by Nora Cobb
He shoots up to his feet and towers over me. “You are not in love with that trash!”
“I am, and I won’t stay here, listening to you insult Natalie. I’ve had enough with your meddling in my love life.”
“Love?” His face scrunches up in disbelief. “You think this is about love? Don’t you understand by now? People like us don’t marry for love. We marry for connections, for alliances, to put our lives in the proper order!”
My gaze shifts to Taylor, and I watch her jaw working as she listens to what my father has to say. I wonder what he said to her the day he proposed. Did he tell her it was for love or for business? I look away, wondering if she will start drinking again.
“You have no business telling me to put my life in proper order when yours is in such a shamble,” I reply calmly.
“What is that supposed to mean, boy?”
He knows damn well what I mean, but he’s testing me to see if I will actually say it.
“You insult my girlfriend for sleeping around, which she doesn’t do but you do on a regular basis. Somehow you feel no sense of hypocrisy in calling her a slut.”
His hand moves in a blur, and I feel the sting on my cheek before I can react. I put my hand on my stinging face and stare at him. I stand up, but he does not back down. I’m not finished talking.
“Love is a business arrangement to you. You go to your club, and you pay for women. Now you come home and try to barter off your son, like chattel at the market.”
He reaches for me again, but Taylor steps in between us and shields me with her body. I grab her by the shoulders and turn, pulling her against me as he raises his fist to both of us. He can hit me all he wants, but no matter how Taylor has acted in the past, I won’t allow him to hit her.
Taylor wraps her arms around me, and I feel her tears on my shoulder through my thin T-shirt. “Lucas, please listen to your father. Please don’t do this.”
I can’t believe she said that.
My father grins widely, knowing that I’m left out in the cold. “There’s nothing wrong with you marrying a woman for business,” he says. “And if you don’t marry this one, I’ll cut you off. I found a good one for you—young, pretty, and eager. You should appreciate that. Her father assures me that she’s a virgin.”
I roll my eyes. Virgin? Seriously? What year is this?
“I’m not doing this song and dance again.” I take Taylor’s arms off my shoulders and place her on my father. Crying too hard to speak, Taylor holds onto my father, and he looks startled to touch his wife. “I’m not marrying someone so you can make a couple of millions.”
“Fine!” he shouts, “Then you’re cut off. I don’t need a son that refuses to contribute anything to the family.”
“Is that your final decision?”
“It is.”
“Fine.”
I storm upstairs and grab a duffel bag from my closet, throwing clothes into it. I open the second- story window and toss the stuffed bag out onto the ground. Rinse, wash, and repeat—I keep going. I grab another bag and shove clothes into it too. When I run out of bags, I grab the pillowcases off my bed and cram more suit jackets and ties into a wadded-up mess. I repeat the process until bags are bursting at the seams, and lumpy pillowcases are dotted across the backyard. It looks like a weird rummage sale. Shit just tossed out on the lawn. I wasn’t going to parade it up and down the stairs while my father sat there and watched.
I fill two suitcases with the stuff I can’t toss without breaking and carry it downstairs toward the door. I can hear them talking in the living room.
“I have no son. You talk to him.”
Taylor’s eyes widen when she sees the suitcases I’m lugging toward the door. I look at my father, but he says nothing. I pull my keys out of my jeans pocket, take my car keys off the ring, and toss the rest into his lap. He jumps as the heavy key ring hits him in the crotch. I say nothing as I open the door and step outside, leaving home for good.
“Lucas!” Taylor shrieks as she runs towards me down the drive. I open the trunk of my car and start putting the suitcases in before heading towards the backyard for the rest of my stuff.
“Lucas,” she trails behind me, “Please don’t do this! Please! Don’t make a hasty decision that will impact your future. How will you pay for school?”
“I never really planned to go until this year. My goal has always been to start a business.”
She grabs my arm as I throw another bag into the trunk. “And you can start that business, but it will be easier for you if you live at home.”
“You mean live at home as a married man.”
She’s quiet as she follows behind me as I carry four more bags to my car. There’s no room in the trunk, so I squeeze them into the back seat.
“Lucas, what will you do for money?” she asks tearfully. “How will you eat?”
I stop and stare at her. “I’ll figure something else out.”
Taylor tries to smile, but her eyes are worried. “Sweetie, you’re used to having things.”
We both look down at the remaining bags in my hand before I toss them into the car. I hesitate, wondering if I should even go back to get the rest. She does have a point. I’m used to having costly things, and costly things require care. And the cost of having those things has risen too high.
“Lucas,” Taylor tries again. “Your father made a real effort to find a good match for you. Rachel is a much better fit than that girl.” Her frown turns her face into an angry scowl. “Much better than that common trash.”
