Never Say Never, page 12
“Okay.”
“Wilder and I are expecting,” she says. A slow smile takes over her face, and I release the breath I’ve harbored since she set foot in my office. “It’s still early. We haven’t told anyone besides a few close family members. I’m not planning to tell anyone here for a couple more months.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” I zip my fingers across my lips and smile. I’m thrilled for her. She’s going to be an amazing mom. Even though she’s only a few years older than me, I’ll never forget the way she comforted me after the whole Nick fiasco. She’d caught me crying at work, pulled me into her office, gave me a hug and a Kleenex, and injected a huge dose of man-the-hell-up-and-get-over-it. She also gave me the whole don’t-let-guys-use-you speech as well as a guys-are-assholes-and-lie speech. “This is great news.”
“Yeah, we’re excited,” she says. “I’m only six weeks, so it’s still early. Anyway, the reason I’m telling you is because I want to groom you.”
“Groom me?”
“Yeah, kind of the way Brenda Bliss did for me. She took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. Only you better not run off and start your own agency in a few years!” Addison laughs, but I know she’s only half joking. She has nothing to worry about. I’ll never have enough money to start my own business, so the point is moot. “I may be scaling back toward the end of the pregnancy, and then I’ll take my maternity leave. I’ll probably function more as a manager/owner than an agent here after the baby comes.”
“Understandable.”
“I want to be able to refer my top clients to someone I trust,” she continues. “I trust you, Skylar. We’ve been through a lot together the last few years. You’ve been loyal and faithful to me, and now I’m going to change your life.”
This is like winning the lottery.
No, this is better.
Addison is offering to fork over her secrets to success, and the fact that she believes in me means more than she’ll ever know.
“Wow, thank you so much.” I lean back and clasp my hands over my heart. “This is wonderful news. I’m so excited. I’m excited for you and Wilder, and I’m thrilled to become your…understudy.”
She smiles. “Anyway, I figured I’ll give you a few more months to grow into this new agent role of yours, and once I hit the middle of the second trimester, we’ll work together a bit more closely. You’re going to be in charge of this place while I’m on leave.”
I tighten the hinge of my jaw to keep it from falling. Not only is she showing me the ropes, she’s handing me the keys to her kingdom.
She stands up, wrapping her hands around her warm mug and pressing it against her upper belly. “Where have you been lately?”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve been gone a lot this week.” Her face is lit, unsuspecting. “You getting a lot of clients? Showings?”
“Oh, um, not a ton.”
“You find anything for Theo yet? Sorry for dumping him on you last week, I don’t have the time for any new clients, and I figured he’d be an easy sale.”
“I’ve shown him a ton of places,” I say. “The listing you told me about last week is perfect. I’m just waiting for him to give me the go ahead.”
She smiles and she heads to the doorway. “Remind me to go over Closing the Deal 101 with you soon. Theo should be a piece of cake.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it.” I offer her a smile that says I know what I’m doing and wait until she disappears from view.
I thank my lucky stars she doesn’t think twice about Theo and me because I walk around most days quite certain my thoughts are being broadcasted across my forehead in real time.
Amidst everything going on, I haven’t even thought about what Addison would think if I were to entertain dating Theo. I lower my head to my desk, pressing my cheek flush against the cool wood.
I’m exhausted – mentally and physically.
I’m straddling a line no one else but me can see or understand.
Just as there are two sides of me – the one everyone sees on the outside and the one I keep tucked away on the inside, there are two very different futures laid out in front of me.
I want to call my mom. I miss her. I miss her voice and her tender words. But I can’t talk to her about love. I can’t ask her for dating advice.
The summer I moved to New York was the tenth anniversary of the summer my father left her for a much younger, much more beautiful woman. My mother had ballooned in size over the years and had forgone caring for herself in order to care for my father and me. She let herself go and ended up losing it all.
“Don’t move, Whitney, please. I need you,” she cried as I wheeled my suitcase to the trunk of my car. In the early morning hours, the sun hadn’t come up yet. If I left then, I could get to New York by the following night. “You’re all I have.”
I heaved the rest of my bags into my backseat and walked over to where she sat on the front steps, crying her eyes out. I’d been planning my move for months. I’d already found a roommate on Craigslist and paid my deposit. I had a job lined up, which was supposed to start the following Monday.
“You’re going to be okay, Mom,” I said, wrapping my arms around her heaving shoulders. “I have to go. I’ll be back.”
“You’re all I have in this world,” she cried. “I’m going to be all alone.”
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “I’ll come back, I promise. And you can come visit me anytime you want. This is something I have to do. I can’t stay here the rest of my life. Please understand this has nothing to do with you. I’ll always be your daughter, and I’ll always love you more than anything in the world.”
At twenty-one, I couldn’t begin to imagine what it might feel like to have your husband of almost fifteen years up and leave you. She had been blindsided.
We had been blindsided.
It had been ten years, but it still felt like yesterday. My mother never moved on, and subsequently, neither have I.
