My phone lights up. It’s a text from Aiden.
* * *
I’m downstairs.
* * *
“Caroline, I’m leaving. See you later,” I yell. I wait for a moment in the hallway as I put on my jacket, but she doesn’t respond.
* * *
***
“Hey!” I climb into Aiden’s car and give him a kiss on the lips. “Man, it’s cold out there.” ***
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles and pulls away from the curb.
“You know the address?”
“Nope,” he says.
Something about his one line responses feels odd. We drive for a while without saying a word. This is unusual, but I try not to pay too much attention to it. Not yet, anyway.
“I’m really nervous about your meeting Mom and Mitch,” I say. I want to develop some sort of strategy in how to deal with everything at their house. Maybe even a code. But we don’t have much time. And, from the looks of it, Aiden doesn’t seem to be in the mood.
“Why is that?” he asks.
“Well, you know, it’s not every day that I bring a fiancé over to their house,” I say jokingly. I expect him to flash a knowing smile. Or at least, chuckle a little bit. But instead, I get nothing.
“Are you okay?” I ask after a moment of silence. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not really,” he says with a shrug. Then he leans over and turns up the music.
Annoyed, I shake my head. I give out an audible sigh to get his attention. But it’s all to no avail. I lean over and turn down the music.
“Aiden?”
“What?” he asks, without taking his eyes off the road.
“What’s going on? Do you not want to do this?”
“Of course, I do.”
“So, why do things feel so…off?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I don’t know.”
I continue to press the situation, but unfortunately I don’t get any further with this line of questioning. We listen to music the rest of the drive over. It is one of the longest forty minutes of my life.
When we finally arrive at Mom and Mitch’s house in Greenwich, Connecticut, I’m regretting the whole night, but it’s too late to go back. Mom will be furious if I were to cancel and I know that she probably went all out for dinner. No matter how much money they have, she rarely caters or hires a chef. Cooking is one of her favorite things to do in the world.
“Aiden, you have to talk to me. We’re going in there to meet my parents. You can’t be so closed off,” I say. “If you don’t want to be here then tell me. I can do this myself.”
“No, let’s just get this over with,” he mumbles as he pulls into the driveway. I shake my head. This is not going to go well, I know it already. But I’m at a loss as to what to do.
Aiden gets out of the car first and waits for me to walk to the door. He doesn’t make one comment about how beautiful the house looks with all the Christmas lights outside. I, on the other hand, find them breathtaking. The house that I grew up in from the age of eleven looks like it belongs in the pages of Connecticut Life or Town and Country magazine. Perfect white lights illuminate and frame the gables, window and the front door. I see my mom standing in the foyer even before we get to the steps.
“Mom!” I yell and wrap my arms around her neck. She gives me a warm hug in return. “It’s so nice to see you.”
Mom is dressed in an elegant short black dress, black tights and stilettos. She is petite with short blonde hair that falls into her face, framing it just so. Her diamond stud earrings shine brightly and her tiny waist is accentuated by the white and red apron wrapped tightly around it.
“You look beautiful,” I say. “As always.”
Mom pulls away from me and looks me up and down. “As do you.”
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Aiden.”
“Yes, of course,” Mom says, extending her hand to him. Aiden is standing slightly behind me and takes a moment to approach her and come into the light. I hate that she is meeting him on such a sour occasion. I hate that he isn’t his usual charming self, but there isn’t much I can do about it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rhodes.”
“Oh please, call me Margie,” Mom says, laughing and throwing her head back. “And I haven’t been Mrs. Rhodes for a long time.”
When she closes the door behind us and hangs my coat in the closet, I see Mitch come downstairs. He’s dressed in an elegant suit and his thick dark hair is only now getting a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in it. Even though it has been years, he’s as handsome as he was when Mom married him.
After giving me a warm hug, I introduce Aiden and he and Mitch shake hands.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aiden. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope,” Aiden jokes. I’m surprised that he says this and hope that perhaps he can fake some pleasantries long enough to get through dinner.
“Yes, of course.”
“The house looks amazing,” I say, looking around at all the expert Christmas decor around their six-bedroom, six bath home with a two-bedroom pool house out back. “It’s like you’re living in a Pottery Barn catalog.”
“Close,” Mitch laughs. “But a tad more expensive. Try West Elm.”
“Oh c’mon,” Mom laughs. “You said you liked how it looked.”
“And I do. But I didn’t enjoy getting the credit card bill for this little project, let me tell you, Ellie,” Mitch says.
I smile and give Mitch a brief squeeze. This is how they have been since they’ve met. They banter and complain about each other and they also love each other to pieces. Never for a moment did I ever doubt that Mom and Mitch belong together, unlike Mom and Dad. I hate to admit it, but my mom and dad were never a good fit. When they argued, they were mean-spirited and when they weren’t fighting, things weren’t much better. Even back then, when I was quite little, I knew that my parents weren’t meant to be together and I made a promise to myself that I would never be in a relationship like that.
