5. Jenna
JENNA
I watch dejectedly as McCarthy slams the car door then stalks into the lobby of the ExoTech Company. I slump in the seat and finally get the Bluetooth to connect to the car system and call my fiancé.
“Yeah.” Nathan sounds distracted.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask anxiously. After the shit show of this morning, my job is toast. All my eggs are in the Nathan basket.
Now there’s a woman talking in the background. A young woman. Younger than me.
We trust Nathan.
“I just, um… wanted to see if you wanted to ride over to the funeral together?”
“ Can I get it without mustard … Funeral?” His voice is louder.
“You know, for my ex. I told you last night? I need support… ”
There’s silence on the line. Then, “Look, Jelly Bean, I have a lot of work to do.”
My lower lip trembles. “But, Nathan, this is important!”
“Jelly Bean, you know how I feel about the crying. You’re a grown woman, not a little girl. Grow up,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t just be expected to roll over whenever you start sobbing. You and your mom…”
“I’m not,” I say and clear my throat, but I’m sure he can hear the tears in my voice.
“One of us has to keep our job. That engagement ring wasn’t free, you know,” Nathan says. “You’re so bad with money.”
“I know, I know, I—it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I wipe at my eyes.
“ Yeah… What time do you think you’ll be back home, Jelly Bean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I may have to work late, since I’ll be out for the funeral.”
He’s not listening. “ All right… Yeah, I’m coming… ”
The line goes dead.
Leaning back in the plush seat, I pick at the rest of my cupcake, dejected and wondering if Nathan would be opposed to moving the wedding date up just so I can feel like I’ve accomplished something in my life.
McCarthy is the worst client in the history of PR.
Even worse than sex-dungeon Rex. It’s like he doesn’t even care about his reputation.
He’s willing to burn it all down just to get one over on me.
He’s decided he hates me, that I’m the enemy, even though I’m trying to help him.
And now I’ve lost him, and I am going to have to fess up to his brother.
I’ll be fired by tomorrow morning, if not tonight .
I delete several more messages from my ex-slash-non-stalker, feeling like a complete failure.
“You’re not a loser,” I say, pep-talking myself. “You have Nathan. He loves you, and you two are going to build a beautiful life together. Hopefully soon. Very, very soon.”
Even though Nathan just rolled away from me late last night and didn’t even kiss me when I finally got home because traffic was terrible and the bus broke down and I so wished I had my own driver or, hell, even my own car.
McCarthy is right. I need to find another job.
The panic rises. I need a lifeline.
Hannah doesn’t pick up when I try to call her, tears leaking down my nose.
Truman nuzzles my hand.
“This is a horrible day,” I sob to Truman, who gives me one more lick then goes back to happily sticking his head out the window to receive pats from delighted passersby as I fish for a tissue.
Nathan is right. I need to grow up. Stop crying over every little thing. I’m going to be a mom soon. I hope.
If I survive McCarthy.
I stuff down the replay of McCarthy yesterday in his office, the glints of light from the diamond engagement ring bouncing off his face as he asks me with that mocking smile when the last time Nathan and I had done it was.
The reality?
It has been a while.
Granny Mavis’s version of sex education was to tell me that men were horndogs and you’d have to beat them off with a stick because if you didn’t, you’d be having sex round the clock.
But also, you better at least let them have it in the morning and evening.
Otherwise, they would wander. My mom’s sex education was your soulmate was out there and you just had to try, try again to find them.
Make sure you go all in, give your heart to him, just in case he’s the one, and one day, true love would be yours.
No, that’s not real sex education, and yes, that’s probably why she had me so young with a guy that—surprise, surprise—was not, in fact, her soulmate and was barely my dad.
There will be no begrudging sex or unplanned babies for me, not with Nathan. Our evenings consist of him complaining about the dinner I make, him playing video games, then him ignoring my hints when I say I want to help him relax or take care of him. He hasn’t touched me in three months.
How did McCarthy know?
“God, McCarthy is the worst ! Why do I attract the wors—”
The only warning I have that he is incoming consists of two quick barks from Truman, then McCarthy is being slammed into the windshield by two huge armed goons.
