And so, this is how our evening begins. Compliments and champagne while masked and impervious to the glares andjudgment of others. Of course I pick out Michael, Alice, and Mitchel, by their gait, if not by their exuberant, unnecessary display of gaudy wealth. As a casual observer, I notice Mitch has left his pregnant partner at home, presumably in his own penthouse if not an apartment he kept for such dalliances. What does surprise me though, and raises one of Trystan’s groomed eyebrows, is the appearance on his arm of a willowy woman with mousy brown, highlighted hair and an air of arrogance no doubt aided by her bold, fire-engine red, silky sheath gown. The same color dresses her lips with a slick of gloss as her mouth moves. I’ve come to recognize this as a shade worn by hookers and cheaper escorts; the kind to leave smudged ring stains on your dick from their enthusiastic blow jobs. No smeared skin that I need to scrub raw in the shower afterward. Not once has Bri ever stained my shaft with smudged lipstick. That’s because she wears kissable, transfer-proof lipstick, and she’s a classy cut above. This might be the year I met Sabrina Broe, but the ringing in of a new year untouched by angst I’ve held on to. Perhaps it is the year I commit to making her mine permanently.
His opportunistic date continues on, oblivious to my presence over her left shoulder. Her presence is one I can’t quite place until I heard her speak.
“Mitchel, I’m saying I’d be more than happy to wear jewelry made from the mines you manage. Imagine the publicity linking the pieces back to earth you toil with your own hands.” Her shrill tone grates my molars together—hard.
For one thing, he toils nothing. He sits his fat ass in an executive chair while his employees manage machinery worth hundreds of millions of dollars to pull resource minerals and metals from their earthly tomb. We have a couple of foreign interests that pull opals and sapphires, so if you were envisaging colorless, flawless diamonds, sweetheart, thinkagain. And two, there is no way he would drape you in gems from our family’s mines. They are reserved forourfamily, royalty, sheiks, and sultans. I recognize that nasally twang.Jules in the jewels.Just what are you playing at, Mitchel, and why the fuck are you cozied up with Juliette Nasta-Vrees?
It iscustomary to see out the new year with a bang, so why not start the new year with one. Bri stands before me in a lacy bra and thong underwear, still in the mile-high heels she wore to the event. One firm tug has the thin lace sides tearing; the next has them falling to the floor.
“That was La Perla. They are over four hundred dollars a pair.” She frowns at the wisp of tattered lace on the carpet. The diffused glow from other high-rise buildings is the only light source. Backlit by the onyx darkness, she is perfection before me.
“Ah, well-made indeed. That’s why it took two tugs to rip them off. Anything else would require one.”
“You’re making light of destroying four-hundred-dollar undies?”
“They were in the way, and now they’re not. I’m a problem solver.”
“You are a pest, Mr. Mercer. A pest I’m falling in love with.”
I nibble her jaw, making my way up to her earlobe. “I can be.” I run two fingers through her slit, her wetness coating them. Smearing around her opening, I know she’ll produce more. She’s as aroused for me as I am for her. Watching her move in that gown for hours was a torture my cock barely endured. Now, he’s eager to join the party.
Bri moans, loud and long. “New year, new you? This year you can be anything you want to be.”
With Bri, it’s not some throw away bullshit. She’s honest and hopeful, and it’s not my place to destroy any of that. “Right now, I want to be inside your dripping cunt, Sabrina.”
May the mask you show the world not drip the decay of your dishonest soul
The dining space at Sercio is more opulent than I remember. The deep olive walls and gold accents offer a stark yet respectful backdrop to the finely hewn timber tables draped with starchy white linen. The oversized arrangements of florals and tropical leaves add a soft, feminine touch to what could be a severe, masculine space. Only when I look at each arrangement, I don’t see softness. I see Alice’s pinched face recounting her beloved rare, cultured plants, and her snipping off the leaf that dared defile her perfect conservatory with the beginnings of detritus. A partial brownish edge to the full gloss green, and she was barbaric in her callousness. The real detritus, the awful decay wasn’t the leaf itself; it was her very soul. The woman revered by millions, thanks to her crafted image and perception of grace, generosity, and humility, was an illusion.
