Page 93 of Trouble in Love
Sitting opposite Chris Luca’s manager, and Clara, his ex- whatever, I could not have been, or, I imagined, looked more pissed off. “Right, and tell me again why this is any of your business?”
“Because,” Clara sighed, tucking her immaculately bleached hair behind her ear. “Luca and I spent over eighteen months together, and I care about him.”
“Yeah, you care so much you got knocked up by another dude and ditched him at the altar.” The expected twinge of regret or remorse failed to appear on Clara’s face. What a bitch. I slapped my hands against the table and stood. “As lovely as this little chat has been, I need to leave and never look at either of your faces again. Now, are there boxes of Luca’s things, or was that just a rouse to get me here?”
Chris grabbed my hand and held me in place. “There are, in fact, boxes, but they can wait. We have a lot to talk about.”
“See, I don’t think we do, Chris. I think we have nothing to talk about.”
“Trust me, I wish that was true but what you decide to do going forward will impact every aspect of Luca’s life, and since I am his manager, it also affects mine.”
“Again, I don’t think that’s something you need to concern yourself with. Especially since you won’t be his agent once he hears what happened.” I grabbed my bag from the ugly concrete table that looked like my uncle George’s backyard and slung it over my shoulder.
“Sit down, Ms. Hart. Or would you prefer me to call you Jasmine?” The yogurt and banana I’d shoveled down for breakfast curdled in my stomach. “I thought that might capture your attention.” Chris pushed out my chair with his foot and nodded towards it. “Sit.” He paused for me to do so, then cleared his throat. “Did you know Luca negotiated his first-year contract and his first two sponsorship deals without any representation? He did well. But I could have done better. Like I did when I cleaned up his … indiscretions and found him Clara.”
“Yeah, ‘cause that turned out well, didn’t it?” I snorted, pointing at the pregnant elephant in the room.
“Granted, there have been a few slight hiccups and miscalculations, but for the main part, the cards have fallen exactly where I lay them, and I won’t have you coming in here destroying what we worked so hard to create.”
“We?” I gasped, looking back and forth between the two. “You’re a we? What, are you a couple? Is that your kid? What the fuck is going on here?”
“Eww.” Clara gagged, “Chris is my brother, not my lover.”
“Your brother?” I took a double take, “I thought your last name was Nightwing?”
“It’s called a stage name, darling. God, you really are just as stupid as Luca.”
The room began to spin as my mind began to connect the dots “You’re the one that set Luca and Clara up? You leaked the photos.” I whispered.
“Ahh, look at that, sis. Maybe she’s not so dumb after all.” Like a true Bond villain, Chris stood and poured himself a scotch from a glass decanter on the nearby side table. “I had too. I told Clara that idiot Dallas couldn’t give her the life she wanted, but she didn’t believe me until Toronto. Even after Luca did what he did, the hockey world couldn’t wait to forgive their golden boy. Clara couldn’t claim the baby was actually Luca’s, because she’d told Dallas and half New York they’d never slept together. Rehab was supposed to by us time to fuck off Brookes, and for Luca to clean himself up, and win Clara’s heart back. Flying to Australia and falling in love with some cheap slut who can never give him the life he truly wants, was not part of the plan.” After that, I knew what was coming next.
“We know your history, Polly. Your former friends lined up around the block to tell us all about the pills, the parties, and the wild sex. Unlike them,wealso know you can’t have children,andthat dumbass Luca has no idea. Now, I’m sure he has told you all about the horrible childhood he suffered at the hands of that drunk he called Dad.”
He paused, swirled his drink then took another sip, wincing as it burned the back of his throat. “Don’t you think that’s why he was so anxious to marry you? To buy that big house you have the gall to call home? He wants to fill it with children, Polly, and out of the two of you.” he said, pointing between me and his sister, the smiling, serene picture of innocence rubbing circles on her pregnant belly, “... only she can give him that. Don’t you think he deserves it? Don’t you think he deserves his own real family?”
Yes, he does.There was no doubt Chris was playing me. Hitting me where it hurt. But like a noxious weed seeking airin Dad’s concrete garden, his words were finding all my cracks. Thriving.
“You don’t give a shit about what Luca wants or deserves.” I spat, my voice slowing cracking. “You’re after his money and are willing to manipulate him into getting it.”
“But didn’t you manipulate him, too?” Clara snapped, her cool, calm, and collected exterior finally breaking. “You knew he wouldn’t want you when he found out you were barren, and that’s why you haven’t told him.”
“It’s not the same thing.” I wept, strangled by fear, and trying to convince myself as much as Clara. “I didn’t do it for money. I did it because I love him.”
“Do you think he’ll believe that when he finds out you lied? When he sits down and looks at your past and realizes it’s all been another one of your little games? Do you think … do youreallythink he thinks you’re worth giving up his dream for?”
My words caught in my throat and the delay told them everything they wanted.
“Excellent.” Chris said. “Just as we thought. Now. Here’s what you’re going to do, Polly. You’re to go home, pack your things, and leave. You can wait for Luca to get back from Minnesota, or you can leave him a note. Honestly, I don’t give a shit. But Clara is due in a few weeks, and you need to be long gone by the time the baby comes.”
I closed my eyes, pictured Luca holding her child. Felt the weight of his joy, my shame and grief, perceived betrayal and injustice, collapse upon me, and forced them back open.
“Do as we say when we say, and we will make sure you never have to worry about money again.”
“I don’t want your money.” I whispered, my voice, an unrecognizable ghost, broken, almost demure like Mum always wanted.
“Fine, do it for free then.” Chris pointed toward the door. “I don’t give a shit. Just lose that phone I gave you and be gone before Christmas.”
Luca