I scream, trying to reach for Truman, who thinks he’s a Doberman and has struggled out of the window to join the fight.
The dachshund sinks his teeth into the hand of the goon who’s about to break McCarthy’s nose.
The goon roars and blindly swings his fist.
McCarthy has one of them in a headlock and kicks the other thick-necked man in the ribs.
I finally get the car to move, and it surges forward, sending the three men and one dog flying.
McCarthy tumbles off the hood, does a roll, and hits the pavement then sprints around to the side of the car, Truman tucked under his arm like a football .
Screaming, I put the car in reverse and roll over a goon’s foot. The other is clutching his ribs, doubled over.
McCarthy tosses Truman into the car. “Go, go!”
I floor the gas. The car reverses into a light pole as I scream unintelligibly.
“Woman, drive!” McCarthy bellows as a pudgy middle-aged man runs toward the car.
“You were sleeping with her!” he screams as he throws a stone paperweight through the back windshield.
“I know you were sleeping with her, you fucking asshole. You slept with my wife. I bet she’s lying and that baby isn’t even mine.
It’s yours, isn’t it? Admit it! You can’t take my fucking wife and my company. Bastard!”
McCarthy, who apparently has even less sense than Truman, sticks his head out of the passenger-side window as I weave into traffic.
“I don’t have to fuck your wife for her to leave you,” he says, taunting the man. “She was so sick of your shriveled cock and your spoiled, worthless sons that she was happy to sell you out.”
Even though he has a nasty bruise on his cheek, McCarthy is the cat that just ate the golden goose.
“Man, some people are sore losers.”
“ What the hell did you do? ” My teeth grind.
“Road, Cupcake,” he says conversationally.
Now that I’m not about to get carjacked, my stomach sinks as I mentally catalog the sheer number of cameras capturing… whatever the hell that was.
McCarthy picks up Truman, praising the panting, happy dog. “Look who’s a good boy. Your incompetent mommy didn’t spoil you rotten after all. Such a good little fighter. ”
McCarthy looks at me, a flash of gray eyes, as I try to keep the huge car between the yellow lines.
“You’re a terrible driver. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Fuck. You.”
“Language.” He clicks his tongue.
“You motherfucker!” My voice reaches a screeching pitch. “I told you to tell me when you’re going to do something crazy.”
McCarthy just laughs.
“It’s going to be all over the internet in half an hour,” I say, seething.
“Whatever.”
I slam on the brakes. Truman almost slides off McCarthy’s lap.
I ignore the scrambling dog and grab a fistful of McCarthy’s tie.
His eyes slide down my chest. “Guess I was right about your fiancé not putting out.”
I shake him.
“You tell me right now, mister, did you father a child with another man’s wife?”
He scoffs. “Of course not. Svetlana’s too smart to have that baby be anyone other than her husband’s.
Now that the boy is born, he automatically inherits a majority share of ExoTech.
It was in their prenup. Frankly, I find it astounding, the level of self-destruction a person will commit to when they think someone loves them. ” He cocks an eyebrow in my direction.
“Since she’s filed for divorce, Svetlana gets to make the decision on what to do with her newborn son’s shares. She just sold me her and her son’s portion of the company. They’re a major supplier of… Well, I can’t tell you. It’s classified. But let’s just say she’s saving me billions.”
“I have an MBA, and I know for a fact that getting in a fight on the middle of Redwood Street is not part of any acquisition plan.”
He shrugs. “Svetlana’s one stipulation for the sale was I had to personally go rub it in her ex’s face.” He nods to the brightly colored shop. “Flowers?”
“Flowers?” I screech. “I’m not taking you anywhere. You cannot be trusted in public. Oh my god, this is a disaster.”
“Disaster? Hardly. I expect my stock price to jump with the announcement.”
“I need to regroup.” I’m hyperventilating. “We’ll revise the plan, do damage control for you. I can do this. We can do this, right, Jenna? Yes, we can.”
“You can’t. You might as well turn in your resignation letter now.”
“You know what?” Tone preachy, I swing the car back into traffic. “I don’t understand you.”
“Here we go.” He cracks his neck. “I knew this lecture was coming.”
