One night stand with my daddy's best friend
128

MATTHEW

My brand consultant, Coby, was staring at my latest plans and shaking his head. "You don't like it?" It wasn't much of a question but rather a subtle observation.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say I don't like it exactly, but..." He swept a hand through his green hair and shu1⁄2ed his oversized sneakers against the carpet. "I can't help but notice your plans are a little too...I dunno, traditional." "What's wrong with traditional?"

He glanced up from his iPad screen with pure horror on his face. "Okay. In the world of marketing, unless you're selling wallpaper to old ladies, traditional is a bad word."

"It is?"

"Who the hell wants to be traditional in this hyper- capitalist, extra-individualist society where we're all fighting for attention?" he asked rhetorically. "Traditional is about as exciting as roast dinner at your least favorite aunt's. What we want is funky, now, edgy, totally extra, and over the moon."

"Seriously?" I was skeptical.

"Yeah, we really need to get some crunch into your next advertising campaign. You know, more pow for your buck."

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

Thankfully Sandra appeared in the doorway to cut our conversation short. "You've got a visitor," she announced, and by the look on her face, it wasn't someone she welcomed.

"Is it Eddie?" I mouthed, trying to be discreet. "It's worse," she mouthed back.

How the hell could it be worse?

"Coby, is it okay if I leave the designs for the new ad campaign with you? You seem to know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, that's totes rad, man. I'll get some plans drawn up."

"Awesome."

Outside the board room, I followed Sandra and looked down toward the waiting room. "Where are they?"

"She just blustered right into your o ce and made herself comfortable."

"She? Aw, shit is it Gigi?" "No it's-"

"Matthew! I thought I heard that sexy voice of yours."

A figure stepped into my o ce doorway clad in a tight, white dress with pearls draped around her neck. Her hair, though still in her signature shade of blonde, was cut shorter with a Jackie O flip at the ends. "Olivia? What the hell are you doing here?" "That's no way to greet your wife."

"Ex-wife," I corrected her.

"Not yet," she retorted, holding up one finger.

I looked at Sandra, but she was desperately trying to stay out the conversation, busying herself in her notebook. Hurrying Olivia back inside my o ce, I closed the door behind me as my blood pressure increased. "You've got some fucking nerve coming here," I spat.

"I've got nerve? You're the one who had the nerve to try and give me fuck all in the divorce settlement."

"Ah, that's why you're here. Of course," I snarked, sarcasm and disdain dripping from my tongue. "How could I have been so stupid to assume you might have wanted to, I dunno, apologize!"

She let out a dramatic cackle like a witch and took a seat on the couch. Crossing her legs daintily, she put on all the airs and graces she had no doubt obtained from living with Simon.

You look ridiculous, I thought. You could never be a lady.

"Why are you here?" I asked, still standing. "I came to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said. "All I need is for you to sign the papers."

She clasped her hands on her lap, and I noticed her previously sharp as shit red acrylic nails had been replaced with a more tasteful and short style painted a pearly white.

"We broke up," she said, looking into her hands. "Simon and me. I just thought you might want to know."

I paused for a second and eyed the look on her face. She was trying her best to look demure and fragile, but there was no hiding the hawkish fierceness behind her features, or the coldness in her eyes. "What a coincidence," I commented dryly. "You split up with Simon and here you are."

"It's not like that," she insisted, her head still bowed. She sniffed as though she was trying to force herself to cry, but her eyes remained dry. "What I did with Simon was wrong. I know that now." "You know that now? Wow, it sure as shit took you a while to figure it out."

"Please don't mock me," she said, finally raising her head and tucking her hair behind her ears, which were adorned

with small pearls to match her necklace, no doubt gifts from Simon or some other shmuck who fell for her lines.

"You probably think I'm a real stupid bitch, but..." "That's an understatement," I laughed.

"Will you just listen?" she cried. "Please!"

Her voice was getting on my nerves, and her amateur dramatics were making me cringe.

"I'll admit I made a mistake," she sniffed, her eyes still dry. "But what marriage doesn't go through di culties now and again?"

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.com is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away! "You riding someone else's cock is a little more than a di culty," I stated, feeling the anger well up inside me.

"Do you have to be so crude?" she feigned embarrassment. "I mean, really..."

I moved toward the door and opened it. Looking out, I saw Sandra sitting at her desk trying her hardest to ignore the unfolding drama.

"What do you want?" I asked Olivia. "Are you here to discuss the settlement? Or to put on the waterworks and pretend you're heartbroken."

