Page 9 of Real Forever
Ugh.Madison couldn’t stop thinking about the way the word “pleasure” rolled off Jake’s mouth. The way his tongue slid across his perfect white teeth on the “l” and his soft lips pursed on the “ur.” She’d been flopping around her bed for an hour, trying in vain to get his mouth out of her brain. She flipped her pillow over again, fluffed it in frustration, and grabbed her phone to check the time. 12:35 a.m. She opened her messages app. Maybe a quickie with Lucas would shake Jake out of her mind? She typed and then deleted “Hey” three times before slamming down her phone.
Why couldn’t she get this guy out of her head? She had sworn off relationships two years ago and had no intention of changing her mind now. No relationship meant no heartbreak, and protecting her soft, squishy, marshmallowy heart from any more hurt was all Madison cared about.
Besides, Jake was undeniably gorgeous and had his shit one hundred percent together. She’d searched his website after they left. He had an MBA from Queen’s and his Chartered Professional Accountant designation. Either of those would have been a tremendous accomplishment but attaining both had to have taken some hard work. Madison was certain a guy like Jake would have no interest in her and her dumpster fire of a life.
Okay, okay.Maybe it wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. She had Lauren and Maisie. And a job. A shitty job, but a job’s a job, right? And this one came with the best boss in the world. Truth be told, Madison had been sort of floating along for a while now. She was stuck in limbo, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to change inside of her, to tell her she was ready to wake up. But so far, the feeling was elusive.
If she couldn’t sleep, she decided she might as well do something useful, so she rolled out of bed, pulled on her dad’s Bud Light T-shirt, a pair of fleece pants, and headed to the couch with her laptop. Opening a web browser window, she typed NorAsana into the search box.Jesus Christ.Scrolling down the page, Madison saw story after story about the company, all filled with nasty words like lawsuit, pyramid scheme, scam, bankruptcy, and negligence. Apparently, her sister had signed up to sell leggings for the fucking devil.
Madison went from annoyed to enraged as she read. One rabbit hole lead to another until she found herself on Instagram reading stories women like her sister were sharing with the hashtag #ScrewNorAsana. All the stories were the same. Bright, hard-working women, largely young moms, had poured their hearts and souls into their NorAsana businesses. Many of the early joiners had experienced some success in their first year. Like Lauren. But somewhere along the line, things changed. It had become harder and harder to find new women to sign up, and the women who were already selling drowned in competition.
Plus, Lauren was right. The quality had gone to shit. Madison scrolled through hundreds of posts, all shredding the leggings’ quality. Some showed fabric so thin it was see through. Others showed crooked or open seams and misprinted fabric.
She flipped back to her web browser and opened up an article about Tammy from Maclean’s magazine. Madison read each word with a mixture of shock, admiration, and disgust. Tammy had built up this enormous company from nothing. She started out as a single mom herself, selling bamboo yoga pants she sewed at her kitchen table after her kids went to bed. Now, NorAsana was worth an estimated six hundred million dollars.
Madison was livid. How could this woman, a mother herself, be willing to take advantage of so many other moms? She had to know what she was doing to them. She stared at the photo of the woman in the magazine, lounging beside the pool on her massive property, grinning maniacally behind designer sunglasses. This fucking woman had it all, Madison thought to herself. While Lauren was about to lose everything.
Fuck that.She had already decided to help Lauren, but now she had a new mission in mind—take that tacky ass, bleach blonde bitch Tammy down.Okay, genius. How the shit are you going to do that?Madison opened the notes app on her phone and began typing—
Three Step MasterPlan to Save The Mother Fucking Day
Step 1: Dig up dirt on Tammy, blackmail her to give Lauren $$$
Step 2: Convince Lauren to ditch Dave
Step 3: Live happily ever after with Lauren and Maisie like a coven of badass witches
She considered the plan.Okay, maybe it needed a pinch more detail, but it was a start, and she’d figure the rest out as she went. She picked her phone back up, opened another browser window, and typed “how to blackmail someone” into the search box. God bless Google—the results were surprisingly helpful.
