Bad Boy Rich

by Kat T. Masen

  To make it all the worse, it got on her jumpsuit.

  I changed her outfit, taking a good ten minutes to figure out what button goes where, my frustration mounting as her cries sound louder. Finally, I’m done and shove the bottle in her mouth, welcoming the silence.

  After a full feed, burp, then burp again—she’s settled.

  It fucking wasted an hour.

  I ask the driver to mind her while I quickly duck inside the drugstore. The assistant who is young and notices who I am, offers some advice on different brands. There is no time for this bullshit, so I purchase what she recommends only to be asked for a selfie. I decline, telling her it’s for personal reasons. My biggest worry was the paparazzi tracking me down.

  I didn’t want anyone scaring Milana away and the paps were ruthless pigs.

  She appeared embarrassed; cheeks flushing red and barely making eye contact after that. And unlike my normal behavior, I pull her into a hug, kiss her cheek, and say thank you.

  “Where to, sir?” the driver asks, opening the door for me.

  I read out the address that Flynn texted me.

  “And quick, please.”

  “You must be Phoebe.”

  Her face tightens; arms folded with an irritated stance as she blocks the doorway. Milana never described her. Quite ordinary with ginger-colored hair and bright green eyes. Much like Milana, there was an innocence about her. I bet the woman has never been laid. She had that prissy, uptight look about her. The PJs she wore with unicorns all over them a dead giveaway.

  “Yes. And you must be the douche who knocked up my best friend.”

  “Kinda harsh, considering it takes two to tango?” I smirk, not appreciating the label.

  “Yeah, it also takes two to parent…”

  Quick to intercept, I grit, “If you know you have a kid.”

  “Oh c’mon Wesley,” she drags, raising her voice, with a matching cold stare. “You would have told her to abort the baby. She doesn’t fit into your lifestyle.”

  My head shakes, unwillingly; a lack of respect for this nobody standing in front of me thinking they know who I am and what I would have done. Yeah, alright, kids weren’t on my agenda. Big fucking deal.

  Phoebe’s eye divert to the carrier; narrowing her brows in confusion. “Why do you have her, anyway?”

  “So you’re not aware that your best friend dumped her baby with her brother and ran away?” I tell her, frustrated at this conversation.

  Phoebe appears stumped by the revelation, pulling her hair into her mouth and chewing it, annoyingly.

  “She said she would be away for a few days, she needed to get away and clear her head. She never mentioned leaving Katerina,” she says, faintly.

  “Well, clearing her head meant dumping our kid. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know…” she stammers, nervous and upset. “I knew it.”

  “You knew what?”

  “That she wasn’t coping. Mom said that she was probably going through postpartum depression given everything that has happened.”

  Phoebe extends her arm, prompting me to come inside, finally.

  The house is small, with brown furniture and pictures hung all over the wall. There’s a glass cabinet in the corner; housing creepy porcelain dolls dressed in fancy dresses.

  An older man, assuming her dad, is sitting in his rocker and reading a book with a pipe and steaming coffee beside him. There’s a sweet smell in the air, and moments later, Phoebe’s mom comes out with a plate of breakfast which she hands to her husband.

  They all had matching ginger hair. Comical—to say the least.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were expecting a visitor, honey?”

  “Neither was I. Mom, Dad—this is Wesley. Katerina’s…” She coughs, purposely, rolling her eyes. “Father.”

  I’d like to think it wasn’t intentional, the shock of the news which explained their expression. Eyes wide, mouth gaping and silence that followed. Phoebe’s dad is quick to break the stance, placing the pipe back into his mouth.

  “Mom, Milly’s gone missing. She left the baby with Flynn. We need to find her. Can you watch her for a few hours?”

  Phoebe’s mom clutches her chest, worried. “Honey, should we call the police?”

  “No Mom, it’s not like that.” Phoebe shakes her head with a forced smile, turning to me for reassurance.

  “Um no,” I speak up, clearing my throat. “We will find her, won’t we, Phoebe?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sure she’s just visiting her mom. You know, after the news and all.”