Chapter 4 - Aiden
At dinner…
I knew that it was a mistake to come here even before I even picked up Ellie. It would’ve been selfish to cancel, but it’s more selfish to go despite the fact that I’m not in the right headspace to meet my fiancée’s parents. Fiancée. At this point, that word doesn’t even make sense anymore. I mean, who the hell am I to marry this beautiful woman? Can I even make her happy? Definitely not as long as I’m in the state that I’m in. And how long will this last? Likely a very long time.
They fired me.
I showed up to the meeting with the Board of Directors to try to figure out a way to make all of this work and they just fucking fired me. It didn’t matter that I started the company. It didn’t matter that I was the CEO. None of that mattered. The shareholders are unhappy with the direction that Owl is going in, so they just got rid of me.
I knew they were unhappy, but I never knew they were capable of anything like this. I mean, who the hell do they think they are? Did they invest their blood, sweat and tears into this? No, they’re just a bunch of old rich assholes who don’t know their elbows from their assholes. And yet, they have the power to fire me at will and hire some dick who probably never even heard of Owl before to run it.
My blood boils at the thought of that, and yet here we are. Thanks to Blake, all major investors pulled out and that’s somehow my fault. If only they knew the truth. If only they knew that Blake deserves to be in jail for what he did, and tried to do, to Ellie. But no, he’s out there walking free and there are people who are actually listening to him about the direction that Owl should take.
“Aiden, are you listening?” Ellie whispers in my ear as her mom gives me a tour of their house.
“Yes, of course,” I say quickly. My eyes meet Margie’s and when she launches into another aspect of the recent remodel that the house underwent, I nod quickly and ferociously to look as interested as I po
ssibly can.
I know that this evening is going all wrong. I shouldn’t be here. Hell, Ellie shouldn’t be here. This is not how I wanted to meet her parents. What I should be doing is telling Ellie what happened today at work. But I can’t think straight tonight. All I feel is anger boiling up from somewhere deep within me.
“Well, I think we’re ready for dinner now,” Margie says and I nod again. After handing me a glass of whiskey, Mitch disappears into the kitchen with Margie.
I follow Ellie into the living room, taking three big gulps of my drink. As the dark brown liquid runs down the back of my throat, I feel some of the stress lift from my shoulders.
“What the hell, Aiden?” Ellie whispers as she shows me to the dining room table.
“What?”
“It’s like you’re not here. Why did you even agree to come?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just going through some things at work.”
I want to tell her the truth. More than anything. But I can’t. Her parents will return any minute and then what? She will have more questions and I’m just not ready for this conversation. Not until I drown my sorrows in the whole bottle of whiskey.
When everyone is seated and Margie and Mitch bring out the food, we both oh and ah over how delicious it is. I make a great effort to appear as if everything is as normal as possible, but I’m having a hard time judging whether or not anyone is buying it.
“So, Aiden, I can’t lie, I have of course heard of Owl and the great success that you made of that company,” Mitch says. He works on Wall Street and not in some junior associate position either. I’m sure that Mitch Willoughby not only heard about Owl’s success, but also its downfall.
“Well, thank you, sir,” I say. “It has been quite a ride.”
“Tell me, how did you get it started? I love to hear stories about entrepreneurship.”
“Mitch is a big Shark Tank fan, in case you were wondering,” Ellie adds. I smile.
“I was in college - Yale…”
“Oh! Ellie’s and my alma mater!”
“Yes, Ellie told me that, sir,” I say. “I was always into computers a lot. Didn’t have many friends growing up. And the idea sort of came to me. It’s not really that original, of course. It’s just an online retailer like Amazon.”
“Oh, you’re just being modest,” Mitch says. “There are, of course, a lot of online retailers. But very few of them are Amazon. Seriously, it’s quite remarkable that you were able to grow it to the level at which it exists today. Amazon considers you to be their main threat. Even more so than Walmart. Of course, I’m sure you know that already.”
I smile, nod, and finish my whiskey. He quickly pours me another - a man after my own heart. After I’m sufficiently lubricated, I feel a lot looser and not so standoffish. Suddenly, engaging in conversation doesn’t require that much effort. Mitch and Margie continue to ask me about Owl and I actually reply in more than a few words.
“So, can you tell me of any big mergers or acquisitions that are coming up?” Mitch asks when we all finish our food.
“Oh c’mon, you and I both know that I can’t talk about that,” I say.
“We will just keep this between friends.”
I shake my head. This is how investment bankers are. He’s asking me to break the law. He’s asking me to commit insider trading, but to him it barely registers as an offense.
“Your father wants insider information, Ellie,” I say. “Do you know what that means?”
“Isn’t that what Martha Stewart went to jail for?”
“No, that’s what she went to prison for,” I correct her.
Chapter 5 - Aiden
When things get a little tense…
My joke about Martha Stewart puts a stop to Mitch’s casual search for insider information. Normally, I’d continue with the easy-going banter so that Mitch would start to feel more comfortable with me. But today, I don’t have the energy.
