Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “Bullshit. I know why you’re in that house and it’s nothing to do with cleaning and everything to do with my perverted brother and his husband.”

  The disgust and abhorrence imbued into that one word has me stiffening.

  She makes Jake sound like some kind of depraved deviant. She, in no way, saw that love was between the two men. In her mind, their relationship was a sickness.

  That this woman doesn’t recognize love shouldn’t come as a shock.

  There’s no love lost between her and her family, nor her and her husband. And there’s even more irony. Zane swears Stefan’s gay and I’ve noticed he does spend a lot of time around the pool.

  But then, the pool boy is a very handsome Columbian.

  A busy boy too, he’s also screwing Lucinda, Zane’s mom.

  I swear this household belongs on some kind of reality TV show. Lifestyles of the Rich and Serially Fucked Up. This place is just perfect for that. Drama a minute.

  “Don’t let her rile you, Mona. We already knew what the family thought about our marriage. Make no admission. To anything.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it? Who spread those filthy lies about town?”

  My accusation does nothing more than make Caroline glare at me. Those artificially pumped up lips pucker as much as they’re able and the stiff mass of flesh that is her face, which comes from one too many cosmetic fillers, twitches. With so many chemicals floating in her forehead, it’s a wonder that she can do that.

  “If I spread anything in that backwater, it wasn’t lies.”

  “What? Something your own perverted mind cooked up as the truth? You see a woman taking refuge in her friends’ house, because her own burnt down, and you read something else in it. Because of that, you’ve destroyed Zane and Jake’s reputation in town.”

  “Some good came of my visit, then.”

  Her poison has me withholding the urge to hit her. In all my life, in all the people I’ve known from childhood to adulthood, including the arrogant assholes I’ve cleaned for, this is the first person I’ve ever wanted to physically hurt.

  And considering my father was an abusive bastard, that’s saying something.

  He made me want to flee, to run away, and to find somewhere safe.

  Caroline just fills me with rage.

  How dare she do something to damage her brother’s life. And out of some petty need to destroy.

  Zane’s marriage to Jake, as unorthodox as it is, especially now, is the most normal relationship within this family. Every single one of his sisters is involved in a marriage of convenience, where nothing is mutually shared between partners. Lucinda and Theodore hardly see other, and I can see where Zane got the idea of splitting up a house and having a half each, because that’s what his parents do and have done for decades if what Melvin told me one day is the truth.

  But in their case, it’s definitely never the twain shall meet.

  They’re strangers inhabiting one huge house.

  And in New York, the square mileage of this place would quite easily house a six hundred-floor skyscraper.

  No, this family is the epitome of dysfunctional.

  “Calm down, Mona. Keep it cool.”

  Jake’s words douse me with cold water. My ears hear the swift in out of my breathing, the rapid pulse beats through my veins, urging me on. Urging me to bitch-slap this horrible woman.

  If ever anyone deserved it, Caroline did.

  “Why can’t you see that they love each other?”

  Caroline sniffs. “It isn’t right.”

  “Says who? The church? Daddy?”

  “Society.”

  I snort. “Which society are we living in, because as far as I was aware, being gay is no longer a reason to be stoned.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s still wrong and it’s even worse now you’re there. Slut.”

  I could expend a lot of energy in trying to persuade her that she’s got the wrong end of the story, but manipulation is new to me, and I don’t hold Jake’s ruthless talent.

  Plus, as horrid as it sounds, Caroline is just too vacant.

  Sometimes, being a moron can be a good thing.

  The woman cares about her appearance, and that’s it.

  Not that you’d tell from the way she looks. Why her family hasn’t called in the doctor to tend to her, I don’t know.

  She’s psychologically ill. But the family doesn’t see that, they just see that Zane is some kind of debauched pervert, because he happens to love a man.

  “Coming from someone like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She strides forward, rage having the click-click of her heels tapping against the polished floor at a rapid pace. “Are you calling me a slut?”

