[manhatten men 2] A Marrying Man

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I was going to be late. I knew it. My mom was going on and on about tradition and how I needed to live up to the McKlintock name. I almost rolled my eyes. My father, Radford, was a world class womanizer and my mother had retreated to her booze to wipe that out. Oh yeah. I so wanted to live up to that. My dad had been a Chief Risk Officer at the New York Stock Exchange and I’d go with him once in a while. I was the blond-haired, blue-eyed proof of his manliness. Well, my eyes weren’t really blue. They changed color now and then. I took after both of them I guess. I had my dad’s six foot frame and build, and my mother’s soft features and eyes. I’d been told I was pretty—for a man.

Wonderful.
On those ‘special’ trips, I got to see what my dad did. I was so excited as a kid just to go that it really didn’t click back then that my dad was married to his job.
My mother, Eleanor, was a high priced attorney, still was when she was sober. I’d sat in the courtroom before during one of her cases and it never ceased to amaze me how she could tear apart a witness in seconds flat. Some of them had even cried. Lately it was smaller cases just

to keep busy. My mom still knew how to work a judge and a jury. Now if she could just stop drinking and find a boy toy, all would be right in the world. Yes, I was condoning my mother having a boyfriend. My father had decided that at fifty, he was going to screw anything with a pulse. So why shouldn’t my mom get some? Besides, if it got her off my back, I was all for it. Why would I want to get married? So I could suffer the same fate? Yeah, no thanks, I’ll pass.

My mother was still going on and on about how I needed a girlfriend. She still wasn’t on board with my bi lifestyle. Ah well. She couldn’t stand Porsche—and that had lasted all of a month. The first rich guy who gave her an ounce of attention and she was gone. I was better off. She would have drained me of every last cent—plus all my swimmers. I impatiently tapped my foot under the table and bounced my knee at the same time. A nervous habit I had picked up in my college days. Most of the time back then it was around my roommate, Kenny— who was now going by Kent Samson. We’d had our share of gay chicken games back then. He’d always won. Most of the time it was because I didn’t want him to see how much I truly liked it. I came out to him anyway and he gave me the ‘duh’ look.

Asshole.
I snickered and my mother stopped talking. Shit. “Are you listening to me?” she asked in her ice queen

tone.
“I am.”
My mother arched her perfectly waxed eyebrows at

me.
“I
really
am.”
No, I’m not. I loved my mother, when she was sober

and making sense. I sighed deeply and sat back looking at her. She had blonde hair with a touch of gray. Someone needed their roots done. Her makeup was flawless as always. She went to her hair stylist, Maurice, once a month. He would be horrified right now.

“Then why are you tapping your foot and knee?” I stopped doing both.
“Look, Mom, as much fun as this is. I have a

And that was another reason my foot and knee were taking over. He asked me to be his best man, that wasn’t the problem; it would be Terry’s choice in best man that had me nervous.

Spencer Cassidy.
The man was so beautiful he made my heart skip a beat and my hands sweat. I’d had a crush on him for years. The first time I saw him barking at people on the

The man commanded attention even at twenty-one, with his raven hair and piercing grey eyes. I almost sighed remembering it. He probably didn’t remember, but I surely did. My father had left me on the floor as he went to go scream at people. I had to go to the bathroom so I made my way through the pit. The crowd was screaming and then someone backed right into me, knocking me on my ass. I looked up to see a man with the most beautiful grey eyes I had ever seen. He’d helped me up and asked if I was okay. I was smitten right then.

