JEREMY (THE OLD)
I wake up to the sound of the unrelenting doorbell. My head threatens to split in two as soon as I sit up.
What time is it? Fuck, what day is it?
I close my eyes against the bright sun spilling judiciously through the open screens as my hands wander blindly through the sheets in search for my phone. Monday, fifth. Nine fifty-seven a.m.
Right.
I peer through my heavy eyelids and take a sweeping look around the room. My clothes are strewn everywhere and the chair at the desk is knocked over.
The doorbell rings again and is quickly followed by rapid banging on the door. I put my hands over my ears as my head cracks. I groan and get up, grabbing my pants from the floor and putting them on as I walk out into the living room. I open the door to the balcony on my way out to air the room.
There's an undeniable odour hanging about. A mix of alcohol, cigarette smoke and sex. The kitchen cupboard is littered with empty whiskey and shot glasses and a toppled-over bottle of Jack.
Memories of yesterday come to me in flashes and I smile to myself remembering the two hot blonds making out on the kitchen island.
I open the front door to see who is trying to knock it down. "Stephanie. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I growl, eyeing her up and down.
She looks upset. Her eyes are feisty, her curls are standing on edge and her body is wrapped in a tight, short dress and giving off a vibe that's shaking me out of my sluggish state.
"Where were you? I was calling you all night last night."
Racing. Then the bar. Then the clubs. Then I'm not sure... but it ended with me fucking two girls in the living room.
I walk over to the kitchen without answering, leaving the door open for her to come in. I pour a glass of water and scan the drawer for some hangover aid. Nothing.
"Do you have some paracetamol on you?" I ask her.
She slams the door angrily, making my head pound and shoots daggers at me from her eyes. Christ! This girl really needs to cut down on her soaps.
"Fuck you, Jeremy!"
Actually, scratch that. She's too hot when she's angry. I chew on my response, thinking that 'with pleasure' is not the answer she's looking for.
"What happened in here?" she asks taking one quick look around the room.
Her eyes travel slowly from the mess on the island to the cushions on the floor, up to the couch and then widen in disbelief. She reaches over and from between the cushions, she fishes out a purple lace thong and holds it out in front of her, a look of pure disgust on her face.
Oh, right! There were three girls!
"What do you want, Stephanie?" I ask her drearily, the irritation clear in my voice. I have to find something for this headache.
I see her eyes flicker fearsomely, partly with pain, partly with anger, but I let it wash over me. I don't need her opinion about how I live my life.
"I want to talk to you," she replies scathingly.
I sit down on the barstool, stretching broadly and looking at the time. I should probably start getting ready for work. The big guy won't be happy if I don't show up. Although, how I'm going to last all day in that hellhole with this cracking migraine is beyond me. "So talk."
"You haven't called me in a while," she says meekly.
I narrow my eyes at her trying to suppress the urge to yawn. I have to admit I never thought she'd be the clingy type. She definitely didn't strike me as needy when I saw her behind the counter at my mother's store otherwise I wouldn't have fucked her in the back room. On the contrary, she seemed fun, impulsive and wild, three of my favourite qualities in a woman.
I even let her take control in bed for a while, which is not really my style. But I could see that it made her feel good. Powerful. Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe she mistook my generosity for something else. But she should have known better.
I see her resolve breaking a little as she waits in vain for me to speak. And then she says the one thing I never want to hear from any woman.
"I miss you."
Her voice is small. Her eyes glisten over a little. Mine harden to resist rolling over.
I miss you.
That's what they all say when they realise their efforts with the eligible, rich bachelor were unsuccessful. Luckily for them, there are plenty more men out there who would gladly shower them with diamonds and white snow. Men who are probably much less work than I am.
I sigh heavily and stand up. I'm disappointed. I can't believe how off my impression of her was. Usually I can smell the feels coming from a mile away.
"I'm late for work, Stephanie."
My tone comes out cold and hard. I don't want to hurt her but from experience, I know that that's the only way to get girls off your back these days. They're ruthless. All of them. And I'm only too happy to remind them that they're not as omnipotent as they think they are. Their seductive powers don't last on me. They're like alcohol or drugs. Distractions. Nothing more.
Her face hardens and her eyes get their fire back. I stand up straighter and so does she. I smile internally, my respect for her restored. I'd be lying if I said that I'm not turned on right now. I always had a thing for feisty girls who can hold their own and Stephanie is as feisty as they come.
But she came over to say she misses me, so now she's off-limits. I don't mess with emotions. Emotions take a lot of cleaning up afterwards.
When she next opens her mouth to speak, her voice isn't small any more. It's an even mix of determination and vulnerability, a combination that would normally make the blood coursing through my veins boil with lust. But the words that come out have the opposite effect on me.
"I'm pregnant."
