He doesn’t say anything, just shifts in his seat the way Stella does when she’s in trouble. At least now I know where she gets it.
“Guess I got my answer.”
“Wait.” His eyes connect with Lee and stay there a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. “Hanging out with you made my mom uneasy. I think maybe she wanted to limit the number of run-ins with your parents, and, if we were constantly together, it upped the odds.”
“Your mom loves me.” I’m not buying his semantic bullshit.
He nods with a spaced out look on his face. “Okay. Listen, I just want to salvage what we can.”
“And how do we do that?” He slept with Lee, so already we’re off on the wrong foot.
“Let me back in at Townsend,” he pleads. “Show me the ropes. If you’re willing to teach it, I’m willing to learn.” His face softens, and for the first time in a decade, I feel like I’m talking to the old Mitch. Maybe this is a step in the right direction. Maybe in some small way he’s willing to accept me with Lee, but I doubt it. Something is lingering on the periphery, something is up and I’m the only one in the room with the blindfold securely in place.
“Sure. I’ll clue you in on the joys of Swiss cheese irrigation.”
“Sounds like things are off to a great start already.” Dr. Van Guard lightens the mood in the room. “As long as we keep our expectations realistic, we could have a mature, adult, amicable relationship between the two of you in no time. For homework I’d like you, Mitch and Max, to mentally prepare yourselves to really have a heart to heart with one another. Did your families reach out for counseling in any way?”
“Mine went,” Mitch speeds it out. His hair glints in the light as his chest broadens with pride.
“I declined the offer.” I cut a look over to Mitch. Why does it feel like he’s kissing up to the doctor now? Should I be doing this?
“Very good. We’ll shoot for tomorrow night?” Dr. Van Guard looks hopeful.
“It’s Colton’s birthday,” Lee says, looking over to me.
“Wednesday will work out better,” I offer.
Mitch and I walk on either side of Lee all the way to the car.
I don’t know why, but suddenly it feels like we’ve morphed into a threesome. And I don’t like it one fucking bit.
The next morning my cell goes off before I open my eyes, and I accidently swat the picture of Mitch on Stella’s bedside before retrieving it.
It’s Janice.
“Hello?” I sit up under the bright pink canopy.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. What’s going on?” I’m a little proud of the fact she’s got two full-blooded sons, and it’s me who she calls when she needs something.
“Look, I don’t know whether you’ve seen it or not, but TS is getting a lot of bad press this morning.”
“I’ll check it out.” The last time Townsend Shepherd got any press at all was when the classroom tour went wrong and wine was given in place of grape juice to a bunch of seven-year-olds. Of course, they spit it out which made us more of a laughing stock than we already were.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she sings. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I race downstairs and flip open my laptop. Mitch wanders into the kitchen, doesn’t bother with good morning. Knew that whole song and dance was for Lee’s benefit.
“Shit,” I hiss as I take in the headlines of the Mono Bay Voice.
“What’s up? Your horoscope telling the truth for once?” Mitch comes over and peers over my shoulder. “What the hell is this?”
“Hudson’s girlfriend.” There’s a picture of Candi holding a bottle of Shepherd merlot. Looks like her triple X debut has gone viral overnight. “Nice. The last thing we need is a bunch of spooked investors.”
“Look.” He points over to the sidebar.
Interview with long lost owner Mitch Townsend. I click into it. It’s a recap of the circus he hosted out on the lawn a few days ago. “Excellent.” Headline reads Divorce is Imminent for Cocktail Titans Lee and Max Shepherd. Glad they did their research. I’d hate to think they got any facts wrong.” I snap the monitor shut just as Lee strolls in.
“What’s going on?” Her hair is slicked back from the shower, her face is fresh scrubbed just the way I like it and it takes all my effort not to haul her back upstairs.
“Candi is in the middle of her fifteen minutes,” I gravel it out. “She’s suffocating the company along with the idiot stuck between her legs. Your ex-husband isn’t doing us any favors either.”
“This will blow over.” Mitch turns the seat around and plants himself next to me. “The American people have a very short attention span.”