  What news? I wanted to ask Phoebe, but time is of the essence and we needed to get out of here.

  “Of course, sweetie. Come here, baby girl. I’ll run to the store and grab some extra diapers and formula.”

  Handing the carrier over, something odd washes over me. Worry, panic—it felt sickening and begins to make my stomach curl. What is the feeling? It’s almost like an anxiety, from separating.

  “I already packed plenty, stopped off at the drugstore and got some.” I hand the bag over.

  “Oh, well aren’t we the organized parent,” Phoebe snickers. “I’ll go get changed.”

  “Please,” I tell her with a sarcastic smile.

  Good. I wasn’t going anywhere with her dressed like that. No matter how desperate I was. That getup is not cute.

  Phoebe’s mom takes the carrier, lifting Katerina out and cradling her. She smiles, sings a nursery rhyme of some sort before Phoebe’s dad rattles off about not getting clucky ’cause his shop is dusty and old.

  Ten minutes later, Phoebe enters the room again, this time dressed in a pair of jeans and a Rams jumper. My favorite team. Maybe this bitch wasn’t so bad after all.

  “You ready?” Phoebe asks, grabbing the keys off the nightstand.

  I take a moment to watch Phoebe’s mom with Katerina. She’ll be okay, right? I mean, it’s just a couple of hours. Why the hell is this bothering me so much?

  It’s almost like I’m going to miss her.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Phoebe, following her out the door until we’re standing in front of a beaten old red Toyota.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “My car. And please, Susan doesn’t like to be looked at that way.”

  “Susan? You named this piece of shit Susan?”

  “Oh, sorry Wesley Rich,” Phoebe mocks with a pout. “We can’t all drive Porches like you. Get the fuck in and let’s go find my best friend.”

  “Fine, but if I die, it’s all your fault.”

  She rubs her hands together, purposely lifting her brows, pleased. “Yes, because dying inside Susan would be fun. For fuck’s sake, grow a dick and get in the car.”

  This bitch would be the death of me.

  But I no longer cared.

  I was one step away from finding Milana.

  And that’s all that mattered.

  “Miss Milenov hasn’t been here in a week. We were quite worried, actually.”

  The nurse doesn’t give any further information. Sitting behind the desk and excusing herself to answer a phone call. The roadblock worries me. I’m close to calling the police, filing a missing person’s report and demanding the whole country go into lockdown until we find her.

  “I know what you’re thinking, just stop, please,” Phoebe sputters, momentarily beyond words. She takes a deep breath, staring back at me with her big green eyes. “If you freak out, I’ll freak out. So just stop, okay.”

  I’m tearing my hair out, pacing the foyer, restless legs fueled by the anxiety that overwhelms me. I’m scared, terrified—what if she ends it all? What if the pain got to her so much that she couldn’t pull herself out of it? I’m a fucking idiot…I should have seen the warning signs. She wasn’t like the rest of them. She didn’t beg for my attention because I was rich and famous, she begged for it because her life depended on it.

  “You want to meet Katya?”

  “Is that what you call her? I thought her name
was Katerina?” I question, avoiding the curling pain settling in my stomach.

  “Yes, I’ve known her my whole life. Katya is her nickname. Let me guess, you didn’t even know that?”

  Frustrated, I quickly bark, “Why the fuck would I know that? Milana never said a word. She never wanted to talk about her mom or life back home. So excuse me for being clueless.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re so self-absorbed you think the world revolves around you!”

  The nurse asks us to keep our voices down. Done with arguing, I tell Phoebe to quit talking and lead me to Katya.

  Rose Meadow Care Facility had all the bells and whistles. The grounds are beautiful, very manicured with lush lawns and blooming flowers everywhere you looked. According to a sign I read, there is twenty-four-hour nursing available and on-call doctors. It was a long-term facility for people that needed round-the-clock care.

  And I expected it cost a fortune which further explained Milana’s reluctance to spend anything back home and her desperation to keep her job.

