Page 13 of His Weekend Girl
“Oh, there you are!” Jack McGinnis walked out. He was an older white man with white hair and a matching goatee. He was an older carbon copy of Grant.
While Sylvia was a bit whimsical, Jack most certainly was not. He oversaw the Neptune brand and all of the companies under the umbrella. He spent his days in countless meetings, avoiding social media at all costs, and enjoying a cigar and whiskey whenever Sylvia was not around. The last thing he needed was a stern lecture from Ms. Yogi.
Jack walked like a man who owned the world and he did. Long, strong strides and he pulled Grant in for a hug. “Good to see you, son.” His voice was gruffy, yet soft. He turned to Trixie and smiled. “And you must be Princess!”
Trixie was called Princess twice already and already got used to it. “Hello, Jack!” Trixie held out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Jack looked down at Trixie’s hand and shook his head. “No, you’re family now!” He pulled her in for another hug and Trixie was glad his hugs weren’t as tight as Sylvia’s. She didn’t think she would be able to survive a second bear hug.
Jack pulled away and smiled at Trixie. She was more beautiful than Grant had described her and if he were being honest, his son didn’t describe her other than tall and beautiful. She had an innocence about her that made her warm and Jack hoped to hell the innocence would remain after the weekend.
“Come on in! Maria will show you to your room!” Jack boasted as he walked back inside and everyone followed. “Terrell will cook your meals. You won’t need her, but the nanny, Liz, will tend to the children this weekend!”
Of course, they had a full staff. Trixie assumed Maria was the maid and probably the person who ran the home. She noticed the family didn’t have security, but there were cameras everywhere. She was being watched at any given time.
Trixie swallowed. Twice.
She stepped foot inside the home and it was even more luxurious than she thought. She would later find out the home had no less thansixliving rooms (why? Trixie wondered, who in the blue hell needssixliving rooms?), eight bathrooms, and seven bedrooms. It also had two kitchens – one for the chef and one strictly for family and friends.
There was the standard Olympic-sized swimming pool that Trixie figured no one really got in and stood around or dippedtheir toes in when they wanted to feel like a rebel. She also realized the house was shaped like a backwards C, because she saw a different view of the massive landscape no matter where she looked.
She still felt like a fish out of water.
Inside, there was already a busyness around the home. It wasn’t quiet to Trixie’s surprise. It was…surprisingly noisy. As she silently told her brain to slow down and not run for the hills, she separated all the noise and chatter into three groups:
Grant’s brother, Nathan, was on a business call. He was speaking rather loudly on why a brand idea with a pop star was stupid.
Nathan’s wife, Charlotte, was FaceTiming in a group chat. All of the women were very blonde and very loud. Trixie also suspected they were very drunk.
Their children, Tony and Alicia, were playing on their respective iPads and in their respective group chats. The nanny, Liz, was kinda watching them but was watching her iPhone instead.
It was a controlled chaos. Loud enough, but everyone was in their world.
Trixie couldn’t complain. Growing up, she and her siblings were always doing separate things as they got older. A brother would be hanging out with his friends. Another brother would be on the basketball court. Her lone sister was always with a boyfriend, no matter how ain’t shit he was (and he always was).
That often left Trixie home alone with whatever entertained her. She became an expert at Zelda and Tetris. She learned how to crochet by hand and by needle. She read a lot of books. And finally, she doodled a lot on the computer creating graphics.
How did she go from being a little girl with a dream to being a rideshare driver with little hope?
“You must be Princess.”
Trixie got out of her mind when she heard the nails on a chalkboard voice topped with a diction that barely contained hate.You. Must. Be. Princessssssssss.If the voice was a snake, the words were deadly venom and that was the woman’s intention.
Trixie turned to the source of the voice and saw a woman dressed with every bit of privilege. A low-cut blouse, made for women with small cup sizes, was topped off with wide-leg pants that accentuated her thin frame and kitten heels. Her hair was pulled back into a tight low bun.
Trixie wasn’t sure if the woman was going for what the clock app crowd nailed as a Sade aesthetic (whatever in the fuck that meant, Trixie wondered) or if she was going forMean Girl/The Craft/whatever 90’s emo movie realness but she immediately read the woman’s energy. She had it out of her and Trixie already knew it was about to be a long weekend for someone with her name.
“I’m Charlotte,” the woman approached her with a limp wrist. Trixie immediately saw it for what it was and gave it a light shake. She heard Grant softly harrumphed beside her. “And you must be…”
“Trixie,” Grant stepped in between the women. “Trixie, this is Charlotte, my brother’s wife and the mother of my niece and nephew. Charlotte, this is the love of my life and my fiancée, Trixie.”
If dying inside was a visual emotion, Trixie had just witnessed it. Grant murdered that woman in front of her by taking her heart and stomping on it. Charlotte swallowed hard and Trixie could’ve sworn she heard her teeth crack when she bit down on them. Oh, there was history betweenthose two.
CHAPTER NINE
“HOW LOVELY!” CHARLOTTE cleared her throat. Trixie wondered why would she need to do that since it was clear inside with an air purifier. “I can’t wait to see the wedding plans! You two have started to make plans, right?”
Grant looked over to Trixie and she smiled. That was her cue. “No, not yet.” Trixie jumped in without a beat. “We’re taking it slow.”
