She gives everyone in the room a quick, strained smile. “We’ll be back in a minute.”
She drags me out of the den and into the hallway, my dad following us and apologizing to everyone on the way out.
I roll my eyes and stand my ground just outside of the room. “What did you say to Billie?”
“I only went to apologize for how I behaved at your father’s dinner the other night, she reacted badly and very unladylike. Your girlfriend doesn’t handle herself very well.”
I don’t bother to correct her on thinking that Billie is my girlfriend, it doesn’t matter what she is to me, I won’t have her speaking badly about her. “What Billie says or does is none of your concern. You should never have gone to her place of work and provoked her, or do the rules not apply when you have as much money as you do?”
My dad steps in. “You went to Holy Cross to speak to Billie? Why would you do that, Katherine?”
She scoffs and waves her hand toward me. “Please, she’s not that special. I was there to visit Dean Harmon about our donations and happened to catch her on my way out. She’s the one that invited me into her office and practically threatened me after calling me some awful names.”
My head reels back at her admission. “Billie wouldn’t do that without a reason.”
“But she did, all I suggested was she talk to you about getting serious about your career,” she admits as if she’s bored and we’re talking about something inconsequential like the weather.
“Katherine, you had no right to do so,” my dad interjects and she looks between us both with a furious look on her face.
“I did what I had to do for our son, you don’t seem to care whether he throws away his degree or not anymore, so someone needs to!”
“So you told her to convince me to quit my job and come work for Dad? Is that how it is?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. I was just looking out for you and thought she’d only want the same for someone she cares about.”
“You’re unbelievable. I don’t even know how you think this sort of thing is acceptable,” I bite out. “Don’t contact me or Billie again. If I want to get in touch, I will. Take care, Mom.”
Dad sighs and looks at me. “Macswell, you’re overreacting.”
“Am I? I know you didn’t just say that as if she hasn’t been trying to sabotage my career for the past five years, and now she’s bringing the first girl I’ve ever cared about into it! I won’t have it. I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t even be civil anymore if she keeps bringing up how I choose to live my life every time we all get together.” My chest heaves up and down and Mom moves to touch me. “No, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy for me, regardless of what I was doing. I’m sorry I turned out to be such an embarrassment, Mother.”
“Son,” Dad says, trying to grab my arm on my way past him.
Mom rights herself from the shock and says, “Fine.” In a clipped tone, plasters a smile on her face and walks back into the den as if nothing just happened.
I turn to face Dad. “I’ll be in touch, I just can’t right now.”
He starts to say something but stops himself and nods instead, letting me walk out into the elevator.
All I can think of on the way back is apologizing to Billie on my mom’s behalf, but I can’t, at least not until tomorrow anyway because she’s passed out. She probably thought by distancing herself it would make my mom back off, but I’ve taken care of that and first thing in the morning, I’ll be going over to let her know she doesn’t need to worry about her anymore. She shouldn’t have had to worry about this in the first place, it’s not like we’re together, we’re… well I don’t know what we are anymore, but I don’t like this strained vibe that’s hanging in the air. Things are normally fun and easy between us. I have to sort this out.
Headache? Check. Mouth like Gandhi’s flip-flop? Check. Beer sweats? Check. I’m definitely in the midst of a raging hangover that only a long run can cure. Yeah, I’m that person, the annoying one that uses running to cure all ailments, but it works.
I groan and roll out of bed… literally; crawling on all fours into my kitchen and pulling myself up using the bench, putting my head under the tap and sucking down the cold water. Drinking so much last night wasn’t one of my brightest ideas, but I needed to let off some steam and since the only person I know is the person I was trying to avoid, I let Miss Gin meet Mr. Tonic, which now seems like the worst idea in the world because Miss Gin wants to break up with Mr. Tonic and take the contents of my stomach with her.
I’ve been avoiding Mac for two days now and only answering his texts if he’s asked a genuine question. I know he knows something is off, he’s not stupid, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what his mum said to me, I can’t tell him that his mum practically bribed me into making him quit his job and when I refused, she tried to get me fired.
I shake my head and immediately regret doing so, rubbing my temples and grabbing two pain killers and swallowing them with a gallon of water. My mouth isn’t so dry now and at least I’m partially hydrated to go for a run.
I change into my running kit and wrap my iPod holder around my bicep, plugging the earphones in my ears and jogging out of the apartment building. There’s a few people milling about on the street and I give them a quick smile as I pass them, hoping I won’t throw up in their direction as my stomach rolls over. Maybe running wasn’t such a good idea.
I run for another half of a mile and then turn back as I start to feel a little fresher. I run past a cafe, the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes making my stomach rumble. My pace picks up and I storm ahead, determined to get a shower so I can go back to the cafe and engorge myself on stacks of pancakes and coffee... lots and lots of coffee.
I take the lift back up to my floor because my legs feel like jelly and I don’t want to tackle the stairs; I’ve done my fair share of exercise today. My plans for the rest of the day involve eating my body weight in pancakes and then coming back and crashing on the sofa while I watch chick flicks and cry that my life isn’t like any of the films.
