Egotistically Yours by Hayley Faiman
Chapter Nineteen
BETHANIE
Couple friends.
I didn’t think this could be a thing with us, ever. It’s not something I’m really good at, making friends. I don’t have any. I have lots of acquaintances from high school, from work, and childhood.
I try to be a good friend, but nothing quite sticks. People get busy and I’m usually the friend they forget about contacting when they do. Tennessee is the only real friend I have.
Yet, here we are, driving out to the suburbs to have dinner with a college friend of Laurent’s and his family. Laurent is dragging his feet and we’re already a few minutes late. My knee is bouncing along with the seven-layer dip I’m holding.
“Don’t ever think that I’m anything like him. This is a business thing and if it was up to me, we would not be here,” Laurent announces as soon as we pull up to the front of the house.
“What?” I ask.
He clears his throat, turning to face me. “This is business. You don’t have to be friends with them. This is not something I would ever do, but right now I can’t afford to blow off clients.”
I press my lips together, wondering exactly what kind of situation Laurent is taking me into. I don’t ask. Instead, I give him a nod and open the car door. Throwing my legs over the side, I stand up slowly in an effort to keep the dip from spilling all over my new pants and top.
A few days ago, I decided that I didn’t have a choice, I was going to have to order some clothes for work in bigger sizes. I ordered several dresses in hopes that they would conceal everything, and then I ordered these pants.
They’re wide leg black nice pants with serious stretch, they’re high waisted and I bought a satin deep V-neck button-up blouse to tuck into the waistband.
We’ll see how this works out. I’m used to being home, feeding Tucker in privacy, but I start work in a few days and I won’t have that luxury anymore.
Laurent moves around the side of the car, taking Tucker and his car seat out of the back. He carries Tucker inside, his seat in one hand, and presses his palm against the small of my back with the other.
“You ready?” I ask on a whisper as we approach the front door.
“Absolutely not,” Laurent mutters.
Looking up to him, I smile. He grunts, his eyes meeting mine, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he watches me for a moment. Rising to my toes, I touch my lips to his in a swift, chaste kiss.
“Let’s do this,” I whisper, then reach forward to touch the doorbell.
The door opens and I don’t know who I expect to answer it, maybe a troll or something, but instead it’s a woman who is tall and thin, her brown hair is styled in an updo and she’s wearing a formfitting dress, something that I might wear to work, if I were thinner.
“You must be Laurent,” the woman gushes.
She looks at Laurent, who is standing next to me, wearing a perfectly fitted pair of dark-washed jeans and a button-down shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms.
She doesn’t even give me a glance. I don’t exist as I stand here holding a seven-layer dip. I wonder what she would do if I dumped it all over her stark white dress? Her eyes devour him and I kind of feel like I’m the one imposing as I stand next to him.
Fucking great.
Another model-looking woman who is gushing and lusting after Laurent. I am not surprised, really, I’m not. He’s hot. I have lusted after him since the moment he walked past my counter my first day working at Astor Investment, but after Paulette’s visit last night, my shattered ego just can’t take anymore.
“I’m Melody,” she purrs, her voice is deep and husky and she sounds like she’s having sex with just those two words.
“I’m Bethie,” I chirp.
She flicks her gaze over to me and her eyes soften as her lips curve up into a wicked-looking smile. I know this bitch, this is Paulette deux. Fuck this.
“Of course, you are darlin’,” she says.
She’s condescending and I want nothing more than to see this fucking dip stain her immediately, if not sooner. Bitch. Instead of being a bitch back to her, I do the most southern thing I know how to do and I give her the biggest, fakest smile and thrust the dip toward her.
“We brought hors d’oeuvres,” I say, as sugary sweet as I can.
She is forced to take the aluminum tin and curls her lip as she looks down at it. She shouldn’t, my seven-layer is famous. It’s the one thing that I can make and make to perfection.
It may seem silly, seven-layer dip isn’t necessarily hard, but I don’t make mine like anyone. I add green chilies and special seasoning. It isn’t your mama’s bland seven-layer. I’m immensely proud of it and I’ve never wanted to smash it over someone before and throw all my hard work away like I do this woman.
“Well, y’all come on in and get something to cool you down, it’s quite a hot afternoon. Cody is out back on the grill. You know he is making his famous smoked brisket, it’s to die for, simply die for,” she says.
Laurent clears his throat and stands to the side to allow me to step through the threshold. I look over at him when I do and he gives me a pleading look mixed with a silent apology.
We walk through the house and I don’t even look around to admire the extremely trendy decor, not that any of it is for me, but I do like to see how other people decorate. I’m just such a mess that I don’t care right now. The whole place could be puking chartreuse green and I wouldn’t even know it.
Walking outside, I see a handsome man standing at the grill and I wonder why this bitch is eyeing Laurent when she has her own hottie. Laurent places the car seat on top of the table and without even skipping a beat, I reach for the clips and take him out. His whole body stretches and I laugh at the little noises he makes.
“How old is he?” Melody asks.
“Seven weeks, he’s perfect,” Laurent announces proudly.
Smiling, I look over to him and he holds my gaze for a moment. “Enjoy it now, they start to walk and talk and it’s all over,” Melody mutters just as two children run outside and head toward the playground equipment. They’re about five and three, adorable little girls.
