by Mj Fields
It’s been close to a year since I’ve been living a civilian lifestyle and still, I feel like I’m riding the line.
Life isn’t how I expected it to be after serving a self-imposed sentence while seeking retribution. I’m still watching for someone to fall and forcing myself to carry an invisible weight on my shoulders.
But as Bass said, at least I’m not dodging bullets.
Maisie’s doing great. No spells. The only issue is her fucking dog, Snuffleupagus or as Bass calls him, Syphilluffagus. Damn thing’s a shit show. He sometimes gets out of her fenced yard. Damn thing’s blind and runs into walls in the house, but he could find his way out of Alcatraz.
So, my life… I work, I chill with Maisie, I chase a fucking dog and I ride an invisible line between bad and worse on little to no sleep.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out to see Bass’s name.
I hit the message app and read.
Bass
-Bringing a date to your place tonight. You see me, I’m Joe.
I shoot back a message really quick.
Oliver
-You’re kidding right?
Bass
-Nope.
Oliver
-Thanks for bringing me along.
Bass
-Was taking a walk, minding my own. Just happened, man.
Oliver
-How the fuck does it just happen?
Bass
-She was walking down the beach and I knew I had to have her.
Oliver
-You KNEW you had to have her? What the fuck does that even mean?
Bass
-Wait till you see her, man. You’ll get it.
Oliver
-Should I make an early reservation?
Bass
-Doesn’t matter… why?
Oliver
-Senior citizens like to get in the early bird specials. Usually we’re at capacity, but I’ll see what I can do.
Bass
-Real funny, man
Oliver
-Well, we all have our fetishes.
Bass
-It was a phase, not a fetish.
I laugh and shake my head as I watch the bouncing bubbles telling me he’s still typing.
Bass
-She’s not that much older. But you know I like my women more mature.
Oliver
-Well isn’t that precious.
Bass
-What’s your thing, Oliver?
Oliver
-Hot, wet, and unavailable for more than a night.
Bass
-Same, bro, same. But once you get one you can’t get enough of for more than one night. One that’s beautiful, intelligent, almost too good to be true, then you may want a second night.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, I sigh.
Oliver
-I’ll save a table if you save the bullshit. Seven PM.
Bass
-People skills, man.
Oliver
Middle finger emoji
Irritated, I hit the track pad on my computer and type in Joe, dinner for two, 7 PM.
I don’t know why it pisses me off at first, then I realize, I haven’t thought of getting laid since Bass needed something stronger after meeting Alfred at that coffee shop, and we hit half the bars in the city.
I’m irritated because I haven’t fucked, or even thought of fucking, since March. Six months must be a fucking record.
I need to get laid, or as Maisie once said, I need to get to gettin’.
Leaning back in my leather desk chair, I look at the security monitor and see the redheaded bartender with big tits and a fuck you attitude I hired two weeks ago. She’s got a round as fuck ass, and I’ve overheard the way she talks to the men who leave her tips as big as their bar tabs.
She takes shit from no one, and all the fucks with old money love her.
I haven’t seen her with anyone, and I would bet she has as much pent up frustration as I do.
I run my hands through my hair and scoff.
Not gonna happen, Einstein, she works with you. Which would be fucking perfect, if I was normal.
Work, mindless, meaningless, fucking work. I force myself to get to it.
After going over the budget, and placing the supply order from the bar and kitchen, I lean forward when I see a blonde woman approach the bar. She’s a bit older, I don’t see a ring, and from this distance, I can’t see an indentation, and what the fuck is the third thing? Shit, that’s twice I’ve forgotten.
I see her pick up a glass of red wine and take a sip.
Her lips are fucking perfect and I could probably get myself off, release some of this frustration, just watching her.
“No fucking way,” I curse at the sight of Bass cozying up next to her. “Son of a bitch.”
I can’t help but laugh at the circumstance.
And I swear to all that’s good, that motherfucker will never know I considered jerking off to the sight of his… two-night stand.
Two nights ago, Maisie had another spell. I was at work, of course, and Bass was in bed with the blonde in his cottage next door to her place.
When I met him at the hospital, I stayed for a while. When we found out she was going to be admitted for further testing, I told him to go back to the blonde, and I’d stick around. When he got a call from his father’s lawyer, Alfred, he told me he was going to stay to look over some files.
I headed back to work, knowing that even in her condition, Maisie is a hell of a lot better equipped to deal with matters of the heart than I would ever be. She and I had been trying to talk sense into him for months, and he simply looked up at the sky. Something she taught us. When you’re feeling down, look up.
I understand all too well the way we, the unwanted children, dress in armor every day. Detaching from emotions, growing independent of others, and growing stronger from the inside and God willing, out, all to protect the fragile hearts that lie in our chests.
A couple hours after leaving, Bass showed up at the restaurant. The chick he’d been banging was apparently Jean-Paul’s right hand, his assistant, and for some reason, he had it in his head that she’d seduced him to keep her position, one he also assumed was acquired from his father the same damn way.