“The key to blackmail is to know your target. What are they hiding? What matters most to them? Who matters most to them?”
Madison knew a little about Tammy from the articles online, but it was all magazine fluff. Nothing helpful. She’d have to dig up something more personal. She tapped her phone against her forehead as she puzzled.
The Silver Creek Grind.She knew Tammy went for coffee there because it’s what had set off Lauren’s panic attack. It wasn’t much, but it was somewhere to start at least. She could scope out the coffee shop and follow Tammy. Eventually, hopefully, she’d reveal some kind of tidbit Madison could use.
To her surprise, Madison felt excited, invigorated by her scheme. She realized it had been so long since she’d done anything besides drift back and forth between work, the bar, and home, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt excited about something.Well, that’s depressing as hell.Madison shook it from her mind.
Feeling good about her plan, Madison climbed back into bed, hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep before she had to get up for work. She flipped her bedside lamp off and snuggled into her pillow. It took only seconds for Jake Murphy’s scintillating mouth to appear in her imagination once again.
6
Jake
“Areyou sure you don’t want to come? Even for an hour or something?” Zach had been attempting to convince Jake to come out with him to a nearby craft beer pub for chicken wings and drinks with a few buddies of his. Zach knew Jake would say no, but he tried anyway. Jake loved him for it.
Jake hunched over his laptop at the dining table. “No, I’ve got to get this paperwork done for the Calgary property. Thanks for the invite, though. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, dude.” Zach snatched his keys from the hook beside the door. “Try not to work yourself into a head full of gray hair tonight. With that ugly mug, your lustrous mane is your only hope for ever attracting a mate.”
Jake laughed and shook his head as Zach left before returning his attention to the paperwork in front of him. The Calgary property was a big step. A big, expensive step. He rubbed his temples. The listing agent had wasted no time in sending over the details and scheduling Jake for a tour via video chat. It felt odd, purchasing a property sight unseen, but his buddy John from university had recommended a property inspector in the area who could get there on short notice and complete an in-depth inspection. After the excellent inspection results, and the seller’s surprising acceptance of Jake’s first offer, he didn’t have any excuses left to not move forward with the purchase.
He stood up from the table, stretched his arms above his head, and exhaled. He’d been having trouble concentrating all day, and he knew why. Madison. Jake couldn’t put into words exactly why he found her so attractive. She was beautiful, with long, wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Her athletic legs supported soft hips and a deliciously rounded bottom. Her smooth curves continued up to a luscious pair of tits that made Jake’s cock strain at his zipper.
There was something else though. Something… magnetic about her. When she smiled at him, she really smiled. A wide, beaming, unaffected smile. It knocked Jake off balance. The sort of feeling you get when an elevator goes too fast and then stops abruptly.
Argh. Stop. You’ve got to get this shit done.Jake sat back down and struggled to return his attention to the mortgage documents on the table. Only a handful of seconds had ticked by when he began tapping his pen on the table and bouncing his leg up and down. His breath had quickened, and the familiar creepy-crawly jitters had returned to his chest. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the table. He snagged his phone from the kitchen counter before settling down on the living room floor, cross legged. He selected a meditation from the app and closed his eyes.
Jake was only ten years old when he first struggled with anxiety. It started with a fear of taking tests and obsession with getting good grades. It escalated to panic attacks at any sign of a less than perfect outcome at school or in extracurricular activities. His parents had sent him to a therapist who had taught him how to meditate and encouraged him to spend more time riding his bike, which was the only genuine source of fun Jake could identify when the therapist prodded. In university, he’d taken a first-year psychology course which led him to suspect his mother suffered from a severe anxiety disorder herself. Undiagnosed, of course. Adeline would never consider admitting that sort of thing to herself, much less to anyone outside of their home. Over the years, Jake had collected a few tools to help himself keep the anxiety manageable most days, like his meditation app and the strict daily routine he designed for himself.
