Meeting Mr. Mogul: A Billionaire Contemporary Romance (2 page)

So here I am now, riding a motorcycle back to his flat. Sure, his place wasn’t what I’d classify as five stars (maybe two stars, at best), but it was all I’ve got. I made a place for myself in his living room couch, so I cooked for him in exchange. But I drew the line at doing his laundry when we made this unspoken contract. To be honest, Terry is a nice roommate and a true gentleman. I think that’s great considering I don’t need another man trouble, which was my first fear when I agreed to do this. I already have enough problems as it is.

“Do you want some midnight snacks?” Terry asked when we finally reached the apartment building.

“You just had to ask now that we are already home,” I replied sarcastically after taking my helmet off, which he bought at a garage sale. It still reeks even after I’ve washed it twice, but it was better than nothing.

“So?” he asked, unaffected by my mood. He looked at me mischievously, waiting for my reply.

“Get me pizza and a cola, but then I’m sleeping in after. No clubbing for me tonight,” I replied, knowing what he implied as his eyes twinkled and his lips twitched into a smile.

“Why do you always think that I’m inviting you to go to a club or a party?” he asked, looking taken aback by my words, although amusement still danced in his eyes.

“You aren’t?” I asked in mock surprising, playing along with this charade.

He chuckled at my reaction and shook his head. “Even though you’ve only known me for a month, you got me just like that,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis. “So, are you coming?” he added, looking at me with pleading eyes.

“You are seriously going to ask me again after a month of doing the same routine. Get a clue, Terry. You know it’s not my scene,” I snorted. It was always the same every night.

“Well, your loss,” he stated in defeat as he put his helmet back on. “I’ll bring your pizza when I get back — if there are stores still open,” he added but the helmet muffled his words.

“Why don’t we go get some food first next time?” I offered, looking at him gravely.

“That’s because I’m only humoring you with these talks. Besides, I don’t like pizza.” He cracked in laughter as he started the engine.

Before I could comment back, he was already speeding away on the main road. I stood there with a smile, looking at the empty space where his motorcycle had been. Men have such a carefree nature. They are never too complicated, but are jerks when they have the opportunity.

I woke up the next morning to my phone alarm beeping in tune with my throbbing head. This is the result of always sleeping late at night and waking up so early in the morning. Five hours of sleep is not enough for anyone who loves to sleep.

Careful not to make any noise, I tiptoed to the bathroom. I freshened up and silently made breakfast as I let Terry sleep in. After I cooked breakfast and washed the dishes, I left Terry’s food on the counter and covered it to keep it warm. Next, I went back on the couch and turned on the television, which was on mute so I wouldn’t wake Terry. Basically, this was my routine every morning.

When I heard the soft thud and light creak of a door, I knew Terry was up. I waited for him to appear before saying anything.

“I’ll be going to the hospital early today, if you don’t mind,” I said as he passed the living room going to the kitchen counter. Though he knew this already, I still felt obliged to tell him my whereabouts.

“Since you cooked, I can peacefully let you go,” he replied, his voice still slurry from sleepiness.

I shook my head in amusement at his reply and turned my attention back to the television, increasing the volume. I left Terry to do his routine and waited for him to come back in the living room, looking alive and presentable.

“So, how was last night? Did you get laid this time?” I asked when he reappeared with his usual black shirt and faded jeans. He had such manly taste in clothes.

“No, I didn’t. I’m still not ready for any of that,” he replied as he sunk on the couch beside me, sighing in defeat.

“You never told me who you are dating. I don’t want to pry, but you keep having these moods every morning, and I’m running out of advices for you,” I barked in frustration, setting the TV on mute again and faced him. “So, tell me.”

“Do you really want to know that much?” he asked, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes. I think we’ve been together long enough, and some secrets are bound to be revealed. So, let’s get this out of the way. You tell me about the person you are dating and I tell you something about myself.” I offered, looking at him dead in the eyes. “Do we have a deal?” I asked, offering my hand to shake his.