“You have—”
“Let me guess,” he says. “ You have so much potential. ” His voice is a mocking bass.
“You’re a good-looking, intelligent young man, and if you’d just apply yourself and fix your attitude, son, you could really be someone.
Save it. I’ve heard that speech a thousand times, and guess what?
I am someone, and I don’t have to be nice.
Nice is for little girls with fiancés that don’t like them. ”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“And you don’t know anything about me . ”
He turns on the radio before I can get it together enough to offer a retort that would be any more than “Nuh-uh, you don’t know anything about me.”
McCarthy’s mouth turns up into a sneer. “This is what you’re listening to?”
“Who doesn’t like Britney Spears?” I scream at him. I gave up on this day at eleven thirty this morning. I’m beyond trying to pretend to be professional with this man.
“I bet you listen to Ben Folds.” I crank up the radio and try to relax my grip on the wheel while I wonder how on earth I’m going to spin this latest catastrophe to the press.
My phone beeps then beeps again. I secretly hope it’s Nathan messaging me to tell me how sorry he is, how much he loves me, and that of course he’ll be there to support me. Also, we can grab my favorite Thai takeout and cuddle in front of the fireplace tonight after the funeral.
It’s not.
Because of course it’s not.
The phone rings, and McCarthy’s stupid, fancy, expensive car automatically connects the call.
“Off, off, turn off!” I yell at it.
Heavy breathing echoes in the car then a familiar voice: “ I know you’re ignoring my calls, you stupid fucking bitch. ”
McCarthy stills like a predator catching sight of a deer as my traitorous phone hijacks the car system.
“No, no, no .” I try to grab for the phone to disconnect it and almost veer into traffic.
McCarthy grabs it first as my ex’s voice blares through the car’s sound system.
“You can’t just stick me with that time-share payment, Jenna. We agreed to buy it together. You owe me. You owe me thirty thousand dollars. And I’m going to make you fucking pay.”
I can practically feel the spit flying out of Andreas’s mouth as he rants.
Beside me, McCarthy’s shoulders are tense, his lips parted to give a flash of teeth.
“No, I told you not to sign up for the time-share. I told you it’s a scam. Not to mention I already gave you five thousand dollars.”
“It’s every year, you cheap fucking cunt.”
“I’m not giving you any more money!” I try to keep my voice steady. “So just leave me alone! Stop calling me, and stop showing up at my mom’s house.” I try to press the touch screen on the console to end the call, but it’s not working.
The temperature in the car has dropped ten degrees.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want until I’m satisfied that—”
“ She said ”—McCarthy’s voice rolls around the car—“that she wants you to leave her alone.”
I suppress a shiver.
“Who’s that? Who is that, Jenna?”
“No one, it’s just—”
“I knew it! I knew when you left me you were cheating on me with Nathan. Now you’re cheating on him with whoever the fuck that is.
You’re such a slut. You’re a fucking slut, you know that?
Fucking cheater. You disrespected me, emasculated me.
Now you’re spreading your legs for this asshole?
Hey, buddy, you can do a lot better than Jenna. ”
My stomach churns, sour.
“She isn’t cheating on anyone, you piece of shit, and she’s certainly not getting my dick wet,” McCarthy snarls. “ Don’t fucking call her again, or I’ll make sure you regret it.” He ends the call on my phone.
I sit there, hands clenched on the wheel, staring straight ahead, the traffic lights blurring through my watery eyes.
I can’t even look at McCarthy.
“Who the hell was that?” The deep voice finally cuts the humiliating silence.
“That wasn’t necessary. I don’t need you to—”
“ Help you? ” He spits the words. “You’re a little girl. You can’t even drive, much less handle a stalker. You’re making a police report. Get a restraining order. Then I have a state-sanctioned license to shoot him when he comes near you.”
“No, God, don’t shoot anyone! Bethany will kill me if you go to jail. Then fire me. Andreas isn’t dangerous. He’s just my ex-fiancé.”
Cold gray eyes bore into the side of my head. I refuse to meet them.
“You have terrible taste in men.” It’s said with finality.
And McCarthy is the worst.