The Monster

by Shen, L. J.

  “Well, Aisling did, bless her heart. She is my child through and through, that one. So delicately cunning. So smart.”

  So hot.

  Though I doubted he’d appreciate that specific input.

  Gerald took a sip of his drink, his shoulders rolling as he visibly relaxed.

  “Aisling knew Barbara would stand out with her zip code. We wanted to ensure you’d approach her, so we made certain her address led to a trailer park. You took the bait. When you called Barbara, Aisling and I instructed her beforehand. What to say. How to act. We couldn’t chance her blowing her cover. She did a remarkable job, didn’t she? And by the end of the day, you were already on the phone with publishing houses and literary agents, hooking her up with people who wanted to hear her story about the sordid Gerald Fitzpatrick. The new Jeffrey Epstein, right? The fall from grace of the tycoon who wanted too much from too many.”

  This was pretty much spot-on, so I couldn’t dispute it. I played into Ash’s hands, and even when we’d met, even when I’d been balls deep inside her, when she cried my name, when she told me she loved me, when she offered me herself on a silver platter, she still plotted against me.

  Tried to uncover the truth.

  Was an active participant in our mental chess game.

  “We got three offers from three different publishing houses,” I said tersely, trying to understand how they managed to cover the last part of their plan.

  This was why the headline made sense. Because Barbara told me she had taken one of the deals. That she was going to write the tell-all. The plan was to have Gerald beg me to step in. I, in turn, would have a confession from him, throw my weight a little around Barbara, pay her to keep her mouth shut, and the whole thing would be canceled.

  Then, depending on Gerald’s version of what went down between him and Cat, I planned to shed some Fitzpatrick blood. Not a lot. Just enough to satisfy my bloodthirsty nature.

  “You didn’t get an offer from anyone.” Gerald shook his head. “Your calls to the publishers went straight to Emmabelle Penrose’s phone.”

  I could feel my face morph from anger to disgust. I was played not only by Ash, but by that airheaded Barbie.

  As if hearing my internal thoughts, Gerald offered a quick nod.

  “Aisling didn’t want you to recognize her voice. She had your calls redirected to Emmabelle’s phone each time you made an inquiry. And once the so-called contract between Barbara and the publishing house of her choice was signed, you were out of the loop. You only ever saw the contract. You didn’t actually speak to any of the people Barbara had spoken to.”

  That was true. The minute I hooked Barbara McAllister up with a so-called literary agent—who was probably Emmabelle, too—I stepped aside and tended to my own business, secure in the notion everything would run smoothly.

  “How did Ash redirect the calls to Belle?” I narrowed my eyes at Gerald. Everything seemed too flawless to be done without any help.

  Gerald smiled a smile that sank into the pit of my fucking stomach.

  No.

  “Yes,” Gerald replied, and I realized I said the word out loud. “She used the man who knows how to be Sam Brennan better than Sam Brennan—Troy Brennan.”

  For the first time in a long time, I had nothing to say. Nothing other than where the fuck was Aisling? Why wasn’t she the one confronting me? Only the answer was obvious. She didn’t want anything to do with me. Every time we were alone, I’d somehow find a way into her pants before pushing her away and telling both of us it would never happen again.

  Fucking pathetic.

  And this time I didn’t mean her.

  “If it makes you feel any better, your adoptive father had no idea this had anything to do with you. He would never betray you like this. Aisling told him she needed a few certain numbers to be redirected to Belle because, as you know, Belle is the owner at Madame Mayhem, a local nightclub, and she said someone was trying to target the club and write a damning tell-all about the managers and goings-on inside,” Gerald continued, taking another generous sip of whiskey.

  I took a drag off my cigarette. My drink remained untouched.

  Through the curtains, the oranges and pinks of a winter sunrise colored the sky. I tapped my cigarette to the side of my lip, mulling it over.

  “It was airtight,” I said eventually.

