Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs)

by Miller,Cassie-Ann L.

  “But daddy–“

  ”Madison, I don’t have time for your whining right now. I have work to do.” He turns his attention back to the documents on his desk.

  The message is clear – this discussion is closed.

  With that, I push up to my feet fighting back the tears threatening to rivet down my face. I stomp out of my father’s office, the sound of my anger echoing through the room as my quick steps clatter across the highly polished wooden floor.

  Chapter 4

  I don’t bother to say hello to my father’s secretary, Ms. Harvey, as she’s settling into her desk just outside of his office. I avoid eye contact with the other assistants now busy near the coffee station. I ignore the dreary face of the mail guy as he makes his first round of the day with his mail cart. But then, I hear my name ring out from inside of one of the open office doors and I have no choice but to stop.

  “Maddie,” my brother strolls out of his office and drapes his arm around my shoulder. “How’s my second favorite sister doing?” Matt jokes, guiding me into his office as he pushes the door shut with his foot.

  “Hey,” I mutter in response.

  He slides into the chair behind his desk. “I saw the cover of the New York Flame this morning. Are you okay?”

  Fuck! Just when I thought my morning couldn’t get any worse, a reminder that the failure of my pathetic attempt at a relationship with Chase DuBois is plastered across the front page of one of New York’s most salacious gossip rags.

  I shrug my shoulders as I ease into one of the upholstered chairs, refusing to make eye contact with Matt. Even though he’s my brother, I don’t want him to see how utterly humiliated I am by the tabloid stories.

  “Talk to me,” he demands as he grabs the tumbler of scotch sitting on the edge of the table, leans back in his office chair and crosses his feet on top of his desk.

  I try to divert the conversation. “Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking alcohol?” I ask glancing at the contemporary digital clock adorning the wall above his bookcase. It’s 9:12 a.m.

  He smirks. “I close the door to this office and it’s whatever time I want it to be.” I chuckle a bit but I’m jealous of my brother. He has his own office so if he ever has an emotion to work through, he can close his door and have a moment to himself. Me, on the other hand, my desk is in cubicle-land with the other interns and there is absolutely no privacy there. I think my brother notices my distress. “Take a few minutes to calm down,” he says gently as he leaves his seat and moves into the chair next to mine.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath to center myself.

  “So, are you gonna talk to me about it?” he asks when I finally open my eyes.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Are you gonna talk to Michael? He’s an entertainment lawyer. He’ll know what to do.”

  I shake my head again. I’m a big girl. I don’t need my brothers fighting my battles. That would only make me look and feel even more pathetic than I do now.

  I throw a glance over his shoulder and gaze out the window. Olivia Hunter-Wiley smirks down at me from a fifty-foot billboard across the street. Oh the irony…

  Matt shrugs before tossing back a mouthful of scotch. “Okay.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments as he refills his glass.

  He’s the first to speak. “How’s your internship going, by the way?”

  I purse my lips trying to figure out how to explain my feelings to Matt without coming across as a total loser. “I hate being a grunt,” I confess in a voice that sounds way whinier than I intended.

  Matt eyes me and a smile spreads across his face revealing his deep dimples. Those dimples that have gotten him – and this law firm – into so much trouble in the past. “Maddie, we all start out as grunts. You think I was offered a Cuban cigar and a back rub on my first day? You don’t get special treatment around here just for being the boss’s kid. Didn’t dad give you the speech? ‘The fact that your father’s name is on the door does not entitle you to special treatment. The fact that your father’s name is on the door only means you have to work twice as hard as everybody else to prove that you really deserve to be here’.” Matt’s imitation of our father cracks me up. He chuckles along with me.

  “You got that speech, too?” I ask, amused and surprised.

  “Of course I got ‘the speech’,” Matt says shrugging his shoulders. “Michael did, too. You grew up in Michaelo Moretti’s household – you should know that he’s a tough love kinda guy.”

  “I just thought…” I can’t bring myself to admit out loud that I thought I’d get preferential treatment here at my father’s firm. But that’s not the kind of dad we grew up with. Hardly anything came from him on a silver platter. Still, it doesn’t seem fair. Matt screwed up big time when he started working at the firm and dad bailed him out.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Madison. You’re thinking that dad didn’t kick me out when I got into trouble out in California. You think that’s unfair.” My siblings and I are close enough that we can virtually read each other’s thoughts. It gets annoying, though because that makes it impossible to keep secrets from one another. “I got punished big time, Maddie. You know the terms of the undertaking that dad made me sign. You know how much I had to give up.”