I almost reconsidered leaving until she said that. Taylor finally has what she wished for—a husband who stays home with her—and she’s going to hold onto it fiercely by supporting him.
I’d never marry Rachel, but I might have stayed home until September. Maybe time would soften the two of them, or I could stall until I can afford to leave. But not now. I can’t handle the constant badmouthing of Natalie—as if she’s expendable in my life.
Dad may be able to trade off women every night, but not me. I’m not interested in screwing a new woman every night because I married the wrong one. I’m not going to be like my parents, because I am going to be with the woman I love.
I pause and face Taylor. “Tell Dad he should go online and search for his name on the Gawk website.”
“Why should he do that?” she asks, crinkling her nose.
“To see what people really think of him.”
I’ve been keeping it to myself. Natalie’s uncle and Troy’s father aren’t the only people attacked on that website. My father’s name is also being smeared, no doubt by Arielle.
Arielle, the woman he originally wanted me to marry, the woman he had living in our house, the woman who spied on him, and got dirt to dish later all over the internet. Arielle knows every dirty little secret in our house, and now anyone who has access to the internet will too.
Taylor looks at the house and then me. “Lucas, what if I told you that I could talk to your father, tell him that you’re willing to compromise?”
“But I won’t,” I reply. “I’m making my own choices. And my first choice is to be with Natalie. Dale Bellman has made his choice and you should accept it, Mom.”
I have no malice toward Taylor. She’s a trophy wife who no longer has a place on the highest shelf. I kiss her forehead and get into my car. As I drive off, I open the ashtray. I don’t have joints in there anymore, just loose change. At the stoplight, I pull out my wallet, knowing that my credit cards are probably already cut off. And whatever money I have is all I have to my name.
At the intersection, I’m not sure whether to turn left or right—to go to Jacob’s or Troy’s. I think about the ring that Jacob gave Natalie. At this point, Troy and I have more to talk about. I drive around aimlessly for an hour before I come to a decision.
I’m going to sell the Camaro and buy Natalie a ring.
CHAPTER 20
Arielle
Lying on an inflatable donut in the pool, I
drag my fingers through the water and dab it onto my heated skin. Montlake is over, but I’m not done yet. I drift by my tablet, balancing on the edge, and turn it on. My fingernails tap the screen, bringing up the Gawk website. On today’s cover page is a big headline in a red san serif font—“Executive pulls it out … of his pants.” Underneath the clickbait headline is a picture of my ex-father-in-law, Dale Bellman, and a prostitute in outrageously scandalous lingerie at a private men’s club in the city.
I laugh as I read the comments underneath the article—comments about his old cock. Comments that speculate on how much he has to pay to have some hot babe suck that old thing. Guesses range from, “you couldn’t pay me” all the way to “all the billions in the universe.”
I burst into fits of laughter. And scroll through all the pages that are linked to my exes. I check the site daily ever since the idiot moderators allowed the tape of Anthony and me on the site. Heads rolled after it went viral, and I decided that I needed to keep a close eye on everything. I didn’t realize how easy it was to pay for dirt until South Beach. I hired photographers to follow Dale Bellman until they took the most explicit pictures they could get of him screwing around.
It’s so easy taking down these foolish people. Montlake might be over, but I’m not done yet with Natalie. I pause and gaze into the blue sky above me. Jacob is on my list. I left him for last only because we never dated. But he made the mistake of dating that bonehead slut. His father also goes to the same club as Bellman, but that’s not going to hurt Jacob. He can’t stand his father. I’ll wait until he’s at Notre Dame, and Gawk will have a story on a former rich boy on welfare.
I toss the tablet onto the ground and push off the side, sailing into the middle of the pool. The inflatable donut spins as I kick my feet, loving every minute I spend getting even.
“Excuse me, Miss Arielle.”
Looking down her nose, the maid is standing at the edge of the pool. I don’t remember her name, and I don’t care. The way she’s looking at me makes me want to fire her simple ass.
“Your father wants to see you,” she speaks evenly.
Before I can even ask her why, she turns around stiffly and walks off. How dare she? She acts as if she’s better than me. I have no idea what she could even base that stupid assumption on. I paddle to the side of the pool and get out. I wrap my towel around my waist and float into the kitchen.
I snap my fingers until the maid finally turns around from the sink. “I want a salad for lunch.”
The bitch glares at me with her bottom lip stuck out. She’s lucky she’s insignificant, or her name would be on my list if I could remember it.
“Did you hear me? I want a salad for lunch.” I raise my voice. “No tomatoes. No seeds in my cucumbers. And I want it with grated Parmesan, not that stuff in the jar. Hand-grated. Do you understand me?”
