Two more days and Sloane managed to get the green light from the banks. A lending order was signed, and we drafted an agreement that’ll allow me to finish my prototype and launch it into the market.
And that’s happening pretty soon.
Four.
Four knocks at my door, and I knew it was my mom.
Most people only knock three times, but my mom always had this quirky habit of knocking at the door four times. Just like that: knock, knock, pause, knock, knock.
It was a Sunday afternoon and the three of us were lying in bed, sweat glistening on our bodies. We were breathing hard, still exhausted from the sex marathon we’ve just finished, when I heard those knocks.
I sat up on the bed fast, looking alarmed, and Sloane and Drake exchanged a knowing glance. We all got out of bed together, threw some clothes on, and marched straight to the door, both men flanking me as I reached for the handle. The door swung open and there she was. The Queen of Ice herself, my mother.
"I see you’ve been busy, Natalie," my mom said, looking from Sloane to Drake, her eyes roaming over their shirtless bodies.
"You’re not welcome here anymore," I told her, hell bent on severing all my ties to her.
"I figured you’d say that. The three of you … you fucked me over," she whispered then, and my eyes widened with shock. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mom curse. Sure, she might be the devil incarnate, but she always kept her composure. It’s a matter of appearances. "I’m here to give you one last chance," she continued, the creases around her eyes becoming more pronounced. There was an expression of pure hatred on her face, and my heart broke a little; my mother could be someone really special, but she decided to be this vain and hurtful creature.
"Fuck off, Linda," Drake simply said, and slammed the door shut, leaving her outside in the hallway.
"Fuck her," Sloane agreed, and that was it. I waited a few seconds for her to knock on my door again, but that never came.
Her reaction came the following day.
Three hundred.
That’s how many words it took to sling a handful of dirt at me, Sloane, and Drake. It barely qualified as an article, but it got the centerfold pages in one of the biggest New York tabloids. From there, the story spread like wildfire.
The depraved lives of the New York elite, one of these ‘articles’ read, describing the three of us as sex fiends with absolutely no morals whatsoever. In the same breath, though, that article managed to praise my mom. She was the sole island of decency in a scandalous family.
That was her play. Since we didn’t want to play ball, she’d distance herself from us as much as possible, and that after stepping on our throats, of course.
Only a few hours have passed since the news broke, and the mess keeps on getting bigger and bigger. I’m sitting on my couch, laptop propped up on my knees, and I’m devouring everything I see around us. And there’s a lot.
Online articles are popping out left and right, and some of them are so ridiculous they’re almost funny. One of them, for instance, theorizes that the three of us are involved in some kind of sexual cult. Hello? Of course we’re involved in a cult; it’s called the cult of pleasure, and I figure a lot of these so-called journalists would benefit from enrolling in a cult like ours. Maybe I’ll jot down a few names and send them a package full of my toys. Jesus, some people really need to get off.
"Hey, stop reading that bullshit," Drake tells me, coming around the couch and lowering the lid of my laptop. "It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Everyone’s in a frenzy over this. You gotta let it go for now."
"Fuck this shit," Sloane says from the other end of the couch, throwing his tablet on top of the coffee table. "There’s no letting it go. We need to fight back. If she wants war, let’s give it to her."
Drake looks from me to Sloane, and he sighs heavily. I know that he wanted to avoid a confrontation, but there’s no way around it now. If we let my mom walk away from this, she’s going to drag us, and our companies, through the mud until all that’s left is a bunch of ruins.
"You’re right…" Drake finally admits, looking out the window at the New York skyline. The sun is setting now, and its orange glow makes Drake’s face look even more rugged and determined. "We have to fight back."
"We’ll go to war," I say, standing by Drake and Sloane’s side, "and we’ll win."
Natalie
"There’s no end to this fucking insanity," Sloane sighs, waving his hand at the pile of papers on the conference table. I rub my temples and lean back against my chair, trying to come up with something.
We scheduled a meeting at Sloane’s office, and we made his conference room our headquarters. It’s late at night, so the whole floor is empty and we can have some privacy while we think about what our next move is going to be. We’re going to find a way out of this mess my mom pulled us into, come hell or high water.
We’ve been at it for two hours now, pouring over her financial records and trying to get some leverage. But she’s careful, we knew that, and everything we found out about her proves that. There’s not a single blemish in her records, financial or otherwise.
And the tabloid stories about us keep on coming relentlessly. The news have already left New York City and made the headlines in some other states. This scandal has become nationwide. I guess that means we’re all famous now, huh?
I don’t care if the world knows about our relationship. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t mind going to the top of the building we’re in and shout out how much I love the two men sitting by my side. It’s the truth, and no one should be ashamed of loving someone, despite what society might say.