Rearranging You

ANGELA

“Angie! We’re all heading to Bijox downtown!” Someone hollers from the other side of the restroom, but I’m a little preoccupied.

I’ve finally convinced the cute bartender to join me, and now I’m pressed against the door, my thighs draped over his shoulders, his mouth working magic on my pussy.

We’ve been dancing around each other for weeks. Will we? Won’t we? But I always get what I want—and with a tongue as talented as his, it’s worth the chase.

“Yes, yes…fuck, just like that. Don’t you dare stop,” I gasp, not caring who hears.

He’s found a rhythm that’s driving me wild. It won’t be long now until I come, leaving a mark on his sexy beard. Maybe I’ll even be kind enough to clean it up…if he can make me come again.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice vibrating against me, making me clench tighter.

He was skeptical when I invited him into the restroom, but now his tongue is on my clit. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

“Angie?” Another voice interrupts just as I’m getting close, but I can’t ignore this one—it’s my cousin, Mia.

“Kinda busy here,” I manage to shout, my voice ragged as the bartender keeps up his delicious pace.

I’m so close, so tantalizingly close. My legs are starting to shake. Just a few more seconds and I’ll be—

“But Angie, it’s the—” Mia’s voice is cut off by the slamming of the restroom door, and heavy footsteps echo around the room.

I don’t know who it is and I don’t care, but I’m forced to pay attention when I’m suddenly tossed from my perch and sent sprawling towards the wall.

“What the hell?” I yell, scrambling to my feet, only to come face to face with a New York City cop. Shit.

***

A stack of magazines lands on the desk in front of me, my drunken face splashed across the covers. I don’t know what I was thinking with that top, but at least my hair looks good, considering.

“Public indecency, Angie, really?” My mother practically shrieks at me. I don’t interrupt her impending rant, instead taking a sip of the iced coffee I brought with me.

It was totally worth being fifteen minutes late to get it, but my mother would disagree. We never see eye to eye. If we ever did, we’d probably both drop dead from shock.

Ever since my dad died, she’s been obsessed with maintaining a perfect image of our family.

She hates running his company while searching for a replacement. If she were more human, I might feel sorry for her.

"I just don't understand what's happened to you. One minute you're at Yale, studying law, and the next you're living like—like a Kardashian!" Ouch. Paris Hilton would have been a less painful comparison.

"Is it me? Are you punishing me for your father's death? Is that what this is?" she asks, but I know she doesn’t want an answer.

My answers never live up to the ones she’s created in her head, so I just lean back in the chair.

The office has changed since my dad was here. It’s more feminine now, but I can’t tell if that’s because of her or her PR team.

Nothing says “women in business” like contemporary art and floral decor. She wouldn’t want her office to fall short.

“Are we done?” I ask, standing up and shaking my empty coffee cup.

If looks could kill, I’d be dead. But I’m not the one who’s dead—my dad is—and as much as she wants to deny it, it is her fault.

She was supposed to drive to the airport that day to attend my aunt’s charity gala. But when she got food poisoning, instead of admitting she was sick, she sent my dad.

He didn’t make it. A drunk driver hit him less than a mile from our driveway.

“I mean it, Angie. Things have to change or I’ll take action,” she threatens, but I just shrug.

What can she do? I already have my half of Dad’s money. I’d rather die than get involved in the family business.

I’m only here because she asked me to be and because she’s my mother. That has to count for something, right?

“Do whatever you want.” I roll my eyes at her before walking out.

But not before winking at her cute receptionist with the glasses… He’d be a fun conquest.