*
Since she was on a roll with the apologizing and forgiving, she decided it was time to face her sister. She wasn't sure if Ang had already told Ellie about their dinner, but Tate figured she had to talk to her anyway. Just get it all out there. So she invited her sister out to the house that night.
She made Jameson promise to stay hidden in the library. He wasn't very happy about it – he'd had plans to finish the bottle of whiskey then possibly fu-ck her with it. She told him it was quite a waste of such an extravagant gift, was that the best he could think of? She was literally thrown out of the library after that comment, and told not to come back unless she was on her knees.
As she watched her sister waddle across the driveway, she couldn't help but wonder what Ellie was thinking as she stared up at the grand house. In another life, Ellie had thought everything would be hers. The house that Tate felt was more like home than the one she had grown up in, was meant to be Ellie's. The man Tate slept with, had been picked out for Ellie. The apartment in Spain, the penthouse in New York, everything, all meant for Ellie.
It must be hard. I should be nice to her.
“Did you find the house okay?” Tate asked. Ellie leaned down to air-kiss her cheeks.
“Yes. It's very beautiful,” she commented, and the wistful look was plain-as-day on her face. Tate shut the door and led her into the kitchen.
“There's a formal dining room, but I figured we could just snack in here,” Tate explained, gesturing to some stools at the end of the large island which sat in the middle of his kitchen.
“I can't believe I'm here. I always wondered what this place was like,” Ellie breathed, her eyes roaming over everything.
“You knew about this house?”
“Yeah, his father talked about it, a lot. His dad was originally from this area,” Ellie explained. Of course, Tate already knew that – but she didn't say anything.
“Oh. Well, he's done a lot of remodeling. The conservatory on the back is new, and he had all new hardwood floors put in, wiring, new modern bathrooms, the works,” Tate explained, waving her hand around. Ellie frowned.
“Pity. I would never have let him do that, I would've kept it as close to the original building as possible,” she commented. Tate frowned. She didn't care for Ellie's tone. It was one she recognized well; Ellie's “I would've been soooooo much better than you, at everything you've ever done” voice. Like Tate wasn't keeping Jameson in line enough, or something.
“I love it. You should see the master bedroom, he completely gutted it, doubled its size. The bed is huge,” Tate couldn't resist adding. Ellie frowned.
“I'll take your word for it.”
They sat in silence for a while, nibbling on snacks Tate had sat out. She and Ellie had never really reached a place where they were comfortable just chatting. They were a lot better than they were a year ago, but still not besties. Sometimes they could laugh and have fun together. Other times ..., other times were more like old times, and Tate felt like she was in a competition. This felt like one of those times.
“So when is the baby due?” Tate asked, glancing at Ellie's huge stomach.
“About six weeks. God, I'm over this. I'm just ready to meet him,” she laughed, patting her baby bump. Tate smiled.
“Still gonna name him Mathias?” she asked. Ellie scrunched up her face.
“I've been having second thoughts. Daddy still won't speak to me,” she replied.
“Join the club. I think we're better off,” Tate assured her. “What about Robert, is he coming down for the birth?”
Ellie's abusive ex-husband, Robert Carmichael, lived in upstate New York. Or rather, he hid. Jameson had once threatened to rip his jaw off, after he had slapped Tatum. When Ellie had first left him, Robert tried to get back together with her, but after he found out she had run away to Tate's apartment, he had left her alone. Granted her anything she wanted in the divorce.
Sometimes, Jameson being the devil was a very good thing.
“I hope not. I'll call him after it happens. He's not getting any custodial rights, so I don't know why he would,” Ellie snarled. Tate nodded.
“Good plan. So does Ang, like, go to lamaze classes with you?” Tate couldn't help but snicker. Ellie shook her head.
“Oh, no. We're not into all that, we're more like you and Jameson,” she said quickly. Tate's ears perked up.
“Excuse me? What do you mean?” she asked.
“Just sex. You know, like -,” Ellie started to explain again. Tate shook her head.
“Wait, wait, wait. What are you saying? You guys just have sex, and that's it? You're not boyfriend-girlfriend?” she clarified. Ellie nodded.
“Well, yeah. We don't go on dates, or stuff like that,” she said.
“But ..., but I thought you guys were dating. The word dating implies going on dates. He calls you his girlfriend,” Tate stressed. Ellie rolled her eyes.
“I know, it's horrible. I can't figure out how to tell him we're not like that,” she replied. Tate nearly choked on a pretzel.
“Apparently you are like that! Ellie, Ang hasn't had a girlfriend the entire time I've known him. He's a sex-machine, only uses women for one thing. If he calls you his girlfriend, then you're his goddamn girlfriend!” Tate snapped. Ellie frowned.
“I thought you were the liberal thinker, here. I'm just trying to be like you, you know, sow my wild oats. I never meant for him to get so attached,” Ellie whined.
“Be like me!? Ellie, I never pretended to be a guy's girlfriend so he would fu-ck me. I would never do something like that – I'm always honest. And don't say you guys are like Jameson and I, you don't know the first thing about us,” she argued. Tate. Was. Pissed. Ang had defended Ellie. Tate had felt guilty over Ellie. Ellie had only cared about Ellie. Big fu-ckin' surprise.
“I know that you guys use each other for sex. How come it's okay for the two of you to do it, but no one else!? Not me, not Angier?” Ellie snapped back.
“Don't call him that!” Tate yelled, jumping out of her chair and slamming her hands on the counter top. “His name is Ang! And you better fu-cking call Ang and tell him exactly what you just told me, or I will!”
“Stop being so dramatic, Tatum. I'll tell him in my own good time. It's not like I hate him. I like spending time with him, we have fun. I'm just never going to be with someone like him, we both know that,” Ellie stressed.
“I don't think he knows that. I can't believe you. Daddy won't even speak to you because he's such a fu-cking snob, and you're still the exact same way! You need to talk to him, Ellie. Seriously,” Tate insisted. Ellie sighed and lumbered to her feet.
“If I had known you were only going to bring me here to yell at me, I wouldn't have bothered,” she grumbled, pulling on her purse.
“I wasn't planning on yelling at you – but you're using my best friend. You came between us, made us fight. Serious shit, Ellie. You can't just tell me it was all over nothing, over sex,” Tate said, following Ellie out into the hallway.
