Bad Boy Rich

“Nothing much. He has a gig two Fridays from now and one of the executive producers of Platinum Records will be there watching them.”

I had no clue, but happy that Flynn would finally get this opportunity. That is until I realize I would be in Vancouver.

“Shoot,” I say. “I think I’m in Vancouver for work.”

“Oh honey, I’m sure Flynn won’t mind.”

“It’s not that, Mom…” I yearn to tell her what’s going on; needing to get it all off chest. Needing some sort of guidance as to whether or not it was possible to fall head over lust for a man in such a short time. But instead, typical me, bottles it up. Not wanting to burden her with my troubles.

There’s a slight muffle in the background, voices amongst some music being played. Mom asks me to hold on for a moment, returning a minute later.

“Milly, I have to go. We have this dinner thing tonight and I promised to help set up. It was nice talking to you, sweetie. I’m glad you answered for once.”

“I called you, Mom.”

Mom laughs, quick to correct herself. “That’s right. Silly me. I love you honey. Take care will you.”

“Always, Mom.”

I hang up the phone, holding it against my chest and letting that lonesome tear fall graciously down my face. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I listen to her voice inside my head, opening my eyes in what only felt like minutes later.

It’s dark, and the clock on the car says it’s eight-fifteen. Shit! I had fallen asleep in the car. In a state of panic, I turn the ignition on and speed out of the street and onto the freeway home. By the time I reach our apartment, it’s just after eight-thirty. Joe is out on the pavement, playing a game of backgammon with an undefeated Clifford from across the street. They’re both ranting as usual; something about their fathers in the war and ungrateful children of today.

I quickly say hello, then run upstairs urgently needing to pee. When I open the apartm

ent door, Flynn is lounging with some redheaded chick. A face that did not look familiar therefore not the woman of the other morning. I wave hello before bolting to the bathroom, relieving myself, then exiting in a happier mood.

“Have you guys eaten?” I grab a menu off the table, realizing only now that I hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“We can grab some pizzas,” Flynn suggests, eyeing me cautiously. “Kail, my sister, Milly.”

“Hey,” she mumbles, unimpressed.

“Hey…” I respond back, with a quick smile. “Sure, order me my usual. I’m just going to get changed.”

I begin tearing my blouse off as I walk into my room. All of a sudden, I halt—the image of Wesley sitting on my bed startles me.

How? Why didn’t Flynn tell me he was here? My brother is the biggest pain the backside.

Wesley is anything but happy. Grinding his teeth with his nostrils flaring at the same time. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts, tee and sneakers, looking rather casual. His hair looked like it had grown since this morning—which is impossible—yet limping against his face till he combs it back with his fingers in a frustrated move.

“Oh, you’re here.”

Silence falls. I throw my bag onto the bed and the second it lands, he grabs it, unzipping the zipper and fumbling around, removing my cell.

Holding it up, he gestures with an agitated expression. “Would you look at that? You do have battery! And your cell does work. Did it not occur to you to respond to any of my calls or texts?”

“I fell asleep,” I tell him, acting in defense. “I was exhausted from last night.”

“You fucking read my texts!” he yells, erratic and throwing my cell onto the bed. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Milana.”

“Bullshit?” I question, equally annoyed at his childish behavior. “Last week, you didn’t speak to me for days.”

“That was different. We weren’t in a relationship.” He’s quick to remind me. “Do you know what happens in a relationship? You communicate. You don’t tell lies. I don’t know what type of a relationship you and that little farmer boy had but that’s not how it works, okay?”

I didn’t appreciate him putting down Liam or making me feel stupid. Of course I knew how a relationship worked. Obviously, he didn’t.

“Really? You want to talk about lying? Tell me, what meetings do you have scheduled for tomorrow?”