Chapter Three — Remy

Another Saturday night spent in hell.

Or, at least, what I’d imagine hell would feel like. My mother had called mid-week and reminded me about some new, save the planet bullshit banquet that she was throwing at her estate. I knew with certainty that she’d never mentioned it before, but that was Madge’s way. She’d always had to fucking have the upper hand in every situation. And her constant reminders—where to be, where to go, how to act—was one of her standby tricks. She’d always played it off so perfectly, as though I was just some dumb fuck who couldn’t keep a schedule. Luckily, I’d caught onto it years ago and wasn’t worried that I was going senile at a very young age.

Although, she’d probably love it if I was. Then I really could be the perfect, robotic son slash puppet that she seemed to want.

I flashed my empty rocks glass at the bartender and he hurried to provide me with a refill.

“Remington, our guests haven’t even arrived yet. You should save some of the whiskey for them.”

I turned to face the cold voice. “Good evening, Mother. That reminds me, where are all the guests? You told me the event was to begin at six sharp.”

I made a big display of pushing back my jacket sleeve to consult my three hundred thousand dollar watch—and to remind Madge I was still my own man. She hated my sleeve of tattoos and I loved to rub them in her face.

“It’s nearly half past six. Don’t you find it rude when people don’t show up on time?” I asked, beginning to see a new game at play.

Madge smiled, showing me her perfect, veneer-covered teeth. “Oh, darling, you’re so silly. The event doesn’t begin until seven. I needed you to be here on time. You do have an awful habit of being tardy.”

If my blood wasn’t already on fire, it was now. Sadly, there were far too many witnesses for the things I would have liked to have said…and done…

“Aha! Well, that’s actually perfect. That gives us some alone time,” I said, matching her purring tone.

I offered her my arm and she took it with a flicker of a questioning look on her face, which was a small victory for me. I abandoned my fresh drink and started crossing the huge formal living room that was staged for the dinner.

“It seems that all of my bank cards have been frozen,” I said, once we were out of the earshot of the caterers, waiters and party planner brigade.

“How unfortunate, dear. Tell me, was it horribly embarrassing to have your cards declined?”

Bitterness tore through me at her condescending tone. I clenched my teeth and tried to force a smile. “Mother, let’s not pretend you don’t know what’s going on. Tell me what you want this time.”

“I’ve already given you my terms and conditions, Remington,” she replied, her tone so cool that it radiated like ice through my body.

“I’m not seeing the girl you objected to. I’m sure JJ can back me up, or whoever it is you’ve had following me around.”

I hadn’t been able to catch anyone in the act, but the vast amount of detailed information my mother possessed told me all I needed to know to reach the conclusion that she had hired someone to follow me. JJ was on her payroll, but I didn’t like to think it was him. I’d always counted him as a friend and the idea of him selling me out to Madge didn’t sit right.

“I know that. But, that wasn’t my only request.”

“Well, what do you expect, Mother? I’ve never really been the relationship type. If I’m going to be forced into picking just one girl to fuck for the rest of my life, it’s going to take me some time,” I said.

“Remington!” Madge slapped my arm. “Is that any way to speak in my presence?”

Oh, if she only knew the things I was holding back.

“The point is, I’m working on it. So, you need to hold up your end of the bargain,” I replied, glossing over her scolding.

“Don’t presume to tell me how to run my affairs, Remington. When the time is right, and I see the proper effort has been put in, I will release your funds,” she said.

My hands turned into fists at her statement, but I knew it was no use. There was no point in continuing the conversation. She was digging in her heels and there was no way I’d be able to get her to budge.

I clamped my teeth together and didn’t say anything else. She hurried away to tend to some catering emergency and with her off my arm, I stormed down the hall to one of the eight bathrooms on the first level of my childhood home.

I locked myself inside and released a pent up howl of rage. I wanted to punch the antique mirror and watch it shatter, knowing it would crush her to have one of her antique pieces totally fucking thrashed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I should just fucking leave,” I told myself, staring at my red-faced reflection in the mirror.

I knew it wasn’t that simple. If I was smart—and I’d like to think I am—I’d stay and make some grand performance to sweep some random woman off her feet to show my mother—and more importantly, all her hoity-toity friends—that Remy was finally settling down.