  We take a walk along the pebbled footpath, silent and with no words left to say. We both felt the same; nervous and anxious about finding Milana. I’m relieved when Phoebe points out a small condo just on the other side of the hill, clustered together with a few others.

  Phoebe beats me to the front door, taking a long-winded breath and knocking softly. I stand behind her, anxiously waiting for the door to open and praying she’s here even though the nurses hadn’t seen her.

  The sweat in my palms, combined with trembling hands, becomes increasingly apparent as the anticipation mounts. I hadn’t seen her in months. Did I even remember what she looked like? Of course you do you fucking moron, that’s the problem, no one else compared to her beauty and that’s what is driving you insane.

  “Phoebe?”

  Katya answers the door, smiling instantly and extending her arms to Phoebe. Caught up in an embrace, Phoebe’s eyes begin to cloud and her chin trembles on cue. My gaze moves from Phoebe to Katya. She wasn’t as old as Milana had depicted her. Sure, she had some greys but her face still had an element of youth. She looked a lot like Flynn, only small resemblances to Milana.

  “You brought a friend?”

  “Uh, no Katya.” Phoebe pinches my arm, yanking me forward. I swear she is a ball breaker. “This is Wesley… Wesley Rich.”

  Katya holds my gaze; her quizzical expression making me conscious. Her eye color, light and transcending—carries wisdom. I felt it. She radiated warmth, yet I hadn’t even shook her hand.

  “Listen, I’ll be waiting over there.” Phoebe points to a park bench near a small pond. “Katya, it’s good to see you, I promise I’ll be back.”

  Katya nods with a smile but instead of ushering me in, she insists we go for a walk.

  I couldn’t blame her. The day is nice. Blue skies with a warm breeze. The air is clean, nothing like the LA smog. Taking a breath, I felt cleansed. I couldn’t describe it…something in the air just calmed me. The more I did it, the more I began to understand why Milana called Alaska home.

  “Walking outside helps me clear my head sometimes,” Katya says, leading me towards a gazebo that sat near a large oak tree.

  “Yeah, I guess I haven’t had much of that lately.”

  “You look lost, son.”

  She called me son. The word—resonates with me. As if I’ve waited my whole life to feel this way. Loved, if this is what it is—by a parent. No strings attached, unconditional love.

  “I might forget this conversation, or the words I speak now. So before that happens, before you get scared by my confusion, I will tell you this—you have given my daughter life.” She touches my hand, grasping it tightly. “I know all about you. Milly talked about you so much once she came back home. I knew she loved you, but she was terrified. The baby terrified her, and that’s why you’re here, right?”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, and with her hand still clutching mine, I crumble in front of her. “She’s gone… it’s all my fault. I needed her to fix me and all along I didn’t see that she needed me.”

  “Hush, sweet boy. All can be fixed. I need you, you see.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, if my daughter loves you and you feel the same way about her, then I need you. I won’t be around for much longer.” Her voice wavers, but quick to bring a brave smile to her face, she continues, “You’ve created a life with her. You’ve carried on the legacy. Don’t be afraid of me, and what I’ve become. You need to make Milly see that, I need you to make Milly smile again.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that…I’m fuc…I’m a screwup,” I tell her honestly. “I can’t even get my life together.”

  “You will. You have no choice.”

  She gestures for me to take a seat; a small wooden bench that felt unstable when I sat down.

  “When my husband left me, I was sad, depressed even. I couldn’t imagine raising two kids alone. They sensed it, you know. I would cry myself to sleep and Milly would come into my bed at night and just hold me. She had no clue why I cried or what I was terrified of, she just did it. Then one day, I decided I had to be strong, for them.”

  Unknowingly, a small smile plays on my lips, remembering things that Milana would often tell me.

  “She loves you, and now I understand why she was so homesick and upset to be away from you. I couldn’t understand at the time. My mother is…a piece of work.”

