Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Charlie
W hen I exit my mother’s favorite bakery, the paparazzi are waiting for me, as usual. Every Sunday before visiting, I pick up these overly sweet cupcakes for my mother and sister. I’ve been doing it since college, and the city quickly caught on. Anyone who wants a picture of me just has to camp out here long enough.
Needless to say, business is booming for the little shop.
“If you’re here, that means it’s Sunday!” a man from behind a camera calls out to me.
I look right where he wants me to and smile. I lift the pale pink box of sweets to show him the proof of my visit.
“Yuup, there they are! Treats for Mom!” he says.
Shutters go off all around me as I make my way to the waiting car. It’s idling as Tommy opens the door for me. As usual, questions are being hurled my way, but this time, they also offer their congratulations. No one expects me to stay and talk, though. This is all for show.
“Thank you, everyone, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend the afternoon with my mom and sister.” I wave a little as I pause to look apologetic. “Stay safe!” I duck into the car and place the box in the seat beside me.
Tommy closes the door behind me, ignoring the small gathering, and gets back behind the wheel. He carefully pulls away without a word, setting down the familiar course to my mother’s house.
I keep my expression pleasantly blank as I absently address texts on my phone. If I’m out in public, there’s no telling when someone will have an unflattering view of me. So I don’t break character, even when I’m sure I’m alone. I don’t need some tabloid asking about why I’m looking pissed when I’m on my way to visit Mom.
The answer would be simple, though: I am pissed.
You would think my mom built SolutionHaven herself from how entitled she feels. All the gifts I shower her with are expected and prompted in advance—and not even subtly. In her mind, I’m paying her back.
I tore my hair out trying to support you on your father’s income , I can hear her saying. Where’s my thank you?
Sadie, my older sister, never comes up in these conversations, but that’s because things didn’t go to shit until I came along.
Endless opportunities to be subjected to this conversation point await me at Mother’s house, so I push those thoughts aside. The new topic of interest today will be Lillian, my new girlfriend.
One look and I knew why Anne was so excited about her. Lillian reminds you of the shy little girl in every neighborhood. There was something in the delicate freshness of her face, the pink of her lips. More important than that, little details painted a picture of practicality and responsibility, from the blonde braid on each shoulder to the sneakers on her feet. Lillian was someone’s dutiful daughter—the perfect girl to stand by my side.
In that pristine white dress with its curving little blue flowers, Lillian gave the impression that her fair skin would crack like porcelain if I was too rough. That dress dared me. The way it flowed about her thighs made me want to break her into little pieces, sweep her up, and toss her away. And I couldn’t back down. Even if she shattered right then and there, I had no doubt I could keep her under my thumb somehow.
Lillian didn’t shatter, though.
I feel my attention shift through my phone as I recall her laughter.
Realizing who I really was beneath the public persona didn’t horrify her, like I expected. It made her laugh. The sound of it and how it stretched on too long told me plenty: Lillian couldn’t catch a break. From what, I don’t know. But there I was, proving her twisted worldview correct, a world in which no one, least of all Charlie Carter, could be as good as they seemed.
And that made her laugh because she was already broken.
I may not get the pleasure of lifting the veil of naivete from her myself. That inner, self-driven spirit is gone, sure. But something else is driving her in its place. Something pushed her to link up with me.
And stay in the hands of a beast.
I know it’s not the status or the money. It can’t be some empty motivation like that, or else it would have poisoned her by now, leaving her eyes dead and her insides rotting, stinking like shit.
No, there’s a spark of life in her big blue eyes, but something’s making her blind to her own wants and needs.
I grin and rub my thumb and forefinger together, recalling her nipple pinched there.
I doubt she knows what her needs even are.
I can teach her, make her need what I want her to need. There’s a whole world Lillian hasn’t been exposed to yet, I can feel it. I felt it in her submission. I felt how her body responded to me.
I can have fun with her.
Beyond that, Lillian is also capable. From the way she snapped into character at a moment’s notice and made Anne believe everything was fine, I know she can be an asset to me. And I know she’s trapped by that other thing driving her.
In time, I can make her do it all for me instead.