  “Sticks and stones, Caro.” Mocking the family’s nickname for her has red tingeing her cheeks. “Where your family is concerned, I think you’ve the cornerstone on slatternly behavior.” I chuckle at her confusion and wave a hand around the room. “I’m sure there’s a dictionary somewhere in here. It would seem that good breeding doesn’t mean you’ll have a decent vocabulary. You seem to like the word slut, so sluttish can’t be that hard a leap?”

  Jake’s chuckle has my eyelashes fluttering, my only reaction.

  “You bitch. You two-bit whore. How dare you come into my home and insult me. You’re nothing more than a cleaner.”

  “Skilled hygiene operator, I’ll have you know. And doesn’t it just irritate you that I’m smarter than you.” It isn’t the first time I’ve annihilated her in a conversation.

  As brain-dead as Stefan seems, he’s actually rather knowledgeable about the early twentieth century cinema. I’ve many interests. Once upon a time, the Sheikh overtook Heathcliff as the main love of my life. Ah, Rudolph Valentino, I don’t need you anymore when I’ve got enough to handle with Jake and Zane.

  In a discussion that even energized Lucinda and dragged her from her apathy —she’s the sort of woman who looks bored even in the middle of a climax —Caroline drifted into the background. If you want to talk about designer dresses and the latest catwalk designs, then she’s the woman to bore you.

  “Why did you come here? If you’re after my brother’s money, then you should have been intelligent enough to know that to come to this house was a death knell to all that.

  “My father believes he’s dying and misogynist he is, wants his son and heir to come home and tend to this old place. Your presence might have changed his mind. It seems to me you’re not as smart as you think.”

  Tucking my cell between shoulder and ear, I give her a round of applause. It probably seems weird that I’m still on my phone, but even though Jake’s thousands of miles away, I need this connection to remind me to not say too much.

  “Congratulations that is, if you understand what misogynist means. But I’m afraid your other theory is deader than your forehead. I’m not a gold-digger and I’m here to support my friend.”

  “You fuck your friends, do you?” she spits, her hands reaching up to touch her forehead as though to reassure herself the collagen fillers are still in place.

  “And how would you know that? Listening at more doors, Caro?”

  “Don’t call me that. It doesn’t take much of a leap. You’re sharing the room with my brother.”

  “Maybe he sleeps on the sofa.”

  “Get real.”

  “Look, if you’ve nothing better to do with your time than waste it on a stupid slanging match, then okay. But I’m in the middle of an important conversation.”

  “I want you out of here,” she threatens, stepping forward until she’s only a few inches away from me.

  Wafting a hand in front of my nose, I pinch it and even though it’s childish, say, “Somebody had garlic for lunch.” Narrowing my eyes at her, I push my way into her personal space and grit out, “Look, garlic-breath, you want to threaten me, that’s fine. But am I going to listen? No. We’ll be out of your hair extensions soon enough, maybe with the family fortune or maybe not.
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  “But until then, you can insult me as much as you want, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Before she can open her mouth, before she can attempt to offend me, Melvin appears in the doorway. For a minute, there’s silence in the library. And then, he breaks the blanket-like atmosphere by murmuring, “Miss Barranquet. Mr. Jefferson-Matthews would like to see you in his suite.”

  Caroline’s mouths curls into a sneer. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall for your annihilation.”

  “I’m not here to please daddy, I’m here for my friend. If you’ll excuse me,” I retort with politeness. Stepping out of her way, I mutter into the phone, “I’ve been summoned by the recluse himself, Jake. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “You did fab, honey. Wish I could have seen that bitch’s face. Garlic–breath,” he mumbles around a chuckle.

  “You missed out.” Wanting to tell him I love him, I cough and mutter, “I’ll call as soon as I’m free.”

  Before he can utter a word, I disconnect the call and follow Melvin to the double doors that protect Theodore Jefferson-Matthews from the outside world.

