Stud

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Simon bit his lip. “Did she say why she wanted the transfer to your office from mine?”

  She had, but I wasn’t to going tell him it was his wife who had suggested it to her. Along with threatening Janet with a nail file. If I managed to keep this family clear of lawsuits and turn a profit despite all the nonsense, they should give me a medal.

  “I miss her. She really gets me.”

  Could he sound even more pathetic?

  “Leave Janet alone,” I said firmly—hoping he’d let it go. I was stringing Janet along, being the nicest boss in the world, hoping she wouldn’t start a lawsuit or get herself hurt going up against Laila.

  I shivered. Laila was no joke, even when she wasn’t wielding a nail file.

  Simon frowned. “You always get to have everything, don’t you? All the money. All the pretty girls. You think you’re such a big stud. Well, I’ve got news for you. I fucked your ex-girlfriend Natalie.”

  I didn’t even remember who Natalie was.

  “Does Laila know about this?” I pulled out my phone.

  “What? No. What are you doing?”

  The panic in his voice was amusing.

  “Don’t you think she should know that you’re leaving her for the lovely Natalie?”

  More like leaving Laila’s family’s money and that nice house in the Hamptons. Not to mention his two kids and a bunch of yappy show dogs. I think Natalie was a dancer. If she was the one I was thinking of, it wouldn’t be a bad trade. She had been…flexible. Annoyingly, the barista flitted through my thoughts again. The coffee girl had legs that went on for miles. I’d like to have them over my shoulders.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Simon came back toward my desk and tried to swipe my phone. He had to be a lot faster than that. “Natalie was just a one-night thing. She was trying to make you jealous and I wanted to get even with you.”

  I blinked. “For what?”

  “For Lillian Pierce.”

  I tossed my phone in my desk drawer. Lillian Pierce, I did remember. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t have anything to do with sex. “She liked my idea for her perfume campaign over yours. It was just business.”

  “It was my account. Dad gave it to me.”

  Just like Dad had given Simon everything else.

  “Your idea sucked,” I said. Lillian was an older woman, classy. Simon put together a flashy PowerPoint with modern music and club dancers in skimpy clothes. It would have been good if Lillian’s company wanted to go after a younger crowd, but she didn’t. She sold old-lady perfume. It smelled like Emeraude, which my grandmother had worn, and lavender peppermints.

  It was like the anti-Viagra. Kills hard-ons at a whiff.

  If I hadn’t shown her my video, Lillian would have taken her hundred grand and found another agency. I took the timeless-elegance approach. I shot a couple on a yacht dancing to a slow saxophone with a sunset in the background. The thirty-second clip had more innuendo than in-your-face sexuality, and the client loved it. Of course, that meant I got the fifteen percent commission and not Simon.

  “You should have at least split the money with me.”

  I shook my head. “When I want to donate to charity, I get a receipt for my taxes.”

  “You’re going to regret poaching my accounts.” He clenched his fists.

  “You can fuck all my exes, if it makes you feel better. Now go away.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “You’re pathetic and you bore me.”

  For a moment, I thought Simon might have actually grown a set of balls. But instead, he turned a nasty shade of purple and stormed out of my office.

  Yeah, I get to have everything. All the responsibility. All the headaches. All the bullshit.

  I halfheartedly glanced at my email, wondering if it was too early to go to lunch, when all of a sudden, my day got a whole lot better. Refusing to get too excited, I clicked open a prospective client’s answer to one of my quotes.

  Jackpot.

  I just landed a multimillion-dollar account.

  “Yes,” I hissed between my teeth, thumping my fist on the desk. This could put the company on firm ground as long as everyone kept their private parts in their pants and their hands out of the till. Lemmingware games liked my proposal for the new expansion of their wildly popular massively multiplayer online role-playing game, World of Legends. They were rolling out the Egyptian pantheon to battle with their Norse and Greek gods and legends. My experience with videogames was limited to some drunken nights in college playing Halo, but I had absorbed some of the slang and enough of the attitude to put together a good marketing plan.

  They wanted it all. Social media marketing, billboards, interviews, events. And they wanted the Wentworth Agency to represent them. Hot damn.

  It hit me that I was about to sign the biggest client in the history of the firm. My father was probably out on bail by now and ignoring me. My mother was about to be fired, and my brother would care only if it had a pair of tits on it. Didn’t matter. I looked at my grandfather’s portrait. It was time to break out the good whiskey.

  Chapter 3

  Terri

  I took my brother to his weekly physical therapy appointment, but instead of watching I chickened out. I couldn’t stand to see him in pain. It would have been one thing if he was improving, but it was just getting worse. He hated it when I cried or got upset, so I bailed. Feeling like a traitor and a jerk, I sat in the waiting room with my laptop.

  Sniffing back tears, I logged in to my World of Legends account. At least this place had free Wi-Fi and a spot to plug in my computer. I could spend the next half hour tithing to the Greek gods and powering up my army. And if I finished that, I’d log on to Billy’s account and do his daily quests as well so tonight we could raid with our guild members and earn some phat loot and gold.