“Please don’t do this, Mom.” I ran my hand along her back, barely fitting my arms around her. She was filled with pain far deeper than the eye could see. My father was her life, her love, and her future. All of it was swept out from under her without warning the summer I finished college. “Please don’t ask me to stay.”
She pushed me away, and I forgave her immediately. “Go, Whitney. Get out of here. You want to leave me just like your father did? Go. Get out of here.”
“Mom, don’t say that. You know I’m not leaving you…”
“You drive away from here, you’re not my daughter anymore.”
“You don’t mean it. You’re hurting, you’re-”
My mother rose up and dragged herself back inside the house, slamming the screen door and locking it behind her.
I drove east that morning with tears in my eyes, and I called her the second I got to the city to let her know I’d made it. I was sure she’d have cooled off by then.
She didn’t answer.
Years passed, and she still refused to take my calls.
Maybe someday.
“You ready to end this thing?” Vic pushes his glasses up his nose and pulls his chin down.
“What do you have for me?”
Vic shoves a stack of papers across the conference room table. I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to sell 49% of my company and put down roots in the city, and none of that can happen until this shit with Mac is squared away.
“He wants twelve mil now, all cash,” Vic says.
“That’s more than our initial offer,” I scoff.
“It’s payable after the sale of your company. No sale, no payday for this asswipe.” Vic says asswipe as if he can taste the bullshit himself. “But your company will sell. That’s not the issue here.”
“Twelve mil.” My hand scrapes the underside of my chin. I need to shave. My shoulders fall, and I lean back against the smooth leather of the conference room chair. “Is this the best we can do?”
Vic smirks and crosses his hands over his round belly. “They wanted twenty, Theo. We got them down to twelve.”
“Holy shit.”
Vic tosses a pen my way. “Tyler and Brayden got him down to twelve.”
No shit?
“Under my guidance, of course,” he adds. “Anyway, sign it, we’ll fax it over, and we can go back to working on the sale of Performance Vodka.”
“I want more,” I say. “I want one fifty. I’ve been drafting up some new ideas this past week. My company’s worth more than one hundred.”
Vic puffs his chest and sighs. “All right then. We’ll see if we can get them to cough up a few more pennies. I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Their legal department has been calling every other day checking on the status of your suit. They’re chomping at the bit to make this happen.”
I grab the pen and press it into the white paper above the line with my name printed below.
“Vic.” I pull the pen away. “Before I sign this, I want to meet with him. In person. That’s my only contingency.”
“That’s not the way we handle things, Theo, I-”
“It’s non-negotiable.” I stand up and run my hand across the length of my tie before buttoning my jacket. “I want to see him. I want to talk to him. I want to finish this. And then I want to move the fuck on.”
Vic scribbles a note on his legal pad and stands up. “All right. I’ll have my secretary make the call and get back to you.”
“Today, Vic.” I say. “If he wants his twelve mil, he’ll meet me as soon as fucking possible.”
***
I head back to my hotel, kicking my shoes off and spreading out across the bed before reaching for the remote and flipping on the news. I want to hear about other people’s shit storms. Maybe it’ll help me forget about my own for a change.
Flipping through a myriad of cable news channels, I stop cold when I see a familiar face flash across the screen.
“Topper Wellesley, President and CEO of Blue Prism Pharmaceuticals, has been indicted on ten counts of pharmaceutical fraud,” the narrow-eyed journalist says, her voice tinged with judgment disguised as disappointment. An old photo of Topper sailing on his yacht with one knee bent across the starboard side flashes across the screen. The caption on the bottom of the screen tells the entire world that he’s Cormac Thomas John “Topper” Wellesley.
Mac’s dad.
My mentor.
“This is disgusting,” the anchor says, her face scrunched and her eyes flashing dark. “Let’s go to Scott Hartwick, owner of Red Door Labs out of Birmingham, an independent pharmaceutical research firm.”
The camera pans to a panel of talking heads, and a silver-haired gentleman talks over them all. “The pharmaceutical industry is corrupt! It is not a medical industry, it is an investment industry. They find investors and they promise profits, and they do whatever it takes to deliver on their promise, even if it means scamming consumers! We have lost clients over the years, point blank, because we weren’t willing to falsify our findings.”
A red-haired woman identified as a pharmacist nods her head. “It is a growing problem. There are companies falsifying research studies, lying to the FDA, and killing innocent people in the process.”
“Blue Prism has misled the FDA in regards to seven of their last ten drugs over the past decade,” the anchor says, reading from a prompter. “They’re known for selling duet drugs, two drugs that work together and must be taken together in order to work. It’s a scam, people. Wake up and smell the coffee. Write to your local congressman. Blue Prism is going to be the poster child for this sort of practice, but they’re all doing it.”
“It’s time we put a stop to this,” the pharmacist agrees. “These companies are the reason insurance rates are so high. They’re defrauding private insurance companies, consumers who pay out of pocket, and the government.”
I feel as if I’ve just been told Santa Claus isn’t real, but on a much bigger level. Topper Wellesley was the closest thing I ever had to a father. He was always the one pushing me to be my best, to make something of myself. He taught me basic chemistry out of a shop in their garage and then took me to the labs when I was old enough.
