“I’ll repeat myself,” I say in a voice that is steady and even. “Do you like it in the ass?”
Barry gulps so loud I have to move the phone away from my ear. He’s never heard me talk like this. I’ve never been so bold with him and maybe that was part of our problem. We could have worked on it, if he had bothered to come and talk to me. But trust goes both ways and it’s obvious to me that he doesn’t trust me.
“Babe, I…yeah. Okay? Sometimes I like it in the ass.”
I swallow back my bitter laugh. “Well, if you had come to me, we could have done that. I’ve worn strap-ons before and if you had given me the chance, I would have been able to make you come like that too.”
He coughs hard and even through the phone I know his face is beet red. I shake my head at how ridiculous the situation is. Suddenly I’m a lot less sad about the loss of Barry. Now I see him as a pathetic, small man who couldn’t just be honest. Is being true to yourself really that scary? Maybe for weak, insignificant people.
“Fallon, I—”
“Don’t bother.” I cut him off. “It’s bad enough that you lied to me. That you snuck around behind my back and that you cheated on me. I would have never forgiven you for that. But to top it all off, you’re being fucked by guys and then coming back to me and kissing me.”
Barry starts crying. Some big, tough biker guy he is. I roll my eyes. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cheat on you. I thought other guys wouldn’t count.”
What a bunch of shit. If that were true he wouldn’t have tried to cover it up. “Whatever. It’s over. We’re through. You should be grateful that I’m not putting you on blast, but I know how devastating that can be to a person. Just remember that, Barry, when you are doubtlessly approached by trashy magazine representatives trying to get dirt on me.”
My threat reads loud and clear and Barry’s crying dries up into soft sniffling. “This is why I was afraid to tell you, Fallon. You’re cold. You used to be such a warm, sweet person. I watched you on Cheer Battle. You used to think the best of people and now you’ve got an icy heart. What happened to you?”
Even though I give no indication that his words affected me, it hurts more than I’d like to admit that he would compare me to the old Fallon. That Fallon came before the gossip, before being used by the evil porn industry and lied about by the corrupt mainstream media. That was before she’d been betrayed by almost everyone she ever trusted.
“People like you happened, Barry. Goodbye.”
I hang up with a click and fight the urge to throw my phone against the wall. Exhaustion beats at me. The kind of soul-deep sadness that won’t go away with a hot bath and a tub of ice cream. I’m so tired of the way this world seems to work and of not trusting anyone. I just want to be happy.
I drag myself to bed and throw myself against my silk sheets. I don’t bother to get undressed and the supple material slides against the fabric of my jacket. I should take it off but I can’t muster enough energy to care.
I bury my face in one of my pillows and suddenly tears and screams explode from my face. I muffle the sounds of my frustration and sorrows, letting my emotions run their course.
The room is dark by the time I move again. I must have fallen asleep there in my tear-soaked pillow. I roll over, feeling drained but not wanting to sleep. I know what I’ll dream of. I’ll dream of a happy, fulfilled life. A life where I can spread my wings as a successful business woman but also get all that I need just as a woman. I’ll dream of a man who can handle my busy schedule and my high-octane sex drive. A man who wants me more than seems possible.
My own prince.
My mind drifts back to Johnni and Kyle. That. I want that. A man who wants me so badly that he is ready to skip the socially accepted steps and drown in just being with me. Who is all-in from the beginning and would do anything, give anything, to be with me.
That’s what I deserve. I’ve been through hell trying to establish myself in every avenue of my life. I’ve had to fight, scratch and claw for every inch I have gained. Is it too much to ask for one aspect that is just…stable? Perfect.
I bite my bottom lip, looking at the ornate crucifix I have hanging above my bed. It’s a modern design, not gaudy or loud but obviously a symbol of my faith. I believe that God is in all things and that if I wait patiently, He will show me my course and fulfill all my needs.
The crucifix is there to remind me of that…and it does.
I roll back over on my side, forcing my breathing to even out. I know that if I continue to work hard and have faith that I will ultimately find the peace. I will find exactly what makes me happy, what makes me whole. And I will make it mine because I have earned that.
I just have to be patient for a little while longer.
I drag my pillow closer to my chest after I shrug out of my clothes. I would normally get up and fold them, but this time I decide it will be okay if I let the maids deal with it. My eyes drift shut and I settle in for the night. Tomorrow will be a better day.
Chapter Five
When I get back to the office, the first thing I realize is that there are doughnuts in one of my conference rooms. I have an important Skype call in less than ten minutes, and the huge conference table is covered in icing and crumbs. I grit my teeth and look back over my shoulder at the reception desk. Of course Arianna isn’t there. The phones are ringing off the hooks and she’s probably in the bathroom smoking, something I’ve told her a hundred times not to do.
I keep from lashing out and start to focus on a solution. I make quick work of cleaning up the mess and prepare for the meeting by myself. None of the notes that I need laid out are prepared. The presentation slides I need uploaded to the screen are still not available. I scramble to get it all done, hitting the Call button just as my alarm begins to sound.