  It was a nice escape from reality, but for some reason I couldn’t concentrate. It felt like a cop-out to be sitting here playing a game while my brother fought to get mobility back in his arms and legs. I left my computer while my character took a long boat trip to raid the Mediterranean coast, so I could sneak back to the physical therapy room. Billy was flat on his back, trying to do leg lifts. Pain was etched on his face.

  Swallowing hard, I pressed my hand on the glass. “You can do it,” I whispered.

  He did, but the effort cost him. His face was gray and his entire body was shaking.

  I faded back to my game before he could see me watching him.

  I wished that I could point a finger and say what caused his muscles to start losing strength. Our family didn’t have any history of ALS, and while the doctors were hesitant to label Billy’s disease as ALS, it was mimicking a lot of the symptoms.

  “At least you caught it in the early stages,” one of the doctors said, in a look on the bright side voice.

  There still wasn’t a cure and they didn’t know why Billy’s health was declining. So that doctor can shove his goodwill right up his bright side. It had been a rough five months. My college friends stuck around for a while, but when I stopped going out and started working two jobs, we grew apart. Then when Billy got worse and I had to quit my marketing job, all my work friends were gone as well. Sometimes, I missed going out for happy hour and going clubbing on the weekend.

  My mind flashed over to Mick. My friends and I never went anywhere as ritzy as the places he went to, but I would have really liked sipping champagne and bullshitting without a care in the world. I missed my boyfriend, which was probably why I fixated on Mick as much as I did. Well, that wasn’t totally true. I didn’t miss Peter, himself. I missed cuddling on the couch watching a movie. I missed lazy Sunday morning sex and coffee and brunch that lasted all day. I missed kissing and orgasms that I didn’t give myself.

  Peter dumped me when I couldn’t afford to pay my half of the rent anymore, once I had to quit my job at the ad agency. So I moved in with Billy in our childhood home. He had the downstairs all to himself and I had the upstairs. After our parents died a few years
ago, he had converted the upper floor to an apartment with its own kitchen. He knew his days of being a landscaper were numbered. Billy figured since the house was all paid for, any money the tenant would pay would go toward the taxes, heat, and electricity, with a little left over. Except, he never had a chance to advertise the apartment. Even back then, he had pain in his muscles and joints. Billy had just chalked it up to working too hard and getting old. I wondered if he knew more than what he was letting on and just hadn’t wanted to worry me. When he fell on a job and couldn’t get up again, that was the beginning of the end.

  My ex had called me a martyr and told me that Billy was a grown man who could take care of himself. I snorted. Peter should talk. I wondered who was picking up his dirty socks off the couch and cooking three meals a day for him, now that I was out of the picture. I didn’t miss Peter’s casual acceptance that I would be the adult in our relationship. Yeah, I didn’t miss him. Mostly I missed not having a normal life anymore. Getting up, going to work, coming home, and hanging out with friends. Now it was just work, panic about bills, worry about my brother, work again, sleep fitfully.

  Of course, that thought filled me with guilt. If I felt like this, what must Billy be feeling? His girlfriend up and ran at the first hint that he might have Lou Gehrig’s disease. Billy never blamed her. He loved her enough to want her to have a long and happy life. He didn’t want to be a burden. Not to her and not to me. And he wasn’t. I truly wanted to be here for him. I just sank into self-pity from time to time. I didn’t like that about myself, but at least I could recognize it and stop myself before Billy saw it. It would kill me if he thought I didn’t want to be here for him.

  Saving my game, I logged out and then logged on as Billy’s character. He had a few quests lined up that weren’t very fun. They were just time-consuming. World of Legends had been phoning it in for the past year and a half while they worked on the new expansion, which had already been delayed. Since Billy and I were at max level, we could either start the game over with new characters or keep grinding away at these daily quests to earn new equipment or faction bonuses. Sometimes this game was like another part-time job.

  As I started doing his daily quests, a private message popped up for him.

  HEY SEXY.

  Oh, hell no.

  HI, I typed back, hoping it was just one of his online friends screwing around with him. I looked at her handle. I didn’t recognize Maeva as one of our guild members or the people we went raiding with.

  CAN WE ROLE-PLAY THE SHIELD MAIDEN SCENE AGAIN TONIGHT?

  SURE. I typed quickly, hoping that would be enough. Please don’t elaborate. I squeezed my eyes shut. I did not want the details of my brother cyber sexing with someone.

  YOU MADE ME COME SO HARD.

  I slammed the laptop shut. My thoughts flitted to Mick again. Was everybody getting laid but me? I didn’t begrudge my brother an active fantasy life. Hell, I was glad that he wasn’t letting his illness get him…down. Oh, ick. I tried to think of anything else. Stuffing my computer into my backpack, I picked up a magazine and forced myself to concentrate on how to make a cheesecake in a pressure cooker. This was going to be funny as soon as I got over the squick factor, but my brain shut down every time it wondered just what the shield maiden seduction scene would entail.

  By the time my brother limped over to me, I thought I could address the situation with a straight face. I also wanted a cheesecake like nobody’s business. We didn’t have a pressure cooker—I was afraid it would explode the contents all over my kitchen ceiling—but I thought I could make it the old-fashioned way in the oven. That might be a nice treat.