I watch them play for a moment and they are so quiet and so good, I wonder how on earth Melody could say such a thing. At first, I thought she was just joking, but she’s not smiling, she is actually narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips together as she watches the girls.
“They’ll drive you to drink,” she snaps, just as Cody sets a cocktail down in front of her.
“Get you something to drink?” Cody asks me. “Margarita, White Claw?”
My eyes widen and I open my mouth to ask for water when Laurent does it for me. “Water please, for both of us.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you,” I confirm.
I already want this to be done and over. I want to go home and be inside of my bubble with Laurent and Tucker.
Just us.
Nobody else.
No other women, just nobody but us.
LAURENT
The afternoon is exactlywhat I predicted it would be—a disaster. Melody drinks far too much, so much so that her words are slurring before dinner is ready. She refuses to eat anything, even when I ask if she would like to try some dip. She refuses, turning her nose up at it.
Eventually, Cody calls me over to the grill and I reluctantly leave Bethie alone with the succubus. Bethie gives me a pleading look, but I can’t ignore him. This is work and I just hope that she understands.
“What do you think about the suburb life?” Cody asks as soon as I join him at the grill.
I don’t tell him that I think his wife is a cunt and that they ignore their daughters, who keep running in and out of the house randomly with nobody asking them what they’re doing or where they’re going.
“I think I’m enjoying it so far. I’m looking to move out near my dad and his new wife, I think,” I say with a shrug.
“I heard about that.” He says. “Your dad is the GOAT. Woman half his age, locking that tight cunt in for life. Sweet deal he’s got there.”
It takes everything inside of me not to beat the absolute shit out of this asshole. The fact that he’s talking about my father is one thing, but Tennessee is a sweetheart, she’s been through enough shit, she doesn’t deserve for anyone to talk about her like that, especially this fuckface.
He chuckles as if he’s the funniest guy in the world. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase. Just wait until it’s over. You’ll be just like me.”
I arch a brow, but I don’t confirm or deny his words, instead I just laugh softly. Then, he decides to continue.
“When shit gets ugly, just remember, you can hire whoever you want to be your assistant. Your dad knows what’s up, he’ll help you.”
Clearing my throat, I want to tell him to shut the fuck up, but instead I shake my head a couple of times and try to change the subject.
“What are the property taxes like out here?” I ask, a lame attempt to change the subject, but it doesn’t work.
He laughs. “Not ready to hear it yet, but you will be. Then your wife will drown herself in booze and do whatever they do during the day. You’ll both be oblivious and happy. Don’t knock it, at all.”
I don’t knock shit, but I also don’t tell him that I won’t put up with any of this shit, ever. This isn’t something that I can live with, not after all the shit my father put up with, I won’t do that to Bethie. I won’t disrespect her that way. I’ve seen enough and felt enough of the damage it causes.
As I look at both Melody and Cody, he rambles and I ignore him, but what I see is two people who are doing just what I never wanted for myself.
These are two people who are married but living completely separate lives, they’re only in the same household to raise their children.
From what I can see, they really aren’t really doing much of that either. The girls are running around doing whatever they want with what appears to be zero supervision.
Maybe that’s a parenting style that I just don’t realize, I could be just judging them in general based on their marriage. I probably shouldn’t, it’s likely a dickhead thing to do, but the fact that Cody just can’t let it go, that he keeps telling me that I’ll be fucking my secretary and the way he mentions Tennessee, it’s just rubbing me all the wrong way.
Luckily, conversation is switched by the time dinner is ready and we all sit down to eat. The little girls join us and it’s kind of nice to just chat. Melody tells us about her new hobby of selling some kind of skin stuff from home. I nod and smile, wishing this was all done.
“So, I don’t see a ring, when will you be getting married?” Cody asks.
Bethie doesn’t say anything. She adjusts Tucker, who is beneath the cover that she has, eating. I’m glad she decided to cover up, I don’t think I want Cody seeing any part of her at this point.
Normally, it doesn’t matter to me, she feeds him at home without covering anything and I think it’s beautiful, but this tool no doubt would make it something sexual, especially with the way he can’t seem to talk about anything else but sex.
“We decided not to rush into marriage. We’re happy being committed to one another, just as we are. We’re partners, lovers, and friends. Isn’t that what a marriage is anyway?” Bethie announces.
It surprises me, but I give her a reassuring smile, because that’s exactly how I feel about our situation, about us in general.
Melody snorts. “Yeah, it’s those things, but with financial security. Don’t let him get away with that. If you aren’t his wife, you aren’t shit. He can leave you for the next slut that opens her legs, and he will. When you’re the wife, it’s too expensive to walk away,” she slurs.
Bethie gasps at the same time rage fills me from her words. I open my mouth to say something, but Cody beats me to it.
“Now, Mel, don’t put our shit on them. Maybe it’s different,” he says, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. Then he turns to me. “If you don’t marry her, she’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to keep you happy. I say you’re going about it the right way.”
Bethie stands and I’m about to run out of the room with her. She smiles kindly and announces that she’ll be going inside to change Tucker. I watch her leave and wonder why in the fuck I brought her here? I knew this was going to be a fucking clusterfuck of an afternoon and I was right. So goddamn right.