“I'm so surprised at your reaction – I honestly thought you'd be proud of me. The way Jameson talked at home, the only thing you two care about -,”
“Shut the fu-ck up, right now. You don't know shit about what goes on between me and him. Is that what this is about? I fu-cked your boyfriend, so you fu-cked Ang!?” Tate demanded.
“No. I mean, it's still messed up that you slept with Jameson, when he was my boyfriend. Even you have to know that wasn't right. Angier was never your boyfriend, so I still haven't done anything wrong,” Ellie replied, standing in front of the door. Tate let her jaw drop open.
“Jameson and I never planned that night, it wasn't like we were carrying on some illicit affair behind your back for months and months. It just happened. Get the fu-ck over it. You are using Ang – I never did that to you,” Tate pointed out, her voice loud. Heated.
“No, what you did was worse. You always bitch that I ruined your life. Well, you kinda ruined mine, too, you know,” Ellie reminded her. Tate threw her hands up.
“Seriously!? HE WAS NEVER GOING TO MARRY YOU! It is time to let him go!” Tate insisted.
“I have, I am over it, I just don't think it's fair. I don't think it's right, that you're sitting in this house, pretending to be some fairy tale princess with him, when I was the one -,” Ellie started.
She had expected it to happen sooner, so Tate wasn't shocked when she heard the library door open. Jameson casually strode down the hall and stood behind Tate. Ellie looked stunned; no one had told her that Satan was in residence.
“Ladies. I am trying to get some work done. What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
Tate knew he was being facetious, but both she and Ellie burst out yelling at the same time. Curses were thrown, fingers pointed, Ang's name yelled a lot. Sanders eventually appeared from somewhere, and soon the two men were between them. Sanders was urging Tate backwards towards the library. She hopped around on her toes, watching as Jameson blocked Ellie from her.
“You're a snob, Eloise! A fu-cking snob! You're not fit to lick the ground Angier walks on!” Tate shouted.
“He knows what he got into with me! And at least we're consenting adults! You were practically a child when you stole my boyfriend!” Ellie yelled back.
“And it only took me one time, to get him to break up with you! So GET fu-ckED, Eloise!”
Tate was completely shocked into silence when Sanders' arms went around her waist and he picked her up. She always underestimated his size, his strength. He carried her into the library like she weighed nothing. She didn't say anything, just let him deposit her in the middle of the room. She stood there while he shut the door behind them.
“I apologize, but you need to calm down,” he informed her. She nodded.
“I know, I know,” she breathed, almost panting from all the adrenaline rushing through her body.
“I don't know why you always let her goad you. You are better than her. It is beneath you to act this way with her,” Sanders pointed out. Tate groaned.
“I know,” she agreed, dropping her head. The library door swung open and Jameson strode inside.
“Outstanding, Tatum. You've really topped yourself, fighting with a pregnant woman. Why did I have to explain to her, again, that she and I would never have stayed together?” he asked.
“Because she's a stupid bitch who doesn't think I belong somewhere like here, with someone like you. And she's using Ang,” Tate replied. Jameson nodded.
“Yup, that'll do it,” he whistled through his teeth. Tate licked her lips.
“Did she leave?”
“Yes, I personally escorted her to her car and politely informed her that if she ever insulted you again, she wouldn't be welcome in my house,” he replied.
“She drove off?”
“Yes.”
Tate took off down the hallway, grabbing her coat as she went out the door. Jameson caught up with her on the porch steps, following her down onto the driveway. She had been the last person to use the Jaguar, and the keys were still in her pocket.
“I have to talk to him,” she breathed, when Jameson asked what she was doing.
“Jesus, Tate, you can call him, you know,” he pointed out.
“I know. But I have to talk to him about this in person. After everything that's happened, I don't think he'd appreciate a phone call,” Tate explained, unlocking the Jag and opening the driver's side door. Jameson shut it again.
“This is fu-cking stupid. All this because -,” he started. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him, as forcefully as possible. He looked a little surprised when she pulled away.
“Just stay here and finish the damn whiskey,” she told him, then she hopped into the car.
She didn't know if Ellie had already called him, or even if she'd be at his place, but Tate had a hunch she wouldn't. Ellie wasn't a “feelings” kind of person, it was probably what had drawn her and Jameson together – something in common. When Tate pulled up in front of Ang's apartment building, she didn't see Ellie's car anywhere. She figured it was a good sign. She shivered on his stoop, pressing the buzzer for his apartment until he picked up.
“What the fu-ck!?” his voice crackled over the intercom.
“It's freezing out here, let me in!” she shouted back. There was a buzz, and she yanked the front door open.
His apartment was on the fourth floor, and the elevator was broken. By the time she got to his door, he was holding it open for her. He was yawning, standing in only a pair of pajama pants, his hair completely standing on end. She glanced at her watch as she walked in the door. Eight o'clock at night.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was filming all last night, some crazy kinky fetish take on Pride and Prejudice, and then I had to waiter some wedding this morning. I was so fu-cking asleep,” he grumbled as she went straight to his room.
“Kinky Pride and Prejudice?”
“'Pride and Pre-Ejaculate'.”
“I don't want to watch that film.”
“What's up, sweetie pea? You usually don't come slum it anymore,” he yawned again, stretching out on his bed. She patted his stomach.
“No sleepy-time Ang. Up, up, up,” she instructed. He pulled himself up so he was resting back against his headboard.
“Is someone on fire somewhere? Oh god, you're not gonna tell me there's some other incident you've been festering over for like the last year,” he groaned. She actually laughed.
“Shut up! No. Has Ellie called you?” Tate asked. He frowned and glanced at his phone.
“No. I haven't heard from her since the day before yesterday, actually. I tried to call her last night, to tell her all about your little melt down, but she never called me back,” he explained. Tate licked her lips nervously.
“Why didn't you tell me? I mean, if your relationship with her is just based on sex, why did you let me feel so guilty for trying to break you up?” she blurted out. His eyebrows shot up.
“What the fu-ck are you talking about? Based on sex? Tate, two weeks ago, we talked about me moving in with her,” he said. Tate winced.
“You and her? Or just you?” she stressed.
“If you came here just to be a bitch, you can go right back home to Satan, I'm sure -,” Ang started, moving to get off the bed.
