10. Confiding My Chaos
CONFIDING MY CHAOS
Stella
By the time Chloe texts to beg for an emergency break-room huddle, I’m only two hours into my shift at Nicolette, but already counting down to freedom in seconds, not hours or minutes.
But I also have thirty-six pearlized buttons to restock, twenty-four shoe boxes to consolidate, and fourteen slow-motion death stares from Miriam, our manager.
My phone pings again desperately, and I fake a trip to the register, then detour behind the fitting suite, into the narrow break area carved like an afterthought from the retail floorplan.
It’s a tight alcove, just big enough for a battered espresso machine, two aluminum stools, and a shelf of spare tissue and garment bags.
The walls are painted an industrial gray that always looks damp.
Chloe is already there, perched on a stool, legs folded and mug in hand.
She’s got her blonde hair in loose waves, wearing an elegant silk-lapel blazer over her own concert tee, a contradiction only Chloe could make look intentional.
Her mug is half-drained and cradled between both hands, as if warmth is the only thing keeping her alive.
“Saved you a spot,” she says, as I slide into the opposite stool and try to keep my knees together in the mini-skirt that’s one of the boutique’s bestsellers.
“Did you actually get me coffee, or is this another fake-out?” I ask. The second I say it, I regret it; I sound bitchy and tired, but Chloe just grins and flicks her gaze to the full mug at my elbow. There’s already steam rising from the cup—Chloe knows me too well to fuck up the small things.
I blow on the drink, hiding the shiver in my hands, and watch Chloe like she might vanish if I blink. She’s vibrating with that particular flavor of nervous energy that only comes from gossip so fresh it burns the tongue.
“So spill,” I say, “before I lose another ten years off my life to silk bows that have to be tied just-so.”
Chloe leans in, lowering her voice. “Did you survive Saturday? I didn’t see you after the first twenty minutes.”
I snort into my mug, managing not to spill. “Barely. And for the record, I didn’t see you either. What did you get up to?”
Chloe giggles, flushing. “Well, if you must know, I met the cutest guy named Aiden. We talked, exchanged numbers, and now I’m going out with him on Saturday!” she squeals. “A date, OMG, OMG, what will I wear?”
I smile ruefully.
“Well, probably anything in the boutique,” I say. “We do have employee discounts.”
“Okay,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes. “But yes, the party was soooo fun, thank you for inviting me. Aiden is insanely cute too. How do you know him?"
I shrug. “I don’t think I do.”
“Of course you do,” Chloe deadpans. “You were the hostess! Or was he a friend of a friend who tagged along? Oh shit, I hate when that happens. Sorry if that’s the case.”
I sip the coffee, delaying. Do I know him? I search my brain, trying to figure it out, but shake my head slowly.
“No, I just had so much going on at the party. I was saying hi to everyone and the name Aiden doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry.”
Chloe huffs, flipping her hair. “Stella, you talked to Aiden for like five minutes. Don’t tell me you can’t remember him at all. You were definitely not that wasted. Remember? Cute guy with curly brown hair and hazel eyes? About yea tall?” she asks, gesturing with her hand.
I search my memory: a medium tall boy with curly brown hair whom I talked to … hmmm. Maybe? I dimly remember a dude who fits that description with with a Patagonia vest that I chatted with for two seconds. I force a smile. “Oh, right, Aiden. He was nice.”
Chloe sets her mug down with a click. “You don’t remember him at all, do you?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Sorry. The only thing I remember is panicking that we were going to run out of tequila. Everything after is static.”
Chloe leans in further, eyes wide. “So did we run out of tequila?”
I shake my head. “No, thank god. But speaking of things going off the rails, I have to tell you something. About the party.”
Chloe straightens on the stool, both hands wrapped tight around her mug, as if she’s about to take an oath. “If you tell me you’re pregnant, I’m going to call Andie and your dad right now. I swear to God.”
I let the joke die on the table. “No, nothing like that. It’s not about pregnancy at all! It’s about the party. But it’s kind of dirty.”
Chloe’s mouth twitches. “You have my full attention.”
I set the mug down and wipe my hands on a napkin, buying one last second of calm before letting the world burn. “You remember how I told you my uncle was in town for two weeks? To babysit me while Dad and Andie are gone?”
Chloe nods, her eyes flicking with anticipation.
“Well, I kind of… well, we had sex,” I say, barely above a whisper.
The silence is instant, like the air in the room just up and left. Chloe’s jaw drops open, and she actually blinks—twice—before words re-boot.
“Wait. And he’s your uncle?”
“My step-uncle. My dad’s stepbrother, so we don’t share any DNA. But still—yeah. He’s the billionaire one. The one with the blue eyes and the CEO jaw.”
Chloe just stares. Then, after a second, she covers her face with both hands and screams—quietly, but it’s still a scream that fills up the small break room.
“Stella,” she hisses through her fingers, “this is not something you drop between retail shifts. This is a full heart-to-heart where I learn everything.”
I grin, even though I feel like I might die. “I know. I just needed to say it out loud to another human being before I start hallucinating.”
Chloe peeks through her fingers, her face an impossible mix of horror and glee. “Are you and your uncle… like, is it a one-time thing? Or are you… you know.”
