The Billionaire Book Club

by Monroe, Max

  God, I’m such a fool.

  All I can manage is a nod. It’s pretty much all I’m capable of right now, but my nose stings obnoxiously. I threaten myself with cutting the damn thing off if it betrays me.

  I will not cry in front of this man.

  I refuse.

  I push my lips into a firm line, and instantly, the bricks making up all of my defenses that he carelessly broke down over the past two months stack right back up at a record pace.

  “It’s time,” I agree, somehow managing to speak past the ball that’s lodged itself into my throat. “It’s definitely time.”

  And now, I will not waste any more of my fucking time on him.

  I grab my shit from the floorboard, open my door, and jump out onto the street. My parents are getting their bags from the back, and they can get mine too. I’m not staying here for another fucking second.

  I weave my way through the parked cars next to us and onto the sidewalk.

  I’ve known better all along. Caplin Hawkins is nothing but trouble, and he will never change.

  Shame on me for letting myself think he would.

  Cap

  I watch as Ruby climbs out of the car, slams the door behind herself, and walks away without looking back.

  She didn’t even pause, didn’t even argue—not for the slightest second.

  My chest feels tight as she disappears between the cars and onto the sidewalk, and with her parents still grabbing bags from the back of the car, I can’t stop myself from jumping out and following her.

  She’s just opening the door to her building when I grab her by the elbow.

  She whips around so fast, her hair brushes across my face. My heart stops as I get a whiff of the familiar, citrusy smell.

  “What?” she yells, her eyes bloodshot and fiery.

  “I just… I don’t know, Ruby. I don’t want to… I didn’t want to…” I stumble to find something—anything—to say. I imagine I should have had a plan, being that I was the one to follow her, but I didn’t—I don’t. All I knew is that I had to talk to her one more time. “I don’t like leaving it like this.”

  She scoffs, a completely appalling, derisive sound, and my throat closes in around itself. “You don’t like leaving it like this? Give me a break, Cap. You’re the one doing it. You’re the one. And you know it.”

  “Ruby—”

  “We slept together last night!” she yells, and all activity behind me—what I imagine is her parents pulling their suitcases onto the sidewalk—stops. “And today, you’re done.” She shakes her head, and the look on her face…

  I’ve never felt so much pain looking at something in my entire thirty-one years of life.

  “I knew that’s how it would be. I knew it. I’ve known it since the beginning, and like an idiot, somehow last night, I let you make me forget.” She pauses to take a breath, and it’s just ragged enough that I lose mine. “I saw the book in your bag, Cap. It’s amazing how everything suddenly makes sense. The makeovers and the apologies and the conversations we had. I should’ve fucking known that Caplin Hawkins doesn’t do anything without some kind of ulterior motive involving sex.”

  Jesus Christ. I’ve never felt more like a dirtbag than I do right now.

  And, for the first time ever, I can’t say anything. Words are physically, emotionally, psychologically impossible. I never thought I’d see a day or situation where I felt that way. I’m the man who’s always got a comment. Always got an answer. But today, I’m the man who’s made positively sure he’s got nothing.

  “So, I guess I’m the fool,” she continues, and the way her voice shakes makes my heart turn in on itself. “But I’m not going to be a fool anymore, Cap. I’m done. You’re not ready to be a grown-up, and hey…” She shrugs, and her emotion is so hideously opposite of the gesture, it’s ridiculous. “I guess that’s fine. You don’t have to be a grown-up if you don’t want to be…but I need one.”

  She turns around and grabs the handle behind her, and it’s all I can do to stay standing. My heart feels like it’ll explode any second, and my teeth ache from grinding them.

  When she turns back one last time, I clench my fists against the blow I know has to be coming. “You want freedom, you’ve got it. I can promise you, you’ll never hear from me again.”

  As the door closes behind her, I feel nauseated. My skin is clammy, my head is throbbing, and any second now, I expect my breakfast is going to make a second showing.

