Amanda stands on her soapbox, and my daughter jumps up and down to get as high up as her. “Who cares what the investors think? Do whatever you want.”
“They’ll pull me from the company,” I say.
As if the solution is obvious, she gives a laugh. “Duh, dude,” she says. “Isn’t that what you want? It’s the opposite of quitting. They’ll hire someone else. Everyone will keep their jobs.”
“Except me,” I say.
“Except you.”
I’m a little stunned. The idea of quitting was just entertainment. A fantasy, if anything. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without those meetings, without arguing with Sandra, or without being forced to go over the photographs with Brian when the photos themselves look like they’re from a JC Penny catalogue. The lack of stress might end up killing me.
Sarcasm aside, she makes a good point. I don’t need them. The shareholders can kick me out, prop up whatever publishing-tyrant that will do their bidding. Meanwhile, I’ll be taking trips to the beaches around the world with my daughter and my brand new wife, Ali Greenwald.
That’s right. She’s wife material. That’s how serious this is.
Amanda bends to greet Sammy. There’s purple food dye smeared across her face. “Hello, Sammy. You look very pretty today.”
She shows it off by angling her face higher. “I’m getting ready for the Easter bunny,” she exclaims.
“That’s coming up, ain’t it?” she asks.
My daughter has the luxury of moving onto the next holiday in her head. For me, I’m stuck in a bed of candy hearts like it’s Groundhog’s Day, and I’ve got the worst sugar hangover I can remember.
By the time I get to Ali’s house, I’m feeling pretty nervous. The talk with her friend eased my fears for a while. However, it seems to have led to an even bigger can of neurotic tendencies.
Ali steps inside the limousine wearing a classy dress that hugs the thighs just right and accentuates every curve on her body. It’s the look of a ten. The shareholders are going to love her. I’m biting my nails to the bone, forehead creased like a lunatic, and I’m sure I’ve got guilty written all over my face with a permanent marker. If not now, definitely later, when I have to face Jim.
This has gotten so out of hand.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
“It’s not Easter yet,” she jokes. “You don’t have to worry about Jesus.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just that you’re just so fucking beautiful.”
The joy of seeing me again shines across her face. “There’s my handsome man.”
I love this. I love her. If all this works out, I’m going to marry her. I’ll call my diamond dealer as soon as tonight’s fireworks fade.
Getting comfortable, she sits to my side, but quickly gravitates to her favorite spot against my lap. For her, nothing has changed. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a fun party that will bring us together. Then we can go home, fuck, and talk about our wildest hopes and dreams.
I briefly close my eyes, and try to feel that way, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. I wrap my arm around her, bringing her even closer to me. I don’t want to lose her. “You’re my girl,” I whisper.
It’s a desperate attempt to hold onto everything as it is, but she doesn’t see it that way. And by the time we get to my office in downtown, she’s straddling and kissing me again. We’re insatiable together. It’s like that leash tied us up at the dog park and never let go.
The driver opens the door. With my guilt pressuring me to give him more than my usual forty percent, I give him a much deserved tip. Not sure if he heard or saw me stuffing my face in Ali’s pussy, but he must’ve felt the shocks shaking.
I stick a full stack of hundreds in his hand and stumble toward the door with Ali. Looking back, I see the driver pump his fist with a big smile on his face. It’s a moment I’d love to take in, but Jim is in the lobby, and he’s got the happiest look on his face as someone talks his ear off. He looks up, and his expression just drops.
I make a quick note to wire the driver another check.
Seeing Jim makes my heart sink, but I knew this was going to happen. You can’t avoid a man with that much money. Eventually, he’ll hire your family to rat you out. Sammy is pretty easy to bribe, too.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
Ali takes it as a command, rather than a statement every great man makes when he’s, indeed, absolutely fucked. “Mm,” Ali moans. “Maybe in the upstairs bathroom later?”
What have I done? I’ve created a monster. I once loved her spontaneous cooky teacher vibe, but little did I know it would add to the mayhem of the night.
As we enter the lobby, I sense the eyes, though I avoid it by looking at my new boots. The camera flashes come next, providing that quick hit of warmth. For Ali, it’s new, exciting and fun. She digs her nose into my neck, laughing. We both run from the fake paparazzi pit Sandra hired to give it that much more edge.
“So exciting,” Ali says. “The return of Mama Bear.”
I take a millisecond to look at her. “You did not read Mama Bear.”
“My chiropractor always had the latest copy,” she says.
“I’m surprised he didn’t try to rip the pages from its spine,” I mutter. “Come on. Elevator to the upstairs extravaganza just opened. We can make it if we run.”
These events are just another way to funnel in more donors. More investors can sign on to the project, which gives us more money to do whatever the fuck we want. It used to be cool to me. I’d live for these events. Networking was a dream come true.
I look at the inside of this building now as more of an obstacle course than a workplace. I have to figure out