He treated me no different than he treated Mac or even Gigi.
Topper had integrity. He was a family man. He was a legend.
Guess it was all a façade.
The superhero of my youth was a villain all along.
“He’s going to lose everything,” another talking head pipes up. The TV describes him as Bill Northcup, an attorney specializing in pharmaceutical fraud. “Most pharma companies choose to settle out of pocket, but in this case, the Feds are getting involved. Topper Wellesley is going to lose everything he has paying restitution to the government and the victims of his fraudulent medications, and he’s going to spend the next fifteen to twenty years behind bars.”
Muffy.
Gigi.
They’re victims, too.
It would make sense, then, that Mac would want to get his hands on some money. He knows they’re losing everything, and he’s doing whatever he can to ensure he doesn’t lose his cushy lifestyle.
Fucking prick.
I sit up on the end of my bed. My mind is racing. I’m going to let him have it when I see him. I’m going to make sure he feels like the piece of shit he is when I’m done with him.
If I could reach out to Muffy, I would. Her entire world is falling apart, and all she ever did was loyally stand by Topper and raise his children for thirty years.
I miss Muffy. I miss Gigi. I even miss Topper, well, at least the Topper he once was.
Cormac Wellesley took them away from me.
And then he took my fiancée.
And now he’s taking my money.
I’ll murder him before I allow him to take anything else away from me ever again.
“Lookin’ hot, mamacita!” I twirl in front of a three-piece mirror, and Nina claps excitedly. Her wedding is next weekend, and I can see the tension beginning to melt from her uptight little ass. She walks up to me and tugs my dress up in the front. “You’re going to need a good strapless bra.”
“No kidding,” I snort.
“God, I’d kill to have your tits.” She stares at them, admiring and shaking her head as her hands clasp over her flat-as-a-pancake chest. “Anyway, who’s next?”
One of Nina’s sisters comes out of a dressing room, and I run back to change. My dress needs no alterations, thank goodness. I hand the dress back to my attendant and head back out to the viewing area as Nina goes back to try on her gown for the final time.
The other side of the store contains all the guys. Charlie and his groomsmen plus Cory and the rest of the ushers are all getting fitted for their tuxes.
Nina comes out five minutes later in her ivory lace gown. The sleeves and the dress is fitted around her narrow waist. The middle-aged attendant won’t stop gushing about how much she resembles a Latina Kate Middleton.
“Duchess Catherine,” Nina corrects her with a wink.
“Beautiful, Nina,” I assure her. “It was made for your body. I think you’re ready.”
She runs her palms across her waist as she twists and turns in the mirror. Nina is one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen, and Charlie’s one of the luckiest guys in the world. Their passion is inimitable and their happiness when they’re together is infectious.
Her eyes fill with happy tears, and she catches my glance in the mirror. “I’m ready.” She steps off the pedestal and turns as she blinks away her tears. “Let’s go drink cheap champagne.”
***
The limo is supposed to seat fourteen, but we’re cramped. Two people are standing outside in the rain waiting for us all to scoot over and make room. I don’t know how it’s going to be possible.
“Here,” Cory says, patting his lap. A sexy smirk claims his lips.
He can’t be serious.
“I can’t,” I say, almost forgetting I don’t still weigh three hundred pounds.
A boom of thunder rumbles above. Rain hits the limo in vehement sprays, and people are waiting.
Cory steadies his hands around my waist and pulls me into his lap. Nina climbs into Charlie’s lap and reaches for an uncorked bottle of champagne. The rest of the crew climbs in and Nina wastes no time pouring bubbly into plastic flutes and passing them down the line.
My body is rigid. I’m uncomfortable. I wish more than anything I wasn’t sitting on Cory’s lap. It’s all rather junior high, but when I see how big Nina and Charlie’s smiles are and how much laughter is flooding the bumpy limo, I forget about my reservations and toss back a mouthful of champs.
We cruise the city for two hours, laughing, drinking, and toasting Nina and Charlie ten too many times. The limo deposits us back in front of the dress shop, and we shuffle out and huddle under the awning. It’s still raining.
“I’ll get us a cab,” Cory says. His hand hooks my elbow and he pulls me away from the group. “You don’t need to walk in this.”
“Thanks.” I won’t say no.
Cory heads to the curb, flagging a cab and motioning me towards it. Ten minutes later, we’re stopped in front of my building, the meter still running. I fully expect him to get out with me and invite himself upstairs, but he doesn’t.
“Early morning tomorrow,” he says. “Otherwise I’d love to come up.”
“What’s going on tomorrow?” I’m being nosy.
“I have to sign some papers and meet this guy,” he brushes it off. “It’s kind of first thing in the morning, so I want to get some sleep tonight.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, his vagueness bothers me. “What do you do for a living again?”
He brushes his fingers against his chin, as if he’s trying to frame his response. “I’m in the process of leaving my father’s company. There has been some…restructuring…and I’m going to start my own business.”
“What kind of business?”
He smiles. “Mostly venture capitalist type things. Investing in start-ups.”