  “How did it go?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

  I saw exhaustion and lingering pain in them.

  “It’s getting worse.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Let’s go home.”

  He used his cane and me to help him through the office door. The receptionist slid open her window.

  “Don’t forget the application,” she said.

  Billy kept walking, which was unlike him. Usually, he’d at least try to flirt with the nurses.

  “Sorry,” I said and took the paperwork from her. “What’s this?” I asked him as we waited for the elevator.

  “It’s nothing. Give it to me.”

  I danced away from him and he glared at me. Maybe that was a little unfair of me, because he couldn’t chase me down like he used to. I had not so fond memories of Dutch ovens and other gross brotherly things he used to do to me, so I didn’t feel too badly—especially when I saw what the paperwork was for.

  “This is great.”

  He snorted. “Read the fine print.”

  It was an application to get into a test study for a new medication that would hopefully slow down his muscle atrophy and other symptoms.

  “It’s not a cure,” he said.

  “Not yet.” For the first time in a long while, hope flitted through me.

  “And I’m not guaranteed a spot.”

  “You won’t get in if you don’t apply.”

  The elevator door opened and I helped him inside and pushed the button to the parking garage.

  “And it’s time-consuming.” Billy leaned against the wall and winced in pain. I wished he’d let me get him a wheelchair, but he was violently opposed to using one. “I’m going to be in one soon enough. I’ll be damned if I go in one willingly.”

  “Fine, be stubborn,” I had said to him, and he was.

  I steadied him as the elevator jerked. “This is worth it.”

  “It’s a waste of time,” he grumbled.

  I saw the fine print he was talking about. It was an hour every morning for the next six months and three nights a week. I’d have to quit the Beanery. Elaine would never let me miss the morning rush that often. Billy and I were extremely tight for money as it was. I didn’t think my moonlighting as a caterer or waitress would be enough, but the call center might give me more hours. Still, if it was even the slightest chance, we’d have to take it and just worry about the money later. If worse came to worst, we could always sell the house and take a cheap apartment in Westchester or somewhere. I’d have to give up working in Manhattan, which would probably mean the end of my dreams of working in the city. But maybe it was time to put those dreams away as unattainable anyway.

  “It’s worth it,” I said, putting on a determined smile.

  The only thing I’d miss about leaving the Beanery would be seeing Mick every day. He was my Maeva, even if he didn’t know it.

  “Stay here,” I said when we stepped out of the elevator. “I’ll bring the car around.” It cost us a fortune in parking, but it was worth it not to wait for a taxi or an Uber. “Oh,” I said, turning around. “I logged on to World of Legends to do your daily quests.”

  “Thanks,” he grunted, leaning up against the brick wall.

  “You might want to tell Maeva you were disconnected.”

  “What?”

  It was worth hearing about his cyber sex life to see him blush and look like that. I walked backward to the car so I could enjoy it a bit longer. “Yeah, she wants to do the shield maiden role play thing again.”

  His face turned crimson.

  I made gagging noises. “I’m afraid you still need to do your daily quests because I bailed as fast as I could.”

  “It’s not what you think,” Billy began.

  “Check your chat log. It’s exactly what I think.” I turned around, giggling. This was almost as good as the time I caught him making out with Sandy Brown on the couch when he was supposed to be babysitting me.

  Of course, I had been supposed to be asleep in bed, but I had been ten and wanted to stay up with the big kids and watch a movie, so I had snuck out of my bedroom—coincidentally the same bedroom I was still using.

  Starting up the car, I pulled around to pick him up.

  Billy hadn’t gotten mad. He wrapped me up in my blanket, sat me between them, and put a bowl of popcorn on my lap. And when
I had fallen asleep ten minutes into the movie, he had carried me back to bed. And presumably went back to playing tonsil hockey with his cheerleader girlfriend.

  I put the car in park and opened the passenger-side door for him. But before Billy could get in, I gave him a big hug.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “What the hell brought that on?” he grumbled. He hated any show of weepiness or emotion, especially when it might be because of his disease.

  “Apply for the clinical trial.” I helped him into the seat.

  “I’ll think about it.” Billy sighed. He let me help him position his legs. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but he still flinched and inhaled sharply. I knew better than to apologize. He’d bite my head off.

  When I got back in the car, I turned to him. “I’ll make you a cheesecake.”

  “I’m not a child.” He scowled at me.

  “I might even put strawberries on top.”

  “With chocolate sauce and whipped cream?” He tilted his head.

  “If you fill out the papers.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter 4

  Terri

  8:57 A.M.

  Another day, another dollar. I held Mick’s pussy drink out to him when he came through the door.

  “Is Elaine here?” he asked.

  I nearly dropped it on the floor. He spoke to me.

  I stammered, “I—No, she’s not.”

  He frowned. “Are you able to schedule a catering event?”

  Get it together. So what if this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with him? “Sure.” I fumbled for the appointment book. “When do you need us?” I felt his look like a physical touch and I forced my eyes to meet his. His gaze was intense and assessing. My breathing picked up and my throat went dry. I hated feeling like this, but a part of me came alive when he wouldn’t look away from me.

  “This Friday.”