For Love or Money (2 page)

My
head snaps around to face her. “HE WAS NOT WELCOME! I NEVER SAID HE COULD DO
THAT! I DON’T EVEN KNOW HIM!”

Este
lifts an eyebrow and talks in a high voice, like she’s going to spill something
she shouldn’t. “You got some unusual habits.”

“You
signed a nondisclosure form.”

She
blinks. “I didn’t say what your unusual habits were, just that you have them.
Girl, you are a freak and that is why men sneak in your room and rub their
weenies on your feet, ‘cause you’re unnaturally horny.”

My
lips part, wanting so badly to defend my honor, but who am I kidding? She has a
point. Regardless of it being against my will, I do have guys who enjoy
something like that as part of the game.

Fuck,
I’m twisted.

The
cop gives her an affronted look. “This is rape, it doesn’t matter where the
penis is put, it’s the fact it’s nonconsensual. What did he look like?”

Este
laughs. “Forget what he looks like—her toes are way overdo for a pedi. Just
get the boys at school to show you their junk. The guy with the scratched up
shit is your man. She is snatching salmon from the river with them talons.” She
laughs at her own joke.

I
fold my arms. “I like them a little longer. This is my pedicure, dick.”

She
tilts her head and looks at her own perfect nails. “Mmmmhmmm.”

“We
need to focus.” The cop scowls and shakes her head. “Any description at all?”

“Dark
hoodie, tall, white guy, not too old. I didn’t get a great look at his face,
but I don’t think I know him.” I turn and look at Este. “I didn’t know him, I
swear.”

The
cop sighs. “Okay, well I have to offer you a contact number for a support
group. You can go if you want to. The people there are very nice. They’re all
victims as well.”

“Victims?”

Her
blue eyes grow serious. “Of rape.”

I
shake my head. “No. No thanks.” The daughter of Lars Webber doesn’t do support
groups, not unless it’s a private session. “I have a shrink.”

Este
snorts. “And he works wonders on your freaky ass.” She takes the card from the
cop. “We will take the card in case she gets all wrist cutter on me. I know how
you white girls get.” She helps me up from the chair.

I
look at the cop. “I don’t cut. I don’t know what she’s talking about.” But the
cop just drinks some of her coffee and shakes her head.

When
I turn to leave, I see the eyes of the man I trust more than anyone in the
whole world gazing back at me. His dark stare doesn’t have the usual blend of
joyous sarcasm and mockery. He swallows hard as his brow knits together.

Este
helps me to the door but my body is on fire. It makes me wince and makes Henry
move faster to me. He puts an arm out for me. “I’ve hired a private
investigator at your father’s behest, and there is a spa readying a treatment
room for you.”

The
cop stares at us, mouth agape. “You weren’t kidding about not needing the
group.”

I
glance back at her and nod. “Thanks for everything.” Though I’m not sure what
she did exactly. Cops are so lazy.

One
of my father’s lawyer friends comes strolling into the office. He places his
hand on my arm. “You okay?”

I
nod.

He
pats my burns. “We’ll take care of this for you.”

He
doesn’t notice when I wince. He’s got the usual paperwork for the cop to sign.
Everyone signs them.

Este
gives me a look. “You got room at the inn for one more?” I can see her mockery
has a touch of worry to it too.

“Yeah.
I’d love some company while I soak my burns.”

She
winks. “And get your talons sharpened?” She makes me laugh—thank God for
that because if I didn’t laugh I might cry.

Andy’s mom has got it going on

James

Jackson and Duncan
pass the Xbox controllers to Shane and me. I take a swig of my beer and loosen
up my neck. “You ready for an ass kicking?”

Shane chuckles.
He’s not big on words, but he’s the best keeper I’ve ever seen in soccer in
real life and Xbox. I’m all talk at this. He’s the man, but if I come in
strong, I’m hoping I won’t get too shown up.

Several girls come
strolling into the house, sitting on the laps of the other guys on the far
couches and giggling. Andy comes in behind them. He winks at me. “Thought I
might bring some refreshments over.”

Jackson looks
uncomfortable. He’s going to be a law student, and ninety percent of what Andy
does makes him uncomfortable. His dad expects him to be the youngest
congressman since Patrick Murphy.

Whereas Andy’s dad
just expects him to graduate and work for him, emphases on graduate. Everyone
knows he spends his days scraping by and his nights with Lana Webber and girls
like her.

I wish some days I
had a dad and he was rich like theirs. But then hanging out with them really
pronounces the flaws in the system. They’re all insane.