  Her parents scoot by me quickly, her dad’s shoulder ramming me in the back, which is certainly deserved, and before I know it, I’m standing there alone.

  A single guy with no one to answer to. Just like I wanted.

  The problem is…in the wake of Ruby walking out of my life for good, my breathing ragged and my heartache fresh, I can’t think of a solitary goddamn reason why.

  Ruby

  I make it all the way into my apartment and into the bathroom before I can’t hold back tears anymore.

  My dad is right, the shower curtain is a useless attempt at privacy, a fact that becomes starkly apparent as my apartment door opens and my parents step inside.

  They’re quiet, which isn’t a shock given my mental breakdown on the sidewalk, but after a minute or so, my mom’s feet stop just on the other side of the curtain.

  “Ruby,” she calls softly, and I have to cover my face to combat the tears that are renewed at the sound of it. “You don’t have to come out, sweetheart. I…I know the last thing you want is your mom and dad hovering over you with what you’re going through.”

  My tears fall harder, and I have to force myself to take a breath as my throat locks up.

  “I just want you to know we love you. I’ve spent a lot of years worrying about you.” My dad snorts across the room, and my mom giggles a little. “Yeah. I guess you know that.” She pauses briefly, and I grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe my face. “I just want you to know that after what I just saw down there…”

  Here it comes.

  “I’m not worried at all.”

  What?

  “You’re a strong woman with a strong sense of self, and I know, without a doubt, you know how to take care of yourself.”

  Gah. Mom. I sniffle into my tissue and shake my head. I love you.

  “Now, listen. Your dad and I are gonna go. Give you your privacy and your time. But if you need me, you just pick up the phone—”

  I’m off my feet and through the curtain before she can finish her sentence.

  She closes her arms around me tightly as I shove my face in her neck and lean everything I’m feeling into her.

  She strokes my hair and kisses my head, and I know, because of her and my dad, I’ll get over this—over him—and move on to bigger and better things.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Oh, Ruby,” she hums. “I love you too.”

  It’s been a week since my life imploded, and despite the short respite I took to see my parents off at the airport, I’ve mostly just been a mess of tears and anger and inability to do anything but wallow.

  But, fuck, I’m tired of crying over a guy who most certainly doesn’t deserve my tears.

  A guy who most certainly isn’t sitting around crying over me.

  Yeah. Exactly. A guy who probably already has dived back into his player ways and found his next big challenge.

  It’s harsh reality, but it’s reality.

  And today, I’m determined to turn over a new leaf.

  After a brief text exchange with my mom this morning, letting her know I’m doing okay and her responses surprisingly devoid of prying or paranoia, I forced myself to take a shower, brush my hair, and get myself presentable enough to go to class.

  Property law class, in fact. With my internship credit fully accounted for, this is the only class I still have to attend this semester because, unfortunately for us, Kevin and I both left this class until our third year instead of getting it out of the way early.

  Luckily, it’s boring a
nd mundane enough that it just might numb my fucking brain so much it won’t be able to think about anything, namely the man whose name I’m choosing to forget.

  “So…what’s going on with you?” Kevin asks as I sink down into a seat beside him.

  “Hmm?” I mumble, taking out my computer and getting it set up to take notes.

  “You,” Kevin says. “Something is up with you. I know you said you were sick last week, but it’s something else. I can tell.”

  I shake my head and purse my lips. “Uh-uh. Nothing’s up.”

  “Gemmm…”

  “Kevin, I’m fine.”

  “Oh, well. Okay, then. No woman in the history of the world has ever said she was fine without actually meaning it before, but sure, you’re fine.”

  I turn and glare.

  He smirks. “Frankly, I think they should just change the definition of that fucking word altogether. No one is ever fine when they say they are.”

  “Kev—”

  “What happened with him, Ruby?”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You know what? Perfect. Neither do I.”

  I roll my eyes, and he laughs. “What? You think you’re the only one who can say one thing and mean another?”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re a pain in my ass.”