I wait for an answer with my hands on my hips, but she continues to glare at me with her dark, beady eyes.
“Are you deaf? Do you need me to repeat it?”
She tosses her rag in the sink. “Your father wants to see you,” she repeats. “Now.”
Did that bitch just raise her voice at me?
I don’t have to look in the mirror to know I’m giving her a sour look. I turn on my heel and march out of the kitchen. I’m going to see my father to tell him to fire her today. I’ll enjoy it. I’m going to stand there and watch as he makes her put on her hat and coat.
I hurry into my daddy’s office, and he barely looks up at me. I sit down in the chair in front of his desk and cross my legs. The shelves surrounding the perimeter of the room are filled with leather-bound books that no one reads. My cousin visited for a summer, five years ago, and may have touched one. Daddy spends all his time on his computer, staring hard at the screen like he’s doing now.
“Daddy,” I whine, dragging out the last syllable. “The maid is mean to me. I’m hungry, and she won’t make me anything to eat.”
My father looks up, and I lean back in my seat. His eyes are drilling holes through me, and his flushed face is drawn. He looks angrier than the devil.
“Arielle, we have a serious problem.”
“What could that be?” I ask.
He pounds the desk. “A multitude of lawsuits being filed against us.”
“What for?” I ask. “And why does it concern me?”
“For defamation of character against our estate.” He rotates the laptop so I can see the Gawk website. “Explain.”
I stiffen and sit up straighter. “You know about that website, Daddy. I told you about it, didn’t I?”
“No,” My father leans forward until his chest hits the desk, his finger pointing at me like a gun. “I didn’t know that you were the one putting smut on that website.”
I squirm. “How do you know it was me?”
“Because it’s in the court papers, Arielle!” he shouts.
Daddy tosses the papers across his desk. They slide over the smooth surface and into my lap. I grip them, before they fall onto the floor, and look through the dozens of pages listing complaints against us for online bullying and defamation of character. The complainants are listed as Phillip Page and Greg Saunders.
“I went on that site.” My father points to the photo of the latest scandal Dale Bellman, with his pants down around his ankles, grabbing a topless hooker. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s just a joke.”
“A joke?” he barks the words. “There’s nothing funny about this. There are real consequences for defamation of character, consequences that you know nothing about!”
“But Daddy,” I pout. “These people did horrible things, and they got caught doing it. It’s not like we’re making it up. We have photos. They can’t sue us for telling the truth.”
Wide-eyed, he looks at me as if I’m completely and utterly crazy.
“Arielle, are you out of your mind? People have a right to privacy, especially people who aren’t in the public eye.”
“Well,” I reply. “You have a good lawyer.”
He clutches his balding head in his hands. “We’ll be sued until Armageddon comes and goes. We’ll be broke by the time we settle with all these people—if we settle with them. I can’t believe the mess you have made.”
I stand up, tossing his stupid papers back on the desk. “I didn’t make a mess. It’s not my fault. These people treated me badly. You told me when someone screws you over, you’ve got to come back at them with all you’ve got. You told me you have to smack them down the minute they get feisty. You have to smack them down and let them know who’s in charge, and that’s exactly what I did. I did exactly what you told me to.”
He stares at me, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, “I’m about to be ruined because of my own daughter.” He shakes his head, raising his voice with every syllable until he’s yelling. “And you left a trail that leads straight back to us! I can’t handle you anymore, Arielle.”
Now, I’m really pissed. “I don’t need handling. I took charge. More than you’ve done. You let that boy humiliate me.”
“I shouldn’t have married you off to Lucas Bellman. He didn’t have the experience to handle you. Too young. Naïve.”
Daddy sits down heavily as the fight leaves his weary body. I’m concerned. I like to win, but maybe, this is a fight I should have lost.
He speaks, but almost to himself. “The things the students did at that school; nude selfies, drugs behind sold and consumed in secret places, reckless driving and destruction of school property. Pregnancy, teachers fired for bullying, and relations with multiple partners.” He looks at me. “It’s not a school; it’s a zoo. No wonder you’re a mess. Arielle, I don’t want you around these people another day.”
“Daddy, did you forget?” I blink my eyes. “I graduated.”
“Graduated or not, you can’t be here anymore. I found the perfect partner for you. Someone who can gui
de you toward a better life. A man with high morals.”
My hands grip the armrests on the chair and I feel the pit of my stomach drop away. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that to avoid complete financial ruin, you will marry a husband that can handle your erratic behavior—a husband with enough resources to force a settlement so that our estate can be saved.”
I stare, the words not quite registering. “What?”
“He’s an older man who lives in Europe.”
“What?
Daddy’s smile is weak. “You’ll be a princess. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”