I’ve only met one
that wasn't a basket case, Lana’s dad—Lars Webber. He’s the man I want to
be when I grow up. Minus the head-case daughter though.

Duncan mutters to
me. “You guys hear what happened last night?”

I shake my head,
praying it has nothing to do with me.

Shane shakes his
head as he scores and gives me a wink.

I roll my eyes as
Duncan whispers, even though the three of us are huddled so no one else can
hear. “I heard Lana Webber got raped. Cops came and everything.”

It’s like he’s
reading my mind about Lana Webber, minus the rape. My guts burn when I think
about it. “That can’t be true. It’s Lana Webber.”

“I know, right?
Who has to rape Lana? She’s the sexual predator around here.”

Andy points at
him. “Go easy on my girl.” Apparently, we weren’t talking as quietly as we
thought.

“We all know she isn’t
your girl.” Shane looks past him at the other girls in the room. “She’s with
Chad and you can’t ever decide on one.”

Chad? The name
brings up the face of the golden boy I hate from New York. God, she’s seeing
him?

Andy winks. “That
might be true.”

Shane continues,
ignoring Andy’s bravado, “I heard it wasn't rape but something happened. She
was a mess. My girlfriend is in that dorm. She said Lana was screaming and
crying.”

“Maybe it was just
another one of her fits. You know how she gets.” I can hardly breathe, praying
it’s just her being her. She’s known for getting herself into trouble. The idea
of someone hurting her makes me sick. She might be a crazy brat, but her dad is
a kind man and no one deserves that kind of torture. He still holds out hope for
her finding her way back on the straight and narrow.

Duncan shakes his
head. “I hope they catch this guy. It’s getting out of hand. That's
what—three rapes in three months?”

Shane nods. “Yeah.
Anyone touches my girl and I’ll fucking kill.”

I actually believe
him when he says it.

One of the girls
in the entourage comes over and sits on my lap. I lean around her trying to see
the TV as Shane scores again. The girl wraps her arms around my neck and
whispers. “Want me to suck you off before the game tomorrow?”

I swallow hard,
shaking my head.

Does everyone know
how I like to get ready for a game?

Andy holds his
drink in the air, toasting me.

And that would be
how everyone knows.

Duncan pats his
lap. “Come sit here, Brandy. Whisper sweet nothings in my ears.”

Shane nods at the
door and I nod back. “Well, we have some studying to do.”

Andy waves coldly.
“Fine, run away like bitches. When you’re done stroking each other’s cocks,
don't forget we have a party tonight here at the frat.”

I hold my middle
finger up in the air. “It’s your mom stroking my cock later, Andrew. Not Shane.
His hands make my dick look too small.”

The girls laugh
and Shane shoves me. “Get some self-esteem. It’s not that small.”

We both chuckle as
we leave the frat house. Normally, it’s our hangout but when they start with
the sluts and coke, us athletics students make a quick run for it. I love
slutty girls, just not on campus. I didn't come to Harvard to get laid. I could
have done that back home.

Jackson comes
jogging out after us. “Wait up. I want Andy’s mom to stroke my cock too.”

I smile back. He’s
acting tough, but he doesn't want any of that shit either. We don't have room
for mistakes.

Shane sighs. “I
have tests all week, and with the next couple games up and coming, I won’t even
be leaving my dorm except to write tests and play soccer.”

I nod. “Me too.”
Well, that entirely true but they don't need to know my whole schedule.

Jackson points in
the direction of the field. “Wanna go play a little before practice tonight?”

I look at Shane
who shrugs. “Sure. I have to study after practice though, for real.”

We head for the
field to warm up and play a little before the team arrives. It’s nice being the
three of us original players. The team seems so much younger now that we are
the old guys on the team. Jackson grads this year and then starts law school in
September and Shane is starting dental school. They’ll still be here at
Harvard, but they’ll be too busy for soccer. I’ll be the only senior on the
team next year, my last year of school.

Then I have to
apply for the business school and pray that Lars Webber meant what he said four
years ago.

Thinking about
Lars makes me think about Lana. I wish I’d been able to hold up my end of the
bargain with her. She’s such a train wreck and it doesn't seem to matter how
hot I think she is, she’s the kind of trouble that gets you expelled or worse,
arrested. I just can’t bring myself to help her.

I want to be the
stand up man Lars needs me to be, but I just don't see that being possible. Especially
now that she’s crying rape over shit and having the police coming to the
campus. No one wants to be the guy who gets caught up in one of her moods or
drugged out tantrums and gets called a rapist.

