by Cynthia Dane
“It’s a big wedding. Ethan has a million people he has to invite because of his job.”
“Of course, Mr. Big Business Man.” Why did Luna have to say that with a faux serious voice? She sounded so… Jasmine didn’t know anymore. This is why I can’t talk to her. She knew she was old enough to not be embarrassed by her parents, but she couldn’t help it. They were Weird with a capital W. “We’ll try to even things out for you.”
Jasmine spent the next ten minutes trying to get her mother off the phone. Who knew this mama’s girl would one day be so annoyed with her. Jasmine loved her parents, of course. She had many fond memories of her childhood and adolescence, but her parents had always been a bit… odd. It was manageable before she went off to college. Her parents worked the usual jobs. They had a house in the countryside, but a close enough drive to the nearest large town. They were frugal but not opposed to spending a little money for a good time, especially if it meant Jasmine enjoying herself. They were supportive with whatever she wanted to do and didn’t make her feel ashamed about her body or her feelings.
That changed after she graduated high school. The moment she moved into a dorm, her parents sold their house, quit their jobs, and cried into the wind that they were finally embracing who they really wanted to be. A couple of hippies on a bigger hippie farm.
They were happy, so Jasmine supposed that was all that mattered. Even if they didn’t like it, the money she got from Ethan ensured that her parents could have a comfortable future as they got older. I have fantasies of getting them away from hard labor and setting them up in a beach house. That would be the only way.
Nevertheless, she had nightmares of what her parents might bring to her wedding. If she were marrying a normal middle class boy, it would be one thing, but Ethan’s social circles demanded a certain level of propriety. Not everyone would be as understanding of her parents being high off their asses as they performed interpretive dances at the reception.
“Everything okay?” Belinda asked the moment Jasmine put her phone down. “Need help with anything? I could spare a few minutes before I get started mopping the floors.”
Jasmine sighed. “No, thanks. I appreciate it. Just… wedding drama. Mother drama.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine.” Belinda patted Jasmine’s arm with one hand while she held the mop handle in the other. Does this woman ever rest? She was certainly more active than her husband Harold. “You’re getting married, and that’s a wonderful thing. People are excited for you. I can only imagine your mother is super excited.”
Jasmine didn’t have the heart to tell her what was really going on. “She is excited. They’ll be staying here for the duration of the wedding.”
“Wonderful. I’ll put that into the guest schedule.”
“Do so, please.”
Belinda turned with the mop, but then turned right back around again, smacking her lips in thought. “You know, it really is a wonderful thing that Mr. Cole found someone as sweet as you. Between you and me, we were a bit worried he was going to keep up the… you know.”
Jasmine tried not to roll her eyes. “The serial monogamy slash philandering?”
“It can’t be healthy. I understand he’s a very busy man, but… how do you get support like that? A man like him needs a woman supporting him, even if it’s just at home.” Belinda shook her head, the mop squeaking against the floor every time she moved. “I’ve enjoyed having you here, Miss. Although I suppose I should start calling you Madam.” She giggled.
“You don’t have to call me anything.” Jasmine kept telling people to call her by her damned name, but titles were everything up here in the Hills. Sometimes Belinda called her Jasmine, and sometimes she was “Miss.” Probably out of habit. Most employers around there wouldn’t be as understanding of certain slips. Ethan probably hates those people. Jasmine liked the idea of marrying such a man with that kind of disdain for treating people like crap. He treated everyone in his household very well. Letting Belinda and Harold live in the guest house for free… giving them generous benefits and ample time off. Even the gardeners spoke his praises, and not just because he took an active interest in flowers and mycology when he had the time. Goodness, dealing with flowers is going to be a pain with him. I should let him choose them. As long as there were no mushrooms. Outside of dinner, anyway.
“Anyway, I’m glad that Mr. Cole found you, Jasmine. I think you’ll make a stellar wife for him and lady of this house. Trust me. Last place I worked? The lady of that house was not… the greatest. She didn’t know how to treat people. She had all the looks, the manners, and the vocabulary of a millionaire’s wife, but nobody liked her. Nobody working for her, anyway. Harold and I were so relieved to come live and work here.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” As far as Jasmine knew, these friendly people had been working for Ethan ever since he bought this house a few years ago. Nobody but a thrice-weekly cleaning woman entered the downtown penthouse. “You’re coming to the wedding, right?”
“Of course! Although if you’re hosting it here, please don’t expect me to clean it all up. I might have a heart attack.”
“Who told you that we’re hosting the wedding here? Ethan? We haven’t made any final decisions about that yet.”
“Well… he didn’t say anything… recently…”
“Recently?”
Belinda lowered her lips toward Jasmine’s ear. Why was she whispering? Ethan wasn’t even home!
“A few months ago I was serving him breakfast and he commented that he had a dream you and him got married in the garden. He asked me what I thought of that.”
“Really, now?”
“It’s the truth. That man has been thinking about marrying you pretty much since you moved in here.”
“I have a hard time believing it.”
