The Parent Trap Read online

He just waves over his shoulder as he walks away. I shut the door, lock it, and lean back against it.

  I may have been a teensy bit harsh on the poor sap, but everything I said is just the raw truth.

  I sigh, pick up my glass of wine, and turn on Netflix.

  “I’m not a sexless prude,” I mutter to no one.

  And just to prove it, I turn on a super-steamy Polish romance movie, 365 something.

  Chapter Two

  Matthais

  “What we’re really interested in is decreasing our clients’ overhead costs, decreasing shipping time, maximizing space on shipping loads via breakthrough packaging techniques, and most importantly, drastically cutting each client’s total carbon footprint.” The young man opposite me, Marcus, is a few years younger than me, midtwenties to my thirty, and he’s earnest. A start-up type. Khakis with the front of a polo tucked behind his belt, curly brown hair in an undercut, wearing Warby Parker glasses and Birkenstock sandals.

  “Got it.” I tap the arm of the chair with a fingertip, thinking through my options. “And my return on the investment?”

  He smiled unevenly. “Well, Mr. Bristow, you’d be helping the planet, for one thing. The construction industry uses a colossal amount of nonrenewable resources, especially lumber. There’s a lot of movement and drum beating regarding eco-conscious lumber harvesting, but our goal with this company is to eradicate the need for lumber entirely. We have plans for a facility that can 3D print the entire framing sections as a whole piece, which would increase the structural integrity and cost less.”

  “Right, and that’s great, but how are you going to make money? And by you, I mean me.”

  He frowns. “We’re a small start-up right now, Mr. Bristow. Can I guarantee you a return like, in the next six months? No. But we have people lined up to try our products. We’re starting small, like I said before. 3D printed nails and screws, brackets, switch plates, things like that. All of it renewable, all of it recyclable, all of it engineered to withstand greater forces than traditional products. So whenever the house our product is in gets taken down, that plastic will be recycled rather than just tossed into a landfill where it would otherwise sit unchanging for the next thousand years. You know ninety percent of all plastic ever produced—”

  “Still exists,” I finish for him. “Yeah, you mentioned that statistic already.” I adjust my tie—I hate ties, but I want to look the part. “So, if I invest, you can expand your vision, so to speak.”

  “We have the vision already. Like I said, we’re actively working on designs for large-scale printers that can create entire framing sections, whole roofs as a single piece for cheaper than you can currently get them, stuff like that. We just need cash to build the facilities.”

  “And you have clients lined up.”

  “Yes, sir. If we were to take orders right now, I would think we could count on at least half a million in instant sales, just in the little pieces we’re currently capable of producing, with the little bit of online marketing and crowdfunding we’ve done.”

  I nod. “Okay. I like your ideas. Show me some numbers, some projections.” I scratch my stubble, deciding on a number. “I think I’m in for…say, two million?”

  Marcus can’t quite contain his excitement. “I can have those numbers for you right now, Mr. Bristow. Just…just hold on.” He rummages on his desk, flipping through stacks of papers.

  “I have another appointment to get to. Just email them to me.” I stand up and button my suit coat. “My investment isn’t going to disappear in the next twenty minutes, Marcus.”

  He abandons his search and extends his hand to me over his desk, and we shake. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bristow.”

  I give him my best grin. “Hey, we’re in business together now. Call me Thai.”

  “Well, Thai, I can tell you without reservation that all of us here at Tree-Free 3D Construction Supply are very excited to have you on board.”

  I can’t help a laugh. “We might have to work on that name, though. It’s a little…clunky.”

  He laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, we played with a lot of other ones, and believe it or not, that’s the best one.”

  I shake my head. “What about…Green Lumber?”

  He chokes on…a laugh? On shock? Not sure. “That’s, um, already a company, sir.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. Men’s, um, supplements.” He holds up a fist, and his index finger lifts slowly upward. “For, uh…men’s…erectile….issues. Also, green lumber is already a thing, in the construction trade. Just means untreated lumber. Not what we’re going for.”

