I hate suits.
I hate lunches with suits.
And I hate bullshit business conversations that only concern suits.
But me and Jersey are surrounded by them.
Dad's whole firm is here, sitting around yapping into their phones, stuffing themselves with French caviar, and comparing car keys to see whose ride has the biggest price tag. In these circles, that's "man code" for who has the biggest dick.
Typical.
I wish I could say that my dad was a better man than his co-workers, but he isn't.
He's perched at the head of the table with his arm around his wrinkly barbie doll of a new girlfriend, shooting the shit with his boys like it's another day at the office.
Like his son isn't sitting at the other end of the table with a fat lip from a cop he's supposed to be suing.
But he hasn't said anything about the situation at all.
He's laughing and smiling while the piece on his arm enjoys the perks of being his girl of the moment.
I can't stand looking at them, listening to them, or forcing myself to be social with them. So I don't say anything at all.
But Jersey's talking up a storm.
Ever since my dad's new girlfriend, "Vikki", sat her next to some fat, sweaty balding guy who's suit smells like pachouli, she's been going off a mile a minute about how his scent reminds her of home.
She keeps making new friends everywhere we go. Who knew a little weed would break her out of her shell. The only downside is, she hasn't really spoken to me.
Ever since I embarrassed myself in front of her in the bathroom, she's been--weird.
Not weird enough to not be physical. She's been pretty cool about me holding her hand and stealing kisses whenever my dad's not watching.
But she can't look me in the eye...which isn't a good thing.
If I was still in the business of lying to myself, I'd chalk up her awkwardness to the drugs.
But I'm pretty sure she's freaking out because of me.
I shut my eyes and try to play back the moment I spilled my guts to her to see if it's as awkward as I remember.
Yeah.
I looked like an ass.
I scared her.
And even though I denied saying what I did, I'm pretty sure she knows I'm lying.
Great.
I grab the glass of wine Vikki mindlessly put in front of me and toss it back in one gulp.
I need something to take the edge off, but I hate wine, so I stop after a glass.
I sit back in my seat and stare over at twitchy dude with powder rings caked on the inside of his nose. I figured lawyers were fucked up, but not like this. Some of these people make my old buddies in rehab look like saints. Almost everybody's buzzed if not drunk and trying to hide it.
The air stinks of whiskey, rum, and cigarettes. A grey cloud wafts across the table, and Jersey starts choking on some brunette's smoke rings. I hand her a water, while she struggles to catch her breath, but before she can get any air in, the chick sitting across from her blows a second cloud in her face. Jersey waves it off, irritated, but she's too polite to say anything about it. But I'm not.
I prop my elbows on the table, lean forward, and stare at Little Miss Botox and wait for her to notice.
It takes about a second and a half for her to realize that she has my attention.
She catches my eye, places a cigarette between her lips and takes a long drag without taking her gaze off me. Yep. Definitely a low-key invitation for a blow job. I smile at her like she wants me to and get up out of my chair. I squeeze Jersey's shoulder before I leave just so she knows that I'll be back, and then beeline for Marlboro girl.
She arches her back as soon as I'm next to her. Low-cut dress. Cleavage obvious. Fake tits in plain view. She smirks at me over her shoulder as I lean in to whisper to her. She stinks of syrupy perfume and nicotine, and for a split second, I feel like vomiting my dad's appetizers all over her ugly green dress. But I play it cool and let her fall head first into a trap instead.
"Tired of your date? I can show you a better time if you want," she says, voice like velvet.
Desperation always sounds the same.
"You mean her?"
I point to Jersey across the table, and she looks up at me confused. I wink at her to keep her confident, she turns bright red, and looks away.
Ha. Still got it.
"She couldn't tire me out of she tried. But you know what I'm tired of?" I ask.
She bats her long fake eyelashes at me and runs her hand down the length of my tie even though her date's sitting right next to her. I hate cheaters almost as much as I hate my father.
"What, babe?" She says.
"You. And your smoke. And the way your bothering my girlfriend. So as far as your cigarettes go, you've got two options. Put 'em out or get out. Comprende?"
She pales through her spray tan and gapes at me like a fish out of water.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" She blubbers.
I run a hand through my hair and flash her a sideways smile.
"I'm Elias King, this is my house, and that--"
I nod over towards my old man who's buzzed enough to shoot me a semi-friendly wave in return.
"--that's my old man. And he's the only reason why your limp dick husband can afford to keep pumping poison in your face. So if I were you, I'd stub that stick out before I mention your bullshit to my dad."
She lets out a frustrated grunt and drops her cigarette into her wine glass before scuttling back to her clueless husband. I straighten up my tie and strut back to Jersey, hoping that she's at least somewhat impressed with me going to bat for her.
I plop down in my seat, lean back, and wait for the compliments to come rolling in. She looks at me, dead-eyed, and grabs me by the balls instead.