“She was just at my house. She said she's only using you for sex, and that she would never really 'be with someone' like you,” she rushed out all in one breath. He paused for a long second.
“You're lying. You just thought that your little show last night would -,” he was angry, obviously. Tate held up her hands.
“I'm really not! I promise! We got into a huge fight, I almost beat up a pregnant lady for you. Ask Jameson. Ask Sanders, he had to carry me out of the room. I told her she had to tell you, or that I would,” Tate explained.
She watched as Ang warred with his emotions. He had known Tate longer, but she knew she had been weird lately; trust was shaky between them. He was sleeping with Ellie and calling her his girlfriend, but he knew that she was capable of being almost as shitty as Jameson. It was a tough call to make.
“If I call her, and she denies all of this, I am going to be very pissed,” he said slowly, picking up his phone.
“Not fair! What if she denies it just to prolong it!? Call Sanders!” Tate demanded. Ang held up his hand and pressed his phone to his ear.
“El? Hey, Ang. Uuugggg, don't call me that, I hate my full name. I know, but he's the devil. Yeah. Yeah. So, something really weird happened ..., uh huh. Uh huh. She ..., called,” his eyes moved to stare at Tate. “Uh huh. I see. I see. Really. Really? Ooohhh. I didn't realize. No. No, not at all. Just glad to know how it is – I totally feel the same, I just thought you would freak out. No, we're totally cool. You're sure about this? Yes, I'm fine. Yes, she told me. No. No. I told her it was cool, she's coming over so I can chill her out. Yeah, I will. Don't talk about her that way, you know I don't like that. Sure. See you then. Okay. Okay. Bye.”
Tate was a little shocked. He had seemed so angry a moment ago – he was really okay with it? Why hadn't he said that from the beginning? She felt very confused. Up until a couple days ago, she had been plotting the destruction of their relationship. If she had just chilled the fu-ck out, it would have dissolved on its own, anyway.
“Wow, Ang, I had no idea you felt the same way, I'm sorry I -,” she started.
“No! fu-ck that! I was fu-cking lying through my teeth! That fu-cking bitch! Used me!? Came between you and I? Shit, Tate, what if that's what this has been about this whole time, her just pissing on you!?” Ang snapped.
“I don't think it was. Really. I think something happened between you two, she liked it, she kept it going, then it got out of hand and she didn't have the balls to back off. She could never be like us,” Tate said quickly. He shook his head.
“I'm so pissed. Do you know how many women I could have been having sex with? This whole time?”
“I'm sorry, Ang,” Tate said softly, rubbing her hand against his leg. He sighed.
“I was stupid. You O'Shea girls, I swear,” he grumbled. She nodded.
“I know. Who ever raised us, that was Satan,” she joked.
“Totally. God. I could really use that revenge fu-ck now,” he groaned. She laughed.
“You had your chance. Should've taken it.”
“I mean ..., just ..., what the fu-ck!? I haven't had a legit girlfriend in like six years, since I was nineteen. I haven't had sex with one single other woman since I got with her!” he snapped.
“Such a waste. The world is missing out.”
“I know! fu-ck. fu-cking bitch,” he growled.
“I know.”
“I thought ..., I thought she liked me,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. Tate frowned.
“If it makes you feel better, I don't think she knows how to like people. Not for real. She was still talking shit about me stealing Jameson. It's insane. She's sleeping with you and pregnant with another guy's baby, and she's still obsessed with him. Half the time, I feel like I can't get rid of him, and here she is, wanting him,” Tate laughed.
“Kitty cat?”
“Hmmm?”
“Could we, just this once, not talk about the goddamn devil?”
“Of course.”
Ang suddenly scrambled to get off the bed, almost knocking her over in the process. She ducked under his legs and stared as he hurried to pull clothing out of a hamper. He changed into a pair of expensive looking jeans, dug a little more, then pulled out a really nice, slim fitting, button up shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows then bent to look in a mirror, raking his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked, hopping into a pair of shoes. Tate blinked up at him.
“Uh, really good, actually,” she replied. He held out his arms.
“Like how good? fu-ckable good?” he asked.
She let her eyes wander over him. She had always thought Ang was sexy, since the first time she'd ever met him. In a completely different way from Jameson, Ang wasn't predatory at all. He was more subtle. Like the guy who would've snuck in her bedroom window and stolen her virginity, right before her prom date was supposed to pick her up. He had a naughty-fun smile and his hair always looked like some woman had just clawed her hands through it, not to mention that his lean body just looked built for fast times. Tate nodded.
“Very fu-ckable. Why?” she asked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, practically dragging her out of his bedroom.
“I just can't believe her,” Ang grumbled, letting go of Tate's hand and stalking around the apartment. She watched as he undid the bolt lock and chain lock from the door. Then he ducked down to stare out the peephole.
“Ang. What the fu-ck are you doing?” she asked. He waved an arm at her.
“Shut up. She's gonna be here any second,” he mumbled, leaning to the side, obviously trying to look down the hall.
“What?” Tate was a little shocked. “Ang, maybe I should go. It's, like, between you two, and I don't want to get arrested for beating up a pregnant woman.”
“You won't beat her up, I just want to -, shit! She's here! She's here!” he hissed, and hightailed it back to her side. Tate could hear the sound of a key in the lock.
“Good god, Ang, you gave her a key!? I didn't even -,”
She couldn't finish her sentence, however, because his tongue was suddenly in her mouth. She gasped as his mouth completely enveloped her own. She was vaguely aware that the door was swinging open and then Ang was dipping her slightly, raking his fingers down her back before grabbing onto her butt. She squealed against his mouth and pushed at his shoulders.
“What the hell is going on!?” Ellie's voice squeaked from the doorway.
I have no fu-cking clue.
Tate finally managed to shove Ang off, breaking the kiss. But he kept his arms around her, swinging her around so his back was to Ellie, Tate almost bending in half backwards. She glared at him, shoving at his hand as it worked its way over her breasts.
“What are you doing!? Jameson is gonna kill you!” Tate hissed, all while Ellie shouted behind them.
“Just go with it!” Ang growled, then kissed her again.
“Angier!” Ellie shrieked.