  I wave a hand. “Whatever. Run a test group or something. A focus group. It’s gotta roll off the tongue, and Tree-Free 3D Construction Supply just doesn’t.”

  He nods. “Got it. Focus group.” He makes a note on his phone—which is not an iPhone or an Android, but something…else. Nor is it an old-school dumbphone, like a Nokia.

  “What kind of phone is that?”

  “It’s a Light Phone 2.”

  “A what?”

  “Minimalist cell phone. It’s e-ink, like on a Kindle. It can only call, text, and set alarms.”

  I shake my head. “Why?”

  He snorts. “Well, because I needed to be free of the distractions and addictions of the smartphone age. I was on my phone literally all the time. Now, when I need to talk to someone, I have to call them, or text them. No more social media. No more doom-scrolling. When I make notes, I send them in a text to my assistant.”

  I shake my head again. “Weird, man, but you do you.” I pull my phone, the latest and greatest iPhone. “All right, well. Shoot me those numbers, and I’ll work on getting the investment rolling. I gotta go, I have an appointment to get to.”

  I do actually have an appointment. With Destiny.

  In this case, Destiny has utterly mind-blowing DDD tits, and considers the art of the no-hands blowjob to be her calling in life.

  Sure, the tits are fake and talking to her is like talking to a tree stump, if the tree stump was a vapid bimbo with an IQ in direct inverse proportion to her silicone content. But damn, can she suck.

  An hour later, I’m on the balcony of my borrowed San Francisco condo, naked, watching Destiny do her no-hands best. Which is pretty damn fantastic.

  My phone rings.

  “Dammit,” I hiss.

  Destiny doesn’t pause but does glance up at me through the curtain of bottle platinum hair, batting her eyelashes. My cock plunges through her lips.

  My phone goes silent, and I close my eyes again.

  Seconds later, it rings again.

  “Fuck.”

  I sit up. “Hold on,” I murmur. “Just…hold that thought.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t be gone long. You’re not done yet, mister.”

  Good lord. That’s her idea of sexy talk.

  I grab the phone off the island inside. “Yeah?”

  “Is that any way to answer the phone, Matthais?” My mother’s voice.

  Yeesh. What a way to ruin a hard-on. “Sorry, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Your father tells me you’ve invested in a company.”

  “You have to call me for this? Yeah, Mom, I did. It’s an eco-friendly construction supply thing. They 3D print stuff for builders.”

  “You should pitch it to your friend Dell. He’s been working for his family, lately.”

  I snort. “Dell? Work? Not likely. He’s lazier than I am.”

  “It’s a deal with his sister, I believe.”

  Correction—that’s a hard-on killer, referencing Delia McKenna.

  “Great. Look, I have company, so I’m gonna let you go.”

  “Are you going to visiting home any time soon?”

  “I dunno, Mom. I’ll let you know. Bye.” Click. Phone off.

  Where was I? Oh, yes—balls-deep in Destiny’s mouth.

  She’s sitting in my chair, scrolling on her phone. Doesn’t see me, at first, even when I stand right in front of her. T
hen she looks up, startled.

  She looks me over, head to toe and back up to the middle. “Well, hello there. What have we here?” She flicks me with her tongue. “Ooh, this is yummy. I think I’ll have some of this.”

  I’m tempted to tell her to shut up and get to it already, but I like to think I’ve outgrown that kind of rudeness. “Destiny.”

  She licks, and licks. “Uh-huh?”

  “Let’s go inside. I think it’s your turn, now.”

  Another hour later, I’m trying to figure out how to get rid of Destiny. She’s made herself awful cozy, asleep naked on the bed, on top of the covers. I think she’s faking, hoping I’ll see her lying there naked and want yet another round, and that one more fuck will lead, somehow, to me letting her stay the night. Which would, of course, lead to having breakfast together. And breakfast together would lead to an afternoon in bed, and suddenly, voila, I’d be in love.

  Right.

  I shoot a quick text: Dell, buddy. I need you to call me in five minutes and invite me out. I got a stage-three clinger to brush off.