He looked at me for a second and then looked down at my hand. It took him another moment to shake it. “Good. We have a deal.” I was silent for a moment then I continued, “So, who is she?” I asked directly before he could sidetrack me.

He looked at me, thrown off by my sudden question. And then, not really sure why, he exploded in laugher. I looked at him in confusion.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked by the time his laughter died down.

“Why do you assume I’m with a girl? Is it because I dress up like this?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Wait — what?” I asked, not sure where the topic was going. Fortunately, I wasn’t that dense. “You’re gay?” I asked bluntly, stunned at this sudden revelation.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Terry asked as he eyed me with his eyebrow raised.

“But you dress like a guy… you ride a motorcycle—you wear leather for goodness sake!
And
you act and eat like a dude,” I said in disbelief, trying to think of some signs that told me he was gay. However, nothing comes to mind except for one thing. “So that’s why you never hit on me!” I was surprised that the realization only dawned on me at that moment.

“Of all the things you could have noticed, you just had to point that one out.” Terry shook his head in disappointment, though his eyes gleamed in amusement.

“So, who is he?” I asked after gaining full recovery from that shock.

“Wow. You got over that really fast, didn’t you?” Terry mumbled before he took a deep breath, his awful mood had returned. “We had a fight before you moved here. I told him about you and well…” he trailed off as he choked on his words.

“So, you’ve been moping around for a month because of me. And you just thought to tell me this after all this time.”

“Well, you were the one who wanted to know,” he countered. He looked at me like I was the one at fault.

“So, you guys just ignored the issue and haven’t talked about it at all?” I asked, ignoring his attempt to sidetrack me.

“He’s very stubborn sometimes,” Terry confided, covering his face with his hands and rubbed it in annoyance. “So, that’s what’s up with me. How about you?” he asked after recovering from his mood.

“Me?” I asked, alarmed by his sudden change of topic. “Well, in truth, I’m an open book. You already know why I’m here and about my financial problems. What else do you want to know?”

“True,” Terry agreed with a nod of his head. “Which brings an end to our conversation. And, from the looks of it, you have to go,” he added as he glanced at the clock above the television.

I followed his gaze and stood up immediately. It was almost noon by the time I realized I should have left earlier. “Shoot!” I grabbed my bag and jacket in a hurry.

“Do you want me to take you there?” Terry offered, but he stayed on the couch looking unaffected by my frantic rush.

“No. You just rest and keep yourself sober until work tonight,” I replied, and paused from rushing around to give him a warning look.

“Yes, mother. I will do as you ordered,” he said monotonously like an errant child.

“Well, I’ve got to go darling.” I said in a fake British accent as I walked towards the door. “Don’t whore around without me!” I added.

I heard him burst in laughter before I closed the door behind me. As I walked towards the bus stop, I thought about the conversation I had with Terry. I never expected him to be gay, but to each his own. It was refreshing to understand someone more and more each day. I shoved the thought aside when the bus finally arrived.

The ride to the hospital took longer than usual. It was almost noon. That time of day that could be rush hour for people who were having an early lunch or a late breakfast. By the time I reached my stop, my stomach growled in hunger. So, I stopped by the nearest fast food chain and grabbed some lunch and dessert — a gift for later. After I finished my meal, the walk to the hospital was quick and short.

When I reached the fourth floor of the hospital building, I gave the attending nurse a brief nod of acknowledgment. It has been a month since my father was admitted here. A few of the staff on his floor had gotten familiar with me, especially the nurse assigned to take care of my father.

“Hey, Andy. How are things?” The nurse, Patty, asked when she saw me.

“Everything is well. How is he?” I asked, giving her a small smile.

“He is doing well, but still the same,” she replied softly, looking slightly sympathetic for a second before she recovered with a smile. “He’s been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I kind of promised him I’d be early today, but the traffic was bad,” I explained.

She smiled at my words and nodded without replying. I said my goodbye after that and walked on. Upon reaching his room, I softly knocked on his door before entering.

“Hey, Dad,” I greeted as I entered. I overheard voices when I came in, which became softer by the time I was inside. I knew then that he was tuning in to a show. “What are you watching?” I asked as I strolled towards the empty table and chair across the door.

