Chapter 20

Finn

The concrete structure that houses the city’s largest mall is bigger than I remember. Many hours of my teen years were spent here, chasing tail. Riding up and down the escalator scanning the open space for chicks. Looking mostly for girls who didn’t go to my school because they were easier. Those prep-school chicks had one thing on their minds and that was a relationship and even back then, I didn’t want one. I liked being able to do what I wanted, when I wanted.

I can’t even remember how many make-out sessions I had in the elevator, pressing the stop button as soon as the lift would start so I could try to get my hands down some chick’s pants before security would call over the loudspeaker. A stuck elevator in a mall was never a huge concern for them so it became the prime spot to get frisky. And if one of my buddies beat me there, the back parking lot or the top deck had great spots. A few of the girls that I fooled around with I’d date for a week or two, maybe even a few months, but I moved on quickly because there was always something in the way, sports, distance or time, and the nagging about when I’d be around always became too much to handle. I suppose I was too enamored with high school life and being sought after to really give a shit about having a girlfriend. Can’t say much has changed except for my mishap with Brandy in college.

My phone rings, disrupting my newly found profession as a stalker. Since Lamar installed the app that tells me where Macey is, I’ve been attached and I can’t get enough. That’s how I ended up at the mall shortly after she got out of my car. It’s a sickness that is consuming me at the moment. I know she went from my car to the bus stop and rode the bus to her apartment. Then she went from her apartment, back onto the bus and is now at the mall. I don’t need to see her physically to know she’s inside the building. I’m about to enter and find myself stumbling upon her because the phone that I gave her is resting somewhere on her body, alerting me to her every move.

Brandy’s name flashes on my screen, the static vibration of my phone in my hand irritating me. Even though I hate admitting this, I want Macey to call, not Brandy. To hear Macey’s voice on the phone would be the highlight of my fucking day right now and for the life of me I can’t figure out why I want this. I told her one week and we were done and yet here I am, in the parking lot of the mall, about to go inside and hunt her down like a fucking savage because my body is craving her.

“Hello,” I say over the speakerphone. Ignoring Brandy is not an option. Not after her threat. The more I think about her ultimatum, the more desperate she becomes in my eyes. If her father pulls his money away, so be it. Brady won’t, and being an up-and-coming developer he knows I’m worth the gamble.

“Where are you?”

“I’m home.” I doubt she remembers where I’m from. Only once during college did I fly home and that was when my mother was on her deathbed. I put this place, along with my father and his new wife, long behind me.

“Let me in. We need to talk.”

“Wrong home,” I tell her with a hint of laughter in my voice.

“What?” she screeches. “Did I not make myself clear yesterday?”

“You did, but there’s something I need to take care of here and it can’t wait. You, on the other hand, can.” My words are meant to simply appease her until I can get my ducks in a row. Pissing her off would be a mistake, dragging her along buys me the precious time I need in order to secure my future. I’m rich, but rolling the debt of a new hotel into my current establishments is not a smart plan. I’d rather have the backing of a local that I can trust.

“Finn, we need to start making appearances. Having you bring that woman to events last month will make our engagement look…well, it doesn’t make me look good.”

Sighing, I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of my seat. The words “get the hell out of my life” sit heavily on my tongue, but instead I sit silently in my car, waiting. Waiting for what, I don’t know. A sign maybe, something to tell me that my life is meant to go in a different direction?

I don’t even know what that direction would be. All I know, right now, is the one person I want to see is inside the mall and the last person I want to speak with is on my phone yammering about how we need to announce our engagement.

“I gotta go,” I say, not giving her time to respond before I hang up. I’m out of my car and back to watching the screen that tells me where Macey is. I don’t know how much the mall has changed over the years, but I have a fairly decent recollection of the layout.

The mall is fairly busy as I weave around people, trying to make my way toward Macey. I come to a stopping point and realize she and I are on a path that’s going to meet as soon as we each turn the corner. Quickly pocketing my phone I walk with determination, around the wall and smack-dab into her path.

I’m met with the most startling blue eyes I have ever seen that stop me dead in my tracks. The shocked face of Macey registers only briefly before I’m back to staring at the little girl next to her, taking in a miniature version of my mother, right down to her smile. In the picture I saw, she looked like Macey, but the real-life version has me second-guessing everything. This version has me remembering the many times I sat on my grandmother’s lap and looked at pictures of my mother until I had her cherub face memorized. I did this again when she died, committing to memory what my children would need to look like to carry on her genes. Something tells me that I’m looking at my creation now.

My mouth opens and closes as Macey moves the girl behind her slightly. The woman I have deep carnal knowledge of is now in protective-mother mode and I don’t blame her. Clearly, in her eyes, I’m the big bad wolf.

