Page 62 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
ARS Group is the holding investment company of billionaire, philanthropist, and BigBurger founder Alex Rodgers.
I can't believe it. I gasp for air and wordlessly turn the smartphone to Veronica. A week ago, he was standing here, mumbling something about being sorry and how he didn't meanit, and now? Now he wants to ruin me by putting the biggest mall, complete with a flower shop, right in my face?
"What?" Veronica asks, horrified, looking at me. "That reminds me, there's a letter for you from the ARS Group downstairs in the shop."
"I'm throwing that out unread," I say, running downstairs into the shop. I see the letter and tear it into as many pieces as I can. That felt good for a moment, but the bad feeling remains.
Then I see another letter that was under the one from ARS. I recognize the sender of this one, too: my landlord.
With a pounding heart, I open the letter, and when I read what's inside, I can't believe it. I'm being evicted. Just like that. I have to vacate the shop in three months. I know immediately who's behind this.
I thought I would collapse into a sobbing wreck, but then I think of Ben and the kind of mother I want to be for him, and I know exactly what I have to do.
I will never take this lying down.
Chapter 28
Alex
"This can't be happening, Eric," I snap, slamming my fist on the table. "Why isn't the damn cat back yet? Put up more posters, organize a search party. Cutie has to be somewhere." I immediately regret sayingdamn cat, because I miss Cutie. She's somehow grown on me and has become a symbol of my losses. I've been out looking for her myself on lonely evenings, even ringing a few neighbors' doorbells, who just gave me questioning looks. Most of them didn't even know me. Of course, in a neighborhood full of mansions, nobody knows each other.
"Sir, boss... I really don't know..." he stammers, uncertain.
"And find out who in my company is leaking information to Jake. This can't go on, understand?"
"Got it. Can... can I go now?" Eric asks, a little sheepishly, gesturing toward the door.
"You can," I say more quietly as it dawns on me that it's happened again: I exploded and took my bad mood out on the one person who's forced to be around me because his job requires it.
"Eric?" I ask more quietly, and he turns around again.
"Is there something else, Sir?"
"I apologize for my tone. It's just... this week has been... not my best," I say, trying to sound a little gentler.
"I know. No problem, boss," he says, nods, and turns to leave.
"Not my best week," I mutter once I'm alone. I know that phrase could easily be nominated for understatement of the year. For the first few days, a feeling I'd never known before gnawed at me, growing larger and larger until I felt like it was eating me alive.
Even my old buddy Troy got an earful of my bad mood when we talked on the phone. When I told him everything, he just said, "Alex. You're in love with the girl. Don't you see that?"
I dismissed his idea as ridiculous, but the sentence kept working its way through my mind and wouldn't let go. Could it really be that I was in love with Beth? Or maybe even more than that?
I was moody and irritable, my food tasted bland, and I couldn't stop thinking about her, wondering again and again how things could have gone this far. It didn't even seem to matter to me that she had hidden her child by another man from me. I wanted her and was ready to accept a child, too.
I even went to a strip club with a few suppliers, a yearly tradition of ours. And what happened? I didn't even look at the dancers. All I could think about was Beth, our magical dinners that were so much more than the ridiculous meat market my clients were so enthralled by, throwing around dollar bills.
What was wrong with me? Where was the Alex who changed women like he changed his underwear? I didn't know, but somehow, I didn't want my old life back, because looking back on it now, it felt strangely empty. I wanted Beth.
The thought grew clearer and clearer in my head. I think, subconsciously, I already knew it the day we argued and Cutie ran away, when I visited my pilot in the hospital late that night after the helicopter crash.
God knows how many guardian angels he had, because despite the crash landing, he got away with just a few scratches and was able to go home the next day. A blessing in disguise in its purest form. But that wasn't what stuck with me. It was his wife and family, sitting by his bed, holding his hand, the worry clear in their eyes. I realized there was no one who would sit by my bedside if something happened to me. Maybe Eric. But only because he was paid to. There was no one who would do something like that because they wanted to. I was alone.
And I hated it.
The pilot even apologized for it. I waved it off, told him to take as much time off as he wanted, and that by the time he came back, I'd have a new helicopter. The old thing was in the shop more often than it was in the air anyway. I should have recognized that the helicopter was nothing but scrap metal.
This realization about my life led me to make a few calls and decisions that I hope might one day fill this inner void.
