I Hate, I Bake, and I Don’t Date! by Alina Jacobs

61

Beck

Fuck. I felt terrible.

I sat down hard in my chair, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

“That went way worse than expected,” Walker remarked as he and Owen came into my office.

“I thought you were going to break it to her gently.”

“I thought I had,” I said in disbelief.

Tess hated me. She had screamed it at me and then stormed out.

Fuck, I really screwed up. But I couldn’t accept that Tess was out of my life.

“Maybe I didn’t communicate everything clearly,” I said, standing up. “I just need to tell her that I love her, and when I give Tess her painting back, she’ll see.”

“Is that what Archer was texting about?” Walker asked. “He was trying to convince Crawford to help him do some breaking and entering.”

“Tell him to stand down. I already have a plan in motion.”

“Oh really?” Walker asked. “Let’s hear it.”

“Are you out of your mind?”Mike said later that afternoon. We were all assembled in my condo.

“Greg is going to put us in a trash can and sink us in the Hudson,” my brother stated.

“Shh!” Liam hissed, clapping a hand over Mike’s mouth. “He’ll hear you!”

“He’s not even in the building,” I argued.

“He has ears everywhere,” Liam said, wiggling his fingers. We all looked over to Carl, who was on his phone.

“Who are you texting?” Walker asked, suspicious.

“No one!” Carl yelled.

“Get him!” I said.

We all jumped our youngest brother.

“Bullying!” Carl yelled as Mike pinned him down and I wrestled the phone from him.

“What the hell?” I said, swiping through it. “It’s a bunch of emojis.”

“I’m texting a girl,” Carl said proudly as Mike shoved his head down.

I scrolled through the text messages on the chat app.

“Hey, those are private!” Carl complained, trying to twist out from under Mike.

“I think you’re chatting with a bot,” I said. I handed the phone to Walker.

“She keeps trying to get you to Venmo her money. You asked her about pets, and she responded that she likes to travel,” I added. “You didn’t send the bot any money, did you?”

“It’s a real person,” Carl insisted.

Walker typed on the phone.

“Say potato.”

I peered over Walker’s shoulder. The chat bot asked if Carl liked Indian food.

“Say potato if you’re real.”

The chat bot asked Carl what he was doing that weekend.

Walker shook his head.

“You and Beck are the worst with women.”

“I didn’t fire the love of my life,” Carl retorted, snatching the phone back.

“It was a business issue,” I said, frowning, “and I just need to make a grand gesture and also give back the five-million-dollar painting of hers that I stole, then I’m golden.”

“What’s your grand gesture?” Liam asked.

I blanked. “One step at a time. I need the painting first, and you all are going to help me.”

“I need to write a will first because Greg is going to go nuclear,” Walker muttered.

“Why should I risk my neck for you?” Liam asked, flopping down on my couch.

“Because we’re family.”

“I don’t like you all that much,” Carl said.

I blew out a breath. I had known it wouldn’t be that easy, but I had hoped. Still, I had one more card in my back pocket.

“I’ll give you three free babysitting sessions, max of one per week.”

“That is not enough to face Greg’s wrath,” Mike countered.

“Yeah, we need free babysitting for life,” Liam chimed in.

Fuck.

“One day a week max, of course,” Mike said. “We’re not monsters.”

What choice did I have?

“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand to shake. “Deal.”

I’d hadCarl check Greg’s schedule. He wasn’t going to be back at the tower until the HOA meeting that evening. That gave me and my brothers plenty of time to campaign.

My first stop was Vera. I looked down. I had taken off my shirt for the occasion. I had to use the big guns. I couldn’t let Tess go without a fight.

“Did someone call the stripper gram?” Vera hooted when she opened the door to her unit.

She grabbed my arm and dragged me through the condo that was jam-packed with stuff and out onto the terrace, which was jam-packed with senior citizens in various stages of inebriation.

“Are you here to convince us to vote for you and your hot brothers?” One lady, who looked like a relic from the Victorian Age, toasted me. “Because any guy who shows off pecs like those has my vote!”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I actually wanted to ask if we could have your support for a different candidate.”

“A different one?”

“Would any of you like to run for president of the HOA and other board positions?”

“I can be a great president,” Vera boasted.

“No, she can’t,” another woman shot back. “All she does is drink all day.”

“You need to be the treasurer,” Vera told me, batting my arm. “We need more young people on the HOA board.”

“Fine,” I said, “but who wants to be the president?”

“Tess can do it,” Vera suggested to cheers from the crowd.

“Uh… sure…”

I couldn’t very well explain to them that Tess wasn’t here because I had been an idiot and run her off.

“There’s a big yoga session before the HOA meeting,” Vera said. “We’re pregaming right now but meet us up there in half an hour, and we’ll help you bring out the vote!”

I triedto keep my body language relaxed when Greg walked into the large room where we were having the HOA meeting. Now that it was almost time for the vote, and Greg was here, I knew I was in for a world of hurt from my older brother. But I couldn’t lose Tess. I just needed the painting, and then I would be able to bring her back.

While Greg was busy talking to one of the residents, Belle waved me over. I followed her into a side hallway. She opened a cabinet, and there it was, ugly as ever—Tess’s painting.

“How?” I asked in disbelief.

Belle smiled. “Turns out that auction houses don’t want to deal in artwork that even smells like it’s been stolen.”

“But they’re going to trash me on social media,” I said, chest clenching.

