Loving The Enemy

by Jordan Silver

  “Yes I saw him.” I dropped down beside her and took what felt like my first breath of the day.

  “And?” I didn’t pretend not to know what she was getting at, the whole world would know soon enough. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to utter those words, they seemed so final. Like once I said them there was no going back and I would have to face reality and all that entailed.

  “And, dad really did sell the company, but there’s no money.” I felt the tears that I’d been able to keep at bay slip from the corners of my eyes. I’ve searched through everything and there’s no offshore accounts, no hidden nest egg anywhere that would pull us through. Dad’s suicide note had only said that he was sorry for disappointing us, but left no clue as to what we were supposed to do next.

  I could find a job, but daughters of wealthy men don’t usually get degrees in anything useful. Especially not when they’re expecting to inherit a fortune five hundred company with a board of directors to see to the daily grind. I know how to run a charity social, how to throw a mean party and where to buy the best art. Maybe some day one of those things would come in handy but right now my mind was too muddled to think on it.

  “Have you heard from Cindy or any of the others?” I made a huffing sound as I turned to face her.

  “Yeah, she wanted to go shopping.” Cindy is not exactly bright and she has no concept of the word broke. I sometimes strengthen myself with the thought that had she been dropped into my position she would’ve caved already. The girl is as ditzy as the day is long.

  “That girl is a total ditz.” I snorted at her seemingly reading my mind. She sat up and looked at me and I felt one of her ‘serious talks’ coming at me. We’re the same age, a few months apart, but for some strange reason when she talks I listen. She always has this otherworldly way about her that sounds like she knows her shit. And once she gets rolling I usually forget that I have her beat by a few months.

  “So listen, I’ve been thinking. I know you’re too hardheaded to accept my help, so I’ve come up with the next best thing. How about a store?” I looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Didn’t she just get through telling me that Cindy was a ditz for inviting me to go shopping?

  “What? That’s your big idea, go shopping?”

  “No clown, you open a store, an Internet store. You know the shit you’re always giving to Goodwill? We’re gonna sell it from right here in your house.” What the hell is she talking about? I give my old stuff away, old being last season’s digs, but I always go to less fortunate neighborhoods to do that.

  “I fail to see how selling my used crap for five bucks a pop is going to get me out of this mess.” She rolled her eyes and hopped up off the bed.

  “Five dollars? Do you really think Goodwill is selling your Chanel and Dior for five bucks a pop? Get real. They mark that shit up and I’m sure some of them sell that shit on eBay and Etsy for hundreds of dollars. In fact, she who should remain nameless got her start that way, or so I’ve heard.”

  I gave her the stink eye. There was only one human being that I have forbidden anyone to mention in my presence and even with my own shit, the mere mention of her was enough to make me upchuck. “Are you saying that if I go down this road I might end up on a reality show? Is that before or after I show my ass for all the world to see?”

  “Girl you crazy, ain’t nobody got time for that mess. Come on, let’s go see what you got that you can spare.” She was halfway to my closet already and I had no choice but to follow. There was no point in calling her off because once she gets her teeth into something she had the tenacity of a starving pit-bull.

  “Who’s going to buy this stuff for hundreds of dollars? If they can afford that why don’t they just buy it new?”

  “You’re thinking like the spoilt little rich girl you are. So here’s how this works, and I can’t believe you didn’t know about this. Take this blouse for example.” She took one of my Lacroix silk tops from its hanger and held it up to my gaze.

  “You paid what, five, four grand for this and wore it what, twice, maybe? You market it as barely used, no wear and tear, in mint condition and voila, a cool eight hundred or even a grand. It’s all about who we’re selling to dahling, watch and learn.” She started dragging things off of hangers and I was slightly amazed at how well she knew me because most if not all of the stuff she chose would’ve been my choice to get rid of as well.

  By the time she was through I was slightly ashamed of myself. My closet was still bursting at the seams, many of the things still bearing price tags. “That’s about fifty grand right there. Bam!” She eyed the clothes she had strewn all over the carpeted floor before turning her sights to the room. “Now, some place to set up shop. The lighting in here is perfect and so is the coloring, girls love pink and purple. With the white and gold showcase and the mirrored walls this will be perfect.”

  I had to rein her ass in when she made a move towards my bag collection. “Oh hell no, not yet. Last resort.” I’ve been collecting designer bags since I was about twelve. It was the one thing mom and I had in common, our love of leather. “No bags and shoes until absolutely necessary.”

  “Okay chica keep your shorts on.”

  She put me to work and for the next couple of hours I all but forgot my predicament. That was until mom rang her bell and I remembered that she hadn’t eaten since I got home and probably hadn’t left her room all day, which meant she hadn’t eaten since I forced her to have some toast at breakfast this morning.

  “I’m sorry Simone, I have to go make dinner.”

  “No problem I’ll just finish pricing the rest of this stuff, then we can get started on the pics.” I started to leave and as I looked back I saw the set determination on her face and realized that she was really here for me. I guess it’s true what they say. You know who your real friends are when the chips are down.

