McCarthy tosses Truman into the car. “Go, go!”
I floor the gas. The car reverses into a light pole as I scream unintelligibly.
“Woman, drive!” McCarthy bellows as a pudgy middle-aged man runs toward the car.
“You were sleeping with her!” he screams as he throws a stone paperweight through the back windshield. “I know you were sleeping with her, you fucking asshole. You slept with my wife. I bet she’s lying and that baby isn’t even mine. It’s yours, isn’t it? Admit it! You can’t take my fucking wife and my company. Bastard!”
McCarthy, who apparently has even less sense than Truman, sticks his head out of the passenger-side window as I weave into traffic.
“I don’t have to fuck your wife for her to leave you,” he says, taunting the man. “She was so sick of your shriveled cock and your spoiled, worthless sons that she was happy to sell you out.”
Even though he has a nasty bruise on his cheek, McCarthy is the cat that just ate the golden goose.
“Man, some people are sore losers.”
“What the hell did you do?” My teeth grind.
“Road, Cupcake,” he says conversationally.
Now that I’m not about to get carjacked, my stomach sinks as I mentally catalog the sheer number of cameras capturing… whatever the hell that was.
McCarthy picks up Truman, praising the panting, happy dog. “Look who’s a good boy. Your incompetent mommy didn’t spoil you rotten after all. Such a good little fighter.”
McCarthy looks at me, a flash of gray eyes, as I try to keep the huge car between the yellow lines.
“You’re a terrible driver. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Fuck. You.”
“Language.” He clicks his tongue.
“You motherfucker!” My voice reaches a screeching pitch. “I told you to tell me when you’re going to do something crazy.”
McCarthy just laughs.
“It’s going to be all over the internet in half an hour,” I say, seething.
“Whatever.”
I slam on the brakes. Truman almost slides off McCarthy’s lap.
I ignore the scrambling dog and grab a fistful of McCarthy’s tie.
His eyes slide down my chest. “Guess I was right about your fiancé not putting out.”
I shake him.
“You tell me right now, mister, did you father a child with another man’s wife?”
He scoffs. “Of course not. Svetlana’s too smart to have that baby be anyone other than her husband’s. Now that the boy is born, he automatically inherits a majority share of ExoTech. It was in their prenup. Frankly, I find it astounding, the level of self-destruction a person will commit to when they think someone loves them.” He cocks an eyebrow in my direction.
“Since she’s filed for divorce, Svetlana gets to make the decision on what to do with her newborn son’s shares. She just sold me her and her son’s portion of the company.They’re a major supplier of… Well, I can’t tell you. It’s classified. But let’s just say she’s saving me billions.”
“I have an MBA, and I know for a fact that getting in a fight on the middle of Redwood Street is not part of any acquisition plan.”
He shrugs. “Svetlana’s one stipulation for the sale was I had to personally go rub it in her ex’s face.” He nods to the brightly colored shop. “Flowers?”
“Flowers?” I screech. “I’m not taking you anywhere. You cannot be trusted in public. Oh my god, this is a disaster.”