  “Yes,” Gerald agreed. “Aisling did all the leg work. When Troy asked why she didn’t come to you directly to deal with the publishing companies, she explained that because she was infatuated with you, she wanted to limit your communication to the bare minimum.”

  She even used her weaknesses to her advantage.

  “We communicate often,” I bit out harshly, childishly, the need to fuck her over right back overwhelming me. “If that’s what you want to call it. So where is this Barbara woman now?”

  I knew where she was going to be soon.

  Six feet under.

  Actually, that wasn’t true. I wasn’t going to kill Barbara, but not because she didn’t deserve it for double-crossing me. I wasn’t going to kill her because it was obvious Aisling fucking Fitzpatrick was going to go after my ass, knowing I had one hell of a motive. It wasn’t a cold day in Hell, but finally, I found someone who held me accountable for my actions.

  It wasn’t the police, the sheriff, the FBI, or the mayor, although all of them had tried.

  It was a petite Irish girl with a smart mouth and eyes like bluebells who wanted to give me everything she had until I made it very clear to her I wasn’t worth any of it.

  “That’s a great question.” Gerald grinned smugly, his face so punchable I was surprised it didn’t curve inside out.

  He snapped his fingers, and just like that, Barbara materialized from the hallway, no longer looking like a day-shift stripper. Her hair was coiffed back, her attire a black velvet Prada suit and Chanel purse.

  Yeah, she definitely didn’t need any food stamps or half-finished cigarette packs.

  Barbara smiled at me apologetically, giving me a quick nod.

  “I wanted to be here just to say I was sorry in person. I never meant to complicate things for you, Mr. Brennan, but Gerald is an old friend, and when he told me he was in trouble, I simply couldn’t turn my back on him. Surely, you can understand.”

  Only I couldn’t.

  Because I didn’t have any real friends. Only people I had business with and met with socially—only to make sure they didn’t screw up any of our mutual business shit.

  “Well played, madam.”

  She smiled and dashed out the door after saying her goodbyes, leaving Gerald and me to face each other. I took out another cigarette, waiting for the question on the tip of his tongue.

  “So now it’s your turn to tell me … why?” he asked quietly, dropping his elbows to his knees. He looked broken. Wilted and weak and somehow still angry.

  “Why did you put me through this? Why did you take everything I’ve ever cared for? What did I ever do to you, Brennan? Up until two months ago, I would name you as one of my closest business partners. Openly.”

  Openly my ass. If he was so open about his business with me, he wouldn’t have forbade me from taking his daughter out for a coffee.

  Not that that was what I wanted.

  Or had anything to do with this bullshit.

  “I found the letters,” I said, flicking ash into an ashtray on the table. “Catalina’s letters. Back in November. The old bat finally conked out, and her neighbor invited me to sort through her shit and see if there was anything of value there. Spoiler alert: there wasn’t. But she kept the letters to you. The ones you redirected back to her. And your photos together…” I took a deep breath “…and the pregnancy test. I know all about what you did to her, to me. How you drove her away from me. How you killed the child in her womb. My brother. I know everything. Everything. Everything.”

  I said it three times, so he’d understand I meant business.

  Gerald stared at me for a long beat
. When he finally opened his mouth, no words came out.

  He started to laugh.

  Cackle was more like it.

  And I mean, really go at it, slapping his thigh as he tried to regulate his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head.

  “You bought that bullshit?” He heaved. “Are you serious, son?”

  “There were pictures, Gerald. Lots of them. Of you and Cat together. By the way, you should probably stop the habit of documenting every single fuck you have with women who are not your wife.”

  The pictures were genuine. They were real. And they were damning. I knew a photoshopped work when I saw it, and this wasn’t it.

  So why was I feeling like an idiot right now?

  “No, I did have an affair with Cat, I’m not going to deny that part. Hell, Sam, you were a child, barely even old enough to wipe your own ass. I didn’t know you. And Cat was a gorgeous woman in her prime. Besides, she needed the money, and I paid her well for her … uh … company.” He looked away now, rubbing the back of his head.