He was hell bent on destroying his father’s legacy and making sure he showed the blonde, Angela Petrov, he was no fool.
If I were one to meddle in others’ affairs, I would point out that when they were here, at the restaurant together, she didn’t appear to be a vindictive sort, nor did she look like the type that was desperate.
I suggested he speak to her. But when he returned to his place, where he left her, she was gone. No note, no phone number, nothing.
He asked me to quit my job and work for him. “Help me take down my father’s legacy,” he’d pleaded.
I needed no excuse to leave this mindless fucking existence, where I would inevitably spend sixteen hours a day thinking about Maisie and wondering why the world is so cruel. Nor would I leave him alone in his tortured state, all from unanswered questions.
Unanswered questions keep me awake at night. No more than four hours of shut eye, and nothing but black and white images dance beneath my eyelids.
Maybe, just maybe, working with Bass in his darkest hour, will tire my brain and give me a focus other than death and destruction at night.
With Maisie in the hospital, Bass and I feel confident she’ll be in good hands, so we decide to head to New York City.
Although he’s come into money and property, namely the skyscraper on Park Avenue, he didn’t want to stay in the penthouse his father used while he was in town on business. Jean’s second home, Paris, France, being his main place of residency. So, we stay in a hotel, and hit the bars, just like we did last time we came in to meet with Alfred. Just like last time, he’s a shitty wingman and has no desire to get laid.
Sitting at the hotel bar with the man I call brother… sulking, and sulking is not how I wanted t
o spend an evening in a city that doesn’t sleep, with single women, and women who are more sexually open-minded. However, it is what it is. Bass is the first priority.
Prior to the first meeting at de la Porte, when Bass wasn’t on the phone with Alfred, we were in our hotel suite’s conference room discussing assets. With Jean-Paul’s will still not available in its entirety, because Jean plans to be executed after certain steps were taken, Bass was made aware that he was to be CEO and the majority shareholder of his late father’s empire.
Some of the company assets were, half a dozen town cars used for clients, shareholders, and board members, a stretch Jean and Alfred used when either were in town, three small luxury jets for personal and company use, de la Porte’s headquarters and a factory in Paris, along with a home on the river Siene, and so much more.
I was overwhelmed and if I was, Bass was that times a million. Yet there was an almost eerie calm surrounding him.
Then Bass told Alfred, “I’d like to get rid of three of the town cars and pick up something for myself and Oliver to drive when we’re in town.”
His calm seemed to bring Alfred some happiness.
Alfred stood, “I think that’s a good idea.”
Good idea? I think. I still don’t understand how people, intelligent people, can forget what happens after the calm, a fucking storm.
Bass tried to talk me into getting a car on his dime, after six hours he realized I wasn’t having it and then he purchased himself a Ferrari.
Beautiful car, right off the showroom floor, and he looked at it like he wanted to destroy it. That terrified me.
The night before the board meeting where he would be introduced, we were getting ready to go out.
Looking around for him, I find him in his room, looking in the mirror, his expression blank.
I wish Maisie was here to talk to him, but she’s not.
Fuck, I sigh inwardly.
“How are you holding up?” I ask and he whips around.
“I hate him, Ollie. I hate him so fucking much, I wish I’d ended his life instead of an aneurism.”
I open my mouth, hoping words fall from it that comfort. But he starts pacing and continues, “I bought a car I wouldn’t buy in a million fucking years, as some sort of act of rebellion. I’m not a teenager, Ollie.” He hits his chest. “I’m a fucking man.”
“We all deal with shit differently.” I lean against the door jam and cross my arms.
“I hate that I was played by her. I fucking hate it,” he snaps. “She’s done. Regardless of how fucking hot she was, how hard she sucked, how fucking real it all felt.” He hits his chest above his heart. “She’s done.”
“You told Alfred you’d keep her on, just like you would the board members.”
He laughs maniacally, “The board members have a quarter to get their shit together or get the fuck out. I don’t plan on having control that long. And she… she can go suck another dick for a job.”
His face scrunches like it hurt him to say the words. He’s got it bad for her. Real bad.
“As your assistant,” I chuckle inside at that shit, “How about you let me handle the meeting tomorrow?”
“Fuck that, I got this.” He paces back and forth. “I’ve been through worse. So much worse.”
“I know, man, but,” I pause not wanting to get too deep. “You sure about that?”
He nods. “Just needed to vent.”
“I’m here for that, man. I just don’t want you to lose it in front of her or the board.”
He stops pacing and nods again. “I got this.”
I clamp my hand on his shoulder. “I know you do, man.”
Aaaannnd… I was fucking wrong.
When I woke up, I walked out of my room in the suite to make a cup of coffee, and found a barber shaving Bass’s face, and he had obviously just cut and styled his hair.
I can’t help but think of the years he was in fashion magazines around the world. This isn’t odd for him, but for me, it’s fucked up.
“Good morning, Oliver.”
He used my full name, spoke all proper too.
So, I give him the same, “Good morning, Bastien.”
