Page 16 of Takeover

“Rich men. Powerful men who aren’t used to hearing the word no from anybody. You surround yourself with nothing but ass kissing yes men, and the minute someone tells you no, especially a woman, you resort to name calling.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I imagined the sadness from just a few minutes ago. This, I can handle. This is much better than her tears.

“Wrong, Ms. Taylor. Weak men resort to name calling. The truly rich and powerful just take whatever the fuck they want. We don’t ask. Think back to every interaction we’ve had. I’d never lower myself to ask you for permission. I just take whatever the hell I want from you.”

She stares, her breathing so heavy that every time she inhales, her breasts brush against my chest. All I need to do is take one small step closer to her and our bodies would touch, but I can’t.

“I was wrong about you,” she says. “You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought, you arrogant son of a bitch.”

I lean down and lay my forehead on hers. She exhales, her breath caressing my neck, but she doesn’t pull away. I move my forehead away from hers and roughly grab her face, my eyes searching hers. She stops breathing and waits for my next move. She puts both hands on my chest, but before she can push me away or utter another word, I lean down and slam my mouth on hers.

The kiss is rough. She inhales, opening her mouth just a fraction, and I bite her bottom lip before savagely sucking it into my mouth. As I’m about to deepen the kiss, I hear footsteps approaching the kitchen. She abruptly pulls away, opens the fridge, and starts to move its contents around.

Alan walks in with Vince on his back and goes straight for his sister.

“Vick’s head is about to explode, and I heard the evil one drop the F-bomb twice, so I know it’s serious. Mother is persona non grata around here.” He doesn’t say anything else, but with my son on his back, the two of them hug Tara.

“I’m fine,” she says moments later. “I have to make the potatoes for dinner.”

“No way. It’s your birthday, so you’re not doing anything. Our evil stepmother said to tell you she’ll finish the potatoes. You’re off duty. Go take a shower because you look awful.”

She playfully punches him in the arm, and he pretends to be hurt.

“Happy birthday, Tara,” Vince says.

“Aw, thanks, kiddo.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Wow,” Vince says. “You’re old like my dad. He’s thirty-nine.”

“Thirty-nine,” Alan says, smirking at me. “Vince, dude, let’s go do a search for nursing homes for your old man.” Vince laughs even though I know he has no idea what Alan is talking about.

“Okay, everyone,” John says stepping back into the kitchen with his arm wrapped around his wife’s waist. “Bernice and Trudy are on their way, so we’ll be eating soon. Birthday girl, you’re off kitchen duty. We’ve got it from here. Men, let’s watch some football until dinner’s ready. Vince, come on!” He reaches over for Vince, who practically jumps into his arms.

“Whoever gives us our first grandchild will get a little something extra in the will,” John says to his kids. Just then, Vickie comes back with two round cake pans filled with chocolate cake mix.

“Ugh,” she says. “Well, I’ve put my uterus on ice, so don’t even look at me. This baby factory ain’t open for business.” She doesn’t even look at her parents when she makes that statement. She simply opens the oven and slides the pans inside.

“Just to piggyback off what my twin said,” Alan announces. “Just the thought of having kids makes my balls jump back into my body.”

“Can balls do that, Daddy?” Vince asks me.

“They sure can, kid,” Vickie answers for me. “And before you say I don’t have balls, Alan, my lady balls are much bigger than yours.”

“And probably hairier too,” Alan says.

“Okay, that’s enough. We have company,” John says, trying to hide his amusement.

“Well, Tara’s the oldest, so it’s her duty,” Alan says. “Get to work, sis.”

“Excuse me, but it’s not my duty to procreate for our parents. Michael and I—”

“Oh, please,” Vickie says. “Nobody wants to hear about Michael. We all know he ain’t shit.”

I don’t hold in my laugh, and Tara purses her full lips and glares at her sister. From the look on her face, I can tell she wants to say something in response, but her father chastises Vickie for cursing in front of Vincent. That seems to be enough for Tara because she leaves the kitchen.

---