by Rachel Ellis
Copyright ©2014 by Rachel Ellis
Edited by Hot Tree Editing
My phone's alarm rang for the third time that morning.
I couldn't bring myself to wake up, not when last night left me completely exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It was one of those lazy days. The kind where I wanted to lie in my bed, shuffle between the sheets and not do anything.
After I cried in the bathroom last night—it was long, good, and exactly what I needed—I took a cold shower and walked out of the bathroom. The twins leapt to my attention, treating me like a delicate flower. I told them that I couldn't sleep in the same bed as them after the whole ordeal. They were disappointed, but understanding, and kind enough to lend me one of their guest rooms.
I was saved from having to sleep next to them, but I didn't get enough rest all the same.
The stupid alarm from my phone wouldn't stop. I groaned and grabbed my phone, tapping on the screen to turn it off. I should have set the damn thing to fifteen-minute intervals instead of five.
I slid my hand over the red button to shut the alarm up. Maybe it was this stupid sound that caused me to wake up with a bad headache. Hugging my blanket tighter to my chest and going back to bed felt so tempting today, but I had to get up. I didn't want the twins to go hungry without breakfast. Ever since I moved over, they instructed the part-timers not to put food into the refrigerator for them to microwave in the morning.
I threw the blanket off and sat up in one sweeping motion. Bad idea. Waking myself up like that usually put me in a slightly more energetic mood, but this time, all it did was cause my head to throb between my ears.
I did the usual morning stuff—brush my teeth, wash my face, pee—and then I walked down the stairs, thinking about what the hell I should poison the twins with.
Feeling spiteful, I actually considered putting laxatives into their breakfast. I wasn't that mean, but thinking about it and smiling to myself didn't harm anyone.
As I moved down the stairs, I saw Riley lying on the sofa while reading a book. I couldn't read the title from so far away, but it was probably some non-fiction novel about business or finance. I usually caught him with those in his spare time, while Ryan preoccupied himself with mysteries or thrillers.
He didn't wear a shirt, as the twins always preferred not to.
Looking at him half-naked sent images from last night flooding back into my mind. It made my gut wrench. I padded past him to move to the kitchen. Why the hell was I even making breakfast for them? I considered cooking just my share, and leaving the two of them hungry.
He shot to attention the moment he noticed me. "Hey, how was your sleep?"
"Great, thank you," I lied. I woke up at least three times in the middle of the night.
"About yesterday—"
"I don't want to talk about it." Turning my back to him, I opened the lower cupboard to pick out a saucepan. I decided to make instant soup today. They could dip some bread in and have some commoner breakfast. I wasn't in the mood to please their taste buds, or eat.
He pulled up a chair at the counter and sat down. "Sure. That's fine. We don't have to talk about it. But we will have to eventually, Scarlet. We can't have you being mad at us forever."
I put the pan onto the stove more violently than I should have. "We're not talking about it. Period."
"Scarlet—"
"Shut up. I can't cook with you sounding like a yapping puppy behind me."
He sighed. "You're being difficult."
Now hearing him say that really rubbed off on me the wrong way. "I'm the one being difficult?" I muttered to myself, suppressing a yell.
"Tell us how to make it up to you."
"Dig a hole and bury yourself in it."
"I'll wait for you to cool down."
"I don't need any cooling down."
Riley went silent after that, doing as he said, letting me cool down.
The soup needed more water. The twins didn't deserve good soup today, instant or not. I'd give them diluted crap, and if they didn't eat it, they'd be hungry until they got to the office.
Ryan joined his brother at the counter. "Good morning; how was your sleep?"
I turned around and saw Riley nudging his brother's shoulders, saying, "Don't talk to her yet; she's still really pissed at us. I don't think anything you say to her will get to her head."
I served the soup in porcelain bowls. They clanked against the counter, louder than they should have.
Ryan looked down and curled up his lip. "What the hell is this?" He dragged the spoon over the surface of my concoction. "It's so watery."
"It's your fucking breakfast. Take it or leave it." I grabbed some bread from a cabinet and dumped it next to Ryan. "This might make it marginally better."
Before I could withdraw my arm, Ryan grabbed it.
"Let me go," I said.
His eyes searched mine. "We don't want to fight. If you'd just let us talk, and accept our apology, it'll make things easier. Do you want to spend the rest of this week feeling bad and throwing tantrums?"
I tried to wiggle my wrists out of his grasp, but it was too strong. "Yes, I do. Now get your hands off me. The both of you have tied me down long enough," I scolded, alluding to what happened last night.
He ran his fingers through his hair, giving me the urge to wrap my fingers in his hair, too. But I wasn't in the mood to succumb to any of that just yet. "We enjoy doing that... stuff...immensely, but if you don't want to, we'll stop. We're sorry, and we'll do anything to make you forgive us."
I enjoyed it too, but I let them have too much control and they abused it. "You should have clarified whether I liked it or not before the both of you went apeshit."
"We gave you a safe word."
"And then fucking gagged me. How the hell was I supposed to say it after you gagged me?”