He cocks his eyebrow; my sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You’re next,” he shrugs one shoulder.
Fucker. I flip him off.
His eyes smile, but just barely.
After my hair is trimmed, and I mean, a slight trim, I’m a civilian for the first time in years, I like having scruff on my face, and hair that’s a bit unruly, we dress in suits and ties.
“I feel like a kept fucking woman, Bass,” I grumble as I tie a Windsor knot in the gray tie that matches my suit.
I’m wearing a fucking suit.
When I walk out and see Bass waiting for me, wearing a navy… suit, I can’t help but sigh.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
“This morning was as close to preparing for prom as I ever came, Bass. It’s not something I care for.”
“Everyone needs a power suit. My right hand needs ten,” he winks.
I take the cup he offers me, and enjoy a sip of the coffee. “You know the offer still stands.”
“I can handle it.”
“If you need me–”
“I’ll let you know.” He finishes his cup of coffee and sets it down. “You ready?”
After Alfred introduces Bastien as the new CEO, I walk from his new office into the conference room. My eyes fall first on Angela Petrov. I’m a little shocked that she seems shook, albeit briefly, at my presence. We’d met that night at the restaurant. When Bastien walks in, she does the same thing. This leads me to believe she may not know the man she spent a weekend fucking was her ex-lover’s next of kin.
Although I should not be entertained, I kind of wish I had some popcorn, and I was the type to enjoy a mindless romantic comedy. But I’m not.
“Have a seat and let’s get this going. I’m sure none of you want to come off a long, hot weekend of,” Bass pauses, “whatever the hell you all did.”
Jesus Bass, I think. He’s clearly trying to get under her skin, and from the get-go.
They all laugh as they sit.
Before Bass sits, he removes his jacket and hangs it on the back of the leather chair. “I’d like this to be informal. So, if you have questions, feel free to ask.”
One of them asks, “You’re really twenty-five?”
He answers with an arrogant look on his face, and tone in his voice. “Saturday was my birthday and also the reason I didn’t join you all. I had a private party.”
How the fuck did I miss his birthday? Oh that’s right, Maisie always sends a reminder. With her forgetting things lately, I realize I need to step shit up.
Angela squirms in her chair and I hope he missed it… he didn’t.
“Your name?” he asks, reaches over and takes her coffee, and drinks it.
When everyone looks shocked, he looks at them all, except her. “Did I do something wrong? Is it not my assistant’s job to get me coffee?”
Fuck, Bass, really?
And he continues, “Well? Tell me how things run around here.”
She clears her throat. “That was mine. And no, I don’t typically fetch coffee. However, Mr. Josephs, feel free to drink it.”
“Feel free to call me Mr. Joe. All the others under me do. Less formal. More personal.” I look at Alfred and he sinks down in his seat. Clearly, he wishes he could disappear too. Bass goes on, “Caramel macchiato with extra caramel and extra espresso?”
Her face begins to flush as she nods curtly.
And he continues, “From all I’ve learned of you these past two and a half days, I’d have taken you for a woman who drank her coffee strong and without the bullshit.”
She opens and shuts her mouth like she’s trying to think of what to say. I’m happy when he doesn’t hone in on it.
“Questions, let’s have them.” He leans back and takes another drink of her coffee.
“Sure do,” he responds like a conceited ass.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Sure don’t.” He takes another fucking drink.
I kick him under the table. He glares at me briefly.
He leans forward and looks around, giving them each eye contact. “Let’s cut the bullshit here, okay?”
They don’t respond, and that pisses me off.
“You have seventeen employees in the mailroom who are sitting on their hands, doing not a damn thing for half the day. Ten straight-up have been caught on camera sleeping and have yet to be fired. It’s in their employee files, for God’s sake. They need to go and so does the woman in HR who allows it to happen year after damn year. The woman in HR isn’t the only one who needs to be replaced.”
He’s not wrong, but this meeting is going in a direction it should not. But he continues.
“There’s a man in accounting who has had complaint after complaint for making lewd comments to women. He’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen. He’s going. There are more, and no, I don’t need anyone’s input on who to hire or fire.”
He stands and paces. “We have three jets. That means six pilots and however many flight attendants that sit and wait for one of you or a shareholder to call up for an emergency meeting in Hawaii. That’s gonna change. All of you have way too many perks and are paid more than the employees who put in over forty hours a week, and for what? Being here a few hours a month?”
One of them interrupts, “To be fair, son—”
“I’m not your son. Not from wife one, wife two, or any of the secretaries you stick your nub of a dick in—”
“Bastien.” Alfred stands. “Can I have a moment?”
Thank God.
“With all due respect, Alfred, no, you may not.” He puts his hands on the table and looks them all over. “I’m not some trust fund, entitled fuck who owes any of you a damn thing. And I’m the majority shareholder. It is my way.”
“That’s not how the bylaws read, Josephs.” The speaker’s nameplate reads, Burns.
Bass throws his head back and laughs at Burns, then becomes entirely too serious, “Fine, let’s have a vote.”