Tate shoved him hard, finally gaining arm distance between them. She glared at him, wiping at her mouth. He smirked back. Ellie fumed in front of him. How come when Tate wanted to break them up by having dirty, nasty, fun time with Ang, it wasn't okay – but suddenly he wants to suck her face off to make Ellie mad, and it's fine!?
“What's up?” he asked casually, turning to face Ellie.
“Are you kidding me!?” she demanded before turning towards Tate. “And you! I thought this was, like, against the rules or something! You're such a slut!”
“Hey!” Tate snapped. “Technically, what I do is none of your business. And second of all, pretending to like some guy just to fu-ck him is pretty goddamn slutty!”
“It becomes my business when you make out with my ...,” Ellie's voice trailed off, her face turning red.
“Your what, Ellie? You just explained to me how I'm nothing more than sex to you,” Ang pointed out.
“No! We just said that's all we are, to each other,” she stressed, waving her purse between them.
“Yeah. So, I think that means I can make out with whoever I want,” he replied, coiling his arm around Tate's waist. She began smacking him in the chest.
“This is sick. You two are sick. I'm getting out of here. I hope you're happy together, you ..., sluts,” Ellie cursed, then stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
“That was pretty awesome,” Ang laughed, still holding onto Tate. She shoved at him.
“No it wasn't! A little warning, maybe, next time you feel like shoving your tongue clear down to my stomach!” she snapped at him.
“Oh c'mon, you always loved lots of tongue,” he reminded her. She snorted, trying to pull free from him.
“Shut up. This is so fu-cked, you know that, right? I try to sex you up to piss Ellie off and I'm a bad person, but you get to do it and it's no big deal!?” she pointed out.
“It's completely different. You and I are a team – you can't make plays against me.”
“You're retarded.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up!”
He grabbed her then, pulled her into a hug. Tate was a little shocked at first, then she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Ang sighed into her hair. He had really liked Ellie. Shocking. No one seemed to like Ellie, and Tate's best friend had gone and fallen in total-like with her. She was a little miffed at being used, but her heart hurt a little for him.
“Oh, Angy wangy,” she sighed.
“Tater tot,” he mumbled back.
“That was very bad. You shouldn't have done that. We're bad people,” she whispered to him. He shook his head.
“No we're not. We're not very good, but we're not bad. She's a bitch and we're spiteful. Everyone wins,” he replied.
“I don't know if I agree with you. But it was fun,” she chuckled, combing her hand through his hair.
“Yes, it was. God, we used to have so much fun. Do you ever think about it?” Ang asked. Tate nodded, pressing her cheek against his chest.
“All the time. Every time I saw you with her,” she replied.
“Jealous?”
“Of course. Part of you belongs to me. I never wanted to share that with her.”
“I gotta say, Tate, it feels fu-cking awesome to hear that,” he groaned. She wiggled against him, trying to pull free. His arms stayed locked around her.
“Good. Cause I think now we are finally, officially, completely, even. For everything. No more being mad at each other? Or weird?” she asked. He nodded.
“No more.”
“Ang?”
“Yeah?”
“Let go of me. Your hard on is digging into my stomach.”
He burst out laughing.
“Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you complain about.”
“Shut up. Makes having a heart to heart kinda awkward.”
“You love it.”
Ang let go of her and groaned, stretching and lifting his arms over his head. Tate dug her cell phone out of her pocket and winced. A missed phone call. She could guess who it was from; he was already mad at her for missing his calls the day before, he would not be happy about her missing them for Ang. She still had only ever called him once, just one time ever. When he had been in Berlin. He hadn't answered. She had resisted doing it again, ever since then. She debated whether or not to take the leap.
“I should head home,” she mumbled, staring at Jameson's contact info.
“No, stay here tonight,” Ang said quickly. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.
“I'm not fu-cking you, Angier,” she stated. He laughed.
“Thank you for that. No, you cow, just hang out. I feel like shit. Cheer me up. You owe me,” he told her.
“We just got finished saying we're even, and you're already -,” Tate started to complain when he clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Just shut up and hang out with me. Satan can miss you for one night. Please, honey-pot? I could really use some cuddles tonight,” Ang begged, pouting out his lower lip.
Tate groaned. She was a sucker where he was concerned. Geez, sleep with someone a couple dozen – or maybe hundred? – times, and suddenly she's over a barrel, emotionally. She glared at him, then an idea struck her. She held out her cell phone.
“You get to call Satan and tell him I'm staying here,” she told Ang. He glanced at the phone and grumbled.
“God, he's gonna be such a dick. Does he own a gun?” Ang asked, taking the phone.
“Several. Be nice. Sometimes it works with him.”
“Does it really?”
“No. Good luck.”
“Fuuuuck.”
She dragged him to sit on the couch, then yanked him down to her height so she could listen to the phone call. It rang three times before the line connected.
“You better not be calling to ask for bail money,” Jameson's voice barked. “I don't care if you're in prison – if you ever ignore one of my phone calls again, I swear to fu-cking god, I'll -,”
“This isn't Tate, so please keep your weird style of flirting to yourself,” Ang snapped. Tate reached up and yanked on a lock of his hair. There was a pause for a long moment.
“Angier. Why are you calling me? What did she do?” Jameson demanded. Ang glared down at Tate.
“Do you always assume she's done something wrong when she calls?” Ang demanded in return. Jameson laughed.
“She never calls.”
Ang raised his eyebrows at Tate, and she just waved him away.
“So you're saying your girlfriend calls me more than she calls you?” Ang asked, his smile audible. Tate pulled away enough to slap at his arms.
“As lovely as it is to hear from you, what the fu-ck do you want?” Jameson asked. He sounded bored.
“Look. We don't like each other. But I needed some help with something, so I need you to be understanding. You know, not an ass-hole. Just this once,” Ang stressed.
“I make no promises.”
“I needed to borrow your girlfriend, for like two minutes, to piss Ellie off,” Ang said it quickly. It was the second time he had referred to Tate as Jameson's “girlfriend”; she was waiting for Jameson to correct him.
“Oh jesus. I don't want to know.”
“Mostly tongue, not a big deal, I promise. She absolutely refused to fu-ck me,” Ang said assuredly. Tate slapped him across the back of the head.
“She kissed you?”
“More like I kissed her. Totally rape-y. She was very respectful of you, I promise.”