An hour and a half later, I leave the conference room in a great mood. Despite the lack of preparations, I nailed the proposal and wowed the executives of the companies I wanted to merge with on a few projects. I’ve found that business isn’t nearly as challenging as it’s made to seem. Really, it’s all about giving people what they want and making sure you get something out of the deal.
It’s a lot like sex, which I am damn good at.
Maybe that’s why I’m such a natural when it comes to building my brand and expanding my empire. I love to make people happy, even if they are old, frumpy men who begin every conversation while looking down their noses at me. I learned a lot about these power-hungry men during my time as a Sugar Baby. All they really need is for someone to flash them a pretty smile and tell them no.
I have them all wrapped around my little finger.
My reception room is no longer empty when I step into it. Two men I have never met before, dressed in shabby street clothes, are spread out over my expensive couches with their feet up on my coffee tables.
Arianna is laughing with them but when I clear my throat she is quick to move back. “Fallon. You’ve met Chazz and Jeoffry Wheeler, right? Their father is Paul Wheeler.”
I cringe. Paul Wheeler is a small-time business owner who manages several ghetto clubs in bad neighborhoods. I’ve run into him a couple times at charity functions. He is a snake-like, slimy guy who is always looking to further his agenda by throwing someone else under the bus. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is also pushing drugs.
He is not the kind of man I want to be associated with in any of my businesses. Just having his sons in the same room as me makes me feel like I need to take a hot shower. Even so, I have to be professional.
I offer each of them a pointed stare and glance down at where their feet rest on my magazines and books. They drop their feet like guilty children, loudly slamming the soles of their shoes against the ground. “No, we haven’t met before. It’s a pleasure, gentlemen.”
They mumble unintelligent responses and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I look over at Arianna and she’s either oblivious to how unhappy I am at the situation or she doesn’t c
are. She continues chattering. “…so I thought you might want to talk to them about the real estate options.”
I frown. I wasn’t listening to what she said but I know that I don’t like where this conversation is going. “I’m sorry but I think there’s been a miscommunication here. Any properties I have are being leased by a select group of individuals. Unfortunately, I don’t have any vacant real estate options at this time.”
Arianna opens her mouth, doubtlessly ready to contradict what I’m saying but I give her a look that would silence a rabid dog. The brothers don’t seem to notice the exchange and one of them stands to offer me his hand. “We completely understand. Thank you for agreeing to see us without an appointment, at any rate. Should anything change, don’t hesitate to drop me a line. Thanks again.”
I nod, surprised by how elegant his exit is. He must be used to being told no on a regular basis. Suddenly, I feel foolish for jumping to conclusions. Isn’t that exactly how people treated me when I first wanted to branch out?
“Wait, just a moment.” I call after them. The man—Chazz, I think his name is—stops just as he pulls open the door. He turns and waits for me to walk to him. I hand him a card. “Call me next week and we’ll set up a proper meeting. I would love to hear what you have in mind.”
Chazz grins at me, and I get the distinct feeling that he knows exactly what went through my mind just a few minutes ago. He and I might just be cut from the same cloth, and I can really respect someone who is eager to make change in his life.
“You got it. Thanks again.”
I nod and close the door behind him and his brother. When I turn around, Arianna is basically bouncing from foot to foot. “That went so great! I knew you would like him as soon as I met him. Did you check out his ass? I bet he can do squats for hours.”
Arianna giggles and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. She brought both of them in for such a stupid reason? This is a business, not a dating service. I open my mouth to respond to that but close it without saying a word. Arianna looks mildly confused when I walk past her and head for my office.
I come back less than two minutes later with a packet I have already prepared. Truth be told, I prepared it weeks ago and have been torn between using it and throwing it out. I give it to her in a motion that speaks of confidence I didn’t know I had until right then.
“What’s this? Tickets to something?” Arianna turns it over in her hand, prepared to rip open the envelope.
“It’s your severance packet and a copy of the non-disclosure you signed, in case you’ve forgotten the legalities of ceasing your employment here.”
Arianna’s dumb smile stays plastered on her face, and it’s painfully clear that she doesn’t understand what is happening. I decide to help her out a little bit and head to the utility closet where we keep all of our office supplies. I give her a big white box. “Please empty your desk. You can carry all of your stuff out in this.”
That does it. Arianna’s eyes go wide and fill with tears. She opens her mouth and I hold up my hand. “Don’t. Seriously, don’t even bother. I could fire you based on just what has happened today. You failed to prepare the notes for my meeting. You left the conference room a mess. You invited people in for a business meeting without consulting me and in the process you potentially gave out sensitive information. Which, by the way, is illegal according to the contract you’re holding. Just get out. Quietly. Leave and this won’t have to get ugly.”
Arianna’s mouth closes slowly and without another word she heads toward her desk and empties it of all of her personal belongings. I have no doubt that she would have either stolen or broken something on her way out, had I not be standing right there. Instead, she makes her way to the door without even looking at me again.
When she closes the front door, I woodenly walk around the office and turn off of the main lights. Then I lock the door and sit down carefully on one of my couches. Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it. It swells in my throat and spills out of my mouth in huge guffaws.
