Irresistible Billionaires by Summer Brooks
Logan
“Got news! Mura at eight?”
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at that text from Bella, my best friend in the entire world. It was only composed of five little words. Words we’d sent to each other a hundred times when I’d made a good move in business. When Bella had gotten a promotion. When we’d both found out the Giants were doing their draft two days early due to scheduling conflicts…
They shouldn’t have done anything to me. I should have been able to glance down at my phone when it buzzed, read those six little words, and reply with: “Yeah, I’m totally down.” Just like I had the other nine hundred, and ninety-nine times those words had popped up on my screen.
So why was this time any different?
I was in my T.V. room, with the Giants game on silent in the background, just staring down at my phone. I felt like I was waiting for something, and I didn’t even know what. A little knot formed in my chest, just below my ribcage, seemingly trying to tell me something. The message was falling on deaf ears, though, because I continued to remain confused.
Why couldn’t I just respond? I even picked up the phone, opened the message, and attempted to type something out. But my fingers just hovered over the screen, twitching but doing nothing, waiting for some form of inspiration to strike.
Finally, I gave up and set the phone down on the glossy wooden coffee table in front of me, turning it facedown, so I didn’t have to see it light up when she inevitably called me out for being so damn weird.
Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Maybe that weirdness was all in my head.
Sighing, I stood up and stomped over to the popcorn machine, dishing myself out another helping. I loved the old fashioned popcorn machine. It made me feel like I was at the movies in my own home. I’d even bought those corny popcorn buckets that look like they’re straight out of the glory days of cinema. Every time I ate popcorn and turned on a movie, I felt transported to a different place, without ever having to leave.
Bella loved this room, too. I’d never told her, but I’d bought the popcorn machine when I’d seen her looking at one on her phone. I was just trying to be a good friend.
“God, Logan, get over it,” I growled to myself, tossing the silver scoop back into the machine and slamming the glass door shut. I leaned against the marble counter of my wet bar and munched on those buttery kernels of deliciousness while I watched the news. I didn’t even need to hear it to know what was going on, because it was the same thing I’d been seeing for the last three years.
My Giants were sucking ass this season. Again. I swear, there must have been some sort of curse placed on them, because ever since their last World Series win, the entire team had just gone downhill. That was probably what the announcer, Jon Miller, was talking about.
I liked Miller. He was an unbiased announcer, never afraid to praise the team, nor call them out when they made a stupid move.
Like sitting Buster Posey out of the last two innings tonight. The coaches claimed it was because Posey’s arm was fatigued, but I wasn’t so sure. The guy used to be their ace in the hole, but recently, he was less so.
Even as I tried to watch the game, my mind wouldn’t stay focused on baseball. Instead, it kept drifting back to Bella.
That text message meant she had news. I felt like the world’s biggest asshole for my intense inability to respond, but I didn’t even know what to say to her right now.
The truth was that my feelings around Bella had changed recently. Actually, changed wasn’t the correct word. It was more like… those fuzzy, contented feelings of friendship had started to fall away, like the outer layers of an onion peel, and began to reveal deeper, far less friendly feelings.
Feelings I used to get around my college girlfriend. Feelings I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
But I couldn’t allow myself to really feel them, of course. Bella and I were best friends. Allowing myself to be deluded into the belief that we could ever be something more was idiotic, plain and simple.
Or that’s what I would have thought if it hadn’t been for that night at the charity gala.
It had been a month before, back when the thought of romancing Bella was positively laughable to me. I’d asked her to go with me because I hated those things and wanted someone there who would be able to make it more fun.
And by fun, I meant mocking the rich assholes who dropped by the even purely for the publicity of it all. They just wanted their name in the paper next to the words: “Karen Chee’s Charity for Disadvantaged Children,” so they could gain a little philanthropy credit with their crowd of rich and equally shallow friends.
If any of them had even bothered to look into the cost of putting on such a charity event, they would have realized that any amount they donated was nearly negligible, since it would mostly go towards making up for the cost of the event itself.
But I digress. The real important events of that night had little to do with the rich patrons of the charity gala, and far more to do with my suddenly-not-so-sisterly best friend.
Bella.
She’d shown up to the apartment just after Clara and Zach since my father insisted we all ride together. Instantly, I’d been floored by the way she’d looked. I’d seen Bella in all manner of beautiful dresses since that was her style, and this wasn’t our first rodeo together, but the floor-length lilac gown, with an overlay of tulle and just a hint of silver sparkles in the bodice, had absolutely taken my breath away. With her red hair, green eyes, and smooth porcelain skin, she’d looked just like a classic, 1950s movie star. Like Maureen O’Hara or Rita Hayworth.
I’d played it off, of course, making sure that no one noticed my temporary lack of oxygen, but that breathless feeling had stayed with me for the rest of the night. Even as Bella rolled her eyes at the shallow attempts of multiple women to woo my father- chasing after his money and infirm mind, not love- and countless reporters had attempted to corral either Zach or me into stating the rather obvious decline of my dad’s mind, I still found her beautiful.
