Epilogue #2
“Because I’d—let me see if I remember this right—I’d rather spend time with grapes and a dog than meet a woman’s needs?”
She leaned in closer, hoping for privacy. “I’m so sorry. I was angry, and I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff. Nolan, I made a mistake. I thought I’d be happier in the city, but it’s not the place, it’s me. I’ve been seeing a therapist.”
“Congratulations.”
“So, uh… What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready to come home.”
Jay did the honours. “Lisanne, have you met Nolan’s wife?”
All the colour drained out of her face. “His…his wife?”
Spider clasped both hands against her chest. “It was such a beautiful ceremony.”
“They wrote their own vows,” Violet added.
“Uh…uh… How long?” Lisanne managed.
“A week.” Nolan tucked an arm around me. “We both moved on. Good luck with the therapy.”
She turned without another word and scurried off.
A hand came up to swipe at her eyes. Maybe I should have felt sorry for her, but I couldn’t—firstly, pity wasn’t part of my repertoire, and secondly, she was a dumbass bitch who’d thrown away a good thing and left Nolan in the lurch.
She didn’t get to walk that back just because she felt like it.
She’d played stupid games and she’d won zero prizes. Too bad.
My parents were keeping their distance, thankfully.
The others were tracking their movements, and Barbie said they hadn’t even noticed me.
Figured. Mom and Dad had always been more interested in themselves than in the child they’d basically discarded.
Their table was booked in a different name, and it turned out Dad had started a consulting firm with two other schmucks.
We knew this because Jay was a bit of a celebrity within the business community, and instead of movie fans sidling up, he got a mix of entrepreneurs pitching products, competitors trying to pick his brain, and folks just curious to meet a bona fide billionaire.
The last group was mostly women. Even if he hadn’t been rich, they’d still have flocked around him because, as Chase put it, Jay’s face looked like a plot twist in a romcom movie.
Sharp jaw, five o’clock shadow, artfully mussed dark hair, hazel eyes that missed nothing, and since he’d turned fanatical about his health, he had the body to match.
But Jay always kept a polite distance. He’d make small talk, but he rarely let anyone get close, and he didn’t date.
Tonight, he asked a couple of people about “Reid Rockwell, what’s he doing these days?” and one guy knew and told him.
And then it got more interesting because it turned out the guy was actually one of Dad’s clients.
“I like the personal touch of a smaller firm,” he said to Jay. “No offence.”
“None taken. You have to do what’s best for you and your business.”
“A month back, we had a glitch with our finance system, dang thing wouldn’t bring up any records, and the company that made the software said ‘not our problem.’ Reid sent a team out the same morning. Six of them, and they worked all day and into the night until it was fixed.”
Seriously? What the hell were they doing all that time?
I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “You’re running FinPro, right?”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Astela ran into the same glitch. The operating system installed an automated update at midnight, which moved a file FinPro relied on. We identified the issue by three a.m., and we rolled out a patch to our clients by the start of business, even though it wasn’t technically our problem either. ”
“Sorry, who are you?”
“This is a member of our tech team,” Jay said.
“If it took six people all day and into the night, then that was four people too many and seven hours too long.” Typical Dad, always overestimating his abilities. “Anyhow, what’s for dessert?”
* * *
A shitshow with a side of chocolate mousse, it turned out.
“You cocksucker!”
I’d barely even registered Barbie and Spider moving, but somehow, they’d ended up between my father and Jay. Chase was one side of me, Nolan was the other, and Dawson formed a human wall behind me.
“It’s okay.” Jay stood. He was two inches taller than Dad, in much better shape, and a hell of a lot less drunk. “Care to elaborate, Reid?”
“You weren’t content with taking my company, so now you’re stealing my clients too?”
“I’m not stealing clients. I don’t have to.”
“One of your tech guys told Pete Maitland we ripped him off, and that’s bullshit.” Dad turned to Brax. “Was it you?”
I burst out laughing; I couldn’t help it.
The idea of Brax doing tech support was ridiculous—he spoke three languages, and none of them were Python, JavaScript, or SQL.
Plus Dad hadn’t registered my presence yet—he was such a chauvinist that his gaze simply skated over women as if they were accessories.
“I’m in the entertainment industry,” Brax said. “This could be a show in Vegas.”
Dad set his sights on Lucas next, and Lucas held up his hands.
“Don’t look at me. I’m just a movie star.”
When he got to Nolan, I saw red. All these years, and Dad still had the power to upset me, but this time, I was stronger than him. I got to my feet.
“It was me.” I held out a hand, even though the thought of him touching it made my skin crawl. “I’d say it was a pleasure to see you again after all these years, but I’d be lying.”
He just stared. “Alexandria?”
“Congrats on not totally forgetting what I look like.”
“How… What… How did you get in here?”
“I literally walked through the door, same as everyone else.”
Now Mom appeared. “Reid, they’re serving dessert. What’s going— Alexandria? Is that you?”
“What gave it away? Was it the eyes?”
