Bad Boy Rich

“Ha, ha,” he mocks, “I’m saying goodbye now.”

As I hang up the phone, admiring the black dress, I battle my fatigue and power through, grabbing myself a double-shot coffee from the kitchen to keep me awake.

Not wanting to miss another opportunity, I call Mom’s cell. Ring, after ring—

unanswered. My heart sinks again, and with the time being a late Saturday afternoon, I try the main office. Delia—the receptionist—informs me that it’s only her and the nurses were busy.

Following my disappointment, I head to the bathroom to get ready for tonight, glad that my periods were over after two short days though the cramps, annoying as usual, lingered. It didn’t matter—I would spend tonight with Wesley. He had become my safety blanket, and tonight—would be all about us.

This was the second time we had visited his mother’s home and the drive in still intimidated me. The wealth that sat in real estate—astounded me. A few weeks back, I had read that these homes were worth millions of dollars. Granted, they were beautiful and nothing like the small shack we called our home back in Alaska. It was a different world up here in the Hills.

Wesley spent most of the limo ride teasing me with some notably missed foreplay. I didn’t object; grabbing his crotch several times and even suggesting a pit stop. I was quite surprised when he gave me a lecture on patience, given he was the most impatient person in the world.

The car pulls into the property, driving towards the well-lit home. Gina stands at the door, waving hello in a posh white suit with her breasts protruding. They had to be Ds…or Fs, and of course—they were fake.

As we exit the car, Wesley pulls out a drag with a grunt of a hello. I didn’t understand. He said we had to come here yet seem uninterested. Almost as if the sight of his mother repulsed him.

“Wesley, darling. You came.”

He scrapes his hair back, curling his fingers, irritated. “I said I would.”

“And you brought your girlfriend.” Her smile fades, picking up again, obviously forced. “Milana, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I respond, uneasily.

“Of course. Well, I guess it’s nice to see you. Wesley didn’t mention you coming.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend, of course she’s coming, Mother.”

In the space of ten minutes, Wesley’s attitude had done a complete one-eighty. I place my hand on his arm, willingly calming his nervous anger. “Wesley, please.”

With nothing but her usual plastic smile, she ushers us into the house ignoring his rude response, making us join her in their formal living room for drinks.

There’s a few couples inside; none that willingly came over to say hello therefore I stuck to our side and pretended to be interested in the artwork. Gina beckons the maid to pour us a drink.

“Bourbon,” Wesley demands the same time I say, “Anything.”

The maid serves our drinks, bringing them over with a weary expression. Wesley downs it all in one go, rudely demanding another. I’m not sure why I follow suit, regretting the burns that etch as I swallow. Wincing, I politely ask for another. Something told me to prepare myself for a long, and drama-filled—night.

Not wanting to forget, I reach out a small box—a gift that Wesley chose for his mom. “From us. Happy Birthday.”

Gina thanks us, aloof and without a gracious expression, accepting the gift and opening it. When she sees the diamonds staring back at her, her face completely changes.

Excitement, and dancing eyes accompany her wide smile. I think back to what Emerson told me, agreeing with her opinion on Gina’s money-hungry persona.

“Oh Wesley, darling. They’re gorgeous. They match the necklace you gave me at Christmas.”

He smiles, deviously. After she kisses his cheek, thanking him, she excuses herself to attend to other guests.

“They’re beautiful earrings. You have nice taste.”

He laughs. “I don’t have nice taste…her best friend does.”

“What does that mean? Her best friend bought them?”

“No, I stole them from her.”

I drop his hand, pulse racing as my anger climbs. “What do you mean you stole them from her?”