either. I supposed she was struggling with changes in her life too. I had to remember that. It wasn't just all about me.

  I had to admit that my lack of communication was as much my fault as hers. Maybe tonight I would ask her to sit down, talk—

  I heard a low commotion outside of my office and glanced up just as the door opened. Kristin stood there, staring at me. My heart sank. The last time this had happened she had dropped a bombshell. What was it this time? She closed the door softly and sat down in the chair in front of my desk. I leaned back in my chair.

  "Kristin, what brings you—"

  "You've been seeing that slut behind my back, haven't you?"

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. "What?"

  "Megan." She shook her head, a sneer twisting her lips. "I know what's going on between you and Megan. Admit it!"

  I frowned, playing dumb. "Kristin what are you talking about? You're being ridiculous—"

  "Am I?"

  I stared at her while she stared at me. I felt a cold knot forming in my stomach. How the hell had she found out? And should I—

  "Don't be surprised to get a call from your father at some point," she snapped.

  "What?" I felt as if she had just gut-punched me. No, kidney-punched me, and then stomped on me. Was this the way it was done? Running to my dad every time I did something she didn't like? Granted, what I was doing with Megan wasn't right, and I knew that. But right now, that fact felt like it was beside the point.

  "Kristin, I don't appreciate—"

  "It ends, Scott. It ends now, or you're going to regret it!"

  With that, she stood abruptly and walked to the door, her back stiff. She opened it, slipped out, and then closed it softly behind her.

  What the hell—

  My desk phone rang and I picked it up. "What is it?" I muttered, my voice harsher than I intended.

  Before she could reply my door opened again. I expected it to be Kristin, but it wasn't. It was my dad. I closed my eyes, sighed, and once again leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. Oh my God. What now? But I already knew.

  "Here's the way it's going to be," he said without preamble. "I know all about you and Megan, but it's going to end once and for all, and I mean right now."

  I stared at him, so many thoughts rushing through my head. I wanted to call him a hypocrite, this man who had stepped out on my mother I didn't know how many times. But I kept my mouth shut, the anger slowly building inside me.

  "If you don't call it quits and get rid of her and devote yourself to Kristin, and the baby you fathered, I'll fire you, right now. Do you understand?"

  With that, he too abruptly turned, left my office, and shut the door behind him, not quite as softly as Kristin had.

  I sat there for several moments, just staring at that door. I knew what I should do. I knew it with every emotional fiber of my being. But my logical side? I think I had always known that it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened, a day like this arrived.

  No more sitting on the fence, trying to keep everyone happy, trying to play both sides. I had to make a decision. I had to face the dilemma looming in front of me, and I had two choices.

  Accept responsibility for my actions and accept the engagement and upcoming marriage with Kristin—and remaining faithf
ul to her—and keeping the promise I had made to myself that I would not ever become like my father.

  Or, I would break my promise and continue sneaking around to see the woman that I had come to love and let the chips fall where they may.

  I shook my head again, leaned forward, and placed my forehead against the stack of contract papers on my desk blotter.

  Shit.

  Sixteen

  Megan

  It was close to five o'clock. Almost time to leave Scott's house and head back home, where I needed to have a talk with my mom. I was still reeling from her reaction the other evening when I told her that I loved Scott and that he loved me. I didn't know if she'd taken up extra shifts to avoid me or if it was just coincidence, but we hadn't sat down for a meal or had a conversation since then.

  I gathered the papers I had been working on and slid them into a manila folder and tucked it under my arm as I left the table in the kitchen and headed into the living area. I would show these to Kristin, have her sign a contract for floral arrangements—the last time she could change her mind without it costing her—and then I would go. I had just headed toward the stairs when she came down, her features still, her eyes riveted on me, a blank expression on her face. She looked a bit pale.

  "Kristin, are you all right?" Was she in pain? Maybe she was dealing with morning… or late afternoon sickness? She was just beginning to show, a slight baby bump.

  Kristin said nothing as she continued down the stairs. Then, just as she reached the second bottom step, she clasped the banister with her left hand. Before I had any idea what was happening, I saw the blur of movement, her right hand sweeping out, and then I heard a sound cracking against my cheek before I felt the sting. I gasped as the pain of her openhanded slap surged through my face, my eyes wide with startled dismay.

  "What—"

  "You stupid slut! Needless to say, you're fired."

  Kristin turned ugly that moment. Ugly in features, ugly in personality, ugly through and through. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pulled back, showing teeth, her face flushed with fury.

  "You're nothing but a gold digger. Why my fiancé hired white trash like you I'll never know, but as of this moment, I want you out of this house and out of my life, out of Scott's life forever. You'll never spread your legs for him again. Do you hear me?"

  I stared up at her in dismay and yes, humiliation, refusing to lift my hand to my burning cheek. My heart fluttered and my entire body went cold. She knew. But how? I stiffened my shoulders, stared at her a moment, just so she knew I wasn't cowed by her, and then gave her the briefest nod.

  "I'll get my things and go—"

  "How does it feel to be used by him?" she continued, her voice rising. "Now that he's fucked you, he's lost interest. In fact, he already has. We had a little talk this afternoon, and we came to an understanding." She sneered again. "You won't be seeing him anymore. He got what he wanted from you."

  I quickly recovered from the shock of her verbal and physical attack, determined not to show her any emotion. Inside though, I felt… what? A myriad of emotions. I swallowed as I turned toward the coffee table, where I'd left my purse. Thank God, I had some cash in my wallet. I would have to call a taxi for myself. I placed the manila folder gently on the coffee table, cursing myself when I saw my hand trembled slightly. I reached for my purse and stood, turning to head for the front door.