  Dell answers within seconds. Got you covered. I want to get a drink for real anyway. Where are you?

  Me: I’m in SF. Where are you?

  Dell: River Gulch actually.

  Me: Mom said you were doing some sort of work for the company?

  Dell, with an eye roll emoji: Yeah it’s a deal I made with Delia. I needed to borrow a house for the weekend and this was the only way that tightfisted slave driver would loan me one.

  Me: Why would you need a house in RIVER GULCH?

  Dell: Long story but it involves Amber Jane.

  Me: The model and cam girl? That Amber Jane?

  Dell: One and the same. And the short version is yes my friend she’s as hot in person as she is in the magazines. Hotter maybe.

  Me: You still nailing her?

  Dell: why u gonna claim sloppy seconds? A crying laughing emoji follows this.

  Me: I mean, would it be worth it?

  Dell: Youll have to keep wondering. I actually LIKE this chick. We even have actual conversations LOL.

  Me: ha, right.

  Dell: It’s true. Don’t laugh but I might even go exclusive with her. see what happens.

  Me: By exclusive, you mean cut down to only one other side piece.

  Dell: I know I know. but fr I like her and I mean exclusive like actually.

  Me: Well good luck with that, then. I mean it. Call me in five.

  Dell: Why wait five minutes? Why not tell her your friend texted you and invited you out for a boy’s night?

  Me: Trust me. This is the way.

  Dell: Whatever u say man. Five minutes, then.

  I putz around noisily, and Destiny pretends to sleep. Once, I even catch her, out of the corner of my eye, peek at me through slitted lids, and adjust her position subtly. Convincing acting, actually. She flops her torso over, so her ass and legs are sideways with her heels tucked up against her butt, but her upper body is facing upward. Doesn’t look comfortable, but it does do very interesting things to the lovely balloons on her chest.

  My phone rings five minutes later on the dot, and I have a conspicuously loud conversation with Dell, and then hang up.

  By then, Destiny has abandoned the sleeping act. “You have to leave?”

  Good god, the pout is comical. Pursed lips in a moue, eyebrow lifted.

  “Yeah, I haven’t seen my buddy Dell in a few weeks, so we’re gonna hang.” I tug on jeans commando, and she watches me button them with regret and longing; I’ve been known to have that effect on women. “It’s been fun, though.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Wait, hold on. Let me guess…don’t call you, you’ll call me.”

  Not far off from where I was going, actually. “You said it, not me.”

  She sighs. “I kept hoping you’d reveal some, like, hidden depths. Maybe start thinking about getting more than just a quick suck-and-fuck out of me.” She opens her door. “I guess I was mistaken.”

  “I guess so,” I say.

  “Wow.” She shakes her head. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?”

  I nod. “You knew that when we met, though. I’ve never hidden it.”

  “And you’re just…cool with it? Being an asshole?”

  “It’s always worked for me. Why stop now?” I wink at her. “See you around, Destiny.”

  She just huffs and shakes her head and climbs in. Rolls her window down and ducks, peers at me. “Don’t call me, Thai—I’ll call you.”

  Her tires squeal as she peels out around the corner and out of the parking garage under the building.

  Guess the BJ appointments with Destiny have come to an end.

  Dell calls back before I’ve left the parking garage. “Hey, bro. So, I’ll just meet you in San Francisco.”

  I laugh. “You’re three hours away, Dell. How do you propose to do that?”

  I can hear his shit-eating grin. “Dad’s finally letting me take the helicopter.”

  “Oh?”

  “Legit. It’s a little one, and it’s only got four seats plus the pilot, but shit, it’s faster than driving. He’s letting me take it down there.”

  “That’s pretty sick, actually. You gotta take me up when you get here. I’ve been after Dad to get one for years but so far no luck.”

  “What a cheap-ass, right?”

  “No shit,” I say. “Like, come on, dude. You’ve got hundreds of millions stashed away in literally six different offshore banks. Just spring for a damn chopper.” I’m out of the garage, now, tires squealing as I peel out of the garage, because what’s the point of having 710 horsepower if you don’t drive like it? “So, you’re actually working? What are you doing?”