I’d gone to bed that night shell shocked, and very convinced that these new “feelings” I was having were a direct consequence of the fact that I hadn’t slept with any woman in a few weeks.
But even when I’d tested that theory, it had proven to be false.
So now, I was stuck trying to figure out what was going on with me, and whether Bella felt the same.
After all, she hadn’t dated anyone in years. For as long as I’d known her, she’d been steadily single. She hadn’t even looked at her dating apps in months, citing boredom with the classic tech bros that populated San Francisco and the surrounding areas.
I’d had to look up the definition of the term “tech bro.” It turned out that Bella’s distaste for that brand of male was completely warranted, seeing as they were classified as: “men who care about nothing but money and looks, generally stemming from their sudden influx of income due to making advances in the Silicon Valley tech industry.”
“Maybe you should just say something,” I chided myself, once again aloud.
I found myself talking out loud more and more these days. My father was almost always home, but he wasn’t the best company seeing as he often couldn’t remember why he started a sentence in the first place. Zach and I had been talking about getting him a nurse, but we hadn’t made so much progress on that yet.
I didn’t want to think about my father. Not with Bella on my mind.
I finished off my helping of popcorn and tossed the container in the sink, rinsing it out so the maid didn’t have to scrub hardened butter from the white insides.
Then, I marched back over to my phone, determined to answer Bella. I wanted to hear what her big news was.
As soon as I opened her message again, though, I found that answering wouldn’t be as easy as I had hoped.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard once more as I deliberated what to say.
“Yes.” I typed out.
But that felt too simple.
“Great! I need some sake, state.” Too needy.
“Cool, bro. See you then.”
Bro.
BRO?!
What was wrong with me?
Shaking my head, I deleted everything and locked my phone, tossing it onto the overstuffed leather armchair.
“God, what is wrong with me?” I groaned, lifting my hands above my head and welcoming the flow of air into my lungs.
There was definitely something wrong with me, indeed.
“I could name a lot of things,” a voice suddenly said behind me. “For starters, you’ve got that second child syndrome going on. So annoying, man.”
“Zach, has it ever occurred to you that second child syndrome is not nearly as bad as older brother syndrome?” I demanded with a grin, turning to face my brother.
“Eh,” he shrugged. “At least you don’t live with the weight of expectation on your shoulders.”
“And you do?” I asked seriously. I didn’t want Zach to feel like he had to carry everything himself. Granted, I had no interest in joining Dad’s company in any sort of permanent position, but if Zach needed help trying to handle everything with Dad’s mind so screwed up, then I wanted to do everything I could to make his life easier.
“I’m just messing with ya,” Zach grinned, clearly trying to put my mind at ease.
As normally happens with little brothers, I let him.
“Idiot,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and socking him in the arm. “Why are you in my man cave, exactly?”
“To explain to you that a man cave only comes when you’re married and live with a wife,” he replied.
“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “you know that life’s not for me.”
I hoped he couldn’t see through my tone and hear the underlying longing that had buried itself under my words. I wasn’t sure if it was something about being in my thirties now or feeling more stable in my career, or actually starting to work toward things for myself, but I wasn’t so sure I needed to be so against the whole marriage thing anymore.
If Zach heard through my tone, he didn’t say a word.
“Actually, I’m here to grab a few things from Dad’s storage,” Zach replied.
“Like what?” I demanded curiously.
“Eh, you know, old stuff of mine,” Zach shrugged.
“What, like your baseball trophies and baby teeth?” I snorted in confusion. Zach had taken all of his stuff when he and Clara had moved into their own house across the Bay.
“So what if that’s it?” There was a flash of something in Zach’s blue eyes, an emotion that I couldn’t quite place.
I wonder if Clara’s pregnant.
It wasn’t too uncalled for of a thought, seeing as they’d been married for two years now. And I knew my brother. He’d always been the guy who wanted the wife and kids. It might not have happened perfectly, and the wedding may have been fake for a moment, but he’d gotten half of what he wanted, nonetheless.
I didn’t pry, though, knowing my brother would tell me about it when he was ready. For all I knew, he’d hit thirty-five and suddenly become insanely sentimental.
“So, nothing,” I shrugged in response to his question. “I was just curious, that’s all.”
“Mind helping me?” Zach asked. “I’d ask the butler, but I’m not really sure I want our employees rifling through all of that personal stuff, you know?”
“Yeah, of course.” I nodded in agreement.
The two of us spent the next hour going through the storage in the attic of our house, looking at memories we hadn’t thought about in ages and growing a little weepy and sentimental for our taste.
By the time Zach and I finished, I realized the clock had already passed eight.
Bella.