  “What happened?”

  “He didn’t want me, okay?” I finally snap. A couple other students look up, so I lower my voice to a whisper. “We had sex, and then he decided once was enough. He’s moving on, and so am I.”

  “Ruby—” he says with a frown, but I don’t let it go any further than that. I can’t.

  Because for as much as I’ve pulled myself together, he’s right. I’m not, in any way, fine.

  “Just forget it, Kev. Please. I need you to forget it.”

  He studies me closely and then, finally, nods. I take a deep breath and focus back on my computer.

  Caplin Hawkins is nothing but a memory.

  “I’ll just say this,” Kevin whispers, and I look up from my computer with a scowl. “I feel sorry for all the men in your future.”

  The fact that I can’t refute his statement makes my stomach churn.

  I hate it, actually, because there’s far too much truth in Kev’s words.

  Fuck you, Cap. Fuck you and the handsome, charming, deceiving-manwhore-ship you rode in on. You will not ruin me for all other men. You won’t. I won’t let you. I give myself a scorned woman’s version of a mental pep talk.

  I just hope that one day, I’ll actually believe it, too.

  Cap

  An alarm for book club goes off on my phone, and I shut it down without even looking. I know what time it is, goddamn calendar alert system. I don’t need you mocking me.

  My phone hits the sofa table behind my couch with a clatter, and I pull the blanket up higher on my chest. There’s a stain from something right by my nose, but I don’t bother to inspect it.

  It’s been eight days since I saw Ruby—since I let her go—and I’m a fucking mess.

  Filth, loneliness, and self-loathing. This is my life now.

  I grab the remote from underneath a Chinese food container and pump up the volume on Wedding Crashers to an ungodly decibel. The next block over can hear it, I’m sure, but my pain is too loud to back it off at all.

  Vince Vaughn is freaking out about being tied to his bed by a hot Isla Fisher, and my face feels wet with shame.

  “You don’t love her,” I say at the top of my lungs to Vince. “You don’t even know what love is!”

  The remote handy, I toss it at the screen, but my pass is a mess. My hand is covered in grease and the remote something else, and I released it way too soon.

  I groan at the thought.

  Too soon. I released her too soon.

  I am my own waking nightmare. A sad sack of a human being with nothing left but my own useless dick and the memories of the woman I let get away.

  Ruby’s face replaces Isla’s in my mind, and I cry out, “Whyyyyy? Why am I such an idiot?”

  I jump up off the couch with the blanket wrapped around me and head for the TV in a rush. I’m gonna smash this motherfucker right into the place I wish I were—oblivion.

  I stumble in the blanket, unsteady on my feet after spending a week doing nothing but wallowing, and then trip over my own foot.

  I land safely with a bounce on the floor next to my coffee table and smile triumphantly at my success. “Ha!” I yell. “Take that, you blanket bastard son of a bitch! You can’t defeat Caplin Hawkins! The only fucker who can bring him down is Caplin Hawkins himse—”

  In a flash of light and a blur of ceiling, I accidentally set my other foot down on an empty bottle of vodka and go ass over end. My body twists and twirls, wrapped tightly in the blanket, and land smack-dab on the corner of the coffee table—with my head.

  “Is that…is he naked? Oh, what the fuck.”

  Voices fill my ears—familiar voices, at that—and I blink open my eyes to find myself cocooned beneath the fucking blanket that tried to kill me.

  “Come on, guys, just fucking deal with it. He’s in crisis, and he needs us.”

  Jesus Christ. They’ve brought the fucking book club to my apartment.

  I don’t have time for your stupid book club games, you bastards!

  A sob escapes my throat. I can’t help it. Thinking about books makes me think about Ruby, and fuck everything that isn’t her. Fuck me. Fuck my idiot friends. Fuck it all!

  I hear shuffling and more moronic chattering around me, and I sob louder into the blankets. “What are you doing here?” I yell. “And how in the fuck did you get in here?”