  3

  Jason

  She plagued me the whole damn night. Instead of the cocktail party I was supposed to attend I’d spent the rest of the evening moving around my penthouse apartment trying to figure her out in my head. Even the shot of whiskey I’d downed after my light meal of salmon and salad hadn’t numbed the thoughts of her and what the hell she was going through.

  She’d just lost her dad and from what little I’d seen was still having a hard time dealing. At least that’s how I perceived our little interactions. I didn’t know her well enough to gauge the situation fully, only what was written about her escapades as a socialite heiress. Which left much to be desired if the reports were true. But I knew better than most that half that shit was made up bullshit mixed in with half-truths and innuendo.

  I got up the next morning still thinking about her, wondering if she was going to pay me a visit at end of day. There was no longer a reason for her to, and I found myself missing her already. I think I was just slightly attracted to her, which made no sense at all. I like my women timid, this one had hellcat written all over her.

  I was able to put her out of my mind long enough to concentrate on my business, which without her little hiccups was coming along just nicely. Her dad’s company wasn’t my first take over or buyout, but it was the crown jewel in my little empire.

  Since my first start-up in my mom’s basement right out of college, I’ve been moving full steam ahead. I got my first break with a gaming software but I always knew that that’s not where I wanted to stay. After my first lucky million I invested hard until I had enough to invest in my first company.

  Within two years I had a cool ten million in my portfolio and no one knew, because nothing changed. I still wore the same ratty tees and torn jeans with five-year old sneakers. In this day and age ten mil was nothing more than a drop in the pan, nowhere near the big guns. I wanted to be at the top of the game, wanted to play in the big leagues, so I knew I had a long way to go. Now my yacht was worth twice that and with this new acquisition I was set to make much more.

  The Bronson Company was a metropolis in itself. It included a n
ewspaper, a magazine; television studios and real estate. And I’d got it all for a song. I still don’t see how one of the world’s foremost businessmen had lost it all, had fallen so low at the end. Greed I guess. Sometimes when people have that much money they get stupid. They let the money run them instead of the other way around.

  Timothy had got himself mixed up with the wrong damn people going after shit that wasn’t his. The SEC had come down on his ass for insider trading and the dominoes had started to fall from there. By the time I came along he was barely hanging on by a thread. I could’ve offered him twice as much as I did, but I was so disappointed in him and the choices he’d made that I didn’t go easy on him. Had I known that he would’ve ended his life I probably would’ve seen things a little different.

  It wasn’t like I’d handed him the gun, so why should I feel this guilt? I know why. It was his damn daughter’s face that was haunting me. The way she looked so lost each time she came to me. Nothing at all like the vivacious party girl whose face was always splashed across the screen.

  I actually spent an extra twenty minutes behind my desk that evening waiting to her hear voice giving security hell. On the way to the elevator and when I got off a few minutes later, I dragged my steps just in case. No show, it was over. I squelched the little feeling of disappointment as I climbed into the backseat of my car.

  I knew some fuck was wrong with me when I couldn’t settle down once I got home. I called off another date with the model I was dating for now, to which she had a few choice words, which I didn’t like, and therein ended another dead end love affair. I wonder why they call those shits ‘love’ since neither party was ever that deeply invested. I guess it sounded better than fuck-stop so there you have it.

  I was tempted, very tempted to go snooping into her life. It wouldn’t take much for me to hack into her shit to find out just how bad things were. I’d put off her behavior these last few weeks to just her trying to hold onto the only thing she had left of her dad, but what if things were really as bad as the whispers around town?

  I knew what I’d paid her old man and though I knew he was in the hole for way more than I’d given him, I couldn’t believe he didn’t leave something. I sat behind the computer in my home office, my fingers itching to hit those keys, but in the end it felt too much like a violation of privacy. And once again, why do I give a fuck? That shit never stopped me before.

  Instead I found myself putting her name into Google and feeling my heart thump when the first picture came across the screen. There goes that smile. As I stared at her through the glass screen I realized that it was her eyes that I found captivating. Her eyes looked like bottomless pools of mystery, like she had a secret no one else knew, and she was just daring you to try. I had a sneaky suspicion that the man who unlocked her secrets would be the one to own her heart.

  I tried to remember what the fuck I’ve been reading or watching here lately that could’ve turned me into this fucking sap-nut. Not even when I was in high school or college did I lose my shit over a female. Maybe that’s the problem, one of my fucked up clocks is probably ticking. Well that fuck needs to shut the fuck up because I don’t have time.

  Sure she was beautiful, but that was through no fault of hers, not unless she went under the knife, which I knew she hadn’t. But it takes more than a beautiful face and an amazing pair of eyes to hold my interest, so what was it really? I scrolled through the hundreds of pictures they had of her and by the time an hour had gone by I was still no closer to answering any of my questions. What was this sudden fascination with her?

  I’ve never liked spoilt little daddy’s girls I find them annoying and, I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women ever since Forbes outted my ass for breaking through the top tier. At thirty years old even my own mother is hounding me to tie the knot and the females of my acquaintance have been scenting blood in the water for the past two years. I never gave that shit much thought, had no interest. Women just weren’t that important to me at the time as anything more than a passing fancy.

