Guests won’t know the difference. They think they will, but…
“Found it!” Kathryn slaps a paper on the table. A single paper.
Is she kidding us? She has to be kidding us. Did they even use a designer? It looks like a kindergartener scratched some shit together while waiting for its parents to pick it up from school. The lines aren’t straight .The shading is… nonexistent. I’m almost embarrassed for her. Except I can see a look of disappointment on her face…
This is not what she’s supposed to show. This is probably the rough draft the designer provided, and either Kathryn or her assistant have botched bringing the real thing.
I could scream at her. Except I don’t scream. I’ve picked up my parents’ ability to sit and silently judge with a single stare. I hope she feels it burning through her sinew.
Because she might have fucked this all up for us.
The corner of Lana’s mouth twitches. “How… quaint. I can really see the vision coming into play.”
Oh, God.
Kathryn Alison, I hope you can hear me right now. I hope you know how much you fucked up. I hope you can appreciate that I am sitting between you and my father right now. If my father was close enough to you? He would pull some 1960’s shit and snatch that crap you call a design draft, crumple it up in his hand, and force your incompetent assistant to eat it.
I know you’re better than this. I know what you did for that library out east. Or was it libraries? Doesn’t matter. Point is, I know you are better than this. You don’t forget things. You hold grudges and still judge a man for premature ejaculation ten years ago. You’re impeccable. You graduated at the top of your high school class because of how organized you are and how much attention you pay to details.
So what the fuck is going on?
And why am I so flustered?
I get it! This is my ass on the line, and I’m embarrassed by extension. Embarrassed for you right now, and embarrassed for my father, who practically hired you through your father to make this happen. I’m embarrassed for your father. I’m embarrassed for my mother, and she’s not even a part of this right now!
I’m embarrassed for everyone. What a way to go down, Kathryn. What a way.
The Andrews are gracious people. They may be perverts, they may be flirtatious jerks, but hey, they’re gracious. They’re nice enough to overlook this for now, because they also know you’re better than this. Plus, they want to sell that property, and will give us a second chance.
“Tell you what, Mathers,” Ken says to both my father and me. “We have to talk this over with the community council anyway. We’ll arrange for you to make a presentation.” He looks at the sorry excuse on the table. “A proper one. It’ll be two weeks from now. If they sign off on it, we’ll talk numbers.”
My father contains a sigh of relief, but I can tell from his twitching arms that he’s shaking inside. Watch out, Kathryn. He might come for your throat at this rate. Me? I’m glad this is ending as well as it is. The Andrews are reasonable. They know this is a mistake. My father only sees incompetence.
I’m going to have to talk him down from this, aren’t I? As soon as we’re out of here, he’s going to launch into a tirade about what a mistake it was to trust your father. You’re too young. You’re too inexperienced. Your father should be handling this, or at least one of his trusted employees. Not his daughter, who is only getting this job because of nepotism. Hey, it was true for me too, a few years ago. But I proved myself. I proved myself like you have yet to do.
I would give you a hard time, Kathryn, because I love seeing you flustered and being reminded of how far you have to travel until you’re ready to play with the big boys. Yet I’m not going to. Not because I’m a better man or something, but because I can see in your baby blues that this is killing you inside. It doesn’t matter what I say. It doesn’t matter what my father says. We’ll only be reaffirming what you already know. You don’t need our punishment. Anything you do to yourself will be more than enough.
Because you’re a Domme, aren’t you, Kathryn? You know how in control you’re supposed to be. That’s one thing I can sympathize with when it comes to you. So I won’t mention this. I will, however, make your life absolutely hell in the days leading up to the presentation in two weeks.
Enjoy that. I will.
Chapter 3
KATHRYN
I don’t know what the hell happened. I swear to God, I had my shit together this morning when I left home. I double-checked my bag to make sure that the papers I needed to bring were in there. My father called to make sure I didn’t forget anything. Even Anita had doubles of everything, and she couldn’t find a damned thing!
I’m so embarrassed. In no way am I usually this disorganized. You should have felt my pulse when I realized I didn’t have those pictures. Those stupid pictures that I found on my dining table when I got home. Just laying there, mocking me, the woman who is supposed to be in control and on top of everything.
The moment I saw those blasted things right there, I started crying. Not full-out sobbing, but there were definitely tears of frustration that I haven’t felt since I finished my last degree and pulled twelve-hour work days to make sure I graduated as well as I did. Sleep? What sleep?
It’s impossible for me to tell you how much of a failure I feel like right now. The Mathers were counting on me. My father was counting on me to pull this off without a hitch. Not only did I botch it, but now I’ve been given a pity retry. Two weeks from now I will be presenting these images to the fucking council to get their approval. I’m not sure we need it, legally. The Grand may be a historical cornerstone of the community, but the property is privately owned and the Andrews can sell it to anyone they want. But I understand. The Mathers understand. Everyone’s reputation with the community is on the line. Community members we want to continue to do business with.
Shit, will I even be able to do that?
I can’t think like this. It’s a Friday night, and I need to unwind. So after a glass of wine to get me started at home, I texted my friend Eva and told her to meet me at The Dark Hour, the perfect place to unwind.
Get drunk and unwind.
I love The Dark Hour. It’s not just a sex club. It’s a place to live your lifestyle without the fear of shame or retribution. There’s an unspoken rule – actually, you a sign a paper swearing to follow it – that you don’t expose anybody there. So if I saw, say, Ian Mathers snorting blow and fucking a woman on a table, I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it. Like, you know, a reporter or something.
I mention that because a couple years ago there was this guy who brought in blow and fucked someone. The blow got him in big trouble with the establishment. Sort of illegal, you know. The fucking? Oh, that’s common. From the moment you walk into the main room past a thousand bouncers and security guards, it’s a free for all. Guys getting their cocks sucked and women being fingered beneath tables.
Mostly, though, it’s a bunch of drinking with friends and business associates. Doms and subs hook up, but aside from the exhibitionists, things are taken home or into private rooms that people reserve. The club provides implements in case you forgot yours at home. Isn’t that nice?
I like the club because I feel like I can be myself. I can relax here, especially with my friend Eva, who is a Domme like me.
A lesbian Domme, so, you know, she’s got a few more things to be wary about.
“You need another one of these,” she says, holding up our empty shot glasses. She flags a server dressed in a tight leather skirt and a shiny tube top. Soon Eva and I are taking another shot. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it burns my esophagus and numbs my brain. I’ve already told her about what happened today, and holy shit am I glad I have someone to unload on right now… and someone to load me up with alcohol.