Chapter 78

Chapter 78
Elvie walked across the aisle, her shoulder brushing Zander's arm, and dropped the record back in its place, picking another one instead. He didn’t see what it was and decided he didn’t care.

“Queen and Jimi Hendrix never won a Grammy. Justin Bieber did,” she whispered, her grin signalling that she had won the battle.

“I didn’t give you your iPod back because I wanted to keep a piece of you with me,” he admitted.

And won.

And lost.

And what the fuck?

“What?” Her smile wiped off so quickly, you’d think I’d told her I’d been giving her brother placebo drugs for the past few weeks.

He picked up the record she was holding and walked over to the register to pay for it.

Elvie didn’t want him to buy her nice things. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to. Because the truth was, he’d never been taught how to show affection. Zander was taught how to buy it.

The salesman didn’t even wake up as he slid a note across his counter, plucked a plastic bag, and put the record inside.

Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys. Underrated. Romantic. Different.

Elvie.



Zander thought as things began to take place.

I’d never introduced a woman to my relatives.

Kristal had attended the same country club, the same schools, and had a summer house right next to ours. They’d known her since she was a baby. My aunt’s best friend was her godmother, and we were both expected by our families to make it work since they could see the potential revenue of such a union. Even my parents thought so too.

Fuck helicopter parents! Matheo and Kristal were private-jet parents. They’d wanted me to marry their princess before I’d found out my dick was good for more than pissing.

I wasn’t nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about. As far as Elvie was concerned, she wasn’t going to be assessed or judged. I’d told her that my aunt was under the impression that she’d come here to assist me with my professional duties.

My aunt lived in a penthouse, of course. Rich people loved putting distance between themselves and grounded people. Golden marbled and palm trees, the skyscraper did nothing for Elvie, who was busy taking a picture of a colourful reptile with her new phone. We were ushered in by an entourage of staff the minute we arrived at the lobby. Elvie wore a modest black dress and plain black shoes, with her hair tied back. I was in my slacks and a casual shirt.

She would rather see me in a strap-on and ball gag than casualwear. Which, naturally, added a dash of sadistic pleasure to my state of underdress.

In the elevator—why did everything happen in the fucking elevator? —Elvie turned to me and said, “If she starts talking to you about Kristal, I’m leaving the room.”

“Hate to interrupt your guilt-fest, but you weren’t the reason I called off my contract with that whore.”

“I know. But still.”

Still, you have more morals in your pinky than Kristal has in her entire body.

My aunt was sitting on her throne—a cream-upholstered sofa, still adorned with the dangling $10,000 price tag—atop her Persian carpet. The lingering tag was a horrendous mistake, I assumed, but not one I wanted to correct, seeing as she deserved the embarrassment of having her friends judge her for it silently.

She was beautiful in a superficial way. Unlike my own mother. But the same way I’d imagined Kristal would be in about twenty years. Everything was too groomed and too tight, with leathery skin on newly bleached hair.

I couldn’t fault her for wanting to look younger. My uncle treated his women like he owned a car dealership. A newer, shinier model rolls in every few years. Her hair was blow-dried to perfection, and she wore a satin gown in silver.

“My beautiful nephew,” she purred, not bothering to get up from the couch. I sauntered over to her, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks. Elvie stood behind me and offered a little wave.

I gestured to my companion. “This is Elvie.”

There was no point in calling her my employee, my wife, or whatever, because she was much more than that, or my girl, because I wasn’t sure if she was. My aunt’s lips curled into a secretive smile, and she hooked her forefinger in the air, motioning for Elvie to come closer.

“I don’t bite, my dear.”

“But your son does…” I heard Elvie mumbling under her breath as she made her way past me.

She shook my aunt’s hand. A few minutes later, the housekeeper presented us with pistachio shortbread cookies and coffee, and we all sat down. Instead of fucking around, I decided to broach the subject I’d come here for.

“Have you listened to the recordings, aunt?”

“I have. How did you get them?”

“Irrelevant. The point is, Matheo is trying to kill SBC by selling ad space to questionable parties and cutting my budget even though we’re making clean profits. In other words, he is trying to weaken our product while injecting harmful commercial content into the channel.”

“Sounds like something my ex-husband would do.”

I powered up my laptop, connecting it to the huge flat screen in front of us.

“Give me the skinny on things.” Maman alternated between puffing on a cigarette and sucking on a shortbread cookie without eating it. God forbid.

