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“Pepper? What’s going on?”
She mumbles something I can’t make out and goes back to inspecting my sparse apartment. It’s a little bare, I acknowledge that. I’ve never been one for possessions, so my living room has a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and that’s it. The kitchen is no better. I don’t even have pots and pans because I order out most of the time.
But what’s got her so bothered? Pepper never seemed to care about my lack of decor before. Now, she’s looking around like she’s disgusted at the plain white space. What is she seeing that she never saw before?
I put a hand on Pepper’s shoulder and she jumps.
“Talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Instead of responding, the curvy girl marches into the bedroom and throws open my closet. Again, my wardrobe is very spartan and there are only a few items of clothing. The few suits inside look sad and saggy, and beside them are a couple polo shirts that I keep as casual wear.
Then Pepper marches to my dresser, yanks it open, and stares inside. Again, I only have a few items, and the boxer briefs and gym shorts occupy a tiny fraction of the available space.
But why would she care? This is really strange. I realize I’m not a clotheshorse, but most of my stuff is in my real apartment, and not here. This place is just a second home I keep for convenience. Almost a decoy, come to think of it. Has she figured that out somehow?
Pepper stands in front of my dresser, staring at me. Her expression is frantic and stunned, and slowly, she sinks to the floor, her hands covering her face.
I kneel in front of her. “I need you to talk to me, Pepper. What’s wrong?”
“You’re living a double life,” she whispers.
I nod slightly. Ah-ha. She’s figured out that this isn’t my primary living space but that’s not the end of the world. A lot of people have second homes. I probe her for more. “But why do you think I’m living a double life? How so?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” she screams, jerking her head up to stare at me with wild eyes. “Look at this place! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”
I hold up a hand.
“Now, sweetheart, I know I don’t have very many clothes or furniture, but …”
She cuts me off.
“I’m a fucking mistress! You have a wife!”
That makes me jump back.
“What the hell, Pepper? You’re acting crazy. I don’t have a wife, so what are you talking about?”
Pepper fixes me with a harsh look. “I’m crazy? You’re the one keeping me a secret from your wife! Where is she? Where does your real family live? Oh my god, do you have kids too? Oh my god, oh my god.”
She starts to cry and I put a hand on her shoulder but she jerks away.
“Pepper, I’m not married. I don’t know why you think I am.”
“I don’t believe you!” she screeches through tears. “I’m the one who’s been a complete idiot!”
I’m utterly flabbergasted now.
“But why do you think I’m married? There are no pictures of a wife or kids, and yes, I’m not good with interior design, but that’s hardly a sign of matrimony.”
She glares at me then, her eyes shooting daggers.
“Then why doesn’t your apartment make any sense? Who lives like this, with nothing to their name? Oh my god, are you on the run? You’re evading law enforcement, aren’t you? Is your name even Travis?”
Okay, things are really getting out of hand now. This is it and I have no choice but to jump in headfirst. I need to clear things up asap because soon, I’ll be flying a spaceship and heading to Mars if Pepper’s imagination goes any further.
“There is something I’ve been keeping from you,” I begin.
Satisfaction colors Pepper’s face. “I knew it!” she cries before bursting into fresh tears.
I let out a long sigh. I meet her eyes and bite the bullet.
“No, it’s not about a wife, nor another woman. Nor does it have to do with a criminal past, honey. It’s about my job. I told you I work for an agricultural giant, but I wasn’t fully honest with you. The truth is, the giant I work for is Keystone Industries, and I’m not just another middle manager. I’m the CEO.”
Pepper looks confused. “The food giant, Keystone? The one that practically employs everyone in Corinthian?”
I nod.
“That makes no sense,” she mumbles. “I thought you were just a regular guy.”
I sigh.
“I used to be a middle manager about twenty years ago, but I’ve moved up. You see, the business has been in my family for generations, and all family members start as trainees. I was no different. I used to sweep floors and do basic bookkeeping, just like everyone else. But now, I’m forty years old and sit at the helm. It’s just how things turned out.”