Her dad must truly
drink himself to sleep every night.

When practice is
over I head for my dorm but Duncan drags me to the frat for the party. “It’ll
be fun. That Brandy girl sucked me off, she’s a fucking star.”

I roll my eyes.
“Your sloppy seconds hold no interest for me.”

He shoves me.
“She’s a virgin. She doesn't have sex. Nothing sloppy about her. I’m planning
on spending the weekend trying to get her to give it up.”

A low chuckle
slips from my lips. “You want to have sex with her and yet you’re trying to get
me interested in getting my dick in her mouth?”

He gives me a
dirty grin. “Girls who suck you off are better at sucking dick than any girl
ever.”

I look around
campus. “How did you even get into this school?”

“My dad, bro. You
know how I got in.”

I roll my eyes.
“Yeah I was mocking you. They need to add mocking to the application.”

He punches me in
the arm. “You give them lessons don't you? You tell them how to do it better.”

I return his grin
with a wicked smile. “It’s less about the lessons and more about the actions.”

“Whatever. I
guarantee you’re a master cock sucker.”

“No, but your mom
is.” I laugh.

“You leave Dana
out of this.”

I laugh harder and
prepare myself for a night of inexperienced college girls sucking me off while
I avoid whatever cocaine Andy has rigged my drinks with to get me kicked off
the soccer team. He and I don't share the same opinion of funny.

Love
Games

Lana

Tapping
my fingers against my thighs, I pace a little more. Bright-blue eyes watch me,
no doubt filled with worry about the state of my mental health. Finally Nance
says something, “No one cares that the cops came. They all think it was the
campus rapist. No one thinks it was you—just making shit up or having a
fit.”

Having
a fit? I don’t have fits.

I
shrug, blowing it off. “Whatever. I don’t care what they think. I have three
months and I’m free—signed as the newest intern at Webber Records. I’ll
be having dinner with the hottest acts in the country and shopping in Europe
while they’re struggling to pay off their student loans and working at Starbucks.”

She
rolls her eyes, mellowing out a bit. “Why are you even planning on getting a
job? Come with me on the yacht and meet a rich man to pay for the rest of your
life. Then you don’t have to worry about your parents’ expectations. That’s my
plan.”

“Nance,
I have to take over the company. It’s been the plan since I was in my mom’s
stomach.”

She
wrinkles her nose. “Speaking of expectations, did you talk to Chad yet?”

Chad
. . . shit. Hadn’t he texted he was coming over tonight?

“He’s
been all worried and annoying since the other day with the rapist. He sent
flowers to the spa, tried to visit me there while I was mid-facial—like
no. He’s so clingy.” I slump into the chair and focus my scattered brain. “I
tried rehearsing the breakup in the spa with Este, but she was kind of a whore
about the whole thing. She said I should stay with him, he’s rich and sweet.
Like those are the only two traits that matter in the world.”

Nance
lifts her brows. “She has a student loan. She doesn’t understand. She sees a
cute dude with a trust fund and thinks he’s perfect. She doesn’t have the same
standards as us.”

I
look at Este’s door and shake my head. “She’s out tonight with some guy whose
dad owns a car dealership. I tried fixing her up with one of the Rathbones from
the Hamptons but she said his family was too white. I don’t even know what that
means. What is too white?”

“Maybe
they’re racist. Creepy. Oh my God, I have an idea.” She hops up from the chair
and runs out into the hallway, leaving the door open. I wrinkle my nose, hating
on the fact the skeezy dorm nerds can see in my door. The hallway stink starts
seeping in just as she runs back in, dragging Leo from down the hall. She’s his
hag. He’s awesome and adorable with his coifed dark hair and beautiful face. He
has the most chiseled jaw at school and perfect blue eyes. She kicks the door
shut and nods at Leo. “Practice on him.”

I
smile as he puts his hands up. “What? You said she had cake in here. I don’t
smell cake.” He looks around. “In fact, what is that smell?”

I
blush and look down as Nance shoves him and mutters, “Lysol. The cleaning
team’s just got done with the place.”

He
bites his lip. “Oh God, Lana. I am such a shit. I forgot about the whole thing.
Are you okay? Everyone has been talking about it nonstop, and it’s in all the
papers and rag mags. I heard reporters have been getting escorted off the
grounds a ton.”

The
question makes a chuckle slip from me. “Yeah. I’m fine. I wasn’t raped or
anything.”