“Nope,” Belle said, “because my company also owns Romance Creative, and our production company is now in negotiations to film a trashy reality TV show about a broke former trust fund kid who is now a middle-aged man and his obnoxious art-dealing daughter as they navigate the Manhattan dating scene. Everyone loves to watch a train wreck. Dana half pitched that to some advertisers at a meeting for another show, and they’re lining up. We’re signing contracts next week. Since reality TV shows are so cheap to make, with the advertising promised, we’re already in the black. Now all you have to do is deliver the votes.”

I felt like I was about to be dumped out of a spaceship onto a hostile planet when I walked back into the meeting room.

Belle took her spot at the front of the room beside Dana Holbrook.

“Good evening, everyone! As mentioned last week, this is the last time I will be president of the HOA. We are selecting new board members, as is specified in the development contract. The new board must be residents of the tower and not have a criminal record. The first position is the treasurer position. Beck Svensson. Please make a brief statement.”

I walked to the front and faced the room.

Greg’s face was triumphant.

I am so dead.

“I am the chief financial officer of Quantum Cyber, a Fortune 500 company,” I said to the somewhat small crowd. “And apparently, I have fallen quite far in life.” That earned me a laugh. “However, I am happy to contribute to my new home.”

My sisters all politely clapped. My brothers were drinking heavily, probably to numb the same sense of impending doom I was feeling.

“Thank you, Beck. Is there anyone else who would like to nominate themselves, or is there anyone else who would like to be nominated? No? Then let’s vote on the treasurer.”

“Aye,” the crowd said dutifully.

“Congratulations, Beck.” Belle waved me up, and I took the spot of one of Belle’s fellow investors.

Keep calm.

“Next position, secretary. Walker Svensson, you have been nominated.”

Walker stood up. “I am the chief operations officer for Quantum Cyber, and I actually am not as well qualified for this job as Ms. Hyacinth, our friend and neighbor, is, so anyone who was planning on voting for me, please vote for her.”

He sat down then stood back up. “And I nominate Hyacinth for secretary.”

Out in the crowd, Greg’s face had gone stone-cold.

Hyacinth, cane in hand, made her way to the front of the room.

“I was a secretary for a local bigwig lawyer back in the day,” she said. “You should have seen us getting it on in the after-hours! Mad Men looked tame by comparison. Man, the sixties were the days!”

“Thank you, Hyacinth. All in favor?”

We said “aye” when Belle said Hyacinth’s name, and everyone except for Greg said “nay” when Walker’s name was called.

Belle smirked.

Hyacinth sat down next to me.

“I have alcohol in my purse,” she whispered to me. “These meetings are dryer than a witch’s tit.”

“And for the final position,” Belle said, “president of the HOA.”

“I nominate Tess,” I said loudly.

You’re dead meat, Greg mouthed.

“So we have Tess versus Greg Svensson,” Belle said. “Greg, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Giving me another glare, Greg stood up and turned to the audience. “Along with running a successful investment firm, I am also a proud resident of this tower and will be happy to serve you as president. I have heard a number of requests over the last few weeks that I will be happy to accommodate.”

“Boo!” several of the seniors yelled. “We want Tess! We want Tess!”

“And where is Tess?” Greg asked, spreading his arms wide.

“She’s busy,” I lied.

Greg turned to Belle. “You know the bylaws. The people running for a position have to be here in person for the vote.”

“Yes,” Belle said, “unless there is an approved motion to have a recess and resume within a week to hold the vote.”

“I motion,” Vera called.

“Second,” I said.

“Wonderful. We will send out a date for the next meeting,” Belle said. She banged her gavel.

Greg prowled up to the front of the room and grabbed my arm. “I did not put together the most brilliant plan in history to be blocked by you,” he snarled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you better get it together at the next meeting. I will execute my plan.” He shook me once more.

“I had to,” I said, hoping to make my brother understand. “Belle was going to get back the painting that I gave away.”

But Greg didn’t look all that furious. “You’re such an idiot,” Greg sneered. “You gave away that painting because you refused to go along with my watertight plan. Now you’re off on another wild goose chase to correct the first bad decision.”

“I know you’re mad,” I began.

Greg laughed. “I’m not mad. You know why? Because Tess isn’t going to be president. Tess isn’t a resident here.”

“She lives with me.”

“She hates you.”

“No, she doesn’t. She loves me, and I screwed up,” I argued.

Greg gave a mocking laugh. “She doesn’t love you. You’re at the top of her hate list. See?”

Greg pulled out his phone, grabbed my hand, and slapped the device into it.

There on the screen was a gossip page with a new top story that was an anonymous article. The editor’s note said it had been written by the assistant of a billionaire who ran a major company. And by the details listed in the article, it was clear the article was about me. It listed everything—how I was a terrible boss, how I terrorized people, how I had two sisters that were brats that I neglected, and how I had slept with my assistant then fired her.

Finally, at the bottom of the article was a hate list written on a napkin in sparkly glitter ink in Tess’s handwriting.

Fuck. She really did write this.

My sisters pulled on my pants leg.

“Beck,” they cried, “did you see this?” They had the article up on their phones.

“I thought Tess liked us.” Annie’s voice was small.

“This is a harsh lesson to learn, girls,” Greg said, though his words seemed to be addressed more to me than them. “You can only rely on your family, and family has to come first because everyone else will betray you.”

He gave me a steely-eyed glare. “You better handle this, Beck.”