20. Meg
20
MEG
T he first thing I did when I woke up this morning was check on the status of my tiny crush.
A few seconds passed as the idea and image of Byron Belmont flitted through my mind. Cascading down my body and sneaking its way through my nerves and veins.
Oh shit, and there it was, the flutter in my pulse and a couple of drunk butterflies skipping around my insides. And why, oh why did I feel so buoyant, like that nun-chick dancing down the mountain singing about the hills being alive?
So, the crush was still very much a thing, and the dream I had last night did not help one bit.
Easy now, I soothed myself. There was no reason to lose hope, at least give it another day. How hard could it be to strangle a crush?
I shoved the gooey feeling down and focused on my mission today. I was going to make a pit stop at GenZ ZA on my way to work and case out the joint.
To get a general feeling for what I was up against.
The owner’s name was Elio Ricks, and last night, I indulged in some Instagram stalking. And what do you know, he was a short musclebound creep with a big-ass gold chain draped around his pencil neck and greasy slicked-back hair, oozing arrogance and proudly posing with some limp pizzas he was pawning off as “Feel Good Za’s”.
Whatever that meant.
By the window, Mimi’s bed was already empty. I staggered out of mine and stumbled into the bathroom I shared with my sisters when I was home.
Mimi was putting on makeup in front of the mirror, and Mona was trying to straighten out her bed hair. They both stopped what they were doing when I grunted a “Morning” and squeezed past them to turn the shower on.
“What?” I asked, catching their curious looks.
Mimi shoved the mascara brush in and out of its tube. “How’re you doing this morning, Sis?”
You could say I became suspicious. “Fine, thank you. Why are you asking it like that?”
“Oh, just wondering if you got enough rest,” she said. “You were very restless, tossing and turning and kind of talking in your sleep last night.”
My image appeared in the mirror next to theirs, and it was obvious I had my work cut out to get my hair under control. “Was I sleep-talking? Well, it’s not like I have any classified info on national security to spill.”
Mona giggled, and Mimi smiled impishly. “So, who’s Brian then?”
My face had to reflect my total disgrace because they were both now openly staring at me.
“No one,” I mumbled. “I don’t know a Brian, so there.”
“Or something close to Brian ,” Mimi insisted.
A sly smile slipped across Mona’s face. “What’s your coworker’s name, Meg?”
“Doesn’t his name also start with a B ?” Mimi asked.
The interrogation was in full swing, and I fidgeted under their scrutiny. “I don’t see what my coworker has to do with anything. You need to be more specific. What was I saying in my sleep?”
Mimi brushed mascara onto her lashes with an expert hand. “That wasn’t too clear, but you were squirming a lot while saying his name…”
“Like a sex dream…” Mona giggled.
I was on the defensive. “How would you know, Mona? You don’t even sleep in the same room as us.”
“Mimi told me everything. And I mean everything ,” she replied.
I shot Mimi an icy glare. “Thanks a lot. Can’t even dream in peace without it being scrutinized to death.”
“But face it, there are dreams, and then there are dreams, ” Mona continued. “So again, what’s your coworker’s name?”
This was beyond ridiculous, and I didn’t know what was worse, dreaming about Byron, or my sisters bearing witness to my shame.
“His name is Byron,” I conceded. “But there is no freaking way that I dreamt about having sex with that guy, so whatever it is you think you saw or heard, is a figment of your overactive imagination.”
None of this seemed to faze them in the slightest.
Mimi eyed me with a knowing smirk, the mascara wand suspended mid-air. “Megan Belmont…sure has a ring to it.”
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. “I’d rather stick a Slim Jim in my behind and run through a Lion's den than get involved with a Belmont bro. So could you like not? If you want me to beg, I will.”
Before I could say another word, Mona was on her phone, fingers moving like lightning.
Within moments, she’d plunged into the digital abyss, everything she needed to know just a finger tap away.
She released an exaggerated gasp and held the screen for Mimi to see who then exclaimed “holy shit” before they both turned to gape at me.
“What,” I asked, already knowing what this was all about.
“You said he wasn’t hot,” Mona sneered.
“I never said that,” I snapped back. “I said I didn’t notice. Big difference.”
“I’m sorry, but how do you NOT notice this?” she doggedly continued.
I snatched the phone from Mona, my eyes locked on the screen. Staring back at me was Byron, at some art gallery opening, looking exactly how you’d imagine he would look.
Only in a tuxedo, armed with a smile that could stop time.
Activation of the vagus nerve in progress . Cue the damn butterflies.
Whatever acting awards are out there, please take note of how my face remained perfectly impassive, as though the sight of this man didn’t affect me one little bit.
It was Mimi’s turn to ooze sarcasm. “Not sure 'hot' is the word I’d use… He’s damn gorgeous!”
Very aware of my two nosy sisters studying my every expression, I shrugged, massively bored with the whole thing. “Whatever floats your boat. Just don’t make your weird taste mine.”
Of course, this didn’t deter them at all.
Mimi smiled slyly. “Sure, whatever. Get in the shower, and let’s figure out what you’re wearing, okay? Today we make you look like a professional…like a single professional whose biological clock is ticking away.”
“Oh, shut up, I’m twenty-five. My clock is not even breaking a sweat. Mom had Mona at forty-one. Besides, I don’t want kids, like not at all.”
“Wait till Pops hears that,” Mona said.