“Happy birthday, sir.” Magnus leans with a hand on the carved bar spanning almost the length of one wall. Like him, it is polished and poised. Bar staff are pouring, shaking, and building drinks for servers to distribute on silver trays.
“Why, thank you. It is certainly a happy day in the presence of such a beautiful young lady. Happy indeed.” The man winks, fucking winks at me. If it weren’t his birthday, I’d throw my drink in his face and bolt out the double doors and take my chances with the press pack.
Keep it together Bri, there is a process to follow. No theatricsuntil the declaration of war tomorrow. This isn’t your war either. Yes, you have bipartisan support for the man so very wronged, whom you are currently fucking for money. Keep it together. This is another twenty thousand dollar day, and if you have to bite your tongue in half to prevent you from saying a thing to these vultures, then do so.
My inner voice has turned up the volume in recent days. The self-righteous feeling that wants to slap the face of everyone amalgamated on the opposition side, only a prison sentence helps no one and negates my contract. I remain the cheerleader for the team of the wronged, and the support must be unwavering and internal—for now.
Swarms of Mercer media are dotted around the expansive room, with more strategically placed outside on either side of the golden carpet sectioned off from well-wishing crowds and pissed-off pedestrians who have to detour around the interruption.
“Quite the fucking show, isn’t it?” Trystan can’t hide his ire any better than I can. Mason is his friend and employer, but was once his lover. If anyone understands the pain and betrayal, it’s us, his closest circle. We may be a triangle of sorts, but we are steadfast in our support, love, and understanding.
Billy Joel sits at a baby grand piano, belting out his catalog of hits. Not an impersonator, the actual singer/songwriter. How much was his appearance fee? Five million? Ten? “Don’t you ever get sick of this shit?” I ask, positioning myself between a stool and the edge of the ornate bar, away from busy bartenders and any idle workers with thirsty ears.
“I wish I could say you get used to it, Bubble, but you never do. In these circles,” he says with a wave of his arm and a syncopated sneer, “the next party has to outdo the previous one. We live in a make-believe world of theater. They’re all thespians playing a role. They portray a sanitized version ofthemselves to the public, while maintaining an air of aspirational lust. Work hard and pay your taxes, and you, too, can drink forty-thousand-dollar Scotch and vacation on superyachts. It’s all a big, fucking hoax.”
Mason stands on the opposite side of the room, unflappable. He’s broken down more than once over the past week; the weight of every uncovered fact and confirmed action decades prior finally pouring out of him as a release of snotty tears and tension. We held him while he sobbed uncontrollably, the gravity of what he was about to do weighing lead-heavy on his shoulders. Still, it’s the right thing to do. In a family where that motto seems optional, Mason Mercer is the beacon of conscience and decency.
“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests and members of the media, both the esteemed Mercer Media and you others from rival networks,”
Michael begins, and the crowd of colleagues burst into polite laughter and applause. I mentally throw a drink over him too. “We are here today to celebrate my father’s eighty-second birthday.”
The applause continues well past what would be considered normal. I guess money can buy almost anything.
“We celebrate the man who continued his own father’s humble vision to bring the news to the world. A man who diversified into industries that were strengthened by his involvement in them. A man who found a way to push forward through uncertain economic times and the perils of war and unrest. This is a man who says yes when others say it cannot be done, that he’ll find a way. He may pepper that with a few choice cuss words.” More laughter.
Christ, the man is coming off more like a saint than a sinner. This will only be spread thicker tomorrow at his retirement benefit event.Ugh.This time the dreaded eighthairy legs crawl across my nape. A shudder escapes before I can reel it in.Breathe.
“I could go on and on, but I won’t, because I have an almost identical speech prepared for tomorrow’s retirement event that the majority of you will be covering.” He sinks his palms in a settle down motion. It only encourages the boisterous crowd. More laughter, more backslaps and congratulations. I want to be sick.