“Yes?” I blinked and realized my mother had been speaking again. Whoops.
“Just go,” she sighed. “I’m conversing with myself.”
“Love you, Mom.” I kissed her forehead and almost ran out of the restaurant. I stepped out onto the street and into an unseasonably warm New York winter. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. I had three missed calls. I went to dial Kent but my phone beeped at me. Kent was calling me.
“Hey, make it quick, I’m using this line for sex,” I chuckled.
“
Blaine.
”
“
Kent.
”
Okay, so it didn’t have the same effect as ‘Blaine’. My mom had a ‘
Pretty in Pink
’ fetish and I ended up the lucky winner of the name Blaine. At least I wasn’t Ducky.
“Where are you?”
“On my way. I was having breakfast with my mother.”
Kent sighed on his end and I had to grin.
“Was she sober?” Kent asked.
“Is that a trick question?”
“Shit. Okay, how far out are you?”
I hailed a cab and looked at my watch. “Um, fifteen minutes?”
“Okay good. Spencer’s not here yet either.”
“He’s not?” My stomach dropped. “He is coming though, right?”
I heard Kent chuckle and wanted to kick myself. I had sounded like a high school girl.
“Yes, Mary-Sue! Bobby Joe is coming!” Kent laughed.
“Fuck off. See you in fifteen.” I hung up and slid into the cab. How the hell was I going to sit through lunch with Spencer? My stomach rolled and I swear I was sweating. God. Please don’t let me act like a moron.