“European investors have an even shorter one.” I push out a heated breath. “Lee, I’m calling a damage control PR meeting. Clear your calendar.”
“Hang on.” Mitch is the calm to my storm. “Let’s ride it out. If you come across panicked, they’ll react the same way.”
“We should listen to Mitch.” Lee is quick to jump to the Townsend side of the fence. “Give it a few days for things to settle. Maybe it’s just a hiccup. Companies like ours are cluttered with bad press all the time.”
I don’t like the way she’s agreeing with him. My gut tells me it’s not the right move, and my gut is always right.
Stella and Eli filter in and demand breakfast like a swarm of hungry soldiers. Lee and I both mobilize at the same time. She gets the cereal while I pull out the milk and bowls.
“Daddy!” Eli shouts from the table. Before I can answer I glance over to see its Mitch he’s handing a crayon to, trying to coax into coloring with him.
Lee and I exchange glances.
So this is how it’s going to be? A vice tightens around my stomach. Lee takes the milk from me and mouths the words, I’m sorry.
Why wouldn’t Eli call Mitch, Daddy? Stella does. It’s obvious we’re going to need more therapy than we’ll ever be able to afford. On second thought, there’s not enough therapy on this rolling blue rock to quell the aftereffects of the Mitch invasion. Everything was going so smoothly, so perfect with Lee, until he decided to reanimate himself.
I head over and pour myself a cup of coffee. Lee passes out napkins and spoons as Mitch rescues Eli from toppling off the chair.
“Nice save, Daddy!” Stella beams. She doesn’t call him Picture Daddy anymore.
The four of them share a laugh. Mitch tousles Eli’s hair and pushes in his seat, helps him with his food.
It’s the perfect nuclear family. Nice try, Townsend. But I don’t go down so easy.
Lee motions me over next to her. She rubs my back as I soak it all in.
Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this picture?
15
The Matchmaker
Lee
Janice has the house decorated like its Eli’s birthday instead of Colt’s. Paper streamers line the walls, colorful balloons proliferate in clusters all over the backyard. I half-expect a clown to walk through the door and offer to paint a butterfly on my face.
Kat and I make a plate for ourselves and head off to a table on the lawn where Stella and Eli run in circles trying to blow giant rope bubbles with the birthday boy himself. Janice invited Hudson and Candi because apparently she’s certifiable as evidenced by the decorations. Thankfully they haven’t shown yet. I’m sure things will get pretty interesting in a hurry if they do. Maybe they’re the entertainment?
Kat leans in over her swollen belly. “Steve and I are downloading it tonight.” It being Candi’s sexcapades, the digital edition.
“Crap.” Really, there are no other words. Once Kat has her brain wrapped around something there’s no stopping her.
“What?” She takes a bite out of a cracker slathered with olive tapenade. “Who could resist? A Night of Fine Whine. I don’t think your marketing department could have given it a better title. You gotta be diggin’ the product tie-in. I’m surprised Max hasn’t died
of a coronary yet.” She takes a bite of her appetizer before shoving the rest in her mouth. “Come over in the morning, after you drop off the kids, and I’ll let you sneak a peek.”
“I’ll pass.”
“You know you want to. You coming?” Kat isn’t above talking with a mouthful.
“We’ll see.”
She leans in secretively. “So how’s the big guy upstairs doing in the matchmaking department?”
“I don’t know. I sort of circumvented his decision making process and vomited out a conclusion of my own, albeit out of guilt and a bit impulsively.” I don’t have the guts to say anything else.
“What? Who?” Her eyes bulge the size of tennis balls.
“Stop it. You look like Sheila.” A part of me feels bad that Max’s mother is the only one in our extended family not invited. “Max rubbed Mitch’s nose in our business, and I lost my head.” My eyes mist over.
“So you chose Mitch to piss him off? How’d that go over?” She shovels in another bite.