She stood up and shimmied over to me without a hint of sadness on her face. Not a single tear had been shed. Her face was perfectly powdered in thick foundation as it had been the second she walked in the door.

"I was thinking maybe you could forgive me?"

I stared at her for a second, confused. She couldn't be serious.

Raising a hand, she rested it gently on my shoulder and squeezed, as though her magic touch was all I needed to fall for her again. When that didn't seem to work, she narrowed her eyes and put on her best sexy face, smiling and cocking her head to the side like a flirtatious nymph.

"Come on, Matthew, it's almost Christmas. What better time for forgiveness? We could try again, couldn't we?" She

stepped closer. "I know I did wrong. And I know things weren't perfect between us." She gasped as if an idea had just occurred to her. "We could try for a baby. It's what you always wanted, right? A child to spoil."

I didn't want to react to that, but I couldn't help it. Something twinged at the back of my mind that made me almost consider the idea. I always had wanted a child, and when we'd married, I'd assumed a whole troop of children would soon follow. But they never came. Olivia, despite previously telling me she would love to be a mother, became cold and detached from the idea not long after we wed.

"I'm too young to be a mother," she'd say. "I want to keep my figure and freedom a little while longer."

But soon that little while turned to years, then a decade passed and I'd resigned myself to thinking children weren't in my future.

"We could always adopt," I'd tried to reason, but she didn't like that idea either.

"You won't love them the same way as you'd love your own," she'd told me, although it was insane. "You could pretend, but it just wouldn't feel the same."

"A baby..." I mused, looking into her eyes.

She could see the flicker of optimism on my face and preyed on it. "Yes, a baby. We could have more than one. We could have a whole brood. Isn't that what you always dreamed of?"

"It is, but..."

"But nothing. We could get back together. I haven't signed the divorce papers. We could just take off where we ended. Start fresh."

"We could never do that," I disagreed, removing her hand from my shoulder. "Not after what you did."

"But it was a mistake," she moaned. "And a terrible one at that. My God, I've stayed awake plenty of nights cursing myself for being so stupid. For being a whore."

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I flinched at hearing that word. I'd always hated it. "You're not a whore," I told her, hardening my voice as I continued. "But you are a selfish bitch. And you've got some fucking hubris coming in here thinking you can just win me back with a look and a touch. It's over, Olivia."

"No, you don't mean that. There was so much between us."

"Was. There was so much between us, but you destroyed it all. You think we can just get back together and have kids? Are you fucking crazy? Do you think I could ever make love to you again after what I saw you doing with that Simon asshole? You think I could ever get that image out my fucking head?"

She glanced away, ashamed, but I knew it wasn't because she had cheated. It was because I had caught her, and not only that, but I had caught her in the act with an ugly prick like Simon.

There was a time when just looking at her filled my belly with a fire that made me want to pounce on her, but that fire had long been extinguished. Now when I looked at her, I saw nothing but a sad old liar who had royally fucked up her life and was desperate to retrieve it. I could never touch her again, could never kiss her, let alone see her naked body. She was the ugliest woman alive to me.

"I still think we could work things out," she pushed. "I really do. You'll regret it if you don't."

"The only thing I regret is meeting you," I replied, taking her elbow and guiding her toward the door.

"You don't mean that!" she cried. Her tears were real and streaked a path through her thick foundation down to her chin. "Matthew, please! Don't give up on us like this."

"You gave up on us the second you went to bed with another man. Now get the fuck out."

"No, Matthew."

"Get out." "Matthew!"

I gently pushed her into the waiting room where Sandra glanced up for a second then furtively stared down at her desk.

"What am I supposed to do?" Olivia sobbed.

"Sign the fucking divorce papers," I yelled and slammed the door in her face.

I leaned against the door, and I could hear the sound of Sandra guiding Olivia to the elevators as her wails grew louder.

She's actually insane, I thought as I sunk down into my seat and held my head in my hands. She wasn't serious, was she?

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door and Sandra entered. "Wow," she said, stepping in with a scotch in her hand. "That was some scene, huh?"

I took the drink from her and gulped rather than sipped, feeling the calming burn at the back of my throat.

"What did you do with her?" I asked.

"Sent her downstairs. Told Jerry to call her a cab."

"She won't like that. She normally only travels in limos."

Sandra sat across from me and reached a hand across my desk. "Forget about her," she said, patting my arm.

"Believe me. There's nothing I want to do more than forget about Olivia."