  I cringe when I think about all the drama that my charming, lecherous brother provoked nearly three years ago when he started fucking our clients left and right after moving to Los Angeles to help Michael set up the California branch of the firm. Matt and Michael tried to fix the mess on their own with the help of Stella Goldberg, one of the associates in the real estate department. But they were in over their heads and Matt eventually broke down and asked dad for help. Our father handled the situation professionally, summoning Matt back to New York, forcing him to sign a very strict Good-Conduct Undertaking and instituting a firm-wide policy banning employee-client relationships to save the firm from other such potential catastrophes in the future. To top it all off, dad had to pay out a heap of hush-money to save the firm’s reputation.

  “Don’t worry, kiddo – working here gets somewhat better over time.”

  My brother pats the top of my head and I swat his hand away. “Matt, you’re messing up my bun!” I complain. He laughs and leans forward to grab the scotch from the corner of his desk. I take a deep breath. “The other interns – they hate me.” I snatch the glass from him and take a gulp. I wince as the alcohol burns its way down my throat.

  He chuckles bitterly. “They’re jealous.”

  “That doesn’t help me, Matt. I feel like an outsider in my own father’s company.”

  “Join the club – it’s actually not so bad – having all the employees scared of you.”

  “Man, you’re a jerk, Matt. I’m serious – I don’t get why I have such a hard time making friends.” I hate that he would joke about this. He knows that I’ve always had a really hard time making new friends. People seem to think that I’m a snob, but in reality, I just have a hard time fitting in.

  “Because you act like a prissy, stuck-up princess all the time.”

  I grimace at him and just then, his phone starts to ring. He answers it and speaks for only a few seconds before hanging up. “They need me in conference room two,” he announces, raking his fingers through his thick black hair.

  I get up and walk out of his office with him.

  “Are you at least working on any interesting cases?” he asks.

  I look up at my brother who is about six inches taller than my five foot seven frame. “Mostly menial stuff aside from helping Liz on a labor law file she’s working on.” I reach over and turn down the collar of his white shirt.

  “Liz? Michael’s Liz?” he asks, adjusting his blue and white striped tie.

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Michael doesn’t have a ‘Liz’ – at least that’s what he’d say if he heard you.”

  Elizabeth Clark comes from a long line of politicians. Her father served as lieutena
nt governor of New York State in the late 80s, her older brother made an unsuccessful bid for mayor in the last election and she has two relatives in the United States Senate. Her family has been setting the stage for Liz’s own political future before she even knew how to tie her shoelaces. They’ve been trying to “mate” her with Michael ever since they were teenagers, all this with the very enthusiastic support of my status-hungry mother. Unfortunately for my mother and the Clarks, Michael is more interested in freakishly long-legged blonds looking for one-night stands, not petite brunettes interested in political marriage.

  “Poor girl – she’s thrown everything but the kitchen sink in her pathetic quest to hook Michael.” Matt’s laugh is vile and spiteful.

  I sneer at him. “You’re saying that she’s only working with me so that I’ll put in a good word with Michael.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a stretch.”

  “You’re an ass, Matt.” I push him lightly.

  As we approach my cubicle, I see five of the other summer associates huddled around one of the desks. Amber Roberts is at the center of it all, peeling a red Cartier box out of mail packaging that the mail guy just dropped off on her desk. Ruth Salvador, Luke Daley, Nadia Chester and Hailey Lundeen gather around her oohing and aahing.

  I lean into my brother and whisper, “You see what I have to deal with? They’re like a fucking posse and I’m the outsider.”

  Matt eyes them with venom but he discreetly gives my hand a firm, supportive squeeze. “Ugh – That Amber Roberts – Pure trailer trash,” he grumbles, his brown eyes flashing at her with distaste.

  “Sure,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes at him. I’ve seen that look on his face before. He must think I’m an idiot but I can read between the lines. That’s the look of resentment he gets every time he craves to sink his teeth into a fresh piece of ass that he can’t have. Matt is notorious for shoving his dick into inappropriate places. I know to take his comments about Amber Roberts with a grain of salt. There’s more to the story.

  “Oh my god,” Hailey pants pulling a clenched fist to her chest as Amber removes a glimmering bejeweled, solid-gold fountain pen from the box.

  As Matt and I walk by her desk, Amber looks up, cheeks flushed, and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. I turn away quickly. I hope she didn’t see my curiosity but I’m sure it was written all over my face.

  Matt snaps his fingers at the group, jerking me back to the present moment. “Back to work! Back to work!” he barks. The interns quickly slip into their respective cubicles. I give my brother a quick ‘thank you’ smile as I sit behind my desk and he disappears down the hall. Both of my brothers have always been so protective of Mackenzie and me and, in moments like this, I love them for it.