I sighed in exasperation. Jesus, Terry could be such a brat.
“Because you know this place better than anyone. Damn, can’t a man just have lunch outside of his office? I’m here all the time!”
I swear Terry should have been a cop. His interrogation skills were lethal. He narrowed his eyes at me and I tried to keep my face blank. Trying to work behind Terry’s back was mission impossible. I was going to be late for my lunch with Kent because Terry was like a bloodhound. Terry was actually Terrance Barron, one hell of a rich guy in England. He’d come to New York to hide from his parents and started working for me not too long after. I was meeting Kent Samson; Terry’s soon-tobe-fiancé, although Terry didn’t know that.
The story of Kent and Terry was one for the books. Kent and his best friend, Blaine, had made a bet. The next person who walked through Kent’s door had to fall in love with him; people had to believe it and they also had to believe Kent was in love too. So, Kent wooed my little Terry — and won his heart. The problem? Terry found out about the bet. That didn’t go too smoothly. I had to give Kent credit, however. The man put his pride aside and groveled at Terry’s feet to win him back. Now Kent was going to propose and, knowing Terry, he’d ask me to be his best man. So, I was going to lunch with Kent and Blaine. I smiled at that thought. Blaine McKlintock was one hell of a looker. I’d noticed men before, don’t get me wrong, but it was always a ‘huh, I could do that’ thought. With Blaine it was more like ‘I’d like to tear his ass apart’. I realized Terry was looking at me with his head cocked to the side.
“What?” I asked.
“What are you thinking about?”
The bell on the front counter rang and I thanked God for the interruption. My newest guy, Drakon, was on the front desk this morning. I felt sorry for the kid. He was Greek and his parents had moved in with him while their house was being rebuilt due to a hurricane. So now I was giving him every extra hour I could spare just so he could stay sane.
“Boss!” Drakon called from the front.
“Oh hell,” I mumbled. I shot Terry a look. “I’m going to take care of this and then you are in charge!”
Terry huffed and sat down at my desk.
I glanced over my shoulder at him as I walked up front. My eyes met with the person waiting there and I suddenly wished I could run out the back door. My exwife, Vanessa, stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot.
“What?” I asked in my ‘I hate you’ voice. I really did. As soon as I left the life of Wall Street behind, Vanessa had left me — for a younger man. A
much
younger man.
“Did you forget to pay me? You know we have a set schedule.”
“Oh, did your new boyfriend up his price?” I smiled as wide as my mouth would allow.
Drakon barely managed to contain his snicker.
“Very funny, Spencer. Jealous much?” Vanessa sneered.
I looked my ex-wife up and down and barely held back the urge to vomit.
“Jealous would not be the word I would use,” I said dryly. I turned to look at Drakon. He snapped to attention and met my eyes. “Did Vanessa’s package go out?”
Drakon scanned the list and looked up at me. “Yes, sir. Yesterday promptly at nine.”
“Have you been home, darling?” I said with a saccharine smile. “Or were you out fucking Balls, Dick and Harry?”
Vanessa hissed between her clenched teeth. “Outside, Spencer.”
“Say please.” I grinned.
“
Please
.”
I opened the door but didn’t hold it open for her. I hope it smacked her in her perfect rhinoplastic nose. The city of New York was bustling this morning. Cabs were crowding the busy streets. Now and then I’d catch the colorful expletive that made New York, New York.
“Make it quick, Vanessa. I have somewhere to be.”
Vanessa clicked her tongue as she eyed me. She really made me want to gag. I met her in college my junior year and we quickly became exclusive. I came from a well-to-do family in New Jersey and Vanessa came from the other side of the tracks, so to speak. I should have known what she was after, but my dick held court back then. Even my younger brother, Slater, tried to warn me about Vanessa.
I didn’t mind paying for things back then; even in college I had a weekly allowance from my parents. I was buying dinners, then breakfasts, then a new purse and some new jeans. Then it seemed as if I was buying everything for her.
Then I got really stupid.
I’m a condom man, through and through, always have been, but my stupid ass let her talk me into it more than once without. On about the third time—far as I can figure—she got her wish. Valerie was born nine months later. Vanessa dropped out of college to take care of our daughter and I worked double time to get where I needed to be.
Money became everything and I worked harder and harder to get it for her. I was Spencer Cassidy, Wall Street’s golden boy, and Vanessa played the part of the snobby wife to a tee. Didn’t matter that she was Vanessa Munson before, she was Vanessa Cassidy now. The more I worked, the further apart we drifted and the more money she spent. We had dinner with the rich and popular and Vanessa always had to have the latest and greatest car, ring, watch, purse, shoes. Our sex life became nonexistent and then I caught her in bed with my administrative assistant. She blamed my work hours and I promptly moved out, fired my assistant and got my own place. The worst part was not seeing my daughter.
We’d been to court back and forth, and every time Vanessa would agree to the terms and then come up with some reason I couldn’t have Valerie for the weekend. She had a nice fancy, expensive lawyer too. One she paid for with my money. Valerie was getting older now though, and was asking to see me more and more. I’d seen her four times in the last two years. Hell, even Terry didn’t know I had a daughter.
“I need more money,” she said.
“No. Have a good day.” I walked back into the store and knew she was right behind me. This is what she did, barter with me for more visitation. No matter how many times we went to court, I didn’t see my daughter as much as I should.
“Spencer!”
The room dropped at least ten degrees. I turned to face my evil witch ex and narrowed my eyes.
“I said no. I won’t change my mind. You can get a lawyer if you want, I’ll get one too. I’m not giving you a penny more than I already do. Now, I have somewhere to be. Don’t come back, Vanessa.” I turned to look at Drakon. “I’ll be back in about an hour or so. Terry’s in charge.”
“Gotcha, boss.” Drakon smiled at me.
I stormed back out onto the street and hailed a cab. Vanessa tapped my shoulder and I took a deep breath to avoid saying what was on my mind.
“What?” I said.
“I’m not playing around, Spence. Valerie needs new school clothes.”
“Then I’ll take her to Bloomies and she can get what she wants.”
“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Vanessa spat.
I turned to look at her just then because I’d really just fucking had it. Every time Vanessa took Valerie shopping, the bill was over a thousand dollars. Now I don’t know any seven year old kid who needs a thousand dollars’ worth of clothing.
“I said I’ll take her.” I bit out through clenched teeth. “End of discussion.”
“She’s getting older and we need more money to cover that.”
“She’s eight! She doesn’t need a Coach purse or Juicy Couture! Trust me, I’ve spoken with my daughter and I know where that money goes, Vanessa. So no, you will not get another cent out of me. Do I make myself clear?”
I swear the vein in her temple trembled.
“This is not over, Spence. We can go back to the lawyer and modify the child support and visitation rights!”
“You get fifteen hundred dollars a month for an eight year old child, plus alimony! When is it ever going to be enough, Vanessa?”
Vanessa smiled at me and then turned on her heel. God I hated that bitch.
“Sir? Are you going to take this cab?”
I turned to find a man staring at me. Great, he’d just witnessed my spat. Ah well. It is New York.