But then, my mom fell down the stairs in the big house and everything went to shit. She had endless medical appointments, and was always in pain. Again, Brenda’s never complained, but there were a couple months when she was completely bedridden, and the drugs and lack of exercise did it to her. My mom gained a massive amount of poundage and became almost twice the size she once was.
Chase didn’t like it. Although I never witnessed or heard any unkind words, Brenda said that when her husband looked at her, it was as if he saw something repulsive. His features would become strained, and his nostrils would flare like he’d smelled something bad. It was as if she’d become a fat slob by choice, when it was the injuries and medicine causing her to gain weight! For sure, my mom had a colostomy bag for a little while, and she did smell weird sometimes because those things are hard to keep clean. But it’s the nature of the beast.Colostomy bags are always going to be odiferous, and even the most meticulous user can’t change that. But that asshole Chase Wheaton didn’t give a shit. He was merciless.
So the billionaire divorced my mom, breaking her heart in the process. Sure, Brenda got a nice settlement but it was spent on her unending medical bills, and we were reduced to living in public housing. We’re lucky we even got a place because demand for an apartment in the Projects has skyrocketed, and I hear that it’s almost impossible to get off the waitlist now. Nonetheless, Brenda and I moved into our humble two-bedroom, and it’s fine. I lost touch with my former stepsister, and my mom never talks to her ex-husband anymore either. It’s almost as if the Wheatons vanished into the mist, just a figment of our imagination.
But Brenda’s bitter and sad. She’s still about a hundred pounds overweight these days, and I know she hates her body no matter what I tell her. I also know that she’s heartbroken and that she misses her ex. Who can blame her? My ex-stepfather is a gorgeous CEO with his own AI firm. He’s at the forefront of technology, and has even appeared in the papers touting the benefits of AI. In short, Chase Wheaton is single, rich, and probably has a million women throwing themselves at him, while my mom has descended into a personal hell where she’s filled with self-loathing and shame. I feel bad for Brenda, and hate my ex-stepdad so much for doing this to my mom. After all, aren’t you supposed to stick with your spouse through thick and thin? Don’t the wedding vows state that you’re promising to be together for better or worse? But I guess those rules don’t apply when you’re a billionaire. Men like Chase Wheaton do what they want, and when a wife becomes inconvenient or unattractive, you drop her. Then, it’s on to the next pretty young thing.
So I set my jaw.
“We’re going to be okay, Mom. I’ll find a way to make some money. Relax, and don’t worry, because we’ll survive this.”
Brenda looks up from her phone, and then flips it over on the table so that it’s face down. But I catch a glimpse of something on-screen, and quickly reach for the cell before she can protest.
“Hey stop!” my mom protests. “Haley, that’s private.”
My eyes widen as I scan the screen before setting it down with trembling fingers on the table in front of us.
“Mom, you’re looking at a site for plasma donation. Are you really considering it?”
Brenda’s head droops for a moment, but then she nods with defeat.
“Yes, Hales,” she says in a quiet voice. “We don’t have many options. We have your salary from the café, but your hours are getting cut. I sit on my fat ass every day, getting bigger and bigger, so I’ll never be able to hold down a normal job, much less interview for one. The only thing I can do these days is plasma donation. That, or blood donation. They pay decent, and we could use the cash.”
I stare at Brenda’s soft, rounded features.
“Mom, no,” I say in a trembling voice. “I won’t let you. You’re sick, and in pain all the time. There’s no way they’ll even take your blood, seeing that you’re on so many drugs.”
Brenda won’t meet my eyes, shrugging as she gazes off into a corner of the room.
“Harvey down the hall told me you get a deposit before you donate. Then you walk into the room, do the donation, andafter everything’s screened, the center mails the balance of what they owe to you. So they won’t know at the beginning that I’m pumped full of drugs. We’ll at least get the initial deposit, and that’s something, Haley. It’s almost Christmas and we’re as poor as church mice right now. I hate that, and I want to do this for you. For us.”
“No, Mom,” I speak immediately while shaking my head. “We’ll figure out another way.I’llfigure out a way. I’ll beg Don at the café. I’ll sweep floors, wash windows, and do anything they need. Hell, I’ll even help him recruit pretty young things to take my place, if he’ll just give me more hours during the holiday season. It’ll work out.”
My mom smiles, but it’s a sad one.
“No, it’s okay, honey,” Brenda says while taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I know you’re trying your best, but I don’t want you making yourself vulnerable to men like that. The male species is dangerous, honey, and they’re always looking to take advantage of the second sex. Look what happened to me and Chase,” she says in a defeated voice. “We had it so good, and then poof! It was all gone.”
The statement is a bit melodramatic, but it pretty much encapsulates our situation. A red-hot hatred for the handsome Chase Wheaton fills my chest, and tears prick my eyes as the blood pounds in my head.
“I’ll figure it out, Mom,” I rasp hoarsely while squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out together.”
My mom nods, but I know there’s nothing that Brenda can do. I have to fix this situation, but how? I’m twenty-one, with a seemingly useless degree in child psychology. I’m not workingin my field of choice, and was only able to land a part-time job pulling shots that I could have done without any degree, period. So where do I go from here? What do I do? Through the wall, our neighbor starts playing cheery Christmas carols, and I want to punch him because I’m anything but merry right now. I hate my ex-stepfather for the choices he made ... and I’m going to make the handsome billionaire pay.
2
Chase
Ipull up to a nondescript building on the edge of town. There’s nothing remarkable about the three-story block, and there’s nothing distinguishing about the neighborhood either. Gray sidewalks line black asphalt roads, and mentally, I count two bodegas, a shuttered school that looks like it hasn’t been operational in ages, as well as a laundromat. Perfect.
After all, the Citadel is a hush-hush gentlemen’s club with a reputation for sourcing the best girls, and that’s what I’m here for tonight. I’m here to buy myself a Christmas treat, and the Citadel is the place to look for a sassy little thing with lush curves and an innocent look to those big blue eyes. Of course, this isn’t exactly your usual wine-and-dine before a kiss goodnight. Instead, I’m purchasing a woman at auction, and it’s going to be fun for both of us. I get to sample her sweetness, including tasting big, bobbling breasts as well as the wetness between her legs, while she gets to pleasure a billionaire while adding zeroesto her bank account. Like I said, it’s a win-win for everyone involved.
“Mr. Wheaton,” a porter greets with a nod while holding the heavy door open for me. “Welcome.”
“Thanks, Stanley,” I say while tipping him discreetly. “Is the auction on the second floor today?”
Stanley doesn’t blink an eye, his expression impassive. “On the third, sir. They changed the location. Please enjoy yourself.”
I nod, and stride through the opulent lobby to a plated brass elevator. But thinking better of it, I turn and head towards the stairs instead. I’m a fit dude, and three flights of stairs aren’t going to kill me. After all, I work out twice a day, with cardio in the morning and weights at night. You have to, at my age. Forty-five isn’t old, but if I want to maintain the physique of a gladiator, then it’s necessary.
