The Science of Loving (29 page)

“Well, it’s not the most painful place to pierce, but yeah there’s some brief discomfort.”

“Baby, your bellybutton is already perfect.”

“True Biggie, so why not set off that perfection with a little bling-bling.”

“Dammit Danny-”

“It’s okay Mat, I’m not getting pierced tonight.”

“Yeah, ya big baby. You get drunk after, not before. Now let’s get some shots.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bitter Bitch Strikes Again

I parked actually looking forward to work for the first time in months; knowing I wouldn’t have to spend the day dealing with Max’s surliness or Avery’s interference, put me in high spirits. I could devote my time to doing what I loved, creating beautiful spaces.

I waved at Mel as I passed, heading directly to the coffee pot. She strolled in a few minutes later grinning happily with a handful of notes. “Morning Boss.” She shook her head, when I held up the pot. “The phones have been ringing off the hook, seems word’s gotten out that J. K. and R. is no more.” She plopped a stack of messages down on the table. “I have an email drafted for your approval reassuring our current and potential clients that the recent change will in no way negatively impact their projects.”

She was definitely getting a raise. “Thanks Mel, you know we couldn’t function without you?” I bet she’d make a great operations manager; we’d need one now that Max was gone.

She glowed a little from my praise. “Yeah, whatever. Oh, and some of your competitors have called with job offers.”
Rock star baby…

“I guess it’s nice to be wanted.”

“Mostly for Tom.” She added. “They think you’re too much of a Diva.”

“Yeah, well knowing I’m better than everybody doesn’t make me wrong, just self-realized.”

“Uh huh. Cling to your delusions all you want, just so long as I get paid on time,” she said, patting my arm. “So, I’m guessing from your good mood the hot date went well?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“In other words, you paid two hundred dollars for dinner, and all you got was a two hundred dollar dinner.”

“Wrong. I got a two hundred dollar dinner, and a very nice thank you; which is all a gentleman should expect,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Besides, her dad moved in with her on Monday and her place is really small.”

“Looks like they’re playing my song.” When she left to answer the phone, I wasn’t sure the pity in her eyes was commiserating or because she found me pathetic.

“I’ll look over that email and get it out ASAP,” I hollered at her retreating back.

Deciding to finish my coffee before I dealt with the pile of phone messages, I checked my email. When I found my inbox full of panicked messages about our uncertain future, I quickly sent out Mel’s announcement then spent the rest of the day and early evening returning calls, calming my public—sometimes being a rock star sucked. It was so late by the time I left, only the knowledge that I wouldn't sleep worth a damn kept me going to the gym, and it was after eleven when I sent Angie a text to wake up to,
“Hey beautiful, thinking of you.”
But I was pleasantly surprised when she responded.

“Hearts and flowers or serial killer thoughts?”

“There’s a difference?”

“One’s organic, the other involves power tools.”
Funny…

“Mmmmm… tools.”

“Yikes!”

“Sweet dreams, Angelina.”

The state of my desk indicated the lust fog I'd been floating in since Wednesday, was having a negative impact on my usual efficiency. A few kisses and some very hot texts had reduced my cognitive faculties to that of a cabbage. I still found his interest in me inconceivable—
he was just teasing about the power tools, right?

My phone jolted me back to the present. “Hello?”

“Good morning, dear.” Shit. I needed to ask Les how to assign ringtones.

“Hey Mom, how are you?”

“As well as can be expected, I’m sure you’ve talked to your father.”

“Yes, he told me what’s going on.”

“Yes, well… I was hoping we could get together for lunch?”

“Umm… Sure.”

We exchanged a few more stilted sentences filled with awkward pauses and false starts, and agreed to meet for a late lunch at a nearby restaurant. After so many revelations, I no longer knew what to say—what she did was none of my business, except for her making a pass at my date—well, allegedly made a pass at my date. Maybe Mat misread the situation.

“Uh oh, we know that look.”

“Huh?” Les had her arms crossed over her chest while Steve did his best bobble-head impression. “Don’t tell me, your head’s trying to talk you out of spending the weekend making wild monkey whoopee with that bald hottie?”

“Wild monkey whoopee?” Steve asked curiously.

“Bonobo orgies… look it up.” Les was a font of useless trivia.

“Wow Les, primate porn?” Steve grinned. “I’m impressed.”

“It’s not porn if: It’s a documentary; it premieres at Cannes,” Les said, ticking off each point with a finger, “doing the nasty’s relevant to the story; or, is accompanied by a really good sound track. Then it’s art. And now that I’ve cleared that up, what’s the dealio.”

“Mom called.”

“And you answered?”

“I didn’t check the caller I.D.” I grimaced. “Now, I’m meeting her for lunch.”

“Okay, just remember, Rohypnol can make anything bearable.”

“Right, that’s just what I need.”

“Pshaw… It’s not for you; it’s for your mom.”

“You’re saying I should roofie my mother?”

“Blackmail… Duh.” Les rolled her eyes. “How else are we going to get her to wear the moo-moo. We’ll tease her hair real big and video her going into Walmart.”

“Oh, no, a fate worse than death.”

“Yep, either she behaves, or we’ll Instagram her ass, telling the world she buys off the rack and wears cheap Chinese knock-offs.”

“Sure, ‘cause that’s so much more scandalous than her penchant for collecting boy-toys.”