  Kristin stood nearby. I'd never gotten into a fight with anyone before, but if she thought she was going to slap me again, pregnant or not, she was going to get slapped in return. I walked by, my shoulders back, my chin lifted, refusing to even glance at her as I moved toward the front door. Until her hand grasped my upper arm, spinning me around.

  "Don't you even want to know how I found out?"

  Honestly, I didn't. I supposed it didn't matter. I said nothing, just looked cooly at her, refusing to show any emotion whatsoever. None.

  "Your mother told me," Kristin smiled.

  It wasn't a pleasant one. I didn't understand what she was saying.

  "It was your mother who told me about you and Scott."

  I felt the blood drain from my face as my eyes widened despite my efforts. What was she talking about? My mother wouldn't—

  "She called me early this afternoon, told me all about the conversation you had the other evening, that you'd fallen in love with Scott." She made a face. "How sweet." Her tone grew ice cold. "Too bad you'll never get him. He belongs to me!"

  It took every bit of restraint I had not to respond. As calmly as I could, I walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside, closing it softly behind me. The minute I stepped outside I felt the warmth of tears swimming in my eyes. I blinked them back. As if nothing had happened, I walked down the long, winding drive, fighting the tears, the dismay, and made my way down the entire length of the block, maybe a half mile from Scott's mansion before I paused at a corner beneath the shade of a twisted elm and called a taxi. While I waited, I stood still, absolutely still, on the one hand completely devastated, and on the other, more than a little suspicious.

  I knew Kristin was a mean, spiteful person, but why, out of the blue, would she make something like that up? If Scott had told her about our... what to even call them… wouldn't she have told me that? Why would she even think of bringing my mother into it? She didn't know my mother, didn't even know if my parents were still alive. Then again, maybe she had asked Scott about me, about my history.

  Could it be true? I had no doubt that she knew about Scott and me. But she had said that Scott admitted to it… and that he was done with me. Did I believe her? I stared at my phone, wondering if I should call him.

  I groaned. No, I shouldn’t call him. First, I would talk to my mother. If it was true, what Kristin had said, I didn't… I would be devastated.

  By the time the taxi arrived, drove me back to my apartment building, and I exited the cab and paid him, my emotions had gone from complete and utter humiliation and shock to a slow, burning anger. I saw the car we often shared sitting in our typical parking spot. She was home.

  I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders once again, and inserted my key into the lock. The moment I opened the door I saw her sitting at the kitchen table, not doing anything, just sitting. She looked at me, her expression blank.

  Wanting more than anything at that moment for her answer to my question, I asked it, my voice trembling. "Is it true? Did you call Kristin? Tell her about Scott and me?"

  She simply nodded.

  I froze, my mouth open in surprise, shock jolting through me. "But why?" My voice rose to a horrified wail. "Why? Why did you do that?"

  "Because what you're doing is wrong, Megan, and Scott isn't the man for you, no matter what you want to believe."

  "What do you have against Scott? Just because you think his dad had something to do with Dad blowing his brains out?" I saw my mom's face drain of color, her eyes wide with shock. I felt an immediate surge of regret. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, but—"

  "You know how I feel about the Holbrook family," she said simply.

  "Scott is not like his father," I insisted. "He's—"

  "He’s seeing you behind his fiancée's back!" she interrupted. "In my book, that makes him exactly like his father."

  "You don't understand! He doesn't love Kristin. He doesn't—"

  "Then why is he still engaged to her?" she said, standing, her voice now harsh, face flushed with color. "I didn't raise you to be any man's mistress, Megan. You—"

  "It's complicated," I interrupted. "Kristin is claiming that she's pregnant, and—"

  "All the more reason you shouldn't be involved with him, let alone sleeping with him. Don't be so naïve, Megan. Can't you see? He's playing the field, just like his father—"

  "No, Mom, you're wrong! What Scott and I have is real!" I turned and headed down the hallway for the living room. "It's real!" I sobbed and slammed the door, something I hadn't done since I was a temperamental teenager.

 
I stood with my back to it for several minutes, my chest heaving with emotion, warm tears streaking down my cheeks. "It's real," I whispered.

  But it wasn't.

  Not fifteen minutes later, after I heard my mom grab the car keys off the hook by the front door and leave the apartment, closing the door softly behind her, my phone rang. I reached inside my purse and grabbed it, flipped it over, my heart thudding with relief when I saw that Scott was calling. I wanted to talk to him so desperately, to find out what the hell was going on, that I answered the call with that very question.

  "What the hell is going on, Scott?"

  He said nothing for a moment. "Megan. I'm sorry, sorrier than I can ever tell you."

  "She attacked me, Scott, in your house! She slapped me, said all kinds of awful things. She told me that my mom had called her… and it's true, Scott. My mom wants to break us up. She wants—"

  "Megan, listen to me," he said. His voice was subdued, serious.

  I swallowed, instinctively knowing what was coming. I felt the air rush out of my lungs as I sat down on the bed, my legs feeling like wet noodles.

  "I've made a terrible mistake. What we had was a mistake. It'll be best if we don't see each other anymore—"

  "Well, since Kristin already fired me, I guess that won't be too hard," I interrupted, my voice cold.

  I felt the cold flush of disappointment and heartbreak. He started to say something, but I didn't want to hear anymore. I disconnected the call, placed the phone gently on the bed, and then lowered my head into my hands, my shoulders shaking with my weeping.

  Mom was right.

  Seventeen