Jumping in the shower—figuratively of course—I lather my hair up with my new coconut and lime shampoo and sing along to the Spice Girls playing over my shower radio that’s hooked up to my iPod. I’ve always loved this song!
Rinsing out the lather, my tummy rumbles and I hurry up washing out the conditioner that doesn’t seem to want to come out of my hair. It better hurry up and rinse quick otherwise I’m walking to the cafe with a towel on and conditioner still in my hair, I’m that hungry.
I eventually get it out and turn off the shower, ringing the excess water out my hair. I open the shower curtain and startle, covering myself with it as I see Mac sitting on my toilet seat, reading one of my magazines.
“Boundaries, Mac!” I screech. What the fuck is he doing in here!
“Men with beards make better relationship material, hmm, who knew?” he mumbles.
I scoff at him. “Err, hello? Get out!”
He looks up from the magazine he’s holding for the first time and smirks. “Nice legs.”
He puts the magazine back on the stack and throws me a towel, making me drop the shower curtain in the process. I furiously try to cover all my important parts, but I know he’s seen everything by the look in his eyes; they’re full of lust.
“Get out!” I shout again, the redness creeping up my neck. I lean back against the cold tiles wanting to die from embarrassment as he exits the room with a wink.
Mortification, complete and utter mortification. I think this tops all the shit that happened the other night at his dad’s birthday dinner.
When I make my way into my open plan living room after pulling on some shorts and a t-shirt, he’s in the kitchen stirring something in one of my mixing bowls.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously, trying not to make eye contact with him.
“Making hangover pancakes,” he says nonchalantly.
I groan. “Should I even a
sk how you knew I was hungover?”
I look at his face and he smirks. “How do you think you got to bed last night?”
I was wrong, this on top of the shower tops the other night. I hide my face in a tea towel and he laughs, the deep baritone making me shiver. “I didn’t say or do anything stupid, did I?”
He could play with me here, make up something embarrassing I did, so I need to see his face to tell if he’s lying or not. I peek out the towel but instead of a smirk or his usual cheeky grin, he has a serious expression on his face. Oh fuck! What did I do?
“I-I went to visit my mom last night after you told me that I should keep doing whatever makes me happy.” I cringe. “I’m sorry she put that on you, B, she’s incorrigible, but I promise she won’t be bothering you again.”
“I’m so sorry I said something while I was drunk,” I mumble.
“Yeah, you should’ve told me right away. I don’t like secrets.” He pours the mixture into the pan in front of him.
“It wasn’t exactly a secret, I wasn’t keeping it from you to spite you or anything, I just didn’t want to put a wedge between you and your mum,” I tell him honestly.
He chuckles. “Billie, this… thing between me and my mom has been going on for a very long time. Nothing you could’ve said or done would’ve made it any worse or better for that matter, it’s way past that point now.” He flips the pancakes over. “But, I would like to know what was said.”
I worry my lip before sighing. “She said she’d ‘welcome’ me into the family with open arms, or something along those lines. I guess she wasn’t happy when I told her where she could stick her proposition, so she went to Dean Harmon about me and you as a warning.”
He tenses. “What are you talking about?”
“I err, she said she has a lot of pull at the school and that she could have me fired for speaking to her the way I did, but it’s sorted now so there’s no need to worry. I got off lightly but we can’t be seen together at school anymore,” I stammer out.
He pours more mixture into the pan and hands me the spatula. “Mind watching over those for a minute, I have something I need to do.”
I try to object, telling him that there’s no need to do anything about it, but he’s out of the door before I even get the first word out. I sigh and flip the pancakes hoping I haven’t just caused another argument to ensue.
I’m furious and although I said I didn’t want anything to do with her, I need to know that she won’t try anything in retaliation to my visit last night. I pull my cell out of my pocket and punch in the numbers, waiting for her to pick up.
“Hello?” It’s my dad.
“Dad, I need to talk to Mom.”
He hesitates. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”
My anger bubbles up. “Well you better put me on speakerphone because I want her to hear what I have to say.”
He sighs. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear you bad mouthing your mother. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” I need to try and tamp down my temper so I can get my point across without him hanging up on me. “Billie has just spoken to me for the first time in two days and you’ll never guess who she had a visit from? Or maybe you will, Mom, since you’re the one that sent him to her.”
It’s silent on the other end until my dad’s deep voice sounds out. “What’s he talking about, Katherine?” She mumbles something unintelligible. “Macswell?”
I take a deep breath to try and calm myself down as I think about what she did to Billie. “When Billie wouldn’t agree to trying to get me to quit my job, Mom used her contacts and tried to get Billie fired. Although it didn’t quite work out the way you wanted, did it, Mom?” Billie thought it was just a warning, but I knew better.
“What is he talking about?”
“You don’t do things by halves, do you? You thought your little bit of information about us would get her fired, but she got away with a warning.”
“Don’t be so soft, Macswell, of course I knew she’d get off with a warning,” Mom finally chimes in.