“You're both insane. I don't know why I bother. Tell her she needs to come home, now,” Jameson growled.
“I need her for a little longer,” Ang said. Jameson laughed, but it was evil sounding. Satan was on the phone.
“I don't give a fu-ck, Angier.”
“Hey, she was my friend long before she was ever with you,” Ang reminded him. “Just let me borrow her for the night. It's been a shitty day. I promise, nothing bad will happen. I won't touch your girlfriend 'inappropriately'.”
“You won't be touching her at all. I want her home.”
Tate didn't hear the next part of the conversation. She was shell shocked. Jameson hadn't corrected him. Had actually fed the assumption that she was his proper-girlfriend. It was almost as if he had said the words out loud. She shook her head. Didn't mean anything. Jameson didn't believe in titles.
“... fine. Fine, anything, as long as you never fu-cking call me again, understood? Tell her to be at my office tomorrow, noon. Sharp,” Jameson's voice was hissing when Tate dove back into the conversation. Punishment sounded imminent. She shivered at the thought.
“Of course, of course, whatever,” Ang was grumbling.
“Angier, if I find out you so much as looked at her while she was sleeping, I will cut your nuts off. Understood?” Jameson said in a cool voice. Ang laughed.
“You do realize I have seen her naked. Like a million times. I can shut my eyes, and see her naked right now,” Ang pointed out.
“Stop.”
“Too late. Doing it right now. Naked Tatum, all up in my brain,” Ang rubbed it in.
“The idea of strangling you and dumping you in the harbor is suddenly becoming very appealing to me.”
Ang stopped laughed.
“I'm not gonna try anything. She only has eyes for you anyway, she's mental for you. Believe me, once upon a time, I tried to talk her out of it. I've given up. So don't worry,” Ang told him.
“I never do.”
Then the line went dead.
“What the fu-ck is your problem!?” Tate shrieked, slapping at Ang. He finally sat upright, almost out of reach.
“What!? What!?” he exclaimed, batting her hands away.
“Why do you have to piss him off like that!?” she demanded.
“Uh ..., because it's, like, my purpose in life?” he offered.
“You're such a dick. He wouldn't be half as bad, if you weren't always provoking him,” Tate pointed out. Ang rolled his eyes and handed her cell phone over.
“Just because you're butt-crazy in love with him, doesn't mean the rest of us are – I'll probably still be making fun of him when you're both old and gray,” he laughed. She gasped.
“I am not butt-crazy in love with him!” she yelled, then pushed away from him, getting up off the couch.
“It's okay, Tate,” Ang said, getting up as well.
“I know it is, but I'm not.”
“Stop. It's okay. Like I said to Satan, I'm over it. If there's anything this whole fu-cked up situation has taught me, it's you can't choose who you like, who you love. It's okay that you love him. I'm not mad,” Ang assured her. She stomped into the bathroom.
“But I don't. Till a couple days ago, I was planning on ripping his heart out and eating it for breakfast,” she pointed out, grabbing a rubberband out of his medicine cabinet and using it to put her hair up. She finally turned to face him and he was smirking at her.
“Yeah. Seems to me you'd only be that angry at him if you were in love with him. Why else would you go through all this shit together?” he asked.
The breath flew out of her body and Tate slumped against the sink. Ang asked if she was okay, dipping his knees so he could look her in the face. If she had been shell shocked earlier, she was blasted now. Obliterated.
She didn't love Jameson. Couldn't love him. Sometimes, she was pretty sure he didn't even like her. How could she be in love with someone like that? Sure, she was growing more accustomed to the idea of just being with him, in whatever capacity she could, just like old times. But love!? No. No, she refused to believe it.
“I can't love him, Ang,” she said softly.
“Huh?” he asked, his hands gripping her shoulders.
“He'll never love me back. I can't ..., that would be it. Game over. He would own me,” she whispered. Ang smiled.
“I think he already does,” he pointed out. She closed her eyes.
“I didn't want to like him. When this all started, remember? I just wanted to play. You told me not to lose my heart. What happened?” she asked.
“He's a lot better at whatever game it was you were playing.”
“Too good. I thought we were only playing for sex,” Tate laughed, looking up at Ang. “I didn't realize we were playing for hearts.”
“Pity he doesn't have one.”
She cried then. She hated crying.
Goddamn Jameson Kane, you make me cry even when you're not around.
~6~
They stayed up and ate pizza and ice cream. Talked about boys and girls. A good old fashioned slumber party. Ang admitted that part of what had drawn him to Ellie had been her good girl-richie varnish. But he had liked her. He was so chaotic and crazy and over-sexed. She was so structured and crazy in her own way and repressed. It had worked. Or at least, he thought it had worked.
Tate admitted she felt guilty for wanting to be with Jameson. He had treated her like garbage, had hurt her so badly. What if he did it again? It was her constant fear. What was wrong with her, wanting to be with a person like that? Ang pointed out that all of that just came with the territory of being in love. She tried to make him eat a pillow.
She was not in love with Jameson Kane. She refused to believe it.
“I always thought I was just a freak in bed. Why is it so much easier for me to listen to one guy talk filth, than to listen to one say something nice?” Tate asked, looking at pictures of Nick on her phone. She hadn't talked to him in about a week. Why couldn't she love him? He was such a better option.
“Guilt,” Ang replied so matter-o-factly, she almost missed it.
“Huh?” she asked, lifting her head off his bed. He was sitting on his floor, playing some race car game on a playstation.
“You feel guilty, about what you did to your sister,” he said. She frowned.
“But I like it, so it's not much of a self-inflicted-penance. I mean, I love the way Jameson talks to me. I beg for it.”
“But then you freak out when he says nice stuff. Because you think you don't deserve it.”
“That's not true.”
“Okay.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
She laid her head back down. God, was that true? Tate had never really thought about it. She hated when Jameson said nice things, because she didn't believe him. She always figured he was just talking, patronizing. Saying what he thought she wanted to hear, not how he felt – that hurt. She couldn't stand that feeling. Why couldn't she believe him? Did she really think she didn't deserve his affection?
He's so much smarter than you. Classier than you. Worldlier than you. He would never love someone like you, trash like you. You're just a waste of time. He'll leave you.