  Sure I took good care of the women I dealt with, I’m not a complete dog after all. But the settling down and happily ever after bullshit just wasn’t on my radar. What I’m trying to say is that, I never put too much thought into who my next fuck was going to be. As long as she was hot, available and disease free, I was in, but I’ve never been all in. Not saying that I feel that way about Emily Bronson, but she’s the first woman of my recollection that’s made me look, really look at what laid beneath the designer clothes and the patent leather smile.

  Was it her veracity, the way she came after me? Her lack of fear when she stood before me? Grown men have been known to hide from me, so why did this female who barely reached my chin think she could beard the lion in his den? I’m not a badass heat packing asshole who goes around bullying others, not my style. But one of my passions along with making money, is any type of martial art. To get where I wanted to be I needed discipline, of mind as well as body and there was only one way I knew to get it.

  There were others in my world who gave a good impression of being tough. There’re a few sensei around the globe that can attest to the fact that my shit is real. I can put a man down without breaking a sweat, but more than my physical strength, it’s my mind that takes the lead. Did I sense that in her, that inner strength that so well mirrored mine?

  “No Jace, you just want to fuck. She’s young, beautiful and hot; nothing more nothing less.” I convinced myself that my interest went only so far as I peered through the pictures of her life. I could piece her whole life together just from the snippets offered here and there, which reminded me once again why I valued my privacy as much as I do. Funnily enough it was because of this that I knew half of what was being said was hogwash.

  If I believed what was being printed here I would think her nothing more than a scatter brained debutante with nothing between her ears other than the next shopping venture or where to find her next score of blow. None of that represented the woman who’d stood before me these last few weeks. She wasn’t as flighty as these reports made her out to be.

  Let it go Jason, it’s none of your fucking business; your dick’s gonna get you in trouble yet. In the past I’ve done the choosing, I always looked down on men who were led by their dicks. I’m too fucking old to join that club at this late date. The uprising in the south was making a mockery of my words. I looked down at my lap in disgust. I can’t believe my dick was betraying me like this.

  I looked back at the screen at the last shot of her that I’d brought up. She was on her old man’s yacht the summer before in a few scraps of clothing that showed off her body to perfection. Her skin held a golden hue no doubt from the Greek summer sun, making her eyes shine even brighter as she glammed for the camera.

  Shaking my head in resignation I logged off and went in search of a cold beer. I’m not one to run from shit, so I had to deal with the beast now rearing its ugly head. What could I possibly want with this girl? Something tells me that she’s not like the others, that she wouldn’t be so easily shed. Coming from wealth the way she has, she’d have no need of my money to better her standing in the eyes of the world.

  But she’s no longer the daughter of… Damn Jason that’s shit thinking, and way beneath you. What the fuck is going on here anyway? The more I shied away from the question of her, the more memories flooded my mind. Her eyes, those eyes that seemed to be looking into my secret places while pleading with me for… something, won’t leave me alone.

  4

  Jason

  I spent yet another restless night tossing and turning with thoughts of her and her damn eyes following me into my dreams. In the morning I was pissed with no one in sight to bear the brunt of my wrath, and no reason for my disposition. I probably haven’t crossed her mind in the last few days and here I am giving more time than I have to spare to thoughts of her.

  I wouldn’t entertain the idea of love, I’m too strong of mind to fall prey to that stupid emotion
. Seen one too many otherwise smart people lose their minds over some female who snared them in their trap only to wake up one day and realize they’d fucked themselves in the ass when said female showed her true colors.

  Then there were the silly women who fell for the wiles of some shyster whose only interest was in their money. Nope, not for me. As a self-made man I had no need of a wealthy partner, and I had enough pussy thrown my way to last me a lifetime. Though there was one thing… no. I don’t give a fuck about such things.

  I’d never given much thought to fitting in with certain circles, though I know that even with all my money there were some who still didn’t accept me as one of ‘their’ crowd. Fuck ‘em. Bourgeois names don’t pay the bills and though there was a time when such things mattered, those days were long gone. Then again, as the daughter of the late Timothy Bronson, she might have entrée into some places that were still closed to a man like me; billionaire or not. Fucking snobs.

  I’d paid a great deal to keep the fact that Bronson had taken his own life out of the press. So far the only ones who knew were his wife, daughter, myself and the officer who found him. The note had been left at home, so everyone thought it was an accident. That he’d been cleaning his gun when it went off. What the fuck he was doing with the shit in his mouth is beyond me, but hey. Money makes people blind deaf and dumb when it suits them.

  Still, where is my head going with this shit? I poured my first cup of coffee and walked to the bank of windows that circled the living room of my five- bedroom penthouse apartment, overlooking the city. Looking down I imagined there were quite a few people down below who still bore some resentment at my seemingly effortless rise to the top. Fuck ‘em.

  It wasn’t easy getting here and it had taken a little longer than a man with my skills should’ve done. But the choice of doing shit the easy way or being able to look myself in the mirror every morning wasn’t very hard. I knew the deal before I stepped foot in the ring, knew that there was only one way open for me to play the game and still be able to live with myself.