"We didn't consider that," Ryan said under his breath. "We were stupid, I know. We'll tell you what we're going to do next time. I promise."
I sucked in a breath. "I'll think about it."
Their faces brightened up at the mild prospect of forgiveness. I wanted to slap them to erase whatever hope they had. I was in a mood that let me sadistically enjoy their misery.
As I walked away, not feeling like talking to them any longer, I said, "Drink your soup. It's getting cold."
When I climbed up the stairs, I glanced to the side. I was surprised to find them reluctantly forcing my horrible mixture down their throats, gingerly dipping the mass-produced bread into the soup as they did.
***
I wanted to skip my day at work, not because of the twins, but because I felt like I had been stuck on a ship for a thousand years. I was feeling nauseous the whole morning. I retched into the toilet soon after leaving the twins to their horrendous breakfast. They should have been the ones puking, not me. Life always ends up becoming unfair.
It could have been the after effects of yesterday. This morning was a horrendous episode of lightheadedness and swollen eyes.
I entered Tyrone's car anyway—too much work at the office to complete. The twins and I travelled in separate cars when heading to work, so the paparazzi didn't get any shots of us together. I was thankful for this arrangement today. I didn't want to be sandwiched in between them again. It would make me feel disgusted, angry, and perhaps, hot and bothered, which would disgust me even further.
The car ride made my head spin even more. I paid attention to the turns and corners, eager for the ride to end.
We stopped at the basement's entrance in front of a few paparazzi. It had been a struggle to get past them in the beginning, but the twins and I soon became old news. They had found some
other celebrity to bother. What used to be a horde had dispersed into a light scatter, which wasn’t too much trouble in comparison.
My fingers still massaging my forehead, I stepped out of the car. Tyrone was gentlemanly enough to open the door for me.
"Scarlet!" a voice shouted.
I looked down, and covered my face, not in the mood to deal with those pesky reporters.
"It's me, Damien; don't ignore me!" the same voice shouted over a number of disrespectful comments.
My head shot up. What in the world was he doing in front of my workplace? I'd had enough of that idiot, and I definitely didn't have it in me to deal with his nonsense today.
He was dressed in a plain tee and jeans. Waving his hands as he moved forward, he beamed at me, as if he was a welcome audience. Seeing him tempted me to once again cover my face and act as if he were another one of the paparazzi. I didn't want them catching my back-story. "What is it Damien?"
"I really need to talk to you."
I tapped my company card onto the sensor and slipped into the lift lobby. The stupid bastard dared to trespass and slipped in along with me.
He grabbed my shoulder. The paparazzi were furiously clicking away at their cameras, taking as many pictures as they could, no doubt with the intention to splay them onto their magazine pages and web articles.
"You're not allowed in here," I said, narrowing my eyes.
He pursed his lips. "But I really need to talk to you. It's not about our relationship, I swear." He held up three fingers, and then crossed his heart.
"Stop bothering me." I pressed the lift button. They were still on the fifteenth and twentieth floors. Too slow.
"After this, I won't anymore. I swear. I just need you to lend me five thousand dollars. Kelly is in debt, and I need to bail her out. I told her not to gamble, so many times. But she didn't listen to me. The loan sharks are at her doorstep every day. She can't sleep in peace, and neither can I, knowing she's undergoing so much pressure..."
As his rambling went on, all I could think was fuck off. This son-of-a-bitch honestly expected me to give—and I meant give, because he certainly wasn't going to return the money—him five thousand dollars after he slept with that slut, whom I now know as Kelly?
My jaw hardened. I tapped my foot on the floor, aching for the elevator to arrive. "I don't have that kind of money."
He laughed, "Sure you do, Scarlet. I know the twins are loading up your bank account."
"They don't give me any of their money."
"Then why sleep with them?"
And now he's accusing me of being a hooker? I looked outside and saw Tyrone watching over me. I waved for him to come in.
Damien grabbed my shoulders. "Please, Scarlet. It's been horrible for us, and you can help."
I shoved his hands aside. I didn't want his filthy fingers on me. "I've never seen anyone as moronic as you are. Why the fuck did I even date you?"
"Is there anything I can help you with, ma'am?" Tyrone said as he came in. He had a deep and gravelly voice.
"Please show this man out of the building."
"Yes, ma'am." He bowed his head.
Damien pawed his hands to get closer to me. The elevator dinged as he was thrown out by my driver. I briefly glanced back to see his desperate look. "C'mon, Scarlet," he pleaded. "For fuck's sake." He tried to fight against Tyrone to get past him, but Damien never had much fight in him, so it wasn't difficult for Tyrone to escort him out.
I heaved a sigh of relief. The media was bound to spin our encounter into another deceiving story, but I didn't care about them anymore. The elevator closed and chimed as it reached the floor I worked at.
Today was going to be one hell of a day. I didn't have enough energy to battle with those incompetent colleagues of mine.
***
Ryan and Riley were discussing something in the CEO's office. They politely asked me to leave when I propped my laptop next to them, readying to take notes. I tried not to take it personally, but I couldn't.