“What are you doing here?” she asks me again, for the second or is it third time today. I’ve lost track even though I continue to ask myself the same fucking question over and over again. What the fuck am I doing? The answer never seems to come because the meaning of the question changes day by day. First, it’s because I offered Macey the money, then I fucked her and loved every minute of it and now I’m home, chasing her down under the guise that she owes me another day, when I don’t give a fuck about another day. Except the truth of the matter is that I do, although for the purely selfish reasons of being with her again and hoping she has another moment where I need to come rescue her once more because it would be so fucking worth it.

“It’s a mall,” I point out, spreading my arms wide.

“None of the labels you wear are here.”

“Are you calling me a label whore?”

Her face blanches and I realize my mistake. Before I can correct myself though, Mom Macey is in full effect. “Don’t say those words around…around…” She looks down at the child who is clearly her daughter and tries to smile, but it doesn’t even come close to reaching her eyes or turning her cheeks upward.

“Daughter?”

She nods, as if she’s embarrassed.

“Is this Morgan?”

Macey doesn’t answer, but Morgan does. “Yes,” she says with the smallest, most determined voice I have ever heard. This girl is a fierce protector of her mother, I can tell.

“Hi, Morgan.” I step forward and shake her hand. It’s small and dainty, and easily dwarfed by my larger hand.

Macey refuses to make eye contact with me, increasing my level of anxiety. Placing my hand on her bicep, I tug her gently toward me.

“I need to speak with you.”

She shakes her head, maintaining her gaze on Morgan.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Is she mine?” I ask her, needing to know if the little girl I’m staring at is a product of our one night together so many years ago. My gut tells me she is. My heart says no. No because I spent a week with Macey, paying her to be whatever I needed and she didn’t say one damn word about us having a child. Not once did she correct me when I asked if Morgan was her fucking boyfriend. Never did Macey find the time to tell me that she needed the money for our kid or pick up the phone in the years that have passed and ask me to support her.

Macey doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The tear that falls is enough for me. I’m pissed and fucking hurt that she kept this from me. I let go of her arm and stand tall.

“It was nice to meet you, Morgan,” I tell her, shaking her hand again and trying to get an eyeful before I walk the fuck out of this mall. I need to think, and the noise surrounding us together with the people gawking as they walk by isn’t giving my mind the peace and quiet it needs right now.

“When I call you, you will answer, Macey.” The threat is there and she knows that I’m not playing around. I want answers and the mall is the last place I’m going to get them.

I start to walk away when she calls my name, halting me in my tracks. Turning to look at her, she’s poised and dare I say, proud.

“The answer is no.” She turns and walks in the other direction, leaving me confused and dumbfounded. I know what I saw when I looked into Morgan’s eyes. They’re the perfect combination of Macey’s and mine, complemented by a mixture of our dark hair colors. The crooked smile that Morgan gave me is the same smile my mother used to bestow upon me every day when I came home from school. If this isn’t my child, then Macey sure has dumb luck getting knocked up by my doppelganger.

I speed toward home, eager to ask my father if he knows about Morgan. Yes, the man is cold, calculating and would hide what he surely would call an indiscretion from me. He doesn’t know about my night with Macey, not that I would’ve told him, but I suspect Macey would’ve tried to contact me and she’d have had to go through my parents to do so. One look at her back then would’ve told them that she’s not from our neighborhood or well-off enough to attend private school. One look and they would’ve shut the door in her face, telling her they don’t give handouts, everything has to be earned.

Pulling into the circular driveway, there are lights on in various rooms telling me he’s awake. Not that it would matter; I’m still going in as if I own the place. Rude and presumptuous, I know, but it was my house long before the wicked step-monster moved in.

I knock quickly before trying the door. It’s open and I take that as my invitation. The foyer is still as grand as I remember with a sprawling staircase and massive chandelier hanging overhead. The television echoes from the den and I call out, letting my dad know that I’m here.

The television is muted and I call out again as I move toward the den. There I find my dad with the remote in his hand and his wife curled up on the sofa with a book in her lap. Despite their wide age difference, she’s starting to look as old as him and I can’t help but laugh. I thought the whole point of marrying someone much younger was to make you feel younger, not make them seem older. As soon as she recognizes me, her glasses are off and she adjusts her shirt, pushing her tits up into her face, trying to get my attention. Too bad I don’t fucking care.

My dad comes over to give me a hug. I have to admit it feels good to have a warm reception, even if the last time I was here I vowed to never come back. “Finn, what are you doing here?”

Wow, that seems to be the question of the day.