  He sighs. “It’s such bullshit. I’m working with the marketing department. Errand bitch stuff, making copies, proofreading designs, monitoring mass print jobs, answering phones, shit like that.”

  “At least it’s not manual labor, right?”

  He laughs. “As if, bro. My sister is such an overachieving bitch, though, for real. The shit she said to me, you have no idea.”

  “Just because she wants to work for a living doesn’t mean you have to.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not, motherfucker.”

  “Neither can I,” I say with a laugh. “What’s your dad think about you actually working?”

  He huffs dismissively. “I don’t think he even knows. The old fart has pretty much tapped out, for the most part. Dee pretty much runs the whole show in all but name.”

  Old fart? That’s his dad. Even for me, that’s a bit…I dunno. It just makes me a little uncomfortable. I’m not, like, best friends with my father, but I respect him enough to not refer to him as an old fart.

  “So. How’s your sister?” I hear myself asking.

  Dell cackles. “What, like you suddenly care?”

  “Hell no,” I say, immediately. “I don’t know why I even said that.”

  “The day you and Delia can spend a single second in each other’s presence without resorting to actual knife fighting is the day I settle down.” The way he says this makes it sound like a curse, like the worst thing he can think of.

  “I could get along with her. She’s the one who hates me.”

  “Because you made it your life mission to make her miserable.” A pause. “And buddy, you succeeded.”

  “The point is,” I say, loudly, to cover the sting of guilt I feel at this, “that I could get along with her.”

  “You say that,” Dell says with a snort. “But you haven’t seen in her years. She’s even more insufferable now than she was in high school. She’s a legit boss of thousands of people. The authority has gone to her head.”

  “Thousands?”

  “Well, hundreds, at least.” He sounds like he’s outside, and then I can barely hear him over the roar of a helicopter. “Gotta go, my chopper is waiting.”

  “I hate you, you lucky fuck.”

  “You know
it! See you soon!”

  I hit the shower, rinsing away the smell of Destiny and the stink of the things we got up to.

  I still can’t figure out why I asked Dell about his sister. The last thing on the planet I want is to ever see that girl again.

  Right?

  I do my damnedest to put Delia McKenna out of my head.

  Chapter Three

  Delia

  “Daddy?” I force myself to keep my voice even and firm. “How are you?”

  The room is filled with the beeping of machines, the smell of antiseptic. It’s not a hospital room—he refused to go to the hospital after his fall, so we brought the hospital to him, transformed what had been his main floor study into a hospice room. Full-time live-in nurse, all the best treatments and medicine money can buy. If it can help you heal, we’ve got it.

  The problem is, he’s just…tired. Done in.

  He blinks at me, slow and owlish, as if it takes a moment to process my presence and then my words. His skin is papery, translucent. “Hi, honey-bunny. I’m doing.”

  “Feeling okay?”

  He huffs, a weak laugh that still manages his trademark bite of sarcasm. “Fit as a fiddle, my love. Ready to roof.” Inside joke—roofing is hellishly demanding work. He pats my hand. “How’s business?”

  “It’s great. We just broke ground on the new section of Oak Glen. I’m working on a contract for a two-and-a-half-million-dollar custom home. Working on upselling them up to an even three.”

  “Good girl. Upsell, upsell, upsell.”

  “I know, Daddy.”

  He nods, closes his eyes and just breathes a moment. “Have you seen Dell lately?”

  I choke on my tears. “No, not really. I spoke to him…last week, just briefly. He said he’d come see you this weekend.”

  Dad’s jaw clenches. “I want to see him. I need to talk to him.”

  “Don’t waste your breath, Daddy. Save it for getting better.”

  Dad’s laugh is sarcastic. “I’m not gonna get better, Dee-Dee. This is it.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Daddy. You’re gonna be fine.”

  He pats my hand, and this time it’s condescending. “Or just keep thinking that. Not what I recommend, but if it’s what you have to do.”