I sit with thoughts of Lillian until Tommy comes to a stop in Mom’s driveway. The afternoon will be spent discussing Lillian, but she slips away from me like an apparition once I catch sight of the house I bought for Mom, the one she instructed me to buy.
The one she never stops complaining about now.
“Everything will be waiting for you this evening, boss,” Tommy says quietly, sensing my bad mood. I pat the back of the front seat, then get out.
I’ll have to make it through the afternoon first.
With the box of sweets in hand, I make my way to the front door and give it a few knocks. I see the blurred outline of someone coming through the cathedral glass, then I hear a snort of laughter. When the door swings open, Sadie is standing there, looking up at me with annoyance.
“You’re late,” she greets, snatching the box from my hand without looking at it. Then she just stares at me.
“We didn’t set a specific time, Sadie,” I remind her, keeping my expression cool.
“Yeah, well, we’ve been waiting.” She cocks her head to the side, her brown bob bouncing about her small head.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“Are you going to apologize?”
Silence.
As long as she’s holding the treats I was specifically asked to get, Sadie knows she can get her way with me. If anything happens to that box before I present it to Mom, there’s no saving the afternoon.
It’s happened before.
“I’m sorry for keeping you two waiting.”
“You think that’s good enough?”
“Sadie. I have something important to talk to you and Mom about. Please let me in.”
“Important? We already know you won the primary,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes and reluctantly stepping aside.
I brush past her into the coolness of the house, shrugging off my irritation.
“It’s not that.”
Sadie pushes to get ahead of me, cutting me off abruptly, and leads the way into the living room. Perched there in a sea of classic white is my mother, her straight back not touching the couch cushion. She sits in front of a glass coffee table, legs pressed tightly together with her knees angled to one side. Her hands are folded in her lap as she regards me stonily, no emotion flickering in her cold eyes.
“Charles,” she acknowledges me in a level tone as Sadie continues on to the kitchen. “I didn’t think you’d be coming.”
I take a seat on the couch opposite her and enter the robotic frame of mind I need in order to deal with her.
“What made you think that, Mom? I can’t remember the last time I broke a Sunday date with you.”
“You can’t?” She brushes at her dyed brown hair with a hand, a shitty gesture she adopted when she started benefiting from my money. There wasn’t a single strand out of place in that hair-sprayed mass of waves pushed back from her face.
“Sadie says I kept you waiting.”
“Haven’t you?”
I smile thinly. We’re not going to get anywhere if this keeps up.
“I thought I arrived at around the same time I usually do, but let’s set a concrete hour next time.”
Mom huffs her assent and picks idly at the loose legs of her beige pants.
“How has your week been?” I continue.
“Sadie and I heard about the primary.” Mom looks up from her pants, ignoring my question as she changes the subject. “We didn’t think you’d get the vote, to be honest.”
“You didn’t vote for me?” I joke flatly.
“Of course we did,” she snaps, annoyed. “The outcome was still quite the surprise.”
“It’s an accomplishment in itself,” I point out.
Sadie breezes back into the room and sets two dessert plates on the coffee table, careful not to prod the slender vase at its center. The fat cupcakes are piled high with rich frosting.
“He’s not going to get the vote that matters,” Sadie assures Mom, sitting down beside her and plunging her finger into the frosting.
“I suppose we’ll see.” Mom watches Sadie lick her finger and scrunches up her nose disapprovingly. My sister smiles apologetically but keeps right at it, like she can’t help the childish inclination.
“What’s the important thing you want to tell us?” Sadie prompts me, now going at the cupcake with her tongue.
Aren’t you in your 30s? I want to ask.
I clear my throat and mentally switch tracks.
“Right, I have some good news.” I try not to let Sadie distract me and plunge ahead. “We feel confident that I can get the vote in November, but we don’t want to take any chances. We’re going to sell the public the story that I’ve had a long-term girlfriend I’ve kept secret.”
Sadie is still more invested in the cupcake, only sparing me a half-interested glance. Mom doesn’t react.