Luckily, Margie changes the subject.
“So, Ellie, how’s your writing going?”
The expression on Ellie’s face changes immediately.
“Um, fine,” she mumbles and takes a few sips of wine. “Well, actually, really well. The readers are really responding well to my work.”
“Now that’s really exciting,” Margie says.
“Yes, it’s really refreshing.”
“How so?” Mitch asks.
“Well, you know when I worked at Buzz Post, no one really cared about those stupid little quizzes that I wrote. I mean, people liked them, they brought in all the clicks, but no one reached out to me like they do now.”
“Readers are loving her book,” I pipe in. Finally, I can contribute something positive to the conversation and avoid talking about work, my own rather sad state of affairs. “You should see all the emails that she’s getting.”
Ellie smiles from ear to ear. “I never knew that I could have such an impact. Or that anyone would be affected enough to actually reach out to me. I mean, I myself, have read and enjoyed a lot of books, but I never really wrote the author and told them how I felt.”
“Yes, I had no idea that anyone really did that,” Margie says.
“Well, they do,” Ellie says beaming. “At least my fans do. And it’s amazing. I mean, writing can be quite solitary work, so it’s nice to get real feedback. And not just feedback, really good, kind words. My writing is actually helping some of my readers get through some very hard times in their lives. Providing an escape, you know?”
“Is that so?” Margie asks.
Ellie nods and gives me a smile. Despite everything that’s going on with my own career, I’m really proud of her. Her dreams are finally coming true and it’s a privilege to be here to experience it with her.
“I’m really happy for you,” I say.
“Aiden has been very supportive,” Ellie explains as if an explanation is necessary. But by the look on Margie’s face, apparently, it is.
“Aren’t you proud of your daughter?” I ask. “I know I am.”
“Yes, of course,” Margie says with not much enthusiasm. “But you know, of course, Mitch and I hope that she starts to write something more serious in the future.”
“More serious?” I ask, glancing over at Ellie. The smile on her face vanishes in an instant.
“Well, you know. Romance?” Margie says with a smirk. “And self-publishing?”
“I don’t understand,” Ellie whispers.
“Oh c’mon, Ellie, please” Margie scoffs at her. “You know that you are capable of so much more than self-publishing so-called romance.”
“Your daughter is very talented,” I interrupt. I can’t stand listening to this shit, but Ellie puts her hand on my knee under the table to calm me down.
“Yes, I know that. That’s why I’m saying what I’m saying. We all know that she is very talented and this line of work just isn’t suitable for someone like her. I mean, you went to Yale for crying out loud. You were on your way to becoming a serious journalist.”
“I was not,” Ellie says. “I was writing stupid little quizzes at some online magazine that gets advertising money through click bait articles.”
“They do publish serious news as well.”
“So what? That wasn’t my job. Besides, I never wanted to be a journalist. I always wanted to write fiction.”
“And you’re happy writing what you’re writing?”
“And what am I writing, mother?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms across her chest.
“You know very well. But if you want me to come out and say it, then I guess I will.”
“Why don’t you?” she asks, squeezing my knee ever harder.
“Porn. You write porn, my darling,” Margie says. “You and I know this very well. And so does anyone else who comes across your books.”
“No, I don’t write porn, mother. I write romance books with sex in them. I write romance the way it exists in the world. It doesn’t just all fade to black you know, when people go to b
ed. I describe what happens between people because what happens in bed is important. And sexy. And relevant. My book has a sexually-empowered main character and I won’t apologize for creating her. Not to you. And not to anyone else.”
“You’re impossible,” Margie whispers, shaking her head. “Mitch talk to her.”
“Margie, I think it’s fine for Ellie to do what she wants to do. She seems to be enjoying her work, so why not?”
“Oh, c’mon, Mitch. Please. Give me a break. You think what she writes is smut and you told me so yourself. So, why the fuck are you giving us this cop out now?”
“Well, my darling,” Mitch says. I’m starting to notice that their use of terms of endearment aren’t exactly the same as other people’s. “Because we have company here and perhaps this isn’t the best time to talk about Ellie’s career choices.”
Margie shakes her head.
“Listen, mom, I’m going to make this really easy on you. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. Aiden and I are going to go.”
“What? No.”
“Yes,” Ellie says and gets up to leave.
“But we haven’t had dessert yet.”
“We’re going to pass.”
“Aiden,” Margie reaches out to me. She puts her long cold fingers on my forearm, but I just brush her off.
“Your daughter is a very talented writer and I’m sorry for you that you don’t understand that,” I say. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Ellie, I don’t understand why you’re getting so mad. I was just expressing my opinion.”
“Well, your opinion…sucks. It really sucks, Mom. I don’t know what I’m going to do in the future. I don’t know what kind of books I’m going to write. But for right now, I’m really enjoying doing what I’m doing. I love the emails that I’m getting from my readers and when I shared that with you, you just pissed all over it. Why? Does it make you feel better to put me down?”
Auctioned to Him 6: Damage Page 13