“Don’t patronize me, I know full well what you intended to happen. If you want me to be making appearances at any of your events, you’ll stop this!”
“Don’t threaten me!” she shouts.
“I’m not threatening anyone, I just want you to leave Billie alone. She’s done nothing wrong, and messing around with her career is so beyond wrong. It sickens me that you can’t see that.”
She clears her throat. “I was perhaps acting in anger at the time, but all I want is for you to—”
“Do as I’m told? Join the company and forget about a business I’ve spent five years of my life building? Mom, I’m nearly twenty-eight years old, when will you let this go?”
A muffled sound comes over my end and she sniffles into the phone. “You were always supposed to take over when your father retires, we thought… I thought that by reminding you time and time again that you’d finally give in and take over.”
“There’s those words again, ‘give in.’ Did you not think for one minute that this was my decision to make?”
“I just wanted better—”
“No, you just wanted me to do what you wanted me to do, just like when I was younger.”
A muffled sob comes over the receiver and she hands the phone to my dad. “I’m sorry for what has happened, but she really did have your best interests at heart. As parents, all you want is for your children to do well, and I know you are, but—”
“I don’t have time for this, Dad, Billie is waiting for me.”
“Son, I assure you that Billie won’t hear from your mother or have any other problems, but please don’t cut us out of your life.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “Like I said last night, I need some time.”
“Alright, but don’t leave it too long, contrary to how she acts, your mother takes things to heart.”
I don’t comment on that, instead rolling my eyes. “Bye, Dad.”
He sighs. “Take care, son.”
I hang up and take a deep breath feeling like I can breathe for the first time in a while.
He walks back in five minutes later with a big smile on his face and I raise a brow.
“I talked to my dad and he assured me that your job is safe. He has a way of talking my mom down from things. I’m sorry she threatened you like that, I had no idea.”
I smile and hand him the spatula back. “Don’t apologise, it wasn’t your doing.”
He nods slowly and hands me a steaming stack of pancakes. “All the toppings are on the table so go eat, you don’t look so hot.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumble as I walk away.
The pancakes are delicious and I couldn’t eat another thing if I tried. I also do feel a lot better, whatever Mac put in them must be working. I have to get the recipe for other times I feel the need to drink three quarters of a bottle of gin to myself.
I dry my hair off while Mac washes up, something he insisted on doing, and pull it up into a messy knot on the top of my head. I walk back out and see him sat on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, munching on my biscuits. I sit next to him and take the tin from him, pretending like the me flashing him and my drunken escapade last night didn’t happen. “What are we watching?”
“Do you really need to ask?” he replies, a smirk spreading across his face. He knows I love this film.
I take a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie, even though I’m not hungry, and settle into the cozy cushions of the sofa, feeling content to veg out in silence.
“Didn’t put you down as being a landing strip type of girl,” he suddenly says.
I press a cushion over my face and groan. “You couldn’t just wipe it from your memory?”
He belly laughs. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, it’s photographic.”
I must be the colour of a postbox right now, I’m so embarrassed and I don’t know what to say apart from, “Well, t
hen, can you just pretend like you didn’t see anything?”
He laughs. “Absolutely not! I couldn’t pretend to forget what I saw if my life depended on it. It’s not just your ass and legs that you’ve worked hard for.”
I pull the cushion away from my face and smack him on the arm. “Well this isn’t fair.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to make this even,” I reply with a smirk spreading across my face.
“Huh?”
I sit up straighter and grab the remote, turning off the TV. “You heard me, we need to make this even.”
“Yeah, I did hear you but I don’t get— Oh, no, no I’m not doing that,” he replies, pushing up off the sofa.
“You walked in on my shower! It’s only fair.” He sighs and walks toward the door. “Oh come on, Mac, you’ve seen me. I didn’t think you’d be shy with your body.”
“Shy with my body? You’ve seen me in my underwear before and without a shirt on plenty of times,” he retorts.
“That’s not the same, those times don’t count ’cause I wasn’t looking,” I say sarcastically, leaning up on my elbow over the back of my sofa.
“Oh really? I seem to remember catching you staring a few times.”
“Fine,” I breathe out, turning back around and grabbing the remote, turning the TV back on.
I hear footsteps and I think he’s going to leave when Pony by Ginuwine starts playing out my docking station, reminding me of the time I caught him dancing to it at the school when he didn’t think he had an audience.
I turn around as the first beats start playing and watch him as he walks over to my dining table and pulls a chair into the middle of my open plan living room, motioning for me to come sit in it with his finger. I giggle but oblige him anyway, starting to feel a little hot and bothered already.
He kicks off his boots and brushes a finger down my cheek, turning and taking three backward steps to the beat of the music, and miming the words. He smirks and rolls his hips a few times before sliding across the floor toward my crossed legs. He pulls them apart and runs his hands up them before winking at me and moving up my body so he’s practically sitting on me, rolling and gyrating his hips. My hands ball into fists to stop myself from touching him as he reaches behind his neck and pulls off his t-shirt, revealing his completely ripped chest and abs. You could literally wash your clothes on them.
Betting On Love Page 14