“Here’s the idea,” I go on. “I’m finally sure about having this woman in my life, so I’m popping the question at Emerald next Friday. After that, she’s basically my wife until we actually get married. She’ll move in, then she’ll be at public events. I’ll even bring her on Sunday afternoons with you guys, keeping up the family-first vibe. She’s going to be my public partner from now on, and the major complaint against my campaign will be gone.”
I finish and look from Mom to Sadie. My sister, biting into the cake, shoots Mom a glance, who adjusts herself and takes a deep breath.
“I can see the sense in it,” she says. “You need a woman to stabilize your image. The bachelor life is too messy. It hasn’t made it to the headlines yet, but who knows what you’re up to.”
I don’t react. I fix my eyes on the flower in the vase on the coffee table.
“He’s gotta be up to something,” Sadie agrees.
“That’s all fine. Bring the girl to me, and we can finalize the plans. I have to have a look at her, see if she’s up to the task.”
As expected, something always goes wrong.
“The plan has been finalized, Mom,” I correct carefully. “My team is moving to put everything in place. We’ll make the reservation Monday morning. I’m renting out Emerald, so it won’t stay under wraps.”
“Your team?” she repeats, leaning forward, displeasure written all over her face. “Are they making these decisions, or are you?”
“My team came up with this solution and found Lillian for me. I met with her a few days ago. She’s perfect for the role.”
Mother tut-tuts, and Sadie smirks, finding another opportunity to cut in.
“You really couldn’t find a girl yourself? They assigned you one?”
I ignore her.
“Mom, you’ll be meeting her soon enough. I hope you can trust my judgment on the matter for now.”
“Trust your judgment,” she mutters. I go back to looking at the vase. “It sounds like you don’t have power over your own campaign. They dictate to you what you ought to be doing because you aren’t doing it on your own. Is this how you’ll represent the people in Congress? Letting others dictate your decisions?”
“No, Mom.”
“You better start putting your foot down now if you plan to get anywhere, really. This is common sense, Charles.”
“Couldn’t you have found a girl on your own? Are you even interested in girls?” Sadie sneers. She’ll keep at it if I don’t acknowledge her.
I don’t even look at her.
“None of the women I met were good enough to bring home, Mom,” I lie. “I didn’t want to waste my time or yours. My team has found someone I think you’ll like?—”
“Give me a break,” Mom says dismissively. She huffs again and pats her hair, her face the picture of disappointment. It was like this when I refused to buy her a different house. In fact, that’s what we’ve been discussing the past four weeks in a row. “I suppose I can’t help it if you’re unwilling to take control.”
Mom pauses to give me time to interject. I don’t. So she gives another huff while looking around, at a loss.
“Your father is the same way. I don’t know what I expected.”
“You just met this woman? What kind of a woman would agree to be your pretend girlfriend?” Sadie tries again.
I take in a slow breath. “Her motivation aligns with my campaign goals. It might as well be a business deal.”
Sadie laughs sharply. “They picked a random gold digger for you?”
“You’ll see for yourself.”
“Maybe you’ll see when she lets the cat out of the bag about the biggest political scandal of the year!”
I don’t respond. There’s nothing I can say to either of them that will gain their support. The best I can get is a neutral nod. They’ve been against me since I was born.
For Mom, I came as an unwelcome surprise and stretched the budget too thin. Not that she got a job to even things out—she cracked the whip harder at Dad and kept track of everything she sacrificed for my sake.
For Sadie, I was the reason Mom’s attention was diverted away from her. As a big sister, she had to share everything else, too, and care for a burden that had been thrust unfairly into her hands.
So I just have to take the way they treat me.
Outwardly amicable relationships with them are integral to the path I’ve set out on. If I let them have their way in private, they play the loving roles of mother and sister when called upon in public.
So as usual, I let them complain, poke holes in the decisions I’ve made, and express their disappointment for the rest of the afternoon. When I can finally leave, I feel weighed down by their ceaseless disapproving chatter.
It’s always like this.
I stand on the porch after Sadie firmly shuts the door behind me. I noticed that Mom didn’t even touch the cupcake I brought her. She doesn’t usually allow me to see her enjoying anything I give her.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the late afternoon air, and realize something.
It stinks like shit in there.