  “A key,” someone I know to be Trent responds. “One that you gave me.”

  Fucking hell.

  “I don’t want any of you!” I yell. “I don’t want to be seen, and I don’t want to see you! Get out! Take your stupid book club and your stupid books and shove it all up your asses!”

  “Pretty sure now isn’t the time for me to mention that book club was his idea, right?” Wes asks, and if I weren’t fetal, I’d find the strength to stand up and strangle him with my bare hands.

  “Jesus, Whitney. Don’t be a dick,” Thatch says on a sigh. “And what am I always fluffing saying? For the love of Philmore, we can’t leave these guys unattended anymore.”

  “We didn’t know he was this close to rock bottom,” Trent whispers.

  “The biggest assholes always fall the hardest!” Thatch booms. “Fluffing hell, we’re in crisis mode here! Stop standing around with your dicks in your hands, and get to work!”

  I tighten the blanket around my face as he starts spouting off orders. “You. Get me a clean blanket, a bottle of water, and a toothbrush. You. Get me an ounce of tequila, a lime, and some salt. You. Get me the latest Sports Illustrated and a turkey melt.”

  “What the hell do you need Sports Illustrated for?” Theo asks, and Thatch snaps.

  “Just do what I say! We don’t have time for motherfluffing questions!”

  Theo must leave because a minute later, Thatch moans. “Shit. I should have told him I wanted the turkey melt on rye.”

  “I don’t like rye bread,” I mutter from under my blanket fort. Thatch laughs.

  “The turkey melt is for me. Relationship grief counseling really takes it out of me.”

  “Fucking hell, Thatch,” Kline criticizes, but Thatch is too busy paying attention to the pathetic man beneath the blanket—me.

  “Oh. Right. So, you’re awake. And alive. These are really good first steps.”

  I lift one hand with an extended middle finger outside the covers.

  “Flipping me off!” he cheers. “Even better.”

  “Go away and die.”

  Thatch chuckles. “It’s good to see you making progress.”

  “I’m not making progress,” I disagree. “I’m not making anything. I’m going to stay right here until my body fuses to the cushions and the forensic team has to bring in
a special crew just to clean me up.”

  “That’s definitely an option,” Thatch says seriously, snapping his fingers somewhere in front of me now. “Though, you’re not actually on the couch right now like you think you are.”

  I’m not? I peek outside of the blanket and look around. “Where the hell am I?”

  “The floor,” my buddy Quince answers. He really is my most helpful friend.

  There’s the scurry of feet as Thatch orders, “Clean off this table.”

  “Okay,” Quince says. “But I’m not doing it because you told me to.”

  “Sure, you’re not, Quincy,” Thatch says with a chuckle. “Sure, you’re not.”

  I feel a flurry of activity and then the heat of Thatch’s mountainous body as he puts his ass to the top of my now clean coffee table.

  I’m not sure if it’ll hold his weight for very long, but I don’t care. I hope he falls right through it.

  “All right, champ. Time to get yourself out of this mess. And I mean that literally. I’ve never seen such an impressive display of shitty hygiene.”

  “Go away,” I groan. “I don’t want this. I want to wallow here forever.”

  Kline steps forward then, I can tell by the way he stands. He’s a whole lot less assuming. “That’s fine, Cap.”

  “It’s not fine!” Thatch protests, jumping up from the table. “What the hell are you doing, K?”

  Kline doesn’t say anything, but he must command it silently, because Thatch’s big body settles immediately.

  I peek out from under my blanket again. I can’t help it.

  Kline’s eyes are sympathetic. “It’s fine if you want to stay here. I get it. Most of us get it. But what if there’s another option you’re not thinking of? A better one.”

  I glance from him to Thatch and back again before asking skeptically, “What better one?”

  “You don’t wallow. You don’t fuse to the couch. Instead, you get off your ass, and you get your woman back.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to get her back. I never really had her in the first place.”