Page 29 of M.M. Scrooge
Darkness lifts to reveal a posh Boston apartment I remember well. This was my and Ash’s place in the city. We moved here after he got his Realtor’s license. His sponsoring broker was within walking distance from our place, and I picked up a job at the local Realm Physical.
Though I hold mostly good memories from this time in my life, I think I know what this lesson might be about. Shame curls in my gut. Yes, I have a good guess as to how I wronged Ash. It’s what we always fought about. What eventually broke us up.
But he was making so much money! To this day, I’m jealous. He joined the six-figure club not even three-quarters of the way through his first year as a full-time real estate agent. Who wouldn’t be jealous? I still haven’t had a six-figure year, and I’ve been a trainer for seven. It’s not fair.
The old frustration roils through me, but I tamp it down. Can’t afford to slip off my guard while I’m under Bogey’s spell.
I’m getting my bearings, rising from the hardwood floor to my feet. The living room is mostly how I remember it. Sparse, modern, done in shades of gray and white with accents in pumpkin orange, Ash’s favorite color. Creamy leather recliner in the corner, matching leather couch across from an enormous flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. Open floor plan so the kitchen and dining room are just a short walk away. A small mudroom and the front door are in my line of sight as well. Two bedrooms off the main hall, one we shared and one a spare office for Ash. Both bring back fond memories. Fucking Ash over his perfectly organized desk, getting everything all messy and ruffled.
I mosey through the place, peeking in each room, searching for Ash. He must be here somewhere, waiting to teach me a lesson. Probably about contributing my fair share, being grateful for what I have, not coveting what others do, or some similar bullshit.
This particular lesson isn’t going to go well. I feel the same way now as I did then. He was dripping in cash while I was struggling to make ends meet. It made sense for him to pay the bills. If he didn’t like it, he could have dated someone else.
Which is what he eventually did.
There, lesson learned. Don’t date rich stingy men. Date richgenerousmen. Can I go home now?
Just when I’ve established I’m alone in the apartment, the front door swings open and Ash steps inside.
I freeze next to the sleek mahogany dining room table and stare.
He looks different. His hair has grown out and hangs in silky ebony waves around his shoulders. The smile lines around his mouth and the wrinkles at the corners of each eye are more pronounced, lending him a distinguished air despite the emo hairstyle he’s sporting. The long hair suits him, though. It softens his angular face. Would be nice to sink my hands into it andtug.
His blue-eyed gaze lands on me, and nerves spark to life. What happens now?
Ash saunters into the apartment, shrugs off a black leather computer bag, sets it on the counter, kicks off his shoes, and meets me in the dining room. He stops two feet short of where I stand, then has to lift his face to look me in the eyes.
I get a whiff of his cologne, and that’s not what I remember either. He used to smell of sandalwood, but this scent is more complex, whiskey and coriander. Lovely.
“Max.” His voice is sweet as warmed honey. “I trust you’ve been a good student thus far?”
So he knows what’s happening to me, the ordeal I’m stuck in. “Are you a figment of Ash or the real deal?”
Ash chuckles and swipes a lock of hair behind his ear. “Oh, no, no figment. You’ve got the real me, sweet cheeks.” His grin turns wicked. “How are you finding my uncle’s company?”
I’m confused, which I’m getting used to as it’s my baseline mental state tonight. “Your uncle?”
“Well, my great- great- great- great—” He flutters his hand in the air between us. “I actually don’t know how many greats, but you get the idea, great-uncle.”
I pick my jaw up off the floor. “Are you telling me the bogeyman is your uncle?”
“Indeed, though I just call him Uncle Bugaboo. You know, he usually only scares children, Max, but when I made a special request for you, he couldn’t resist.”
Should I be flattered or insulted? Probably insulted. “Um, you know your uncle is terrifying, right?”
“Of course.” Ash’s expression saysduh, even though he’s far too refined to utter the actual word. “That’s his job. And he excels at his job.”
Amazing how quickly batshit crazy things have become normal. “So, this was all your idea?”
“Mm-hmm. Well, mine and my partner’s. I told him all about you. About us. You’ll have the pleasure of meeting him later.”
Why does that prickle the hairs on the back of my neck? “I will?”
Ash gives a casual nod and takes my elbow. He leads me into the living room. “Have a seat on the couch if you would. I’m just going to grab drinks.”
I do as he says and make myself at home on the expensive leather. My nerves are shot, but this will be one more lesson, and my life will go back to normal. Whatever Ash has to teach me, I’m ready. I won’t make the mistake of thinking it couldn’t be that bad again, not after literally having my dick fucked by unforgiving metal. Does Ash know about that? Was he watching somehow? Did he see me come so hard I nearly blacked out? A wave of self-consciousness makes me cringe.
Soft music fills the room from surround sound speakers, something low and hypnotic. Nothing like what we used to listen to together. Not that it matters. Except it helps me calm down, and that’s nice.