  In a way, traversing through this household is like being back at Rousset’s house. Whatever hallway you travel down, there’s some kind of stunning artifact. An antique or piece of furniture that just defies belief.

  The family’s wealth is astonishing. But then, so is Zane’s ease with money.

  He isn’t exactly a spendaholic, but he’s accustomed to having a huge wad of metaphorical notes in his pocket, and he isn’t afraid to spend them.

  Eventually, after a good five-minute walk, taking us from one end of the house to the other, Melvin and I reach the double doors. Without knocking, the butler opens one and I enter Theodore’s apartments.

  It comes as a shock.

  Oh, it isn’t dripping in the blood of virgins or filled with thousands upon thousands of toy trains. It’s simply average.

  Unlike the antiquities littering the antebellum plantation like dust forms in the average household, this place is distinctly normal. If large.

  The wallpaper on the walls is actually peeling. The carpet is almost threadbare. There’s no decoration, save for an old oil painting. I don’t get much of a chance to study it, but I’d guess that it was expensive. Such a contrast to the shabby hall.

  Melvin leads me to a door, a plain door, unlike the molded and sometimes carved pieces of wood in the other parts of the house, this is a simple plank. Painted white.

  A man sits in here. A frugal man to fit the frugal settings.

  Starting to feel like Alice down the rabbit hole, I ask, “You wanted to see me?”

  There’s no deference in my tone, simply because I’ve had enough of being deferential.

  That is no longer me.

  Jake and Zane have liberated me from that path.

  The man, sitting in a time-worn, red cambric armchair with a cheap pine table on wheels in front of him, a laptop humming on its surface, silently stares at me.

  My eyes flicker around the room, and once again wondering if I’ve transmogrified into Alice, I take in the sheer vastness of nothingness.

  Save for the man, the armchair and the table, the room is empty.

  For the most part, Zane resembles his father. Although Theodore’s hair is white, I can still see shades of the man in his son. A strong, if thin jaw, and high, if wrinkled cheeks. Eyes the same coffee-brown, although they’re rimmed with red, and bloodshot. White brows bristle above them, enhancing those espresso orbs.

  In a velvet smoking jacket with gold epaulets at the shoulder and gold buttons at the wrist, it’s safe to say that Theodore is another nut in this bag of almonds.

  “She’s not at all how you described her, Melvin.”

  Neither the butler nor I fail to hear the rebuke in that statement.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I did my best. Can I be of any more service?”

  “No, no. You’ve done your bit. You can go now.”

  Beside me, Melvin nods and disappears. Leaving me with New Orleans’s answer to Oscar Wilde.

  “I’m sorry if I disappoint.” My voice indicates that I’m in no way apologetic.

  Perhaps I’m being too vehement, but I’m feeling pretty ferocious. These last few days have been difficult. Being compared to pond scum twenty-four-seven isn’t easy and even though, for the most part, I’ve let it go, it gets wearing.

  Lucinda blanks me, her eyes sometimes hovering upon me as though her stare is not rude, because I should feel worthy of her attention. That is, when she isn’t treating me like I’m not there at all.

  Caroline glares her hatred at me. Lucille and Faye don’t share the violence of her dislike, but their gazes are bland, indifferent just like their mother’s.

  I’d start to question my existence, if it weren’t for Zane.

  He keeps on apologizing. Tries to kiss it better, which is a lot of fun, but not really helping. The only thing that will is getting out of here.

  And I get the feeling this is it.

  My exit ticket.

  Zane’s too, if he wants, that is.

  I get the feeling a bribe is about to take place. It’s the only reason Zane’s father would request to see me alone. And I have one thing to say to that. Bring it on.

  “No, actually, he didn’t do you justice.”

  “A compliment. How nice.”

  “Yes, it’s more than you deserve. I’ve heard about your—” A delicate shudder has his shoulders twitching and his upper lip curling into a sneer that tells me Caroline inherited that particular facial gesture from her father. “—relationship with my son and his partner.” Another shudder.