"Did you have fun on your little flirtation vacation, señor? Here I am giving your dad an Oscar-worthy fake girlfriend performance, and you drop me like a sac of potatoes for some trollop in a green dress? "
She tightens her hold on my boys, and I just about stop breathing.
"Babe, I--" my voice cracks.
"Don't you 'babe' me with your pretty eyes and your messy hair. I know what you're up to. If you wanted to be with Madame Big Bazoingas over there, you could have just said so!"
"Corazón (my heart, Spanish term of endearment), I wasn't flirting with her I was threatening to kick her out of the house if she didn't stop blowing smoke in your face. You can ask her if you don't believe me."
She eases up on her death grip but keeps her eyes locked on mine.
"You--you did that for me?" She asks.
"Yes, I did that for you. And I'd like to keep doing things for you, but I can't move mountains if you're holding on to my balls. Not that I mind, but if we're gonna get touchy-feely you've gotta work on two things--temper and technique."
Jersey opens her mouth to answer me, but the sound of my dad tapping his brandy glass steals her attention. The whole table falls silent, and suddenly the back porch feels like the church of Malcolm King instead of the place where I grew up.
Me and Tanner used to run around out here after school playing cops and robbers, hiding behind my mom's plants, and stomping all over her garden. No matter how many times we got grounded for it, we left our mark on this little piece of land. We loved it here. We loved each other.
But lately, it's been getting harder to remember what that feels like. Now everything's different. The backyard's got a new outside bar and is full of tacky glass tables and a bunch of ugly statues Vikki's clearly responsible for.
Nothing about this place feels like home anymore. It's my dad's territory now, and he's traded out his family for a pack of fucking wolves.
"Ladies and gentlemen, before we get to the main course, I'd like you're attention please. Today's a special day for me for a number of reasons. First off, I want to thank you all for coming. It's important for the firm to spend a little quality time together outside of the office. We're brothers first, lawyers second. Well, at least that's what Vikki keeps telling me."
A series of laughs erupts around the table, but nothing about what my dad's saying is funny to me. This speech, this lunch, this entire afternoon is a love letter to his business, to his money, and the people that help him make it. These are the people he puts his time and attention into.
Not mom. Not Tanner. Not me.
A group of leeches getting rich off screwing people. But these are the types that win out in life. Gold digging secretaries eventually replace wives, and slime balls in suits replace sons.
It doesn't matter that I'm here, or that Jersey's here, or that the shit that went down last night is hanging over my head.
He didn't invite me here to help me, which makes me wonder why the hell he invited me here at all.
"Anyway, I wanted to take this opportunity to speak to you all about a very special person who's here with us this afternoon. This is someone who I want you all to know is an incredibly important part of my life. Now, not every part of our relationship has been perfect, but we're growing together. It's been a long road, and I've made a fair amount of mistakes, but this person, isn't one of them--"
My dad pauses, looks over at me, and my legs go numb. My mind's scrambling to process what he's saying. The words hover in the air and then sink into my skin regardless of whether or not I want them to. I try to keep my guard up and question his motives instead of blindly believing in him.
But for a split second, I do.
The little boy in me wants to get up out of his seat, run to his father, and tell him he loves him too. That he's sorry. That he wants to start over, go back to the way things were before things got bad, and live that life. The version of reality where his father loves him despite his mistakes.
Maybe this is that beginning. Maybe this is how he apologizes, at a table full of people, because he can't do it alone.
And neither can I.
I would've kept running if Jersey hadn't convinced me to stay. She's the reason I'm here, hearing these words that I've needed to for longer than she knows.
And I owe her the world for it.
I hold on to her with one hand, reach for my glass with the other, and raise it to my dad. The smile on his face fades into confusion, but I stand up before he can back out. This is my chance to start fixing things, and I don't care if it's in front of a room full of strangers if it means things could be different.
"Dad, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say something."
"Son, now's not a good time," he says.
"I'll make it quick. I promise. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Elias, Malcolm's youngest son, and my dad and I have been through a lot. Maybe some things you've heard about. But even though I haven't always been the best son I can be for him--"
"Elias--"
"--I've been working to be better. A better man. A better boyfriend. A better person. And my dad's showing me how to do that. He's built a solid company with you guys, and I wanted to thank you all for helping him succeed, and for being willing to help me build a case against the--"
"Elias, stop right there. That's not an appropriate discussion for the table."
Dad's voice comes out cold, clipped, and aggressive. The sound hits me like a sucker punch. I stand there sweating through my suit while dad's entire firm stares me down in silence. Jersey gets up out of nowhere, runs her hand up and down my back, and then looks straight at my dad without batting an eyelash.