  There was no well-mannered way to point out someone’s mother was a whore, so I didn’t necessarily fault him for that. He carried on, exhaling quickly.

  “I had an affair with her, yes, but everything else was a complete and utter fabrication. Catalina was never pregnant with my child, and I never raised a finger to hurt her. I did not cause her to miscarry. When we started seeing each other, she told me she had her tubes tied after she had you. I asked her to show me the doctor’s note—I knew Jane would rip my head off if I ever got any of my mistresses pregnant—and Cat provided it to me within the day. Not only that, but I went ahead and double-checked it with her OB-GYN.”

  “Then what the fuck was that pregnancy test?”

  “My guess is she took it from one of her friends. Catalina had a lot of friends in the … uh … industry she worked in. Kept women who messed around with rich men. We provided for them, but the main incentive was, of course, to fall pregnant with our children. That would tie us to them for life.”

  I did not take that into consideration.

  “So you are saying she was never pregnant with your child?” I drawled, trying to keep my cool.

  He finished his whiskey in one go. “Correct.”

  “That’s all nice and well, but I distinctly remember Cat coming back home around the time of the alleged miscarriage, disoriented and bruised. I remember her crawling into her bed, curling up into a ball, crying. I remember her being ushered to the hospital in an ambulance. How would you explain that?”

  Gerald stared at me through beady, liquid black eyes, his lips sneering in distaste. “Does the name Donnie ring a bell?”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “Tall, muscular, an underwear model type. He was Cat’s real boyfriend at the time. The man she fucked without leaving an invoice on the nightstand afterward. Real good-looking guy, I’ll give him that, but he never came to terms with what she did for a living. Every now and again, he would rough her up if she showed up to meet him smelling like the man before him. As it happened, that man before him that night was me. I know, because I met your mother at the hospital and even paid for her hospital stay. I told her to press charges. She didn’t want to. I still have the receipt for that hospital bill, and I can show you none of the things listed there have anything to do with Cat’s womb or any of her reproductive organs.”

  Suddenly, I had a really bad headache. Because through foggy memory, I did remember Donnie. A tall, blond fuckboy. I remembered internally referring to him as Captain Potato Head for having the combined IQ and wit of a used condom. He was the first person to give me a cigarette.

  “Hey, Cat’s kid, bring me the pack of Marlboros over there, will ya?”

  I did as I was told, mostly because I was too distracted to tell him to fuck off. The man left the pack open, jerking it in my direction.

  “Here, boy, take one. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  “Oh, you will, buddy. With your fucked-up life, cigarettes are a question of when, not if.”

  “Explain the letters.” I turned to Gerald, the biting pain of being played closing in on my throat again. This time not by Aisling, who was at least smart and intelligent, but by Cat, whom I wouldn’t trust with a goddamn Snickers bar.

  All the pieces of the puzzle were falling together.

  “Easily, Sam.” Gerald poured himself more whiskey, seeming more relaxed than he had in weeks. I knew he was telling the truth, and it fucking killed me. “Sometime after Donnie roughed her up, Cat realized her line of work was just too dangerous. She asked me for money. A lot of it. To keep silent. I said no, and that’s when the blackmailing began. Each and every one of her letters was part of an extortion scheme. She threatened to out us, to spread terrible lies, to ensure Jane knew about what we were. What we did. She wanted to skip town, but she never wanted to take you, Sam. You weren’t in her plans. Not even for a second. At some point, I realized she wasn’t worth the heat I was about to get from Jane. I became open to giving her money. I kept asking her how she could leave you behind. Tried to convince her to take you with her—kids need their mothers. By God, Sam, she just wouldn’t. Finally, I handed her 150k just so she would shut up and leave me alone. I remember the day she left. She was so happy, and you know what, son? So was I. She almost cost me everything. I’m not going to lie, Sam, seeing the back of your mother as she skipped town was one of my favorite sights. It should have been a happy day for you, too.”