  I power up my desktop computer and log into my personal email account. The first thing that pops up is a media request from a gossip blogger asking for my comments on the New York Flame article about Chase dumping me for Olivia. I quickly scroll through the first page of my inbox and notice at least three other similar requests. Infuriated, I yank the power cord out of the wall and the screen goes blank.

  I bury my face in my hands and try to take deep breaths.

  But then I hear his laugh – his deep, conceited, pompous laugh.

  I raise my eyes slowly to catch a glimpse of Chase strolling down the hall, gently tapping the ass of some giggling busty, long-legged secretary.

  And just like that, my morning goes from bad to hell.

  Chapter 5

  On a day that sucks as much as today does, there’s only one person who can make me feel better.

  “Frankie!!!” I squeal as my best friend drapes his long arm around my shoulder and stoops to give me a wet kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re a bad, bad girl, Madison,” he says, waggling his finger in my face. “Summer associates don’t get to just sneak out of high-profile law firms in the middle of the day to have lunch at the Waldorf.” He sinks into the beige upholstered armchair across from me. As usual, Frankie is bucking the establishment’s dress code with his eclectic style. It’s a wonder he got past the hostess. The legs of his ballet tights extend well below the hem of his white three-quarter length slacks. He’s wearing a black blazer but the neckline of his spandex leotard is visible under his half-buttoned shirt. His long blond hair is pulled into a low ponytail. His features aren’t exactly conventionally handsome; his eyes are a little too close together and his nose is just a little too wide. But he’s alluring. Intriguing. Beautiful.

  I laugh as he sets his gym bag down against the dark marble column near his feet. “I got you a sparkling water and I ordered two salads.” I nod towards the veggie-filled plates on the table. I’m dying to have a steak and some mashed potatoes and anything that would provide a comforting boost right now, but I know that with rehearsals for his first ever role in a Broadway production starting in just over an hour, eating a heavy meal is the last thing Frankie needs.

  He winks at me before taking a long sip of the sparkling water. “You’re the only woman who knows how to please me, Madison Moretti.”

  “Speaking of your pleasure – I dropped by your place last night. Domenic said you were ‘getting some ass’. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” I smirk at him.

  He returns the smirk. “I was giving some ass, if you must know.”

  “No details, Frankie! Please!” My loud outburst of laughter catches the attention of the group of older women lunching at the table next to us. They shoot disapproving glares our way. I lower my voice a touch. “So, who was the lucky guy?”

  “Does it matter, Maddie?” he asks flippantly eyeing our waiter with a lusty hunger in his eye. Ugh – my best friend is such a flirt. “Let’s cut the small talk – we both know why we’re here. What is this Chase situation going on right now?”

  I sigh deeply. “Chase is being Chase, I guess.”

  “You guess? Maddie, how many times will you let that guy hurt you? Running all over town with this model and that model while you sit around completely loyal to him.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend…he never was.” I don’t quite know why I’m trying to defend Chase. He’s clearly an asshole.

  “Well, he knows how you feel about him so continuing to string you along while he bangs bimbos left and right, makes him a jerk…You deserve better, Maddie. And it sucks that you have to see him at work everyday.” He rests his hand on top of mine and gives it a firm squeeze. Sympathy colors his strikingly blue eyes.

  “Yeah, his cubicle is right across the hall from mine. This morning, I saw him walking by, slapping some hoochie’s ass. I nearly died.” I shove a forkful of greens into my mouth.

  “I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind y’know?”

  I wince at the thought of my well-meaning, but overly-dramatic, Frankie confronting Chase. “Please don’t,” I say softly.

  “No – I will. I have to,” he insists, waving his fork around in the air.

  “Oh gosh,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

  “Yes – That’s the plan. Tonight, after rehearsal, I’m gonna go over to Chase’s apartment and give him a piece of my mind. And then – you’re gonna come to my place at around 9:30 – Domenic’s got a date, I think, so he won’t get in the way – We’ll get hammered and then we’ll go to PYT and dance the night away.”

  I groan with dread when Frankie mentions the name of his favorite bar. “Frankie, no! Every time we go to PYT things get out of hand. You end up way too drunk and you abandon me to go make out with some random.”

  “Nope – not tonight, Maddie. Tonight is all about you. First, I help you set Chase right. Then, we’re going to PYT to find you a new man.”

  I laugh so hard I almost choke on my lettuce. “You’re gonna find me a new man?”

  “Yes – a new man. It’s time for you to get over Chase. If you don’t, you’ll just be waiting…always.”

  I sigh. “And so, you’re taking me to PYT?”