Not surprisingly, I found it difficult to focus at work today. Helena seemed pretty happy about the lack of my harping, flitting away at her keyboard, probably playing some Facebook game. I myself was slacking, too. On my screen was a browser with multiple tabs opened up; each tab showcased the web page of some company I could potentially work for in the future.
Maybe my time with the twins had run out. Thinking about it, leaving them would solve the problem of their mother, and I'd be able to live life as a respectable, self-sufficient individual. I'd had enough of the humiliation they inflicted. They didn't check if I had properly consented last night.
Mrs. Crawford would have a field day if I left, but who cared about her, anyway? Seeing her happy got on my nerves, though.
Would these companies put me at the management level? My CV called for it, but with those spaces so scarce, I was afraid I would have to slowly climb up the corporate ladder again. Without the twins, Tyrone would have to leave. I liked having my own personal driver. I was only searching up those companies on a whim. I didn't actually think of leaving, did I?
Perhaps this lifestyle had made me too complacent.
Interrupting my bout of busily staring off into space, my cell trilled. I picked it up. "Hello?"
"What have you done?"
I immediately recognized the woman's voice. After being conditioned to it all my life, I didn't think I'd ever forget. "Mom?"
"Your dad just called me, Scarlet."
I bit my lip. She sounded panicked. Bad news was on its way.
She blew out a deep breath. "He just got fired from his job. It’s ridiculous. They didn’t even have a good reason.”
"What?" I placed my fist over my mouth in disbelief. My dad earned his living as a senior financial adviser at his bank. He'd been there for years. It was strange that they’d kick him out after so long.
"He's really angry at you. We need some explanations."
"What does this have to do with me?" The news caused me worry, but they shouldn't blatantly put all the blame on their daughter.
"Apparently, word of you and the twins has traveled. Everyone in town knows about it. His bank fired him, saying they didn't want to have dealings with a man with such a slutty daughter."
My breath hitched. What the fuck? "They can do that?" Another ingredient had been added to the mix of complications I had with the twins. It must have been a sign—a sign to call everything off.
"I told you those two aren't good for your life, darling. Please, save us the trouble and end this."
"Mom—”
"I didn't raise you to be like this. One playboy is enough, my dear, but two? It's unorthodox. It's not right."
I nodded my head. "Maybe. Maybe I should have listened to you from the start."
"That's my girl. Break up with them, Scarlet. Maybe after that your dad can get his job back. The folks here don't like what's happening with you and those tabloids. It's not good for your reputation either. Think about what others will say when you try to get a job. They'll think of you as a mistress. It's not a very good image to carry around, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I’ve just… maybe I got kind of sucked in."
"Have they done anything to you?"
Other than tying me up and filming me, after violently taking me from behind? "No, Mom, nothing to worry about."
"You tell me if they ever break your heart or anything. Momma's got your back. I'll fly over there and make sure they get the worst beating of their lives."
I chuckled. That would be a sight to see—my mother bashing up the twins, possibly with her two-inch heels. "Thanks. That would be lovely."
"I want you to be safe, hun. Don't live life so recklessly."
"I know." She sounded so naggy, but a little bit of nag from my mother didn't hurt. It comforted me, slightly, and reminded me of home.
"And don't overwork yourself, or drink too much coffee. How many times must I say that the stuff is bad for you?"
"Don't lie to your mother. Oh, your dad's pulling up in the driveway. I better hang up the call before he comes. He said he intends to give you a good yelling."
I felt incredibly guilty about my dad losing his job. "Will you guys be okay, like, financially?"
"We're old, Scarlet. We've got savings. Our house is fully paid. It's not very nice to get fired, and we'll have to be more careful with our money, but we're fine."
"That's good."
"Well, goodbye, darling. Call me more often when you have the time. We miss you."
"Yes, Mom."
"Love you, pumpkin."
I smiled. Maybe it was time to plan a trip back to my hometown. "I love you, too."
We both hung up the call.
I set the phone onto the table and opened up a Word document—I knew what I had to do.
***
Holding a white envelope in my hand, I knocked on the door.
"Come in," a twin said.
It took me a lot of resolve to do this. I typed the letter in a hurry, not giving myself any time to back out. And now I wanted to.
It's the right thing to do.
Slowly, I opened the cold metal door, reeling all my courage to face the twins. How would they react to this?
Riley smiled. "Hey, are you feeling better?"
"I have something to give you," I said, my voice cracking. I raised the white envelope and he snatched it from my hands.
His face fell when he saw what was written on it. "Letter of resignation? You're resigning?"
I didn't want to look up at them, not when something sharp was coiling around my heart. "My dad got fired from his job because of us."
"How does that even happen? You're making excuses." His voice was a mixture of anger and confusion.
"He did. And I don't want to continue this anymore, not if it affects my family."
"We'll get him a new job."
Ryan placed his finger on my chin to raise my head, so I looked right at his delectable, chiseled face. "You don't have to leave us."
I backed away as I swiped his arm aside. "We've had enough fun. I don't want our sexual relationship to hurt my family."