  I began peeling the soft paper around the cigarette pack, feeling like a thirteen-year-old again.

  “You never told me about your history with my mother,” I said coldly.

  “No. Not because I did something horrible to her but because I didn’t want you to think I see you as the spawn of this money-grabbing idiot. I didn’t want our professional relationship to be tainted by that. Besides, I truly didn’t and don’t see you as Cat’s. You are a Brennan through and through. A Brennan is the best thing a person in Boston can be, other than a Fitzpatrick. You had a good childhood once she gave you up. You shouldn’t be thinking about her. Not for one second.”

  “I don’t,” I hissed. “I’m thinking about how you wronged me.”

  “I didn’t know you,” Gerald emphasized. “You were a kid. Still, I felt some sort of responsibility toward you. After I’d heard Cat had left, I looked you up. Found out that Sparrow sent you to this fancy Montessori school. I had my driver drive around it sometimes to see if I could spot you during recess. Sometimes I did. You sat in the middle of a circle, and all the boys looked up to you, captivated by you. You became strong, and prominent, and unbeatable. After a while, I was satisfied with how it all turned out. Pleased with my decision to give the wretched woman what she wanted to leave you behind. It worked out well for you.”

  “So well you later on hired me as the help.”

  “No, as my fixer,” Gerald corrected. “A savvy businessman whose expertise I needed and was willing to pay for handsomely. Admittedly, I wasn’t surprised to see you on my doorstep. I stitched together the Sailor and Hunter plan with Troy, tightening our ties with the Brennans had always been the plan for me. You were too prominent a family in Boston for me not to acknowledge you somehow. But I hired you because you were the best in the business and not for any other reason.”

  There was silence. I knew more needed to be said, but I wasn’t sure what. I believed Gerald, and that should have been enough. I should have felt some sort of relief or contentment with this information.

  Cautiously, Gerald continued, drawing a circle with his index finger around his tumbler of whiskey.

  “But I have a feeling this doesn’t have much to do with Catalina and me. You wanted a reason for me to become your enemy. Otherwise, you would have come straight to me with those letters. What’s going on, Sam?”

  And just like that, he hit the nail on the head.

  I created this mess.


  Troy was right.

  Gerald was right, too.

  I wanted it, needed it, manufactured it the day after I slept with Aisling to distract myself from the hard truths.

  Aisling Fitzpatrick could never be mine.

  She was too innocent, too precious, too blue-blooded for a man like me.

  I couldn’t have her—and not just because her family paid me not to.

  The extra money didn’t matter much to me. But also because I couldn’t give her all the things she needed—monogamy, a wedding, a family, children. And most importantly because I knew being with her would put her life at risk.

  She is already putting her life at risk, doing what she is doing. She could end up in jail tomorrow, which means you played savior Jesus for nothing.

  The truth hit me hard.

  I wanted Aisling Fitzpatrick.

  There were no more distractions.

  No more excuses.

  No more reasons to stay away.

  Especially now, when both Gerald and I had each other by the throat.

  It was time to make a bargain.

  “You deprived me of my mother, Gerald, and I deprived you of your sanity for weeks. I think it is high time we cut a deal.” I sat back, nailing him to his seat with a stare.

  “Don’t turn this around on me, Brennan. You were caught red-handed, meddling with my business and ruining my relationships with my loved ones. I know it seems like Jane and I have a lot of issues to work through, and truth be told, ours is less than a perfect marriage, but I still care about my wife. I love her in my own way, and I am definitely not impressed with the way you interfered in our marriage.”

  “Regardless of that speech, the truth of the matter is, I have a lot of dirt on you, Gerry boy, and I fully plan to unleash it if I don’t get what I want. The letters are still real. The pregnancy test is still in existence. All those things you ran away from with Cat are now in my possession, and trust me, I make my birth mother look like a kitten in comparison.”

  He groaned, rubbing his face tiredly.

  “What is it that you want?”