A lead weight lands in my stomach and pins me to the floor. "What?"
"I'm pregnant," she repeats, completely unfazed.
I stand still in front of her, trying to keep calm.
Think, Jeremy.
"And you think it's mine?"
Her eyes grow wide and her hands fly to her hips as she bares her teeth like an angry she-wolf. "It's definitely yours!" she exclaims. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"What do you want me to say?" I answer, my voice ten times calmer than my brain.
"I don't know!" she screams as she throws her arms up in the air.
"Me neither. That's why I'm not saying anything."
And then she comes closer. Very close. The anger fades from her face and her lips soften as she looks up at me through her brown doe eyes. She traces a finger slowly up my bare chest and says, "Can't we just talk about this? I mean, it's not like hanging out together wasn't fun, right?"
I close my eyes to stop myself from ogling at her bulging breasts, threatening to spill from her dress as she presses against me. "Steph..."
Her hands go up to my face. I feel my chest tighten and my mouth runs dry as her nails dig at the side of my neck. I keep my eyes closed, knowing I'll get a full view of her cleavage if I open them, and then I might cave in. And I do not cave. No, I'm always in control.
She rises on her tiptoes and croons into my ear, "How about you skip work today?"
Oh, she's good.
"It's not going to happen."
But I'm better!
I remove her hands from my face and walk away from her, running my fingers through my hair and resting against the back of the couch. The same couch on which I had three girls bent over every which way less than six hours ago. And now suddenly I have a kid on the way.
Fuck.
She looks at me, hurt and withdrawn.
"So, that's it? You don't want anything to do with me anymore?" she shouts, all hint of seduction burnt out.
The throbbing in my head feels like thunder now. What was she expecting? She knows me. She knows exactly who I am. I have always been honest about my intentions and never strung her along.
"Fine!" she declares stubbornly. "I'll go to Sicily and find someone who can help me there then!"
Christ! Of all the girls I could have knocked up it had to be the crazy, dramatic chick who works for my mother. Talk about bad luck.
"What are you talking about?" I ask patiently, my brain still struggling to focus through the aftermath of all the whiskey shots I knocked back over Kendra's naked body. Her name wasn't really Kendra. I just kept calling her that because I couldn't remember what it was and she didn't complain.
Stephanie crosses her arms over her chest and looks me squarely in the eye.
"I have no intention of raising your child on my own. Either you're with me or you're not!"
"With you? Stephanie, I was never with you! I was never with anyone! If that's what you came here for then I'm sorry but you're going to be very disappointed."
Her mouth gets smaller and smaller and her eyes shine threateningly. But she takes a deep breath and reigns it in.
"So, you'd rather I get an abortion, then?" she asks, regaining control.
I look at her for a long time. It can't be that easy. She's cooking something in that pretty head of hers.
"If that's really what you want, I'll help you," I answer calmly.
"What?" she gapes at me. But I don't falter.
I don't know if she's bluffing, but just in case she isn't I say, "I don't want you going to some butcher who has an underground dungeon in the middle of nowhere. I'll find you a good doctor and you'll have the procedure done in a proper clinic. It doesn't have to be Sicily. I'll arrange everything. Don't worry about the expenses."
"Right," she retorts bitterly. "How kind of you!"
I roll my eyes. I am not in the mood for her sarcasm. "You're welcome," I reply icily. "Are we done here?"
Her leg twitches impatiently and her chin quivers ever so slightly. "You're heartless, Jeremy!"
Ha! What else is new?
I rest my aching head into my palms. I really need some paracetamol. "Just tell me what you want Steph!" I demand.
But she doesn't bite. "Nothing! You gave me more than I asked for already!"
Her arrogant tone finally gets to me and I snap. "Oh, did I? And what did you ask for exactly? Because as far as I know, we hooked up a few times when either one of us was bored. That was it. Neither of us asked for this. I don't even know how this happened!"
"Well, when mummy's egg and daddy's little swimmers meet-"
"God damn it, Steph!"
She finally shuts up looking defiant. And then after considering me for a long moment, she names it. Her price. Because at the end of the day, no matter how special they want to believe they are, they all have a price.
"I want you to buy the store."
I look at her blankly. "What store?"
"Your mother's store. She's thinking of shutting it down."
"That would be the first decent business decision that woman has made in her entire life!" I counter. "I saw the books. It's a right mess!"
"Not if I take over!" she challenges. "You want to keep your life as it is and so do I."
I contemplate her, figuring her out in my head. So that's what she wants. Security.
"And you won't say a word of this to my mother?" I ask finally.
I don't want to be rid of one problem and then have to deal with two.
"I won't mention this ever again!" she replies sweetly.
I mull over her terms in my head. The throbbing eases a little. "Done. Congratulations, Ms. Mifsud, you've just been promoted."