The idea made me sick. But then again, so did going broke.

***

By the time I’d walked out of the bathroom and made my way back to the formal living room, the ambiance of the whole room had completely changed. People had finally filtered in and were spilling out into the kitchen and the back patio. The sounds of loud, fake, cascading laughter rang out from different points in the lower level of the house, and gave me the effect of nails running down a chalkboard. I needed to get out. Fast.

My eyes shot to where my mother was holding court out on the patio. Her face was frozen with a smile that was almost convincing as she carried on with her little pack of socialites.

I turned away and made a beeline for the bar. I was going to need a lot more alcohol inside me if I was going to go through the motions the rest of the night. Hell, the bartender should just turn over the bottle to my care.

I’d make sure that every last drop found a good home.

“Good evening, Remy,” a voice called from behind me.

I turned to look over my shoulder and saw Christopher Diaz walking my way. He had a brunette girl in a very low-cut dress clinging to his arm.

“Evening,” I replied, trying not to visibly grimace at his arrival. Instead, I gave him and his date a curt nod before throwing back the rest of my drink.

The girl on his arm looked familiar but I wasn’t sure why. I ordered another drink and guessed that I’d probably fucked her at some point in my life. It was a somewhat inevitable occurrence within the high-rollers club. Christopher and I had gone to all of the same schools and had found ourselves at odds over females more than a few times. Nothing had ever turned into a fist fight, but the guy still ruffled my feathers. And tonight, I was in no mood for his smack talk and puffy ego indulgence.

“This is Tessa,” he said. The fact that he hadn’t provided a last name meant she wasn’t from our circle. I wondered why he’d brought her at all. She was pretty, but nothing over the top like his normal dates. Christopher wasn’t happy until he had a supermodel on one arm and some b-list actress giving him a blow job under the table.

“Remington, or just Remy,” I said. “Would you like a drink?”

“I think I can take care of her,” Christopher interrupted, pulling the girl closer to him. The girl looked up at him with a smile that could only be described as sickening, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just been turned into a piece of Christopher’s property.

I shrugged. “No disrespect intended.”

Christopher was a hothead and I didn’t need his fucked up attitude tonight.

“Remy…hmmm...do you know Olivia Sanders?” the girl asked after another awkward beat of silence.

The name sent my heart on a high-speed chase. I looked at the girl, Tessa, and then I remembered where I’d seen her before. She’d been at the charity dinner the night I’d met Livvie. She’d been with a different guy that night.

Man, this one was really working the circuit.

“Livvie? Sure. We hung out a few times. You?”

Tessa smiled. “Yeah. She’s my roommate, actually.”

My hands felt slick on the cup, suddenly coated in sweat. “Nice. Well, tell her I said hi.”

I hoped she didn’t. I was sure that by now, Livvie considered me public enemy numero uno, and she probably wouldn’t appreciate the shout out.

Tessa nodded. “She’s doing really well, you know. In fact, she just signed a huge new client.”

I smiled, genuinely for the first time all night. “That’s great. I’m really happy for her.”

“Wait, is that the one who does entertainment stuff?” Christopher asked, butting back into the conversation after downing his own drink.

“Mmm-hmm,” Tessa answered.

“Who’s the client?” Christopher pressed.

I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was suddenly so interested in Livvie. I knew it was ridiculous, but an edge of jealousy was creeping in.

Tessa looked like she was starting to get bored with the conversation. She took a long, drawn-out pause before answering. “They’re called down something. Downside or maybe The Downside. I can’t remember, but she’s pretty excited about it.”

“What? Are you serious?” Christopher said under his breath. He released his hold on Tessa and yanked his phone out of his pocket and started typing furiously on the screen.

“What’s up there, bro?” I asked.

He ignored me.

I tried to ignore the irritation that was bubbling up as I watched him type. Only once he slid the phone back into his pants pocket did I repeat the question.

“That’s total bullshit. She doesn’t even know what the fuck she’s doing. I’ve had my eye on them for a while. I was going to make them an offer next month,” he finally replied.

Alarm warnings were going off in my head. Christopher was not the kind of guy who took no for an answer or ever accepted defeat. If he wanted this band, Livvie’s band, he would sure as hell find a way to get it.

Even if that meant blazing everything in his path.