“It didn’t. Max wasn’t in the room.” My eyes roam over to where he’s playing horseshoes with Colt and Mitch. “I’m not sure I meant it because I still desperately want Max.” I close my eyes a moment, and an image of the two of them in bed with me quickly turns pornographic. “I can’t deal with this.” I try to blink the thought away but it sticks and replays on a loop. “It’s making me insane. I know I belong with Mitch, but strangely I feel like I belong with Max. And not only did I tell Mitch I chose him, I told Max the same thing just a few days ago.”
“Square one.” She rounds her hand over her enormous stomach. I can’t imagine how she’ll explode in these last few months with an entire litter inside her. “You know, you should get married again no matter who you choose,” she whispers. “You should have one of those huge over the top weddings—the tacky ones they feature on reality TV. You’re wealthy, so people are going to expect a lot from you. You’ll have to serve mega doses of sushi. I hear raw fish cupcakes are all the rage in Europe. You might want to order extra because I plan on loading up. Man, I miss sushi.” She takes a swig of her faux beer.
“Are you done?” My entire life is falling apart, and she’s focusing in on imaginary fringe issues like the menu at my not happening next wedding.
I glance over at Max. He’s sitting with Colt, each of them with a matching beer in their hands. He waves and blows me a kiss on the tip of his finger. His love used to be so freeing—buoyant, now it feels like I’m suffocating on the bottom of a lake filled with gasoline. It’s Max who holds the match and doesn’t even know it. God, help me, I really do love Max. If I hurt him, I’ll light the match myself.
“Either way,” I shrug, “I lose.”
Kat follows my stare across the lawn. Her expression dwindles. “Max is a god.” She looks up with heavy sadness. “You want Mitch though, don’t you? You can’t admit it to yourself out of guilt.”
Moments bleed by, and I don’t notice the sunset or the tiki torches that have taken over the landscape, dotting the shadows like roses of fire.
Hudson and Candi show up in a theatrical display of undress. She’s wearing a crop top that leaves her bare belly hanging out, showing off the baby Shepherd she’s incubating. A hot pink whale tail rises from the back of her jeans and when she bends over her nipples make their debut.
“She’s got class that one,” Kat says it from the side of her mouth as Candi makes her way over. We hug, and I introduce her to my forked-tongued sister.
“Look at you!” Kat pets her bare belly. “How far along?”
“Seven months.”
Her bleached hair glows neon in this strange evening light. The dark trail of roots looks like someone took a magic marker and scribbled along her scalp.
Candi and Kat go over the finer points of cravings and nausea while I busy myself examining Mitch, who’s examining me. He’s just standing there sandwiched between Colt and Hudson. Odd. It’s strange because I’m used to those men in different combinations and not necessarily together all at the same time. I’ve slept with all but Hudson and have no plans to in the future, real or imagined, to complete that little circle of fornication. Max catches my eye from the far left. With Max it’s always been spontaneous combustion when we’re together—with Mitch, too, but, dear God, I’d miss Max if I lost him. Suddenly it feels like I’m at his funeral.
“Earth to Lee.” Kat fans her hand in front of my face. “You keep the placentas?”
“Oh, right.” It takes all my strength to drag my eyes back to my sister. “Ate them for breakfast. They’re great with eggs. Tastes like chicken.”
They both echo a chorus of disgust.
“No, I didn’t keep them,” I say. “They’re either in the landfill or the incinerator. I kept the kids. That’s what counts, right?” I give a brief smile.
They continue on with the chatter about all things maternal, and I freeze for a moment as my brain clouds itself with menstrual mathematics. Holy shit. I was supposed to start, wasn’t I?
“Watch out Lee, you’re next!” Candi’s teeth light up like lanterns.
Kat and I exchange looks. It’s like she knows something I don’t.
Colton whistles at me from across the yard. A dark-haired woman with bronze skin appears by his side, and two others, just as stunning, linger next to her. He motions me over, so I excuse myself.
From the corner of my eye I spot Janice helping Stella and Eli ladle punch from an oversized crystal bowl. We’ll have to peel the kids off the ceiling tonight after she gets through pumping them full of sugar. Better yet, they can spend the night here. Then we’ll see how easily the punch flows the next time we’re together.