“I
knew it!” His brow knits. “Why did the cops come?”

What
does he mean by he knew it? Am I too slutty to be raped? That’s harsh.

I
shake my head, praying Nance just says it and gets it over with. “He rubbed his
dick between her toes.”

Leo
bursts out laughing. “Oh snap! No he didn’t.”

I
sigh and let the fire burn on my face.

Leo
sits at the small table. “What kind of a nasty ass sneaks into a girl’s dorm
and soils her foot? Did you know him? Was it an ex with a foot thing you have
withheld from us?”

“No.
It was probably someone wanting to get even with me for something. It doesn’t
matter. It’s gross but it’s done. I’m just glad I wasn’t raped.”

“No
one is going to rape the willing.” Nance winks. “And you can’t say you haven’t
done worse things in your life than have a dick between your toes.”

We
all laugh, but I’m laughing only because I want to hide the shame of the
comments. Not because she said them, but because they’re completely true. The
guy I had sex with for a ride home when I was stranded at a rave in Vancouver
is way worse than someone using my foot for half an hour. Although the foot
thing feels worse. It hurts somewhere deep inside of me, somewhere my Paxil
doesn’t reach.

“I
am so relieved you didn’t get raped—like the other girls. I was a bit
worried when I saw the cops and everyone was saying rapist, but I sort of
assumed you were just mad at a guy or something.” Leo picks at the trail mix on
the counter. “What is it you’re wanting to practice on me?”

I
push aside the dismissive way we are all treating my incident and give him my
best ‘I’m sorry face’ and mutter, “I think we need to break up.”

He
laughs. “Oh snap. Is this the whole Chad thing? Okay, this is going to be good.
Hit me with your best shot.”

“You're
a really great guy, Chad, but I'm looking for something less."

His
eyebrows pull together. “Less. You want to start with great guy and then go to
wanting less? What is this—your first time? What the hell is less than
having sex twice a week anyway?”

“Dude,
don’t add dialogue. Chad wouldn’t say that.”

Nance
picks at the trail mix too. “No, he wouldn’t. He’d talk over her and plan
dinner.”

It
makes me laugh because it’s exactly what happened the last time I tried to
break things off. He’s a booty call not a boyfriend, but he doesn’t get that.
He’s always planning dates and shit, and I’m tired of blowing him off. I’m even
more tired of daydreaming about a certain other booty call and imagining it’s
him screwing me instead of Chad.

He’s
legit making me crazy.

I
close my eyes and wave my hands in front of my face, getting back into break-up
mode. When I feel it again, I nod. “You know, Chad, three months ago when I met
you, I knew you would be hard to break up with."

The
look on Leo’s face is priceless for a second before he breaks and starts to
laugh. “You don’t say this shit every time you need to end things with a man
whore? You met him and planned the breakup. What the hell, Lana?" He
starts sounding ghetto for a super-gay white guy.

The
whole process is stressing me out, and Leo is turning out to be worse to
practice on than Henry. I sigh. “You need to take this seriously. He's going to
be here any minute.” Not to mention, I can’t imagine letting him touch me right
now, not after the whole foot thing. “Now look me in the eyes and give me the
saddest shit you have. I want puppy-dog eyes and possibly sniffles."

He
pushes back from the table, shaking his head like he’s flabbergasted. "You
have a sickness . . . a real sickness. I love you, you are my
bitch—but no." Leo shakes his head, pointing at me. “This is why I
thank God every day that I am gay, hateful bitches like you." He lifts his
fingers to his lips, dropping trail mix into his parted mouth and spilling some
on the wooden floor my dad’s workers put in for me.

“Gay
guys don’t do that. They eat all tidy and dainty. I think you need lessons in
the stereotypes of your people.” He is the most stereotypical man I have ever
met. He broke the mold for me for gay guys. My friends back home are feminine
with a capital FEM but Leo is not. Mostly because he’s still in the closet back
home.

Nance
looks like she might add something, but Leo leans over the bowl on the table.
Taking my challenge and mocking to heart, he sticks his face in—eating
from it like it’s a trough. It’s enough to make me sick, but he makes it much
worse by drinking from my glass of ginger ale. He burps and smiles. “No diet
soda? Wow. Brave. Who knew you were so reckless with calories. Maybe you should
hang on to Chad for when you get fat. Booty calls are harder to come by for the
big girls.”

Nance
laughs. “Seriously? Did you just burp? I don’t think I even knew gay guys
burped.”