“Believe what you will. Anyway, I need to get started on these floors so they’re dry by the time Mr. Cole comes home.”
Jasmine went back to the address book and a pile of index cards while Belinda went about cleaning the floors, humming to herself. I wonder what kind of wedding she had. Probably something comparably simple to Jasmine’s upcoming affair of the summer. Don’t think about that kind of pressure. The last thing Jasmine needed was pressure. Egad.
***
Her darling fiancé stood her up for lunch downtown on Tuesday afternoon. Oh, he called her to tell her that a business function came up that he couldn’t say no to, but that call didn’t come until Jasmine’s car was already entering the city limits. Too late to turn back. She told him he could make it up to her later at the penthouse. It was Harold and Belinda’s night off anyway, so they might as well stay downtown and order take-out.
Except that left Jasmine to fend for herself for lunch. She was dressed too fancily to go to the kinds of places she liked to frequent before she met Ethan. That left the higher class establishments. The kind that closed by five and had fantastic views of the cityscape, since they were high in office buildings and department stores. She liked those places fine. The service was always top-notch, the food delicious, and she could put whatever she bought on Ethan’s tab and he never said a thing – probably because only his accountant ever noticed. Pretty soon I’ll be able to say “Put it on my husband’s tab.” Jasmine didn’t like the pretentious air of such places, however… she was more than willing to use that line whenever it was convenient. Right now she had to rely on servers and hosts recognizing her as the newly affluent girlfriend – and now fiancée – of one of the biggest billionaires around. Luckily, most were paid to remember. Jasmine always tipped well.
Nevertheless, Jasmine was never excited to go by herself. There was one restaurant she stuck to, and she went there now, but only because the host was willing to listen to her requests to sit in a corner segregated from the rest of the rich fray coming in and out for tea and sandwiches. More than once some uptight jerk glared at her while she ate. Chihuahuas often growled at her. The only dog she got along with in that c
afé was one elderly woman’s service dog, who always took the opportunity to flop on the floor and snooze while his lady ate pasta and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of her playing Candy Crush on her iPad.
That lady wasn’t there today. Few people were there, although the place was far from empty. Jasmine got her favorite seat, and the server was the same young man she often had, and thus remembered what she liked to get. Jasmine had a latte and water before she could blink.
She drew her phone from her purse and took a picture of the latte art for her own amusement. Beyond that, however, the most entertaining thing she had on hand was the bridal magazine she kept in the car for trips in and out of town. But she had already read every article and dog-eared every cake and dress she fancied. I can’t even think about the dress right now. Granted, she was excited to find her perfect dress, but the stress of everything else that she had to get out of the way first… forget it!
Occasionally she glimpsed around the room, catching this socialite, that businessman, and that elderly rich couple who sniffed more than they spoke to one other. The only person of real note in that restaurant was Kathryn Alison sitting in another far corner, commandeering a four-person table so she could spread out a million papers and hunch over something with a ball-point pen. She would bring her work to lunch. Seeing her wasn’t an unusual occurrence at this café. She adopted a kitten from me here… After some people made fun of Jasmine.
Some things never changed.
Two young women Jasmine barely recognized snickered in the corner. She tried to ignore them, even after she realized these women who couldn’t be much younger than her were gesturing to her and then laughing like two baby hyenas.
I’m getting tired of this shit. What could she do? Jasmine wasn’t in any position – yet – to go up to them and call them out on their bullshit. Nor could she passive aggressively send them letters or get to them through their fathers. Not only did she not have this power – yet – but she was not interested in it. Why couldn’t adults be, oh, adults? Jasmine knew she could look silly in her fluffy, pastel-colored coats and with barrettes in her hair, but she didn’t look inappropriate for her age or environment. The server said not a word as he brought her the usual salad and bagel. Jasmine thanked him and pretended to only be interested in her magazine. I need to start carrying earphones so I can listen to music here.
Eventually, Jasmine had to use the restroom. Most places had single-stall affairs, but this restaurant still had communal restrooms located in the back. Most of the time Jasmine was in there by herself. Yet as she locked herself in the only stall, she heard the door open again.
“I know, it’s so embarrassing.” Heels clacked. Purses hit the sinks. Whiny voices pealed. “She’s always by herself. Doesn’t she have any friends?”
“Yeah, she has friends. Poor people, like her.”
They laughed, one of them yucking in her throat. Jasmine could almost hear the friend scoffing at that atrocious sound. “Poor people and the hot mess Monica Warren.”
“Poor people and sluts?”
“She is the epitome of that.”
“I get the slut part.” One girl’s lipstick accidentally clattered in the sink. “But why would a man like Ethan Cole go for someone so poor? He could have his pick of upscale girls. Like us.”
“Please. He was the ultimate playboy for a while.”
“I thought that was Ian Mathers.”
“He took the title after Ethan Cole took himself out of the game.”
“Oh.” One of them snorted. “I think I slept with him once.”
“Which one?”
“Dunno. It was at a party. Everyone was wasted.”