It feels so good that I let it build and build until the entire space is echoing with the sound of my mirth. I imagine that if anyone else saw me right now, they would think I’m crazy. But I don’t feel crazy. Stressed, worried about replacing my assistant, and tired of being beaten down, yes. But I don’t feel crazy.
Instead, I feel strangely empowered. Like Arianna was one of the last vestiges of the old me. The me who cared more about people’s asses than what was in their head. The me who didn’t think one missed deadline was the end of the world.
I am growing. As a woman and as a person.
And that is a good thing. I lean back against my couch in the dark, grinning like a fool even though I have an insane amount of work that needs to be completed today. I feel liberated.
And I have myself to thank for that. No one else.
Chapter Six
“Are you sure that you know what you’re going to make?” Giulia doesn’t bother to keep her voice smooth and even this time. Instead, she practically laughs with her excitement, and I can’t help but mirror her enthusiasm.
After my break-up with Barry and firing Arianna, I’ve been in a weird place mentally. It was good and I am happy but at the same time I feel a little lost. Without the safety net of my old life and some of my bad habits, I’m not entirely sure what to do with all of my boundless energy. I need direction that won’t turn me into a fifty-year-old workaholic. I can’t just live for my business goals but at the same time, it isn’t realistic for me to throw myself into my romantic life.
I need to do something that will strengthen me as a person without relying on anyone else. As much as I love Johnni and know he will be there for me if I need him, I have to be independent. That’s just who I am.
“I have a rough idea. Even if I’m not sure, I can always just start again, right?”
Giulia nods. “Exactly. Don’t worry about making everything perfect. It’s okay to mess up a little. If you want to, we can stay here all night.”
We aren’t meeting in her office as we usual do. Instead, I’m sitting on a concrete floor in the middle of a nice but empty art studio. There are smears of paint and discarded swatches of fabric all over the place. Giulia has pushed me through the big, metal doors on the opposite side of the room and told me to go to what called to me.
I don’t know why I ended up at the little table across the room. It is nondescript, almost plain compared to the bigger tables with their brightly colored ornaments. It is obvious that I could have picked almost any art project in this large room. There are paint and sewing equipment. There is also what looks like a glass-blowing shelf a little further down, but the heavy apron I would have to wear for that made the thought almost as exhausting as the actual action would be.
I sat down at this little table instead, finding a lump of clay and a bucket of warm water waiting for me. Is it warm because Giulia knew it was what I would pick? I don’t know and right now I don’t care.
I take a handful of the clay and press it into my palm. It squishes easily and I wet the tip of my fingers before I scoop up more and add it to the collection. Giulia explains the logistics of the molding but I catch on pretty quick and after a few minutes she wanders off in another direction.
I hear her behind me, humming while she takes colored pencils to a giant canvas. I smile at the sound because this is the first time I’ve seen my therapist so relaxed. She’s usually dressed to the nines in pencil skirts and professional blouses, but today she’s wearing jeans and a well-worn but clean T-shirt. I know this is part of my therapy and that she wants me to relax and find an outlet for my pent-up emotions, but it almost feels as if I’m out with a girlfriend, just having a good time.
As I work the clay in my hands, I warm it with my body heat, giving it an even smoother appearance. The action is almost sexual in nature and before long I find myself strangely aroused by the way my hands slide over the smooth surface. As I work, I realize that this must be the h
eart of all art. This is me, my special brand of energy and interest, poured into something that people can see. Something that people can touch.
I’m taking the most secret parts of me and making them tangible in the world. Somehow, that truth makes me more excited and focused than anything else.
I think about the way I’m spending my time, unwinding in a manner that never would have crossed my mind. In the past, when I wanted to blow off steam I would have hit a club. A few hours of drinking and dancing would relax me even more than a workout by itself. I might even pick up a guy and let him give me a few orgasms while I settled my mind and body into a new rhythm.
But that isn’t me anymore. That isn’t what I want. I have grown up a lot in the last couple of months. No, I’ve grown up in the years since Cheer Battle. I’ve become a powerful woman. A woman to be feared and respected.
The clay warms again, strengthened by my mental resolve. I make a pleased noise in the back of my throat and somehow I feel as if the clay responds to that. I don’t know how it knows but it’s almost like telepathy and I connect to what I’m creating in an almost spiritual sense.
I lean back against the chair and root myself deeper in the moment. My old fears and concerns melt away as I press my fingers to the clay and work it to my specifications. Before I realize it, I’m grinning from ear to ear, truly enjoying the experience.
“Do you want me to take a look at what you have?” Giulia’s voice startles me out of my concentration and I look up. My shoulders twinge with pain and I roll them, slightly confused.
“Oh yeah. You were in the zone, weren’t you?” Giulia taps the designer watch on her wrist. “It’s been almost two hours. You’ve barely looked up from that table.”
Two hours? I jerk at her words. It doesn’t felt like that much time has passed. In fact, it feels like only ten or fifteen minutes have gone by since I sat down. I stand up slowly and the truth of her words is undeniable. My feet are asleep.
Love Through LimeLight Page 4