It was like Ellie's voice, her father's voice, everyone in her family's voice, had been living in her brain, her whole life, and Tate was just now realizing it. A little whisper, always running up and down her spine. Warning her away. Telling her she was only good for one thing, so just ignore everything else. And Tate had – she just ignored everything, and became very good at that one thing.
“Who needs therapy, when they have a pornstar bestie?” Tate laughed at the ceiling. Ang snorted.
“I should start charging you.”
She slept in his bed, with him spooning up behind her. Ang had always been an affectionate person, right from the get go with her. It was natural. She woke up to him snoring, halfway laying on top of her. His phone was ringing, and she groped around to find it. She kept her eyes closed against the sunlight that was pouring in his window.
“Angy wangy's phone,” she croaked out.
“Oh my god you slept together you are such a slut does Jameson know oh my god you're such a whore.” Ellie's voice, talking so fast, all her words ran together. Tate snorted.
“It's too early for this, call back later,” she groaned, rolling onto her back.
“It's after noon!” Ellie snapped back. Tate opened her eyes.
“Holy shit, we really stayed up late,” she commented.
“I can't believe you! I can't believe you'd do that, again, after -,”
“Ellie, shut up. Just shut the fu-ck up. I didn't sleep with Ang, but if I had, it wouldn't be a bad thing. Me being a slut, isn't a bad thing. Me fu-cking Jameson, isn't a bad thing. Stop trying to make me feel bad about everything. God, I fear for your child. The insecurities you're going to give it. Just calm the fu-ck down and get the fu-ck over yourself. You wanna live a wild life? Have sex with no strings attached? You're not very good at it so far,” Tate pointed out.
Ellie was silent for so long, Tate had to check to see if she was even still on the phone.
“No, I guess I'm not,” she finally breathed. Tate laughed.
“I'm sorry we made out in front of you, I didn't know he was going to do that. He was really upset,” Tate explained.
“It was pretty awful,” Ellie managed a laugh.
“He liked you. Still does. You hurt his feelings. You can't do that, Ellie. I don't do that,” Tate said in a soft voice.
“He really liked me?” her sister's voice was quiet.
“Yeah. For the life of me, I can't figure out why, but he did. Something about pregnant nipples. You think I'm weird, geesh. Look, I gotta go, but call him in like an hour when he's had coffee and a chance to masturbate, he'll be in a much better mood then,” Tate told her.
“I heard that,” Ang grumbled, his face in a pillow.
“You are so gross,” Ellie's voice shuddered.
“Byeeee,” Tate sang, and hung up the phone. She let it drop to the bed as Ang snuggled even closer.
“What did she want?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy with sleep.
“To talk to you,” Tate yawned. “I think she kinda wanted to yell at you, but really, she feels bad.”
“Good.”
“It's after noon,” Tate warned him. He made a clucking sound with his tongue.
“Uh oh. Satan said be at his office, noon sharp. Someone's getting a spanking,” he chuckled.
“If I'm lucky, that'll be it,” she replied, pulling away from him. He held onto her.
“C'mon, it's early still. We could cuddle some more, maybe have just a tiny bit of sex, then go for breakfast,” he suggested in a sleepy voice. Tate laughed.
“Just a tiny bit, hmmm?” she joked, pulling at his arm. He pressed his hips to her side, leaving her in no doubt of how serious he actually was; he had never been shy about his body around her. Ang slept in the nude.
“Just the tip,” he offered.
“Jameson would cut off 'just the tip' if he found out. He might still, as it is. Gotta go,” she told him, then finally broke away. She sat up and scooted off his bed.
“Can't upset the devil, now can we? You're no fun now. You know that, right? I liked you much better when you would fu-ck anything that had a penis,” he said through a yawn, rolling onto his back.
“I had slightly higher standards than that.”
“Barely.”
“Why are you so okay with Jameson and I, all of a sudden?” Tate asked, wiggling back into her skinny jeans. She had worn one of his t-shirts over her underwear to bed, and she pulled it over her head. “Before Paris, he was still the worst thing ever. Now you're almost cool with him, telling me to be all head-over-heels for him. Very hot and cold, Ang.”
“I have two choices – hate him and lose you, or get over him and keep you. He's not going away, no matter how hard I pray about it. Besides, seems to me, he worked pretty hard in Spain to get back into your good graces,” he replied, watching as she pulled her tight black tank top back on.
“He did some pretty shitty things, too,” she grumbled, putting on her jacket as she remembered getting tossed into the ocean.
“Yeah, but you like the shitty things best of all,” Ang laughed.
Tate rolled her eyes and bent to look in a mirror. Her hair was psychotic looking. She finger combed it all into a ball on top of her head. Her eye makeup was smudged everywhere, giving her that slutty-startled-Panda look, but sometimes Jameson was into that, so she just ran her fingers around the edges, cleaning it up a little. She turned back to Ang and crawled over him on the bed.
“You are a very good friend, dear. Thank you,” she said quickly, kissing him fast.
“Pleeeease, just the tip?” he whined when she crawled back off of him. She laughed again.
“No. Tell me how things go with Ellie,” she called out as she dashed out of his bedroom.
Tate hopped on the subway and the red line took her all the way downtown, just a couple blocks from the financial district and where Jameson's offices were, on State Street. It took her a little over half an hour, but she was finally standing outside his building at one o'clock. Only an hour late. He was going to be pissed. She was excited and nervous. She still wasn't sure how she felt, after her all night heart-to-heart with Ang. She felt giddy, and nervous. Excited and confused. A lot like she was going to either throw up, or shit herself.
Not fun.
She took a deep breath and was about to pull the door open, when her cell phone started ringing. She scrambled to yank it out of her pocket, positive it was him. If she missed another phone call, he would probably lose it and go find Ang. Put him in a pair of cement booties and drop him in Boston Harbor. Tate snickered at the thought, but then stopped when she saw her screen. It wasn't Jameson. It was Nick.
“Hey, how are you?” she asked, taking a couple steps down the sidewalk.
“Good! I have something exciting to tell you,” he said, sounding a little breathless. Wherever he was, it was noisy.
“Oookay, what's up?” she asked, moving around the corner of the building.
“Guess where I am?” he asked back. She leaned back against a wall.
“Hmmm, I don't know. Some pre-game exhibition?” she replied.
“Nope.”
“Bangkok?”