I step in close to Mitch, and our shoulders bump.
“Hello.” I hold my hand out to Colton’s flavor of the month. “I’m Lee.”
“Hekili.” She smiles. Her fingers clasp around mine, cold and light as a feather.
She’s pretty, honey brown skin, long, dark hair with lots of body. Her friends say hello in unison like a matching set of speakers. The one with a crooked smile eyes Mitch as if he were dessert. Mitch is obnoxiously gorgeous, so I try to let it slide, but, in truth, it makes my stomach turn. It was as if all my hatred was pouring into this one gorgeous girl, ten years my junior—her milk white teeth, her glazed eyes that won’t stop openly yearning for my Mitch.
I sling an arm over his shoulder and feel the heft of her gaze shift from him to me.
Colton clears his throat. “Maybe now’s a good time for cake?”
Mitch
Lee places her arm around my shoulder, so I one up her and circle her waist. It feels like I’m finally breathing again, holding Lee out in the open. Colton leads his harem to the patio where Mom has a three-tiered cake decked out with a bouquet of frosted balloons. We make our way over, still interlinked, and stand off to the side.
“Is this what’s been going on while I’ve been away?” I whisper into Lee like I’m blowing a kiss in her ear. “Throwing Colton birthday parties complete with ponies, clowns, and balloon animals? Although, technically, it was Colton making the balloon animals, and he’s sort of a clown all in one—on second thought, the party works.”
“If only this were the worst of it.” Lee lets out a laugh. “Colt actually—”
Max comes up along side us, stopping Lee in her tracks before she can get another word out. He traces out our bodies, linked like a real couple, and his features drip into an honest to God state of depression. Hell, I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.
“What’s got you going?” I ask as my smile expands. “Oh, right, the arm thing. I guess you should get used to it sooner or later.”
“Mitch.” Lee tries to push me away, but I won’t let her. “What are you—thirteen? Max has feelings.”
“Sorry.” Shit. “I just wanted to let him know you were free to hold me. I don’t want him making you feel bad,” I say, pulling her in and tightening my grip.
I catch a glimpse of my moth
er and choose to ignore the worried expression on her face. I bet she danced at their wedding—right after Colt pushed Lee in front of Shepherd like an oncoming train. I wonder which lovely night that was for me? Isolation? Bring your whips and chains to work day? Maybe it was the time I was hogtied to a wall until I pissed myself?
Good times.
Mom starts in on a slow and dreadful version of Happy Birthday.
“Hands off my wife,” Max barks.
“My wife,” it comes out a growl, and Lee steps away.
Guess we’re done playing nice for the night.
Max gets in my face like a juiced up gorilla—shoulders stretched back, nose to nose.
“Get the fuck away,” I hiss lower than a whisper before propelling him back a good three feet. Max bumps the table and launches the cake off its stand. It does a cartwheel in the air, and half of it lands on Stella’s dress, the other half on her toes.
“Squishy!” Stella screams as she and Eli proceed to stomp it out like a fire, their feet quickly transforming into a distressed rainbow of color.
Max comes at me with a series of violent shoves until I stumble onto the lawn. His fist flies in my direction, and I manage to duck before he knocks my teeth into my esophagus.
“Missed.” I kick his feet from under him and land him flat on his ass. He lets out a hard groan, and his lungs deflate like a bad tire. In one swift move he knocks me over like a domino. We tumble like bear cubs until he pins me beneath him. He gives a swift knee to my balls and repeats the effort until I wish my head would explode.
China comes back in snatches—the inky darkness—the surprise of pain. Maybe this is all some twisted hallucination. Maybe Max Shepherd only exists in my worst nightmare, and I’ll wake up in that cold sterile bunk—a bowl of food waiting for me on the floor, crawling with maggots. Isolation never felt so good.
He kicks my nuts in until they wish they could invert.
“Fuck,” I shout into the night as my legs cinch up.
Screaming and chaos ensue. An army of legs prattle over in a frantic circle. Hudson and Colton pluck Max off while I roll around the lawn clutching my crotch, hoping to die.