She’d huffed and puffed as she absorbed that reality, then tossed out, “You could at least give it to the poor.”
I’d been waiting for that argument and had already done the math in my mind. “Alright, let’s do that. With the forty-five million Americans living below the poverty level, how do you suggest they utilize the fifty-six dollars they’d each get from me? I’m sure they’re eager for your suggestions on how they could best stretch those dollars while they work two jobs trying to put food on the table for their kids.”
She’d yanked out her calculator and tapped away before lifting her chin in stubborn refusal to face the facts. “It’s still disgusting,” she shouted and stood, tears in her eyes, and stomped on the bills on the floor before rushing out of the room.
I’d fucked her that night, when she came to my dorm to apologize for her outburst. I’d actually fucked Leesa a number of times, up until she began hinting that we’d make beautiful babies together. Until I caught her poking a needle into the condoms in my nightstand.
The memory made me shiver.
That had been the moment I lost trust in women completely. I’d spent the next several weeks ratcheted with anxiety that I’d gotten the conniving little bitch pregnant, appalled that someone like her could possibly have my baby. I had nightmares of how she’d hold our child over my head, using him or her to manipulate me for the next eighteen years.
I’d dodged that bullet, but the lesson had made me smarter even as it left a thick layer of ice around my heart. I hadn’t let many people get close to me after that. Josh had inched his way in, but only because his folks were equally as wealthy and his lighthearted way at looking at life shined a light into my otherwise dark existence. An existence that had me chasing adrenaline rushes, preferring to jump out of planes or digging my hands into the guts of humanity rather than deal with people face-to-face.
When I needed sex, I got it. There was always a woman up for a one-night stand, or even a few hours in a hotel room. Hell, a quickie in a club bathroom would serve many of them just fine. I never took them home. Never told them who I was, about my family, or that I was a doctor. I couldn’t stand the dollar signs that popped into their eyes if I did.
The judge’s daughter was back, and she yanked on my tie, pulling me back to the present. “Do I get a goodbye kiss, Langston?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me. I could smell her sweat. Her sex. Very carefully, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead. She pouted, her glossed lip sticking out. “Is that it?”
I wanted to shout at her. Hit something. Do something. Couldn’t she see how pathetic this was? Instead, I took a sip of my drink, attempting to wash the anger back down into my stomach. “Sorry, Emily. I know where your mouth has been.”
Her eyes widened, and I thought for sure she was going to slap me, and a large part of me welcomed the pain. She didn’t. Instead, she whirled around and stomped from the room. Yet another reason women were nowhere close to my radar. I simply didn’t trust their conniving minds.
Before the ring of her six-inch stilettos clicking on the marble floor faded, I spotted Josh coming down the hallway, straightening his tie. His grin took up his entire face as he lifted two fingers, then five. I gave him a thumbs-up for his bedroom prowess, wishing I had a little of his carefree attitude in me.
“Impressive,” I said as he came to stand by my side. “Hope you didn’t throw out a hip.”
He smirked. “Ready to blow this place? The club should be hopping by now.” I groaned, ready to give a million excuses as to why I didn’t want to go to any club, but he held up a hand, holding me off. “Shut up. You’re going. Just got to get you out of that penguin suit and into something that could get you laid, old man. It’s been forever since we went out, and from the looks of things, it will be forever until we get to again.”
Getting out of this suit was indeed priority one, but I really wanted to crash after that. “I’ve got a plane to catch—”
I surrendered to our twenty-year friendship as he gave me an exaggerated yawn, patting his mouth with his hand for added emphasis. “Come on. It’s your last night here. Live a little. Have some fun before malaria bites you in the ass.”
He had a point.
“All right. Let’s go but just for an hour at most. I need to get some sleep. Plane leaves early tomorrow morning.”
He hooked an arm around my neck. “All right, old man. Let’s get out of here and into some decent clothes.”
Looking around, I found my parents still talking to the mayor and his wife. Mom’s happy expression immediately fell the moment she saw me, the bright smile sliding off her pretty face. She sighed. “Is it time?”
I pulled her against my chest, then took the hand my father extended to me. “Yeah. I’m heading out, but don’t worry, the time will go by in a flash.” I’d signed a commitment for six months but felt sure I’d want to stay longer. In my mind, I planned to be there for a year at least. Maybe longer. Or maybe I’d skip to a different country, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to keep my options open.
Out came the hankie, and she pressed it to her nose. “I’m just going to miss you so much.”
I kissed her hair, breathing in the familiar scent again. “I know. I’ll miss you too.”
“Son…” my father began, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You sure about this?”
I looked him in the eye, noticing not for the first time how tired he looked. I was a mixture of both my parents. Tall and dark-haired like him. Tawny-colored eyes and straight nose like her. I’d been their miracle child. After three miscarriages, they had almost given up when I came screaming into the world. There had been nothing but miscarriages after me, although they hadn’t given up until Mom was forced to have a hysterectomy when I was six.
They’d been married for forty years last summer and were still very much in love, even though critics hadn’t given them a chance with their seventeen-year age difference. Critics also didn’t like that my mother was an heiress while my father was a lowly general surgeon, who would have been just as happy in a little house as in this massive Central Park apartment.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m sure. I want to do this. Need to spit the silver spoon out of my mouth for a while.”
The mayor guffawed, as if I’d told a hilarious joke. His wife poked him in the ribs with her elbow, shutting him up. “Here, Harold, let’s go get some air.” She led the grumbling man onto the patio, giving us some privacy.
“Be careful, darling,” Mom said, rising onto tiptoes to press a kiss on my cheek, then using her thumb to wipe away the lipstick smudge. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay here for tonight? Gerald can drive you to the airport in the morning.”
I gave her another squeeze as I reminded her that, “I have to be up early and I’m staying closer to JFK. Already have my bags in my hotel room.”
Her face fell even though I’d already told her that several times. “Call me when you land, darling. I’ll worry about you every minute.”