“Nope.”
“An airport?” she guessed for real.
“Yes,” he answered. She perked up.
“An airport, huh. New York?”
“Nope.”
“Boston!?”
“Yup.”
“What are you doing here!?” she exclaimed. He hadn't mentioned visiting. It was the beginning of February, spring training was going to start in like two weeks.
“They flew the whole team up for some charity dinner thing at the Hilton. I need a date,” his voice was teasing sounding. She almost swallowed her tongue.
“How long are you here for?” she asked, glancing around the corner. She halfway expected Jameson's psychic abilities to call him down to her hiding spot.
“Just a couple days. I was hoping we could catch up. Feels like I haven't seen you in forever,” he groaned. She nodded.
“Yeah, since December. A date, huh,” she mumbled, a plan formulating in her head.
“Yeah. Should be kind of stuffy, but I figured we could go out for drinks later and you could be my wing-man, help me pick up chicks,” he joked. She cocked up an eyebrow. Nick did fine picking up chicks all on his own – he had gotten her pretty easily. She wondered if he had a specific chick in mind. Wondered if it was herself.
“Look, I was just about to go to a ..., meeting, thing. Place. Can I call you back when I'm done? Maybe we can do lunch, or dinner,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. So long as I get to see you. Are you still with ...,” he let his voice trail off.
“Don't worry about him, that's my job,” she laughed.
“Yeah, and worrying about you has somehow become my job,” he laughed back.
“I promise, I will chew through my restraints and come see you tonight. I'll call you,” she assured him.
“You had better,” he stated, but there was a smile in his voice, and she hung up the phone.
She breezed into Jameson's building and smiled saucily at the sexy secretary. The woman gave a broad smile back and Tate figured if Jameson chose to use his birthday gift to have a threesome, that woman wasn't such a bad choice. At least she wasn't Petrushka. Or Sanders. That would be awkward.
She listened to his personal secretary squawk long enough to learn that he was alone in his office, then Tate waltzed into the room. Jameson was on his phone, but his stare practically screamed at her. He didn't take his eyes off of her until she was seated in her chair, across from him. She leaned back, sitting casually while he talked about numbers and stocks and bonds and things she knew nothing about. He was wearing another suit with a fitted vest, and he'd gotten his hair trimmed, though he'd been leaving it long on top. He looked very much like a wolf in sheep's expensive designer hand tailored clothing. She squirmed around in her chair.
“You're very sexy when you're working,” she said in a soft breathy voice.
He held up his middle finger.
He talked for a while. It was obvious there were several people on the other end, as he switched tones of voice and languages. Fluidly between German and English, a little more haltingly between French and English, and the Mandarin was choppy at best. Though he still managed to sound like he knew exactly what he was talking about, at all times. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Jameson got off the phone.
“Where the fu-ck have you been?” he demanded, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. Tate gestured to her crazy hair.
“Sleeping. I literally jumped out of bed and onto the red line,” she assured him.
“I don't give a fu-ck. I said noon, not noon-ish,” he reminded her. She shrugged.
“Too late now. We stayed up late,” she told him.
“Doing what, exactly?” he asked.
“Just some light bondage, nipple clamps, car batteries, things like that,” she said with a smile.
“Nothing in comparison to what I plan on doing to you.”
A shiver ran over her whole body and she had trouble not drooling.
“Sounds fun.”
“What did you to two do last night? Why am I giving Angier persmission to spend the night with you?” Jameson pressed. Tate sighed.
“He got upset about the Ellie thing, had a silly plan to make her jealous by making out with me. We stayed up late and ate pizza and ice cream. Very tame and non-sexual, I assure you,” she promised.
“I won't be allowing that again,” he informed her.
“Jameson, you can't me tell who I can and can't spend time with,” she pointed out.
“Wrong.”
She licked her lips and leaned forward.
“I actually have something to ask you. A favor,” she started, twiddling her fingers. He groaned and let his eyes fall shut.
“Just some sex. That's all I want out of life, money and sex. Why is sex the difficult one?” he breathed, dropping his head onto the back of his chair.
See? Just sex. That's all you are to him. Just sex, and eventually, he'll get bored and -
No. He's upset that you were with Ang. He's upset that you weren't with him. He cares.
fu-ck, now I'm arguing with MYSELF. I need medication.
“I promise, I will give you sex any time you want, all the sex you can handle, if you'll give me a couple days,” Tate told him. Jameson lifted his head.
“What's your game, baby girl?” he asked softly. She shook her head.
“No game. I just want to borrow your condo,” she said. His eyes got wide.
“You want to borrow my condo? Well, gee, as long as you promise to bring it back,” he replied snidely. She rolled her eyes.
“I will. Just a few days.”
“Why?”
“Because Nick is in town.”
Jameson stood out of his chair and moved towards her quickly. Tate leapt up as well, moving away from him, putting the desk in between them. She had expected this part. Jameson always got mad at first, but then he usually capitulated. She could handle this, she just had to stay out of his grip long enough. If he caught her, sex was imminent, and when they had sex, he could get her to say and do anything he wanted. If she withheld sex, sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – she could get what she wanted. And then have sex. Win-win, really.
“You want to spend the night with Angier. You want to spend a couple days with Nick, in my condo. Anyone else you plan on fu-cking before I get my turn?” he asked, casually circling the desk. She kept skittering away.
“No, I think that's it.”
“Tatum.”
“I didn't sleep with Ang. I'm not going to sleep with Nick – he's going to stay in his own place. He's just visiting, and I know you won't want him at the house, so -,” she started.
“No shit.”
“So, I thought maybe I could take a vacation,” she suggested. Jameson's eyebrows went up and he stopped moving.
“A vacation?” he asked. She nodded, standing in between his chair and his desk.
“Yes. Things are ..., confusing for me, right now. I thought maybe some space would help,” she said in a small voice.
“Ah. This is about the other night. Your talk with Sanders,” he filled in. She shrugged.
“A lot of things. Sometimes it feels like you take me over, and when I remember the bad stuff, it's like I'm drowning. I just want some time. You told me I needed to figure shit out. That's what I want to do,” she stressed.
“And how does darling Nick figure into this?” Jameson asked.
“He doesn't, really, just gave me the idea to get away,” she replied. “I won't sleep with him. I won't even touch him. We're just friends, hanging out.”