It was too late now. I wasn’t sure if I was mad at myself for not responding, or happy that I hadn’t said anything. I was feeling too weird tonight, and I was worried that if I’d met up with Bella, she’d sense it instantly. Given how well she knew me, her upturned nose would sniff out my indecision within seconds, and then I’d be stuck playing the avoidance game for the rest of dinner.
I’d sleep on it, and respond in the morning, when my head was clear, and I’d managed to stuff these weird feelings down, back where they came from.
Hopefully.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Zach asked when we’d loaded the last box of childhood memories. “You seem a bit… lost in your thoughts. Which is unusual for you, little bro.”
“What, man, are you saying my head is full of air?” I demanded jokingly, hoping to dissuade Zach from furthering his questions.
“If that’s how you interpreted it…” he shrugged, then burst out into laughter. “I’d better get home with this. Clara’s with Bella and Sarah, but she’ll probably be home soon, and I want to make sure I’m there.”
I chose to ignore Zach’s sudden clinginess to his wife and hugged him before sending him off.
I turned around and looked back at my giant mansion.
The place I’d grown up in. I had so many great memories here, and a couple of not so great ones. But, most of all, I had the memories of my dad.
How he’d used to play baseball with us on our massive green lawn. The food fights we’d had after Mom left when Dad was so proud that we didn’t have anyone telling us what to do. The countless movies we’d watched.
The girlfriends I’d brought home in high school. The women I’d brought home after college. The friends I’d made at more than one of Dad’s functions growing up.
Those memories were all wonderful.
Then, there were the memories of Mom leaving. The day Zach and I’d realized she wasn’t coming home. How I’d cried, and he’d held me, while Dad was working.
The countless times Dad hadn’t come home for dinner, leaving us to eat by ourselves, silent, in front of the T.V.
Dad’s sickness. How he’d slowly lost his mind over the years. Those moments of clarity became smaller and smaller until they’d all but disappeared. The day Zach, Clara, and I had moved him into a home.
He’d fought us in his moments of awareness. He’d shouted and thrown things, accusing us of hating him and trying to take his company away. But then, the awareness had disappeared, as quickly as it came, and he became an old, hobbling man with no idea where his own bathroom was.
I didn’t want to live in a home with those memories anymore.
I wasn’t sure if it was watching Zach drive away with mementos I’d thought would stay in our attic until I died or the way I was feeling about Bella or just some strange switch that had flipped now that I was in my thirties.
Ineeded to get my life together. I was too lonely in this big old mansion, all by myself. The place deserved a family, with kids to laugh and play in the pool, and a mom and dad who fought and screwed all in the same night.
I loved it, but it was no longer my home. It hadn’t been since the day my dad had left. I was rich and successful, but that was all I was.
Rich and successful. I didn’t even live in a home I’d bought with my own money.
My body seemed to move on autopilot as I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of Billie Greenwood, a friend and a real estate agent. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing until I heard a rough, familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, this is Billy.”
“Shit, did I interrupt your dinner?” I asked, noting the time and the slight chewing noises Billie was making.
“No, no, you’re good,” he replied. But even as he did, I could hear the sound of a chair scraping back and a child screaming. “Daddy, you can’t leave the table until Mommy says so! Mommy, you didn’t say so!”
Okay, maybe I wasn’t quite as ready for kids as I thought. Because the thought of raising a snotty tattletale made my hair stand on end.
“Daddy’s coming back,” Billie called out. “Sorry about that. Eloise has entered this phase of following the rules.”
“I don’t think I ever went through that phase,” I chuckled.
“No, man, you did the opposite,” Billie replied. “So, what can I help you with? Everything alright?”
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” I replied, wandering around the living room and fiddling with the various business books my dad had bought over the years.
Silence fell between us, pregnant with expectation, as Billie waited for me to finish.
“That’s good to hear,” he finally said. “I saw you at Karen’s charity thing, but you were with some girl, and I didn’t want to interrupt you. Is it serious?”
“Uh…”
My first instinct was to change the subject. My second instinct was to say yes, it was seriously like I was trying to manifest something out of these weird feelings I was having.
So, I went with my third instinct.
“Not really. Listen, I was calling because I was wondering if you could put the house on the market. It’s all in my name now, after everything that happened with Dad.”
Billie let out a long, low, appreciative whistle, likely running the numbers in his mind.
I couldn’t blame him. The commission he’d make on this place would be insane.
“You want me to sell the massive mansion, bought and paid for with the money made from the revolutionary Obel company?” Billie clarified.
“Yeah, dude, that’s what I’m saying,” I replied with a chuckle. “Is that a yes?”
“That, my friend, is a hell yes!” Billie laughed. “Where are you moving to?”
“Don’t know yet,” I shrugged. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”
“Absolutely. Let me do some looking in the morning, see if I know anyone with the perfect listing for you. Any requests?”
I glanced around the massive living room, with its twenty-foot ceilings and tens of square footage of bare space.
“Just make it smaller,” I replied. “I want to live in my whole house- not just half of it.”
“You got it.”