Jesus. His girlfriend looks like a whore trying to earn back her last dollar.
I totally thought their relationship was a publicity stunt, but it looks like the Lexington Halls of the world really do take up with the clearance rack scraps. Maybe there’s hope for me.
#WillaFarrowForPresident
What is she wearing? That dress screams Renaissance bar wench. Or maybe she’s auditioning for the new Hocus Pocus movie. Wait, did they make that already?
Willa Farrow is the girl you marry. Stevie St. James is the girl you jerk off to while your wife is sleeping.
Guarantee you Lex is smashing them both. Dude knows what he’s doing.
My insides twist with revulsion as I slide the phone away from me. “I’m done looking at that.”
“Understood. Maybe convince Stevie to lie low for a few days. And definitely tell her to stay off social media.”
“Too late. She already saw.”
He winces. “Ouch. Hope she’s got a thick skin.”
She doesn’t.
Guilt chews through me with serrated teeth. I brought her into this callous prison, and now she’s trapped behind the bars of my own making while humanity and goodness slip further out of reach. Her light will drain, her smile will crack, and then one day…
She’ll be one of us.
My phone buzzes from the countertop, newly juiced, and I blink over to the screen as it lights up with a picture of my mother.
“On that note…” Rudy smacks me on the shoulder and pushes his empty plate aside. “Please answer your mother’s phone calls so she stops dogging me. And then go make sweet love to your fake girlfriend.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
He stretches a roguish grin.
I scowl. Guess I walked into that one.
When Rudy saunters out of my condo, I heave a breath and answer my mother’s video call. “Hey, Mom.”
Her eyes fill with relief when she sees me. “Lexington, it’s about time.”
“Sorry. Been busy.”
“Too busy to call your mother back? We used to talk every night.”
I swear a trace of sadness wraps around her words, and it tugs at places I wish it wouldn’t. “Yeah, I’ve just been swamped with appearances. And I’m in a relationship now. The last few weeks have been a big transition, moving Stevie in with me.”
“Mm. Of course.” She strolls down a city street, a giant pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes as the breeze scatters her hair in all directions. “That’s part of the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. I’d love to set up dinner together, just the three of us.”
That couldn’t possibly be self-serving. “I’ll take a look at my schedule.”
“Tomorrow night at seven. Nobu Malibu.”
“Stevie doesn’t like sushi.”
“She’ll learn to. I’ll make a reservation.”
Experience has taught me there’s no point in arguing with my mother. Once her mind is made up, I have two choices: submit or suffer. Every time I’d push back, things got worse, and I wouldn’t call it wisdom, but I’ve definitely learned some valuable lessons over the years. Almost like a trained puppy.
Resist, and I get shocked.