“I had some time, so I thought I’d stop by and visit.”

“Well, welcome home, son,” the wife says, much to my displeasure. She stands and hugs me, and I play along because I’m not here to fight or make waves. Except she holds on a bit longer than appropriate and makes sure to graze my groin in the process. I get it now. Daddy is getting too old and the Viagra takes too long to kick in so you want to fuck your stepson. Too bad your stepson would cut off his dick before going anywhere near you.

“Right,” I say, pushing her away.

“Let me go make up your bed,” she says, leaving my dad and me alone. He watches her walk out of the room, but my eyes stay focused on him.

“So how are you?” I ask, sitting down on the couch. He follows and sighs.

“Tired.”

“I can attest to that. You should come to Vegas, play some golf and enjoy life there.” I laugh when I realize that I want to add, “and leave the whore at home.”

“Yeah, we’d probably like that.”

There was no “we” in the invite, but whatever. Maybe he’ll bring her and she’ll fuck her masseuse.

“How long are you here?”

“Not long,” I tell him. “I have a few people to see about an investment and then I’m going back.”

“Investment?”

“My next club. I’m looking for an investor so I don’t have to roll capital. It’s easier and builds relationships. It’s very much a ‘you do me, I do you’ type of business.”

“Interesting concept.”

I shrug. “It’ll be the last time, I think. Three clubs in the same city is a bit much. I need to expand, broaden my enterprise.”

He laughs, but it’s the truth. I’m a self-made millionaire, pushing myself to be a billionaire by the age of thirty. I can’t do that by sitting idly by and watching opportunities go by.

“Why are you really here?”

I hate that he can see right through me. “I want my inheritance early,” I tell him. “You can give it to me through an investment or hand it over, but I don’t want to wait until I’m thirty-five to collect. I need it now.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I’m in a situation. There’s a woman—”

“She’s pregnant?”

“Fuck no,” I say. “She wants to get married and I don’t even like her. On paper we’d be a Vegas power couple, but I can’t stand her. The problem is, her father is my primary investor and she’s threatening me. I can secure others, but I’m out of time. Construction is under way and people’s livelihoods depend on work. I don’t want them losing their jobs because I fucked the wrong bitch one time in college.”

My father and I may not see eye to eye on his marriage, and it may have driven me away, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lay it out on the line for him. No sugarcoating anything, especially considering the fact that I want the money my mother left me. Sure, I’d love to keep it where it is, accruing interest, but if I can use it to make sure my project is complete, so be it.

“I’ll call my accountant tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Will you be leaving after you get the money?”

His question catches me off guard and I can’t tell if he wants me to stay or not. “Not sure, why?”

“Because, Finn, I want you to go. You can spend the night here, but tomorrow I need you to leave.” This time he makes eye contact with me and I know he’s serious.

“Okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s because I saw the way my wife looked at you, the way she licked her lips and pushed her tits up trying to entice you. If you stay, she’ll fumble into your bed, walk around naked forgetting that you’re here or tell me she accidently fell on your dick, and I don’t need that in my life right now.”

His words catch me off guard and I sit there with my mouth hanging open as he starts to leave the room.

“Oh, and there’s a letter for you on your desk. It’s from your mother. I found it about a year ago going through some of her things.”

He leaves me with that tidbit of information, making me wonder why he never sent it to me. I hightail my ass upstairs, praying the step-whore is out of my room. My luck she’s probably flicking her clit while staring at the pictures I have in there.

Opening my door, I’m immediately thrown back into high school. My bed is in the same location, my walls are decorated the same and my trophies still sit on the shelf.

“Fucking creepy,” I mutter as I walk in and shut the door. I check the closet for good measure to make sure the tramp isn’t hiding in there.

Right on my desk is a faded envelope bearing my name in my mother’s handwriting. I pick it up carefully, afraid everything will break due to the age of the paper. I open it and pull the simple notecard out. Her handwriting is legible, but faded.

Finn,

A young woman by the name of Macey came by and gave me this, asking me to send it to you at school. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. You’re destined for greatness and this is the last thing you need. Please forgive me.

Inside the envelope is a black-and-white picture, showing me a black-and-white blob. The word Sonogram is barely visible in white and letters that make up Macey’s name are in the right-hand corner.

This is Morgan’s sonogram, I’m sure of it. My mother knew and never told me. The question is, does my dad know? If he does…if he let my daughter grow up miles from him with nothing, I will kill him. He won’t have to worry about his wife putting the moves on his son because he won’t be alive long enough to know if she succeeds or not.

I pull out my phone and send a picture of the sonogram to Macey with the words: We need to talk…now.