I let out a breath. “I think it’s a thing-thing. We’re even doing therapy together now.”
Chloe’s mouth opens and closes. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Well, let’s be honest. The relationship is fucked up. Hooking up with him is fucked up, so I wanted to go into couples counseling to talk it over with a professional.”
“And?” Chloe asks, mouth agog. “I can’t believe that any therapist would say it’s okay.”
I pause delicately.
“Well, we decided not to see a psychologist-type therapist because it sounds so uptight and rigid. We’re seeing a pastor for couples counseling. You know, how engaged couples go in to talk to their pastor before they get married.”
Chloe stares at me.
“That’s less rigid? And you’re getting married? To your uncle?”
“Of course not!” I exclaim, blushing wildly. “But we needed to talk about, like, the taboo aspect of our relationship without all the degrees hanging on the walls. So we had a session with the pastor yesterday, and it was productive.”
There’s a long pause, then Chloe shakes her head, as if to clear the static. “I literally do not know how you manage to live your life, Stells. I mean, when you got thrown in jail and did a striptease for the guard, I thought that was taking the cake. But now, we’re at new levels of unbelievable.”
I can’t help but laugh, the tension running out of my hands. “I think about that a lot, actually. It’s like, I’m living three lives at once. Work Stella who was Employee of the Month last month, home Stella who spars with her dad, and then the one who does—” I wave a hand vaguely “—this.”
Chloe, finally, regains composure. “I need details. Was it weird? Was it hot? Are you traumatized forever?”
The questions tumble out, and I’m grateful for the chance to just let it all spill.
“Being with my uncle? It was definitely weird at first,” I say. “But then it was just… I don’t know. Hot, I guess? I mean, he’s insanely good in bed, and insanely handsome. You’ve probably heard of him—Hunter Roberts. He’s a construction dude.”
Chloe shakes her head.
“No, I don’t know anything about construction.”
I nod.
“Yeah, but have you heard of Roberts Construction?”
Chloe stares, her blue eyes wide.
“The one that’s building that new development over by the west side?”
“Yeah, that one. My uncle is the CEO and founder. He’s raking it in.”
“Holy fuck,” Chloe murmurs, amazed. “I know your dad is some hot-shot billionaire, but I had no idea your uncle was too.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m surrounded by rich, handsome dudes, and get this—our pastor, whom I’d never met before because I don’t go to church—turns out he’s the hottest pastor I’ve ever seen. Like, he could could be a professional Crossfit athlete, he’s that ripped and muscular. It’s honestly insane.”
Chloe’s face is a mix of awe and jealousy. “This is some next-level stuff, Moreland. So, let me get this straight: you’re sleeping with your billionaire uncle, going with him to therapy with a mega-hunk pastor, and still managing to show up here in a skirt the size of a napkin for $19 an hour?”
I nod. “That’s the bullet-point version.”
Chloe reaches across the table, grabs my wrist, and gives it a little shake. “I’m obsessed with you. No one in this place even suspects. They think you’re, like, a regular salesgirl who’s good with old ladies.”
“Maybe I am,” I say, grinning.
She barks a laugh. “Yeah, right. You’re my hero.”
The overhead lights flicker, and the sound of the front-door chime rolls in from the sales floor.
We both sit up a little, instinctively ready to play it cool in case Miriam or one of the other lieutenants stalks through the break room.
But it’s just another customer, the familiar drone of high heels moving past.
Chloe leans back, suddenly serious. “Do you think you’re going to keep doing it? With your uncle, I mean? I mean, if he’s hot and you don’t feel like you’re crossing a line, then why not?”
I look into my mug. The truth is still too new to touch, but I don’t want to lie. “I don’t know. I mean, I want to because Hunter’s insane in bed, with an amazing physique. And girl, that man knows how to make you feel all ten inches, if you get what I mean.”
Chloe giggles and nods.
“Then it’s totally worth it. Go get it, girlfriend.”
I frown.
“But there’s the whole family thing, and the church thing, and the fact that if Andie ever found out, she’d literally combust. Also, I’m not sure what happens when my dad gets back. Does it just stop? Or do we go full-blown secret mode? It’s a lot.”
Chloe nods, absorbing every word. “You need a plan,” she says, suddenly all business. “And I want updates. I want a live feed. If you so much as blink in a sexy way, I want to know before it hits your Instagram.”
I smile, feeling lighter than I have in months. “Deal. But you know none of this is on my Insta. That’d be asking for it.”
Chloe stands, rinses her mug, and looks over her shoulder at me. “You’re right. But you’re a legend, girlfriend. Never forget it.”
I snort, following her out into the harsh light of the fitting rooms. The espresso is still burning a path down my throat, but the rest of me feels weirdly clean, like the secret has been scrubbed out of my bones by saying it aloud.
Yet I haven’t even told Chloe the hottest part - that not only am I hooking up with my uncle, but that I might hook-up in a threeway with him and our sexy pastor.
Say what?
Those words were so fucked up, and yet a hot thrill shoots through my secret parts at the thought, and I press my thighs together. I know I already have a rep among my friends as wild, unpredictable, and altogether saucy.
I guess they just didn’t realize how fucked-up I really am … and how fucked-up and crazy and hot things are about to get.