Because she’d had so much work done, there weren’t many other similarities left.
“Well, we haven’t seen you in years. We figured you were dead.”
“And you’re disappointed I’m not?”
“Darling! Keep your voice down.”
“Why? In case everyone realises you’re shitty parents?”
“Shitty parents? You ungrateful little… We gave you everything. Ballet lessons, a grand piano, designer clothes, a private education…”
“…PTSD, anal tearing, a lifelong distrust of authority figures. How’s Uncle Porter doing? Still into little girls?”
“That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“Be thankful he’s not the father of your grandchild.”
Mom picked up a glass of wine and threw it at me.
Red, since it was a Dionysus Zinfandel, and no surprise, since she’d always had a short fuse.
Seeing as I’d been ready to duck, most of the liquid missed me, and I wore the splash of claret like a badge of honour.
A trophy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw event security heading in our direction, two bemused rent-a-cops who suddenly didn’t look bored anymore.
“You shouldn’t talk about family that way,” Mom hissed. “Porter’s been good to you. Who do you think made all that mess in Virginia go away? You didn’t even thank him.”
“Why do you think I was living in Virginia in the first place?”
Security reached us.
“Ma’am? Is everything okay?”
“Butt out, this is a family discussion,” Mom told him.
Nolan didn’t let that stand. “I’ve never seen these people before. The guy showed up and called Mr. Monroe a cocksucker, and then this woman threw a glass of wine over my wife.”
Behind him, Barbie mimed drinking.
“Your wife?” Mom let out a snarky laugh, followed by a belch. “You were dumb enough to marry her? She’s just using you for money, mark my words.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to come with us.”
“Get your hands off me!”
“I’m not touching you.”
“Well, you were about to.” She picked up another glass, but her aim was off, and this time, Lucas got soaked. People had begun filming.
“That crazy lady attacked Lucas!” a woman in a hot-pink minidress yelled, and the Lucas Collins fan club leapt into action.
Mom was no match for a dozen starry-eyed twenty-somethings, and all I could do was watch as she limped to the door, minus a shoe, with chocolate mousse in her hair and some kind of soft cheese smeared across her ass.
Security wasn’t getting involved, no siree. They were as stunned as the rest of us.
“Boy, that sure escalated quickly,” the younger of the pair said.
Dawson gave a low whistle. “She went off like a howitzer.”
Welcome to my childhood.
In the end, the only real casualty was Lucas’s shirt, which had come off in the fray.
I’d seen a woman in an electric-blue pantsuit holding it aloft like a prizefighter.
Chase, always the Boy Scout, had a spare dress shirt in the car, although he whispered, “It’ll be a shame to obscure the view, you know? ”
By the time the awards were handed out, one of the clips was already trending on BuzzHub, captioned “Wife of failed Silicon Valley businessman has meltdown.” Nolan’s wine won the beverage category, and we celebrated with orgasms.
Life was good.
* * *
Mostly good.
I had a hangover.
Then Chase messaged to say he was going to pick up the used shirt from Lucas.
When I suggested simply letting Lucas keep the shirt and buying a new one, because it was just a freaking shirt, traffic in San Francisco was always dire, and Lucas was staying miles away at Nyx, Chase sent me a winking emoji. Well, okay then.
Huh.
Chase and Lucas?
From what I understood, Lucas was deep, deep, deep in the closet, so far in that he had a fake girlfriend who showed up to events with him. Chase was a commitment-phobe who didn’t hide his sexuality, but he did understand the importance of discretion.
Me
Have fun…
Then Brax messaged.
Brax
Did you hear about Justin?
Me
I was unconscious until two minutes ago.
Brax
Slacking again, tsk-tsk-tsk.
Me
Asshole. Let me guess… Is he having woman trouble?
Because Jez rated his current fiancée a ten for looks but a generous zero point five when it came to a therapist’s intake questionnaire. And Justin didn’t have a great track record when it came to proposals. He’d been engaged three times and was yet to make it down the aisle.
Brax
In a manner of speaking. His secretary didn’t show up for work, and she isn’t answering her phone.
So? It was only ten a.m., hardly time to call out the cops. Maybe she was hungover too?
Me
She probably overslept?
Brax
She’s been missing for two days.
Me
And he’s only mentioning this now?
Brax
He wants to hire Ari to help find her.
Speak of the she-devil…
Ari
Hey, Justin Norquist’s PA went missing. Can you track her phone?
Was the Pope Catholic? Did bears shit in the woods? Were ninety-nine percent of politicians corrupt? Actually, I didn’t want to think about the bears, not now that I lived right next to a forest.
Me
Of course I can track the fucking phone.
I nudged Nolan awake. “I love you, blah, blah. Could you make me a coffee? Justin lost his secretary.”
“Can’t Chase send flowers?” Nolan mumbled into the pillow.
“Not lost as in funeral, lost as in misplaced.”
“How did he misplace a secretary?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it? I think I’m gonna need a croissant too…”