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“Do you know what charities she might be interested in taking me along with?” I ask.
King smirks at me. “She’s got a long list. Sixty-two charities she tries to be actively involved in, but that’s about what she visits each month. She’s even volunteered with Grace’s Mission.” King is referring to the domestic violence charity his grandfather founded for his grandmother who was a domestic violence survivor prior to their marriage.
“That’s impressive,” Aillard says. “It feels wrong to blackmail someone so…pure.”
“But an unfortunate necessity.” King gives me a placating look. “I know you don’t like this, but I still feel this is our best bet. It’s not like any other options have presented themselves that have a better outcome than this one.”
He’s not wrong. Out of all the ideas we spitballed back and forth after the media frenzy began a few weeks ago, her name popped out of King and everything clicked. It wasn’t just an opportunity to show the world the type of man I am, but also to check in on Bex and see how her life has turned out since we parted ways. Except there’s one little snag the boys need to know about.
“Jessica left shortly before you arrived.” Just forcing the words out feels like I’m gurgling acid.
“Is that why Holly looks like she’s on a war mission?” Aillard hums.
King frowns at me. “What did Jessica want?”
“To grab lunch. To tell me that she wants to explore something after recently ending her engagement. I was firm that I didn’t want anything to do with her, but my apparent fame isn’t deterring her.”
Aillard outright laughs. “Isn’t she the one who swore to have nothing to do with you ever again after the whole Bex fiasco?”
My teeth clench together so I don’t start yelling. Everyone knows that it was me who created the problem in my life, yet everyone was quick to blame everyone else. I didn’t know how to break up with someone I’d been with for seven years and took off to Las Vegas to clear my head and decide if marrying Jessica was really what I wanted. It was there I met Bex, falling fast and hard. Drunk one night, we got married and I made the utterly stupid comment to let it play out, see how we did together. It was through our time together I learned we attended the same college, but NYU is vast and large, easy to hide in. When we got back, I made the announcement that I no longer wanted to be with Jessica and the entire world lit on fire as they blamed Bex.
Aillard’s rather crude way of calling it theBex fiascoonly reminds me that the blame is mine alone, yet no one wants to admit it. I cheated. I put Bex in a hard spot.Iruined Bex’s and Jessica’s worlds.
“Maybe she heard about you being ranked number four in the top ten billionaires of this year,” Aillard tosses out, referencing an article that was released earlier this summer. “If her engagement is off, she might be trying to hitch herself to a larger bank account. Everyone knows she only wants to spend money, not make any. Or perhaps she really does miss you, though I doubt it. It’s too convenient of a time for her to pull a stunt like this.”
The only person Jessica loves is herself. She was cruel to others in college, flaunting my name in others faces as if it gave her a title to act however she wanted. The funny, outgoing high schooler I fell in love with became a twisted, manipulative woman. It was one of the many pieces that paved my path towards seeking to distance myself and figure things out in Las Vegas. But I can’t blame Jessica for the cheating, it was all me.
“I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence if I didn’t ask if you were one hundred percent committed to this,” King informs me. He flicks a dark eyebrow up in a silent question.
Am I okay with this? Marginally more so than not. The slim piece that held me over the line is the man fighting to control his empire from burning. That man refuses to let others soil what he created. But the other side of me doesn’t want to tarnish Bex’s name with the potential smears that will come from our time together being public to the press.
I settle on, “It needs to be done.” At the end of the day, it all boils down to that. Fix my reputation. Repair my image. Prove these allegations false.
“She won’t get hurt this time,” King vows, referring to Bex.
I’d like to take him at his word. King’s word is usually unbreakable. However, I’ve come to terms that he’s infallible like everyone else. Even though we’re sitting here in my office chatting like friends, there’s still an undercurrent of hostility we haven’t worked through.
Strictly speaking, thatIdo not want to work through. The problem with being the easygoing one in our group of friends, is that I don’t hide my emotions well when I’m upset or angry. I can distance myself from the anger during work hours, but I’m a hard man to apologize to because I hate the conflict the conversation may bring up.
King’s actions still slice deep. His probing only picks at the wound until it bleeds, never giving it enough time to scar over and mend. Bex is a sore subject between us, she always has been. Telling King that Bex and I were drunk when we got married was my own fault. He saw it as me asking for help out of a marriage I felt was more concrete than anything Jessica and I would ever have. And in the process of him dismantling my marriage, in the after effects of his discourse, I grew angry at his impenitent attitude towards someone I cared a great deal about.
Over time we’ve been able to exist in each other’s space. Most times we act like we’re normal but the strain is still there, underneath everything. For him, everything he is, everything he’s become in the past year, has been due to Emilia, his other half.
But me? I’m the lonely fucker out of the three of us. Even remote, antisocial Aillard has a girlfriend he loves unconditionally. I’m so tired of trying to find my happiness in someone else when I know who holds my heart. People say all roads will eventually lead you home.
All my roads lead to Bex.
5
“This is going to end with me knee deep in a margarita on an island somewhere with no memory of how I got here.” - Bex
Detrick is standing directly in front of the elevator as it opens to let me off. There’s enough space for me to stand directly in front of him without my hair getting caught in the elevator doors as they close and continue upwards to the next floor.And yes, that’s a real fear.
“Are you going to move?” I ask when he doesn’t budge. The walkway right here isn’t exactly conducive to having a conversation without blocking everyone from moving around.
“When were you going to tell me about the lickable Italian in your office?” Detrick demands.
His words only bring confusion, though. “What Italian?”