“Speaking of sluts…”
“At least I’ve got money and connections. What does Stripper-Name McGee bring to the table for a stud like Cole? She must have the greatest pussy any man has ever encountered.”
“Maybe she has deets on him. Take him to the cleaners.”
“Maybe she’s pregnant and that’s why they’re getting married so quickly.”
That was the moment Jasmine felt compelled to leave her stall, swinging it open and sauntering out with as much bluster as she could draw up from the pit of her stomach. It was not easy. She stared down those two socialites, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest as she faced their shock and disdain at the same time. Fuck me. I can’t do this. She had to, though. She had put herself in this situation, and now she had to complete it.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said with a solid voice. Jasmine elbowed one girl out of the way so she could turn on the sink and wash her hands. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread that rumor around.”
“Wow.”
“Yup. Wow.” Jasmine shut off the sink and pulled out a paper towel. As she dried off her hands, she said, “Jury’s still out on my magical pussy, though. You’ll be the first to know when the test results are back.”
She tossed the towel in the trash and left, exhaling a heavy breath the moment she was back in the gallery of the restaurant. She didn’t see those girls emerge until five minutes later, and they were quick to grab their things, pay their bill, and scuttle out of there with their tails between their legs. They weren’t sorry. They weren’t even ashamed. Embarrassed, yes, but they would be back to talking shit about Jasmine by the end of the day. They were only upset that they had been caught.
Jasmine ate her lunch quickly, ready to head to the penthouse and try to get some chores done. Nothing fun. Nothing all that stimulating. Better than trying to force herself into this world where people thought she was a joke, though.
The last thing she saw before heading out was Kathryn’s eyes looking in her direction, obscured by a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses, but nonetheless startling in how blue they were. The look was not judgmental, but it was hardly encouraging.
“Hey,” she finally said, as Jasmine turned to leave the restaurant. “Don’t pay any attention to those kinds of fools. They’ll never do any work for a full day of their lives. They’re not worth the dirt on your shoe.”
Jasmine swallowed. How else was she supposed to react to that, especially coming from such a hard expression? “Thanks. I can take it.”
“Sure you can. For now.”
Jasmine wasn’t sure what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know – so without any further ado, she left the restaurant, texting Ethan and telling him he better damn well make up his absence to her later.
Chapter 3
To take her mind off things, Jasmine cooked dinner. A rare event, to be sure, since her interest in cooking was about as deep as her interest in Ethan’s mycological hobbies. But she needed to take her mind off things, and throwing together some easy spaghetti was not only a good plan, but it would make her fiancée the Italian junkie happy too.
Sure enough, he came through the door at six, wearing one of many Armani suits. Had he driven himself, he probably would have taken the Lamborghini. He didn’t unleash his favorite language on her very often, but Jasmine half-expected to hear him say Ciao when he walked through the door. He did not.
“Sorry about earlier…” That’s what he said instead, taking off his coat and pulling a scarf off his throat. Was it that cold earlier that morning? “Wait… did you cook?”
“I did.” Jasmine was in the midst of bringing things to the table. A pot full of cooked noodles drowning in sauce and vegetables graced Ethan’s favorite dining spot. Eat it all up. I slaved over this. “You’re going to eat it.”
Ethan went straight into the kitchen. “Let me get some wine.”
“I’ll assume that’s to complement my cooking, not to get drunk enough to eat it.”
“I’ve had your cooking before. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not fancy. Some extra seasoning on what was already in the cupboards.”
“Like I said, I’m sure it’s fine.” Ethan brought a bottle and two glasses to the table. “I’m okay with nothing fancy. I had assumed you wou
ld order in anyway, so I suppose this is special in its own way.”
“But…”
“Stop putting yourself down.” Ethan intercepted her on her way out of the kitchen. “I’m starving. Is it time to eat yet?”
“Sure…”
Jasmine listened to him go on about his day while they ate, her drinking a lot more wine than he did. Ethan started with his business dealings that morning, things Jasmine used to care about when she took notes about them. Now? She vaguely paid attention, because it wasn’t like it was ever interesting.
Then he got to something juicier. Apparently, a meeting that afternoon went to hell because Adrienne showed up late, and wouldn’t tell anyone why. Ethan made Amber reschedule the meeting for the end of the week, but not before he ripped Adrienne a new asshole about standing up an important investor. I wish I could see that.
“So… we’re fighting a bit right now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It comes with the territory. Was only a matter of time before we had our first fight as business partners.” Ethan shook his head. “It’s rather awkward given our pasts.”
Jasmine twirled spaghetti on her fork but didn’t eat any more. “Still, not exactly good form to stand up a meeting, and not tell you why.”
“I’m sure she has her good reasons, but I can’t let her get away with it.”
Jasmine bit back the words she wanted to say. Like you probably used to punish her for other things? Ethan had punished Jasmine for shit she had done at his office more than once. His favorite form of punishment? Spanking, of course. Something Jasmine doubted she could enjoy with any other man.
“Did you two ever…”