  “Oh, you have? And I’m assuming you disapprove.”

  “At least you’re the right gender, so I suppose Zane’s taste has improved somewhat. Although he must bring shame upon the family. Why he can’t just be normal is beyond me.”

  “I think it’s a wonder he isn’t a psychopath having been raised in this household, Teddy. You should be grateful he’s bisexual and not a mass murderer.”

  Theodore’s eyes narrow at my scorn. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But what else can be expected from a woman of your situation?”

  “Been running background checks, have you?”

  A cold smile has Theodore’s lips thinning. “The instant you appeared in the paper.” He laughs, and the sound is anything but amused. “Surrogate. What an innocent take on the true meaning of your relationship with my son.”

  Ah, so he had read about that. Caroline hadn’t been lying.

  “I’m sure you felt nothing but pride at the idea of the family name being carried on that day.”

  “Oh, pride was the least of my concerns. Zane’s wealth, as a youth, did create rather a stir among the females in his circle. I rapidly assured myself that you were just like them, a gold-digger.” His nod is so sure, I can tell he’s convinced himself of my supposed crime.

  “I am, am I?” I ask with a laugh to my voice. “How strange that I didn’t realize it.”

  “Of course you can mock, but you’re hardly likely to admit to it, are you?” He sucks in a breath and exhales on the words, “No. No. You’re after Zane’s money, of course. Of which he has a lot now I’ve welcomed him back to the fold. A gay son goes against my every principle, but one indulging in a ménage a trois? No, we can’t have that, so you have to go.”

  “And what are you going to do? Have me shot for daring to interfere with one of my betters?”

  His chuckle is so like Zane’s that I feel almost dazed at the sound.

  “Nothing so sinister. You’ll be rewarded handsomely for... what’s the term I hear on the television? Dumping my son.”

  “Your modern slang is up to date. But I’m afraid to tell you that you can’t buy me. I’m not for sale.”

  At the silkiness of my words, Theodore blinks. “Nonsense, everyone has their price.”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Come, now, he’ll never marry you. As ab
ominable as it is, he’s in a legal partnership with that man of his.”

  “I know. I don’t expect a proposal.” It’s the truth. I never have.

  “Then what do you expect?”

  “To be loved.”

  Theodore snorts. “Typical female. Always thinking with your ovaries.”

  “Perhaps, but it makes it easy to reject pompous assholes like yourself when they try to manipulate me.”

  His eyes narrow. “Ten thousand dollars to get out of Zane’s life.”

  “You’re not listening.”

  “Twenty.”

  With a shake of my head, I tuck my arms behind my back and bridge my fingers. Ignoring Theodore, I wander over a carpet so worn the heels of my boots can be heard tapping against the floorboards. Reaching the window, I notice Melvin is outside on the front steps. Zane’s there. The urgency of their conversation is almost palpable. Zane’s hands are wafting all over the place, up, down, wide circles. And then, he looks up and our eyes catch.

  The instant that happens, he sets off.

  The brigade is on its way.

  Zane just can’t resist the knight in shining armor act.

  “Thirty thousand dollars. It can be transferred to your bank account, which is rather empty by the way, within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Yes, I’m a working girl, Teddy. I’ve been too busy with your son to return to my job.”

  He grunts. “How he managed to get tangled up with you, only God knows. A cleaner of all things. At least, the husband is wealthy in his own right.”

  Turning around, I untangle my hands and rest on the seat of a bay window that matches the one in the suite Zane and I are sharing. My tone is conversational as I murmur, “I guess he was just lucky.”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  The amount is bitten out and for a moment, the desperation on the man’s face is visible.

  “That you can afford to try and buy me with that amount is horrific. You obviously need to donate more to charity. Do some good with your wealth rather than just give it to your wife and daughters so they can have more surgery.”

  The barb hits home. “Once the money is in your account, you can do whatever you want with it. Give it to charity, buy a ton of cocaine and kill yourself. The choice is yours.”