“He's not coming into my fu-cking condo,” Jameson snapped, and Tate smiled. She had won.
“Of course not.”
“How come all your friends are men, huh? What happened to the tiny red head?” he demanded.
“Rusty? She's in school,” she replied.
“Well, introduce her to your baseball player – tell him he needs a new fu-cking friend. I am not okay with this, Tatum,” he growled, prowling towards her. She held her ground.
“I know, that's why it means a lot that you let me do it,” she replied.
“Just keep that in mind – I'm letting you do this,” he reinforced the notion. She nodded.
“It's just a few days, Jameson,” she pointed out.
“I have worked very hard for every day I've spent with you. I am not accustomed to giving some up,” he replied. She felt warm inside.
“That's very sweet.”
“Shut the fu-ck up. You better have shit figured out after this, because you will be coming back home, regardless of your boy-toy's feelings or yours,” he snapped. She nodded.
“I'm okay with that.”
“I do not like this, Tatum. I don't want to do this.”
“But you will, for me.”
“For you.”
He was standing in front of her, so close they were almost touching. He stared down the length of his nose at her, and the look of disdain he usually wore was front-and-center. She smiled at him. Reached out and straightened his tie.
“You're such shit at this,” she mumbled, adjusting his tie-pin. He grabbed her hand.
“Sanders is coming with you,” he informed her.
“Really? You wouldn't mind?” she asked, surprised. Sometimes she wondered if Jameson would be able to survive without Sanders.
“You can't be left alone in the world without a babysitter. No getting him drunk,” Jameson growled. She laughed.
“That was all him. I just made the drinks,” she pointed out.
“You are a bad influence,” he said.
“What, on Sandy?”
“On all of us.”
“Duh.”
He yanked her close and kissed her, and she moaned. They hadn't had sex since before the night Sanders got drunk, over two days ago. A long time, in their terms. He shoved her backwards against his desk and she fell onto it. She didn't even have time to find her balance before he was leaning onto her, his tongue invading her mouth. She moaned again, clawing her nails down his back.
“You sure you just slept next to Angier?” he growled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the floor.
“Next to him, on top of him, po-TATE-o, po-TOT-o,” she laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“I can smell him on you. God, I wanna hold you under a hot shower till your skin turns red,” he hissed. She shuddered, combing her fingers through his hair.
“Sounds exciting,” she whispered. He grabbed her throat then, pinned her to the desk.
“Stop fu-cking talking.”
“You're the one getting turned on by smelling Ang,” she pointed out. His fingers squeezed harder.
“I always did love fu-cking a whore.”
She couldn't stand it. She began clawing at the buttons on his vest, trying to undo them while his hands ran under her shirt, pushed it up over her breasts. She let out a gasp when he sucked on a nipple, through her bra. She moaned, her head hitting the desk. She felt like she was going to explode. He hadn't even hardly touched her, and she was ready to pop.
She knew it was a bad idea, to have sex. Not with her emotions all over the place. She would probably wind up screaming that she loved him, then cry like a girl afterwards. He would love it, fu-ck her again, and then leave her a broken mess. He would've gotten what he wanted, won the game. She wasn't ready, not yet. But she couldn't stop. She pressed her hips up against his, felt the bulge in his pants, and wanted to feel more. Her fingers wouldn't stop moving. She left his vest and trailed her hands down to his belt, began yanking at it.
“Mr. Kane, your one-thirty is ...,”
Saved by the bell.
Tate opened her eyes. The squawking secretary was a couple feet into the room, and turning bright red. Tate smiled and flicked her eyes to Jameson. His chin was resting on her chest, and one of his hands was halfway down her pants. He looked casual, but his secretary looked ready to burst into flames. Tate wondered how many women he'd fu-cked in his office. Maybe she was the first. She wiggled her hips underneath him.
“Yes, Mrs. Janette?” he asked, scratching his fingers up Tate's stomach as he pulled his hand free of her pants.
“I'm so sorry,” the other woman breathed.
“It's quite alright. Do you mind, Tate?” he asked, not looking down at her.
“Nope.”
“What did you need?” Jameson asked the secretary as he slowly backed off of Tatum.
“Your ..., your one-thirty appointment. Mr. Yamamoto. He's -, he's here,” the secretary stuttered, looking everywhere around the room but at them.
“Of course. Tell him ten minutes,” Jameson replied, and the secretary fled from the room. Tate pulled herself up so she was sitting.
“Ten minutes isn't very long,” she told him. He shook his head, buttoning his vest back up.
“No, not nearly long enough for all the things I want to do to you. As sexy as your whore-y ways are, I don't think I can be inside of you, knowing that Ang might have just been there,” he explained. She snorted.
“I didn't have sex with him,” she snapped. Jameson smiled.
“I know. Still. The mental image. You have five days, baby girl. You better make sure that no one else has been here, when I get you back,” he said softly, stepping forward to run a finger up and down the seam between her legs. She rubbed her lips together.
“You think you can go a couple days without fu-cking me?” she asked, widening her legs.
“I've gone a lot longer than that before, I think I can manage it again. Besides, I'm submitting the termination papers to the secretary downstairs. I may not be so bored while you're gone,” he whispered, his finger pressing harder. She curled her fingers into his shoulders.
“I swear, if you fu-ck her, I'm definitely gonna fu-ck Nick.”
“Threaten me again, and I'll beat your ass so hard you won't even be able to walk during your little sabbatical with Nick.”
God, I missed this.
“Maybe,” she breathed, his fingers starting to make her pant, “maybe we could be really fast. We still have, like, six minutes left.” Before she could say more, he stopped touching her and pressed the finger to her lips.
“Shhhh. Good things come to those who wait. You want to spend the next few days with your boyfriend? Fine. Then you have to wait for me to give you what you need,” he replied.
It was only fair. She continued to squirm around on top of his desk, wanting his finger back. Wanting him to finish what he'd started. She wanted to finish him. Her eyes flicked down to the desk, then to his crotch. Down again, then up again.
“How much time is left?” she breathed, shoving him back and hopping off the desk.
“Maybe five minutes. Why? What are you thinking?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I'm thinking I might be able to fit under this desk almost as well as the desk at home.”
“Such a whore, baby girl. I love it.”