“Their extrav—Do you even hear yourself? Since when is having a roof over your head and food on the table extravagant? Jesus, Dad.” I rub my temples, as my hangover headache comes roaring back in full force. Just as I was feeling better, too, damn it. “What happened to you? Why are you like this?”
I don’t expect him to answer, and he doesn’t disappoint. He’s never been able to back up his ridiculous claims, and he’s learned it’s better not to try.
“Right.” I take a sip of my coffee and turn to my mother. “Well. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”
She takes her time adding butter to an English muffin, not taking her eyes off me. She takes a small bite, chews, swallows, then wipes her mouth with a cloth napkin before finally speaking. “No, I know why you’re here.”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for clarification. “And? Do you care to explain yourself?”
“Explain what, my dear? You were going to propose to Annabelle a year ago. It makes sense for you to get back together now. You two look so lovely standing side by side. I don’t care for the false lashes and gaudy fingernails she’s been fond of lately, but there’s no denying she’s still a beautiful woman.”
“Mom! She cheated on me, filmed it, and the video got posted online. Then she got drunk and asked Santa to help destroy the evidence. It was me dressed as Santa Claus, mom. She asked me!”
“Pssh,” she scoffs, waving her hand. “That’s been taken care of. There’s no trace of that video. Besides, none of that would have happened if you hadn’t canceled the traditional Fade Toys party to play dress up as Santa Claus. I don’t think it’s fair to place all the blame on Annabelle, do you? But that’s all in the past. Now you can marry her and be part of a respectable couple. It doesn’t look good for the business to be run by a single man in his thirties. Fade Toys and family values go hand in hand. Maintaining a good public image is essential to our continued success in the community. In our business, you can’t be too careful.”
“You’re not making any sense. What does me marrying Annabelle have to do with any of this?”
“Your father and I have worked too hard to maintain the respectable, professional image of Fade Toys to allow you to destroy it by remaining a bachelor for the rest of your life. What will our customers think?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What on earth makes you think our customers care about that? They’re buying sex toys, Mom. I don’t think they give a shit about whether or not I’m married.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe the customers don’t care,” she admits. “But our friends do. They already look down on our business. At least having it run by a married man gives it”—she waves her hand—“oh, I don’t know, a hint of respectability. If I’d known you’d be this stubborn about it, I would have had Annabelle trick you into getting her pregnant last year when she came to me for help with the videotape.”
“I’m sorry, you would have what?” I ask incredulously. Did I hear that correctly? My mother wanted Annabelle to trick me into getting her pregnant? “Tell me you’re kidding.”
The way my mother ignores my question and continues speaking leads me to believe she’s lying, which is a lot more likely than Annabelle wanting to get pregnant. As a model, her body is her livelihood. The only thing she ever worked hard at was keeping her body in shape for work. I doubt she’d want to risk that to be tied to the likes of me. I’m notthatrich.
Her face reddens, and I can tell she’s getting frustrated. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. “A child born out of wedlock to a beautiful couple is much more respectable than an eternal bachelor who…who…bangs his way through the female population of Westborough.”
I bark a laugh. “Is that what you think I do? Jesus, mom. That’s not who I am.”
Her eyes slide to my father and back to me. “I know what men are like, Archer. But as long as you get married and keep your…exploits private, I don’t care. Get married. That’s all I ask.”
I get up and stand next to the table. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Mom, but I won’t be marrying Annabelle. I don’t know why I ever thought about proposing to her. We never loved each other. Hell, the more I think about it, the more I realize we barely even liked each other. I won’t marry someone just because she’s beautiful, and you think she’ll make our family look good. And in case you weren’t aware, marrying someone who cheated on me probably wouldn’t look that great.”
“You say that now, son. But I know you’ll change your mind once you realize what’s at stake.” My father doesn’t look up from his paper to issue his warning. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, darling,” he consoles my mother. “He’ll come around. I’ll make sure of it.”
Fuck this. I’m not wasting any more time talking to these two. They’re obviously delusional if they still think they can convince me to marry Annabelle.
And they’re even more delusional if they think marrying a cheater will make our business look more respectable to anyone.
Chapter 7
Old Friends and New Headbutts
Phoebe
“Coming!”Iyelltowardthe front door as I dry my hands on a towel. I was in the kitchen washing Lincoln’s bottles when the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang again. “Be right there.”
I throw the door open to find a beautiful woman in a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt cinched at the waist by a skintight leather pencil skirt.Even after having a baby, she still looks like a pin-up model.A pissed-off pin-up model if the way she’s tapping the toe of her six-inch heels means anything. Next to her is a dark-haired, tattooed, bad-boy rocker of a man carrying a squirmy toddler in one arm and a large green diaper bag on the other.
“Denise. Good to see you.” I narrow my eyes at them, curious why they’re standing on my doorstep looking mad. “How do you know where I live?”
“Phoebe. You remember Ryder, right?” Than man behind her tips his head in greeting. Denise breezes past me, walking directly into the living room, and arranging herself primly on the couch. “Xena and Devon mentioned you. I didn’t think there were too many Phoebe Fox’s kicking around. I love the hair, by the way. You should have gone with your natural color ages ago. Why didn’t you tell me the label fired you? Also, why didn’t you call me when you came back to town?”
I sigh and follow her to the couch, readying myself for what sounds like it’s fixing up to be a fine lecture.
Denise was one of the best people I knew in the entertainment industry, but she was also tough as nails. As the manager of one of the more popular bands I worked with, she liked to keep in contact with me for everything, taking care to keep me informed of all the band’s comings and goings so I’d have good stuff to post and promote online. The pictures she sent after every show were the best candids I’d ever used. I’ve always liked her.
