Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

The opening line was “A truer word has never been spoken. Everything that has been said before, I can confirm.”

It went on from there detailing our back-and-forth conversations where I’d insulted her, and she’d insulted me. Where I’d taken it as fun banter, she’d apparently taken it as gospel—or at least research for an article that would no doubt destroy my career.

I called her phone, knowing she wouldn’t answer. Then I grabbed my keys. I was so mad; I didn’t think about the consequences. All I could think about was what a fool I’d been. She’d been playing me this entire time.

When I’d asked what her major in college was, she’d conveniently told me it was writing. And though her responses had pointed to journalism, I’d ignored it. Hadn’t she joked about writing my biography? Then there was the statement about not complicating things. And just before meeting my friends, she’d let me know exactly who she was. I’d have to thank her for that. Too bad it was likely too late to cancel the roses that would be delivered tomorrow. She could choke on them.

Still, instead of steering clear of the woman, I followed her all the way to her dad’s shop. Her car hadn’t been at her house, and I had the address of the shop on the receipt for the tow I’d paid for.

She was standing with Fanboy as I walked in.

“What the hell is this?” I barked.

She had the nerve to look me straight in the eye and say, “The truth.”

An older guy, probably her father, walked in as I vibrated with anger. “I should have known,” I said, more to myself.

“What’s going on here?” the man who I assumed was her father asked.

“He was just leaving.”

“Yeah, I am. Just one thing,” I said, holding the envelope out like a weapon. “You can say whatever you want about me, but you keep my family out of it.”

“Why? Your family has done nothing but cause mine pain my entire life.”

I thought about the words she’d written about my father. She summarized, as if plucking the thoughts from my head. “Your mother might have been mine if your dad hadn’t stolen her away. And that ranch is ours. Should have been.”

Her rage mirrored mine, but I barked out a humorless laugh. “Mom only had one boyfriend before she married my father, and he was her high school sweetheart named Alfred.” I glanced at her father, disgusted. “It doesn’t say ‘Alfred’s Auto Shop.’” Then I shifted my gaze back to her. “As far as the ranch, Dad won it in a poker game fair and square. And the man who legally owned it before him lived with us until his dying day. If you’re going to cross the line and bring my family into this, get your facts straight.”

After that, I didn’t know how I got home. My head was so confused. I sent Aiden a text asking if he could come over. I sent another to my brother. He was on a conference call and said he’d call me back.

Aiden showed up in his cruiser. He was technically on duty, but it was a small town and Aiden wasn’t normally a rule-breaker.

“What’s up with the SOS?” he asked after letting himself in. I was sitting in a chair staring at a bottle of Jack, ready to convince myself it was five o’clock somewhere.

I pointed to the coffee table. Aiden picked up and slid the sheets of paper out. I watched as he read. His expression mirrored mine the further he got.

My phone rang just as he finished. “Mitch, I’ve got you on speaker. Aiden’s here.”

I wasn’t quiet. If Sunshine or my dad heard, what did it matter? This would hit social media like a storm, and they’d learn everything from someone else’s perspective.

“What’s up? I have another meeting in five,” Mitch said.

“I’ve been fucked sideways and up the ass.”

“I have to agree,” Aiden said somberly.

“What? Did you piss that woman off?”

“More like she played me, Mitch. You wanted me to spend more time with her,” I blamed, though the truth was more like I’d wanted to spend that time. “She dropped an article at my house. It’s titled ‘Bastard.’”

“Fuck,” Mitch cursed with other choice words.

“She basically details the accounts of our meetings when we hated each other.” Or rather, I’d pretended to, liking her response to my jabs.

“Fuckity-fuck-fuck, Nate. One more week and we would be good. Get your ass on a plane. We’ve got to get ahead of this.”

“How?” I asked.

Aiden just shook his head while Mitch brainstormed. “We find a lookalike of Avery. Get some pictures to post to give you plausible deniability that Avery’s the woman you’ve been seen with. That will give us the ability to discredit her story. Plus, we get you in front of your team’s owner and get this deal done before it publishes. Did she say when it will?”