“What took you so long? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

“Sorry I was late. The traffic was bad. I also woke up late since we had a busy night,” I lied smoothly as I took out the food from the paper bags. “Do you want a burger, spaghetti, or just a sandwich?” I asked.

“Are you trying to avoid the subject?” he asked, ignoring my question as he stared me down.

“No. Why would I?” I snorted in denial.

“I’ll have the sandwich then. I already had lunch a few minutes ago,” he said, dropping the topic, which made me sigh inside in relief.

I handed him the packed sandwich before I began eating my burger. We ate our meal in silence as we watched some reruns on TV. The crunching sound as we chewed our food and the voices in the television were what kept the room from being too silent. When we were finished eating, we both stayed quiet for a while until the show finished.

“How’s work?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“It’s good. Terry has been very helpful,” I replied with a smile. “Did you know he was gay?” I asked, my smile widening as I recalled our conversation this morning.

“I think Billy told me that in passing,” he replied unsurely. “Are you enjoying your job?” he asked next, dropping the previous topic straight away.

“Yes… I think I am,” I replied quietly, having a hard time trying to sound convincing. I felt bad that I lied to him. He has enough problems to deal with already. I don’t want to burden him anymore than I have to.

He looked at me intently for a second, like he was trying to see through me. But I stood my ground and gave him a small smile of reassurance. I knew he would never stop looking out for me — even on his deathbed.

But before he could inquire any further, the door suddenly opened, and a man in a white coat came in. It was one of my father’s doctors who routinely checked on him. He looked young for someone working in this stressful environment. He had dark brown curly hair, which matched the color of his eyes, and had a medium build. He always had a ready smile and welcoming aura every time I visited my father. Dr. Logan Stanley, one of the men whom I should be thankful for in this time of hardship, checked on him (and for your information, I wasn’t into him).

“Mr. Peterson, how are you doing today?” he asked my dad as he walked towards the bed.

“I’m doing well, Doctor Stanley. As you can see, I have my daughter right here,” he responded proudly and gave the doctor a beaming smile.

“Ms. Peterson, did your father do something again?” Logan asked, turning to look at me with a knowing gaze.

“Sorry. I gave him a sandwich, which is against his diet, but he really wanted to eat it,” I admitted with a hint of shame.

Logan laughed at my reply. “You sound like you just admitted to committing a crime. As long as you clear it with the nurse next time, we should be okay from now on,” he chortled.

Embarrassed by my actions, I nodded with my cheeks flushed. I kept quiet and tried to stay out of the way, as Logan checked on my father. When he was finished, he excused himself without any more comments and left us with a short ‘See you tomorrow’. He was sometimes a man of few words.

At around four in the afternoon, I stood up from my chair. We usually spend our afternoons like this, watching reruns and engaging in small talk about going back home. I know that he missed it, like I do, but he didn’t show it as much. Like father like daughter, I guess.

“Hey, Dad, I’m going now. I still have to get ready for work tonight,” I said before giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

For the first time since I walked in the room, I looked at his face clearly. He looked too old for someone who was in his mid-fifties. His hair was a mix of grey and white and his face was wrinkly and dry. He looked sick — really sick. With a silent cry, I kissed him again on the cheek and gave him a long hug, which he reciprocated weakly. There was hardly any strength in his arms. I knew he understood my actions without having to say anything. His welfare is what kept me going after all that had happened. After all, he was all that I had left.

“Don’t worry so much about me, peanut. I’m going to be fine. You take care of yourself and enjoy life,” he whispered to me as I remained in his embrace.

“I know, Dad. I know,” I whispered back and gave him one last gentle squeeze before letting go.

I wanted to cry my eyes out at that moment. I knew he wasn’t okay. I worried that since his treatment was a bargain, he might not be okay. The doctors are only helping me keep him alive for as long as he can. I don’t want to lose him, and for that, I was willing to give up everything. My life, my future — everything. But life doesn’t work that way. It never does.