“Ratings are still strong for our main show, but we’re flailing in other time slots. The morning show is a train wreck, and the political talk show is losing steam by the nanosecond, due to the fact that Matheo hired someone who cannot string two sentences without offending entire nations.”

“The old cow had five or more years, if he’s lucky.” Her voice was sweet with satisfaction. “Can you not wait it out?”

“At this rate, the network will be dead in five months.”

“Well, it is quite unfortunate, then, that you broke off your engagement with Kristal. The Davis family holds ten percent of the shares in SBC, and they and I would have made a majority. That’s why I pushed you into dating her when you were kids. I predicted this would happen with your brother.”

“And I would have appreciated your endorsement of the Davis girl had she not opened her legs to Patrick and Matheo. Now, let’s focus on getting the board to see how dangerous Matheo's game is.” I hit the conference call button.

Elvie sat beside us, away from the webcam, and stared at us curiously, Kipling in her lap.

My mother scowled, placing the thoroughly sucked cookie back on its plate.

The conference call was my idea of hell.

Matheo looked smug in a Hawaiian shirt, sitting on a yacht—hopefully somewhere with Sudanese pirates—his curly white chest hair peeking out of his collar, a cigar between his teeth, and a giggling woman in his lap. My aunt kept her mouth pursed as he coughed out the details of the string of deals he wanted to sign, laying out all the millions the network was going to make.

The rest of the board ate it up the minute they heard the magic word revenue.

“SBC is a business like any other. It’s not a nonprofit organization.”—Bigwig 1

“And the fact that the main show is performing just as well despite the cut in staff means the extra employees weren’t necessary.”—Bigwig 2

“No, it means that my remaining employees are breaking their backs to maintain the level of accuracy and quality our viewers are used to so you can treat your third wives to a new set of tits,” I stated matter-of-factly, pushing my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t punch the screen.

“Awww, Zander is quite the romantic,” Matheo snorted around his cigar. “He’s a fine newsman and a very bad businessman. Just look at his recent choices. Did you know he recently broke off his contract with the beautiful Kristal Davis because he fell in love with his wife?”

Now I pierced through the fabric of my pockets and tore my slacks. Fuck if I knew how he’d gained this information, but my top guess was that it had come from Kristal herself. I didn’t know where she’d gotten this information, but I was certain we had a mole because the chances of Elvie opening her mouth and talking about us to anyone who wasn’t Almera and Gerald were nonexistent.

A quick glance at her face confirmed she was Team #MaimMatheo. She paled like the moon, standing up and excusing herself from the room.

My mother refocused her attention on the screen.

“You’re being absurd, Matheo.” Her red-lipsticked mouth puckered.

“Am I, my darling?” He laughed evilly. “Clearly absurd is not the word you’re looking for. May I suggest something harsh?”

“If suggestions were your strong suit, you wouldn’t be held to the balls by your son. Fucking the love of his life just to piss him off?” I rolled up my sleeves, getting tired of his little charade.

My aunt reddened quietly next to me.

“The last thing you want is for me to really go after you. As for the deals, they're going to ruin our reputation and bulldoze over all the hard work we’ve done. We might as well publicly endorse kids drinking and teens catching STDs. By the time SBC dies, you won’t be in charge anymore, and I’ll be the one expected to provide the answers.”

Matheo fingered an invisible goatee, pretending to mull over my last statement. “What do you say, fellas? You’re the bigwigs. My best friend's son, on top of being romantic, also hates money. Should we or should we not take the deals?”

Zander’s aunt waved her manicured hand.

“I think we should pass on the deals and add more interns to the newsroom to maintain the current ratings.”

“I’m with Matheo on this one. My apologies.”—Bigwig 1

“Me too.”—Bigwig 2

“Me three.”—Bigwig 3

He slapped the laptop shut before his aunt could answer, then threw it across the room. It crashed against the wall, fell to the floor, and broke in half. His aunt sat back on her cushioned couch. Her chin wrinkled, like she was about to cry.

“Don’t say anything,” he warned.

“If you want to fix this, you need to talk to Kristal,” she said.

Fuck you!

She reached for another cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side. Zander stood up and paced, running his fingers through my hair.

“Swallow your pride. Take her back. Elvie is a nice girl, but there will be a lot of Elvies walking in and out of your life. There’s only one Kristal who can save you. Protect your parents' network.”