Page 2 of Theirs

Chapter 2

“So this is how the other side lives?” I ask, taking a flute of champagne from the passing waitress dressed in all black. The woman is gorgeous, practically a model, and it shocks me to think she works as a caterer. Then I wonder how much a caterer for high-end events in downtown Chicago must make, and I strongly consider a career change.

My brother rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his scotch. “You could also live like this if you accepted Mom and Dad’s trust money, or if you took me up on that job offer I gave you. Wouldn’t you rather be in a nice cushy office job instead of walking dogs all day and cleaning up shit?”

I shake my head and make a gagging noise. So not lady like. “I will not let anyone ever think I’m just a trust fund baby, and I know damn well that job connection was through Mom and Dad, not you.”

Growing up in this type of atmosphere, I made a choice to not be a part of it anymore. Everything isn’t as shiny and pretty as the rich can make it look on the outside. There’s evil that lurks in the shadows no matter how safe you feel, most people just choose to turn their head and pretend it’s not there. Kane doesn’t know the truth about why I’ve shut our parents out, and I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him.

Kane nudges me with his shoulder. “At least take some of the money to get a safer apartment. I worry about you, Tea. You could get mugged, abducted, or worse— I won’t even tell you all the horrible stuff that could happen to you over there. People are awful. I don’t want my baby sister ending up on the eleven o’clock news in a body bag. At least move closer to us so I can look out for my little sis.”

“People look out for me, K,” I tell him. “That’s what people do over there, we watch out for each other, believe it or not.”

He shakes his head. “But it would make me feel better. What if I offer to pay your rent if you move? You don’t have to accept Mom and Dad’s money, but will you accept mine?”

“Most of your money is their money,” I say, clearly annoyed. I’m getting tired of having the same conversation over and over with Kane. “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll meet you at our table.”

I walk off, downing the rest of my champagne, discarding the glass on a passing tray, and hightail it for the restrooms, lifting the hem of my dress so I don’t trip. I pass by all sorts of fancy, rich people on the way. People with tight smiles from the Botox they’ve had, sparkly teeth that probably cost a fortune to bleach, red bottom soles on the women’s heels; exactly the type anyone would expect at a ridiculous date auction. The line of cars waiting for the valet outside was equally preposterous. The rich doctors and lawyers must have felt like peasants when they pulled up in their Mercedes and BMWs and had to get in line behind Rolls-Royces and other foreign cars whose brands I couldn’t pronounce. And they’re all here to donate small fortunes to charity—or so they claim. If they didn’t get huge tax write-offs for their companies, I doubt any of them would drop a single dime.

I reach the restroom, and the door to the ladies room is stuck when I try to push it open. I push on it multiple times, and it only gives an inch and then slams shut in my face again. I bang on the door, but stop when I hear a moan coming from the other side. What the hell? I place my ear against the door, trying to hear. What if the woman behind this door is being attacked? It can happen at even nice places like this, not just on the dangerous side of the city like Kane thinks.

Finally, I try one more time, and stumble into the bathroom as the door gives. There’s a woman pinned up against the wall, and someone in a suit is underneath the bottom of her dress, reaching a hand up and pulling on her exposed breast with a large hand. I quickly avert my eyes, and my heels click against the floor as I walk to a stall and slam it closed behind me. I guess in a way she is being attacked, but I also guess she’s enjoying the mouth on her nether region. I pick up the bottom of my dress and hold it as I sit down to pee, but I can’t go. All I can hear are the woman’s moans and those of the person under her dress.

“Oh, doc,” she exaggerates her moan. “Fuck, that’s so good. Keep going, keep going. Right there.”

I pull some toilet paper off the roll and look down at my freshly painted fingernails, hoping they don’t chip before the night is over. Most of the other women have acrylics that they probably get done every two weeks. I had to settle for the bottle of white Sally Hansen I picked up at the Walgreens by my apartment. In the next stall over, the girl keeps screaming about how she’s going to cum, and she keeps calling him by what I assume is a nickname. Finally, I give up and flush the unused toilet paper down the toilet. Guess it’s better that I don’t break the seal or I’ll be peeing all night from the alcohol. Small bladder problems.

I come out of the stall and wash my hands, keeping my gaze on the running water and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in my head, a leftover habit that I acquired during quarantine 2020.

The couple finishes— well, the woman does— and the man climbs out from under her dress, sending her off with a smack on her ass. He turns to me, popping a mint into his mouth and wiping the corner of his lips. I realize I’m staring at him, and he smiles just as I turn my gaze away to grab at a monogrammed paper towel. Ugh, such a waste of money to monogram paper towels that are used for a few seconds and then thrown away.

“You next in line, Lavender?” he asks, and I realize he’s talking to me. I’m the only other person here. He’s calling me by the color of my hair.

“Uh, no,” I say, wiping my hands and tossing the towel in the trash. “I don’t take sloppy seconds.”

“How about sloppy thirds?” he teases, sucking on the mint and looking me up and down.

“You’ve done that twice already tonight?” I ask. My eyes are practically popping out of my skull. I could never convince a boyfriend of mine to go down on me—it was always about their pleasure. In fact, I’ve never actually met a guy who likes the taste or would bother to ensure a woman has an orgasm. Maybe I’ve been dating the wrong guys.

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “What can I say? I’m hungry. Insatiable. I’ve got a very impressive libido.”

I shake my head and walk out of the bathroom. I hear him following me out to the banquet hall, not too far behind. I hate awkward silences, and we’re clearly both attending the benefit dinner, so I glance over my shoulder, catching him watching me.

“So what does Dr. B.D. stand for?” I ask, my curiosity undeniably piqued.

“Big dick,” he says nonchalantly, crunching the mint between his perfect white teeth.

I glance down at his slacks before I can stop myself, as if I could see the outline of his cock. And I come back up blushing, which is extremely obvious on my pale skin. He laughs and I pick up my pace, searching the room for my table. I find my brother sitting at a table in the center of the room chatting with three other men, and I sigh, realizing I’ll probably be the only female at the bro fest they call a table.

“There you are,” Kane says, smiling as I take my seat next to him and place my napkin in my lap to protect my black silk dress. I’d rather not pay for dry cleaning this thing. “I got you wine, and our salads are getting ready to come out.”

“Thanks, man,” I reply, glancing around the table at our companions for the evening. My eyes stop as I see the man from the bathroom sit down across from me, smiling smugly. “Shit. Fuck.”

“Teagan,” Kane scolds as if I didn’t learn how to cuss from watching my big brother play video games for years.

“Sorry,” I apologize to the guests at the table. “Just forgot my manners at home. There wasn’t enough room for them in this tiny clutch I brought. It was those or the mini bottles of Tito’s. Tito always wins.”

Two of the guys laugh: Dr. B.D. and the younger guy sitting next to him. One of the other men hasn’t even looked up from his phone, and the stranger next to me looks like he wants to... bend me over his knee? Uh, yes please, Daddy. Damn, for someone clearly over the age of thirty, he’s handsome and still has a full head of hair. Looks like the receding hairline isn’t in his genetics. Always a good sign.

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