I shoved my way past them. “Will you two Cupids scram so I can shower? I’ve actually got a job to get ready for,” I snipped, making a mental note of the website where I’d seen Byron’s pic.
Ten minutes later, and freshly showered, I found myself standing in front of Mimi’s closet again, dressed in ripped jeans, a silver-blue satin blouse, some silver hoop earrings, and a pair of nice heels.
My sisters were eyeing me like fashionistas from New York.
“Oh dear, it’s not much better than the dress,” Mimi said. “You don’t look like a lawyer…like at all.”
Mona chimed in. “Who cares what a lawyer is supposed to look like. She looks very I’m available, what are you going to do about it? ”
Really, is that all we’re going for?” Mimi complained. “What happened to single professional?”
I grinned at Mona for having my back. “It’s all pretty casual over there,” I explained to Mimi. “And I don’t want to be the only freak wearing smart clothes.”
“I have news for you, satin is hardly casual,” Mimi spat out. “Nor is it subtle. And don’t get me started on the ripped jeans.”
“But satin says I’m there to take names and kick down doors, and the ripped jeans says I’m done taking names.”
This had Mona doubling over with laughter. She was so easily amused.
Mimi threw up her hands. “That’s totally made up, but whatever... Just do me a favor and try not to spill on the blouse. Stains on satin are a bitch to get out, and you're already getting the dress for Christmas. You’re not getting both.”
“Nice pep talk, Mimi,” Mona snapped back. “Meg's taking care of that GenZ ZA freak, and this is the support you give?”
A wave of guilt washed over Mimi, and she pulled me into a hug. “Ugh, I totally forgot about that. You know what? Keep the whole outfit. There's no way I’ll ever fit into these clothes anyway.”
I smiled. “This keeps up. I’ll be having a whole new wardrobe by the end of the month.”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Take care of that troll at GenZ Za, and you can pick three outfits from this closet, okay?”
Mona and I stared at the open closet. It was bursting at the seams with clothes. Mimi sighed. “Okay five . You can pick out five outfits. Happy now?”
Mom called from below to tell me my ride was here. She packed lunch in a small cooler bag, and on my way to the Navigator, she handed it to me and whispered with a glint in her eye. “You look very pretty. I put in some extra garlic bread, and written instructions on how to warm up the food. No microwave, please. Have fun today.”
The general vibe seemed to be that the ladies in this house were using me to play out their twisted fantasies. As if the Belmonts were not all but dead to the Belfiores just yesterday. Although I was sure Pops still saw the Belmonts for the scoundrels they were.
“You know this is like a super important job, right, Mom. There’s no having fun. But thanks for lunch. I love you, goodbye.”
Her laughter trailed behind me as I headed toward the Navigator, where The Terminator stood, his face a stoic mask.
“Hi, where’s George?” I asked him.
“Miss Leyland needed a driver in Rochester,” he said. “He’ll be back in a week.”
“Who the hell is Miss Leyland?”
He opened the back door of the Navigator. “You are kidding me, right?”
I shrugged. “You know what, I don’t care, let’s just go. And by the way, I have a stop to make somewhere first.”
“Have you authorized this stopping somewhere with Mr. O’Connor?”
“No idea who Mr. O’Connor is either, so obviously that’s a hard no.”
Fingers tapping on the door, he contemplated the conundrum. “It’s Steven O’Connor. And without his permission, we’re not making any unscheduled stops.”
I added a little extra weight to my voice. “What if I told you our family business depends on me quickly casing this joint and sizing up the enemy?”
“Not without clearing it first,” he insisted, his lips pressed into a firm line.
My patience was already sapped, and this was just the start of the day.
Steeling myself, I squared off against the block of a man.
“Let me take a guess…you’re ex-Marine, a stickler for the mega-tight rules, up at 4 a.m. every day for those five-mile runs, and a freshly pressed wheat grass shot after the jog because self-inflicted torture is your kink. And you still make your bed so smooth a coin could bounce off it one yard into the air. But here’s the kicker: you keep to yourself, hiding behind those muscles and gruff persona because you’re worried people might judge you for being gay. Tell me if I got any of that wrong. What you need to understand is, as long as you're a good person, no one really gives a shit who you are or want to be, buddy. So relax, and smile more because life’s just too damn short.”
Incredulity carved its way across his face, and his eyes narrowed into slits.
“I see the question in your eyes,” I said. “How did I know? Well, usually, when a man notices my boobs, the last thing he thinks about is how to remove a chocolate stain from the fabric covering my nipple. Thanks, by the way, the tip was awesome. The stain is gone.”
Terminator pursed his lips, tilted his head, and seethed through a pending grin. “Fine…get in the car, and let’s go case this joint , whatever the hell that means. And I guess wearing a satin top to a corporate job is also a choice. Not aiming for demure, are we?”
Stepping into the back of the Navigator, I laughed triumphantly. “Shut up, you sassy bitch. Demure, I ain’t. You have a name, or is it too soon to ask?”
A lazy smile tugged at his mouth. “Kevin.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kev, my name is Meg,” I said before he slammed the backdoor.
On our way to GenZ ZA I brushed Kevin up on the story. He became appropriately incensed. “What a shithead. And you plan to settle the score, how?”
“Introduce myself as Pops’ lawyer. Let the jackass know who is messing with.”
He met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Scrappy…I like it. You need me to back you up?”
I smiled. “You know what, let me go in first. But since you look like you could knock the Hulk on his green ass, I won’t mind you being on standby in case things get out of hand.”