  “Milly has always been overprotective. She had a moment, or should I say, bout of rebelling when her father returned and her grandpapa passed away. I was kind of relieved, to see her acting like a normal teenager but then of course I needed to put my parental cap on and pull her into line.”

  I laugh, with ease. “Milana, a rebel? It seems so far-fetched.”

  “It’s true.” Katya takes a rather large breath, her shoulders slumping, a burden weighing heavily on her shoulders. “The hardest part was telling her about the disease. Seeing your children’s faces…”

  She shakes her head; fighting back tears that threatened to fall. I felt compelled to comfort her; this woman, mighty and tenacious—didn’t deserve to go through this.

  “I’m dying, Wesley. That’s why she ran away. They found a tumor. I don’t know how long, but I know not long, I feel it.”

  My heart shatters, aching for this woman that I had just met but felt like I had known a lifetime. Whatever I said, or did—could not do anything to erase the pain she must be feeling. I felt obliged, if not honored, that she needed me. I would do anything, throw all the money I had to give her the best treatment. Whatever she needed, I would make it happen.

  And with that thought, I ask the pressing question, “Where is she?”

  Katya pulls a paper and pen from her cardigan pocket, writing down an address.

  “I don’t know if she’s here, but I know my daughter. She will go back to a place that brings her happy memories. The last time before I was diagnosed, we were here. It’s a start, go see, and if she’s there, tell her you came and saw me. That’s all she needs, I promise.”

  “I won’t let you down, Mrs. Milenov.”

  With a courageous smile, she caresses my cheek. “Mrs. Milenov makes me sound old and weatherly. How about just Katya?”

  Leaning in, I embrace Katya and feared letting her go. There’s something to be said about acceptance; it’s life changing. The moment it comes together, the moment you accept your flaws, understand your mistakes and find what it is in life you’re fighting for—is a complete game changer.

  Everything about Milana now pieced together.

  And once I found her—I would tell her exactly that.

  The lake is beautiful.

  Dark, eerily peaceful with the moon’s reflection adding to its beauty. I envied it. The serenity, the way it was so peaceful at night but during the day—it was something else. It made people happy, it brought joy to many.

  No matter what, it was beautiful inside and out.

  Nothing at al
l like me.

  There’s this constant heaviness weighing me down. I’ve been sitting on this rock for hours on end, staring, contemplating, and trying to extract any emotion to give me back my sanity. Whatever this is, it’s got a hold of me, it’s in my bones and in my blood. It’s everywhere I look, it’s everywhere I am.

  And the irony; my memory never falters. Taunting me each waking moment and reliving this nightmare that had constantly become my primary focus.

  “Milly, stop drinking.”

  Liam’s voice is annoying and directly in front of me. He could never just let loose and have fun, always playing the parental card.

  “Let her go.” Phoebe laughs, holding a bottle of champagne in the air. “She’s finnneeee.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I hold onto his shoulder for support, the room spinning with rainbows and funny music.

  Phoebe stops in the middle of us, scratching her head. “Why are we here again?”

  Liam huffs, “You wanted Doritos.”

  “Oh my God. YES. And peanuts…salty peanuts.”

  “Maca…macadammiiaa..na..na,” Phoebe slurs.

  I burst out laughing, stuck in a coughing fit. “You’re soooo drunk.”

  “The both of you are terrible. I am never picking you two up again. I mean it this time.”

  “Nah, c’mon,” I throw my arm over his shoulder, leaning my head into him. He did smell nice. “You love me. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  Phoebe nods her head, raising her hand and giving him a thumbs-up.

  “Yep, oh look! Condoms. You totally need some. What size are you Liam?”

  He purses his lips, annoyed. “Stop, you’re making a fool out of yourself.”

  “Large!” I yell out, the lady at the checkout smirking from behind the counter.

  “Milly. Shut up,” he complains.

  “Okay, so large it is. Now, ribbed for her pleasure?”

  “Yes please!” I topple over, holding onto the shelf so I didn’t fall.

  “Okay, that’s it. If you two don’t calm down, I’m leaving you here. You got me?”