He
fights a smile and nods like he’s making a big decision. “I have to bounce, but
you need to know, you really are heartless, even for a spoiled white girl. Come
and get me when this train wreck is over and you want to get drunk and look for
new man meat.” He smiles at Nance. “So see you girls in an hour?"

Nance
laughs. “Less than. It’s Lana. She dumps by text half the time.”

“I
do not. I always do it face to face. You are both dicks.” I roll my eyes.

“You
need to get a refund ‘cause that shrink your daddy is paying for, he isn’t
doing shit." Leo does the perfect mock queen wave and leaves Nance and I
there.

Ignoring
his cruelty and disdainful hate of my shrink, I turn and hold my arms out. “Now
tell me the truth—is this shirt okay or can you see cleavage? I really
want this breakup to take."

“He
really likes you. You're going to rip his balls off; trust me, he isn’t going
to give a rat's ass how perky your boobs were while you did it."

My
gaze lowers to my boobs. “You’re right." My stomach’s in knots but I know
it’s time. That, and the idea of a guy touching me, is giving me the shivers.
It’s been since the foot guy and I can’t seem to shake it. Not to mention, the
gross feeling of Chad and his lovemaking. God, I hate vanilla sex.

“Why
are you ending this one anyway? It’s casual sex. How hard can it be to remain
detached? Who cares if he likes you a lot, that makes the sex better.”

I
shake my head and give myself another once over. “Chad has done the ultimate
no-no for any booty call. Not only did he ask if I want to be exclusive, he
asked if I'd ever given any thought to us getting a place together in
California this summer.” It makes me shudder and Nance giggle.

She
points. “Why are you making the baby face?"

I
toss a pillow at her but she’s laughing too hard to care. Apparently, I have a
tick—I make faces when I see babies. Whatever. Not everyone likes babies.
I point at the closet. “Go and hide. He's coming any second. He just texted
again."

She
breathes like she’s winded from laughing. "I’m not staying for this. I
just can’t. You can’t make me watch." She grabs her room keys and walks to
the door, pausing only to point at me. “We are getting drunk in an hour when
this shit’s over.”

I
nod, frowning at the closing door and her abandonment of me. It is the
strangest thing, but I don’t want to be alone with him in my room. I don’t want
to be alone with anyone. Shit is getting real in my head. I pop another Paxil
and wait for it to hit.

I
would have rather done this in a public place, but Chad has gotten harder to
nail down. I swear he’s trying to get me alone so he can again ask something
that I might have to stab him in the eye for. Exclusivity is for when I’m forty
and my boobs are sagging, and I have to get a surgery to make them twenty
again.

I
look at the clock and swallow hard as I walk over to the microwave and put the
stinky cabbage in that I made Henry get from the Ukrainian market. It’s a trade
secret. My Aunt Sarah used to cook it in the microwave before she would
confront her future ex-husbands on their cheating. The smell was so bad that
they always confessed and signed whatever she wanted. Anything to get away from
it. Messing with a man's stomach was the best way to his wallet.

I
don’t care about wallets, I don’t care about money. But regardless of not
caring about those things, I have learned two things from my aunt and my
father.

One—how
to microwave nasty shit to make it a place no one wants to be, not even me.

The
other—never ever settle down permanently. Love isn’t real.

Between
my aunt’s six marriages and my four stepmoms before I was fifteen, I have had
an early education in monogamy and trust. Women are gold diggers, and they turn
the charm off the minute they’re done with you. Men are serial daters and are
in everything for the short term, instant gratification.

I
glance at the clock again. If Chad is anything, he’s punctual. The second hand
hits one minute after eight just as there’s a knock at the door. What a wanker.
I straighten my blouse and open it, gasping when I see him. “Oh my God.”

His
tanned face and spiky brown hair are bloody. He blinks like he’s confused about
where he is. He looks like he might fall over but I grab his arm, helping him
inside. “What happened?"

He
sways slightly. “The wind just dropped a pot on my head from a balcony just
over from your building." He leans against the wall while I bend his head
down to get a better view. His dark hair’s covered in dirt and blood and the
gash looks deep. When I lift his face it makes me wince at his barely open
eyes. My night is ruined. “You've probably got a concussion and your head needs
a stitch."

He
shakes his head. “No, babe. I'm fine. I just need a shower and a painkiller
maybe." He drapes over me, squishing me into him. I press a button on my
cell phone. “Henry, bring the car around and come help Chad to it."