“Don’t go dissing my evil machinations, oh sarcastic one. Society may have short memories when it comes to sexual indiscretions, but fashion faux pas’ never die.” Sadly, she was probably right; Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction caused way more outrage than anything Bill Clinton, or Newt Gingrich had done.

“Be that as it may, I’m fresh out of roofies.”

“Curses, foiled again. So what does she want?”

“Just because she’s asked me to lunch, doesn’t mean she wants something.” They just looked at me. “Fine, I don’t know and it’s making me crazy.”

“I’m sure you’ll be all right. Just remember, she can’t suck out your will to live, so long as you don’t look her in the eye. Now, I’m going to find a priest to bless this bottle of Aquafina for you before you go.” Ha ha… She was awfully mouthy for a minion.

When I got to the restaurant, Mom was already working on a cocktail. I gave her a practiced kiss, mindful of her makeup, and the strong scent of alcohol took away any hope that it was her first. Then I ordered an iced tea from the nice waiter handing me a menu to hide behind.

“Darling, you’re an adult now, you’re allowed to order something stronger.”

“I know. I just don’t want to; I’ve got plans for later.”

She sipped her cocktail, allowing for a dramatic pause. “Going out with that man again?” she said,
‘that man,’
like he was diseased.

“Yep.”

“Fine, I forgive you.” she sighed dramatically. “I guess some things have to be learned the hard way.”

Well wasn't that just peachy. Perhaps the weight of the recent events had unhinged me, or maybe they’d knocked some sense into me, because I was having an epiphany. I'd spent a lifetime trying to fit into her mold: Always quiet, obedient, never controversial, never having an opinion. Ensuring the spotlight fell squarely on her whenever she paraded me out for her dog and pony show. Look at the genius
I’ve
created.
I’ve
made something special…
My
toddler’s in Mensa…
My
child has perfect test scores. Sorry,
HER
special child couldn’t play with someone so common.
HER
special child had to study.

And growing up, I’d been so afraid I’d make a mistake. Would she still have loved me if everyone realize how truly unremarkable I was? The world might believe her lies, but I’d always known I wasn’t nearly as special as everyone thought. I’d given up everything trying to be special for her. She might forgive me, but I was suddenly too angry to care.

“Really for what: Finding someone who actually wants me for me, someone who defends me?” I hissed. “I know you’re not jealous that a handsome man chose me over you. That would be silly since you’re married. Besides, it’s my understanding that your tastes run a bit younger.”

The venom spilling from my mouth sickened me, but I couldn’t stop. “Or, perhaps you’re just cranky that you were interrupted before you got your happy ending.” I cringed at those last words. I’d rendered us both speechless, but it only took a few moments for her to recover. Her eyes narrowed—
oh, God, now I’d done it
—I shrank inside, seeing bitterness twist her beautiful face into something ugly.

“Look at you, so self-righteous. If you actually believe he wants you, you’d best take a good look in the mirror. Why would a man so obviously out of your league bother with you? Men like him don’t settle for timid wallflowers. Go ahead, enjoy it while it lasts, just recognize what you are: a rich pity fuck set up by his sister.”

“You know nothing about him, he’s not like that.”

“Oh Angelina, I know more than you think. Besides, they’re all like that. You won’t hold onto him; you can’t. Eventually he’ll want to trade up. Why should he settle for a mouse when he can have a tiger? Just look how he treated his ex-partner.”
What?

“His ex-partner?”

“Yes. Apparently, your hero did some fancy bookkeeping to force him out for pennies on the dollar.”
How could she know anything about that? And why was I always out of the loop? Dammit.

“How do you even know about Mat’s business dealings?”

“I have my ways. We’re not so different, he and I. You don’t think I got where I am today by happy accident, do you? In the end, it’s all about sex and money. He’s got the sex, and you’ve got the money. Do you honestly think I would’ve given your father a second look if not for his healthy trust fund? He was so grateful when I became pregnant. But even gratitude wears thin after a while.”

Although, I knew what she was doing, her words still hit their mark, and I retreated behind my menu until the waiter returned, but the ugly turn of our conversation had stolen my appetite. Mom ordered another cocktail as I handed the menu back, just wanting to leave. “I think we’re done here unless there’s a specific reason you asked me to lunch.”

“Actually, there is. My last encounter with Bob occurred under less than ideal circumstances.”

“Ya think?”

“Please Angelina, there’s no need to be snide.”
No need to be snide? She was the queen of snide.
“I need to know what you’ve heard.”

“Bob hasn’t shared the details with me.”

“Of course he hasn’t, but obviously you’ve heard something.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all kinds of things. You’re the latest sensation. Thanks for that by the way, it was delightful hearing about your escapades from my colleagues. Where to start… Mmmm… Surprisingly, your trolling for young cock is old news, well to everyone but me. Probably, your getting served while getting serviced is the most salacious bit of gossip.” Wearing crudeness like amour, I waited, hoping she'd deny, or at least, justify her indiscretions.

She did neither. “You need to ensure Bob won’t testify for your father in court.”

“Why does that matter? You obviously don’t want this marriage.”

“It matters because your father’s trust required a prenup, and there’s too much money involved not to try getting it thrown out. Unfortunately, there’s an infidelity clause. Not only could I be denied alimony, I could actually be sued for damages.”