"Mr. King, I apologize for stepping in on your moment or whatever, but you're kind of being a dick right now--"
Gasps ricochet around the table, and my dad's girlfriend nearly drops her glass of champagne the second Jersey's statement settles in. My dad squares up and shoots Jersey one of his attack dog stares he's had down to a science since his college football days. I reach up and try to redirect her attention to stop her from going head-to-head with my father, but she doesn't flinch.
"Young lady, while I appreciate your spunk, disrespecting me in front of my colleagues isn't something I'm willing to tolerate."
"Well that makes two of us, because I'm not gonna tolerate you disrespecting my boyfriend either. I mean honestly, were you even listening to him earlier? Elias was trying to reach out to you, and you were a complete doucheface about it. Like, I know so many parents who would love it if there sons said even a fraction of what he just did. He got up and told you how much he respects you and your bullshit company, even though you've practically ignored him since he got here. The only reason why he's still at this table is because you asked him to come, and he showed up. He actually showed up because he loves you, he needs your help, and he's grateful for whatever you can give him. He's genuinely grateful for you, Mr. King. And if you can't see how special that is, or how special he is, then you're missing out on your own son."
I hardly have it in me to stay on my feet by the time Jersey finishes. My legs are shaking almost as badly as my hands, but she doesn't let me go. She turns towards me, eyes glassy and terrified, and kisses me with a rebel smile still on her lips.
And in those couple seconds, there's nothing between us but truth.
Jersey breaks away from me when the clang of my dad's fork against his glass ruins the moment. He straightens out the lapels of his suit and flashes me a frosty stare before putting on a PR poker face for his guests.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's give my son and his 'girlfriend' a round of applause for providing us with some spirited entertainment this afternoon. Now if the two of you don't mind letting me continue, I'd like to explain the real reason why I gathered you all here--"
I sink down in my seat about as fast as my stomach sinks into the pit of my chest. My face is on fire, and I don't even have the energy to hide it. I can't look at my dad. I can't look at Jersey, even though I feel her gaze on me. I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her to see what he turns me into.
"After many long and wonderful years together, Vikki and I want to announce our engagement. We couldn't be happier--"
I'm on my feet and running before he can finish. I tear through the house blindly, tears blurring the whole world out of focus. I cut out of the side door of the house, bolt for the beach, and collapse the second I hit the shoreline. I slam my fists against the sand over and over again until my knuckles turn raw. I should feel it. The sand scraping off my skin, the blood, the bruises. But I don't.
So I don't stop.
Until she stops me.
Suddenly Jersey's arms are around my waist, struggling to keep me still. I feel her whole body pressed against my back, her ragged breathing falling in and out of time with mine. I lean back into her arms and let her hold me while the weight of my father's words crushes the fight out of me. Jersey tries to talk me down, but I can't hear her over the sound of my voice.
I'm screaming.
At him.
At the situation.
At myself.
But she stays.
She stays with me till I'm quiet.
Until the violence stops and the storm between my heart and my head slows down.
And I want to tell her to go.
To get up, get in the car, and put miles between her and my problems. I want her to leave the way she did that night when I forced her to, so she won't have to drown in my darkness. She has too much of her own. She doesn't need to deal with mine.
So I ask her to leave, even though its a lie.
I open my mouth and beg her to go. To find somewhere she can be happier. To find someone she can be happier with.
But doesn't move.
She doesn't listen.
In all her beautiful stubbornness she stays.
She stays.
And even though all she has are broken parts of a broken person.
All those pieces belong to her.
***
We stay on the beach until we fall asleep in the sand, but the cold wakes me up a little after midnight. I pull off my suit jacket and wrap it around Jersey before I lift her off the ground and carry her back to the car.
I leave her bundled up in my Vans hoodie and recline the seat to make her comfortable before I head out to the beach again. On the walk down, my mind starts racing back over the last couple hours. Every time I blink, I still feel her hands on me. Her arms around me. Her lips on mine. The way she laid next to me in the sand and told me that everything was okay when nothing was.
She smiled at me even though I could see that some part of her was scared to. She touched me even though her hands were shaking. She stayed close to me even though the runner in her was screaming at her to keep her distance.
I don't understand it.
I don't know why she sticks around when the wiser half of her heart tells her not to.
Maybe there's some part of her that wants this as badly as I do. Or maybe that's just me chasing a dream.
I don't know.
But what I do want her to know is how important she is.
So I walk down to the beach and sit down under the moonlight.
And when the sound of the ocean fades out, and the memory of Jersey's voice fades in, I pick up a pen, put my heart in my hands, and write.
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(Thank you guys so much for reading/listening & if you enjoyed the chapter don't forget to vote! Can't wait to share the next update with you guys on Tuesday! Question who listened to the audiobook for this chapter! @kaelking12 did a fantastic read so if you listened let us know what you thought in the comments! Btw you can listen to the audiobook by clicking either of the Youtube links above.)