A Good Day
CULLEN
I just knew today was not going to be a good day.
First, it started with an argument. No, scratch that.... not an argument. Let’s call it a disagreement with my father because you can’t just go around saying you had a fight with your father, now can you?
The day had started great. The consigliere gave me the task of meeting with Alex Volkov, so we could talk about his marriage contract. And when I got there, apparently Alex Volkov thought that the brides we had chosen for him weren’t up to his taste. So, naturally, he decided to choose a bride outside of the women we had proposed for the marriage.
And because I’m Cullen and not Cyrus, I told him to go fuck himself.
We threw words at each other. He threatened to pull back from the contract apparently still sore about the fact that he’d lost Bella to Cyrus. Yeah, seemed like he was still mad about that. So I told him again, he could go fuck himself and do whatever he wanted. Then I left.
What happened next? He must’ve gone crying to his dad. His dad called my dad. Then my dad called me and told me to go see him at one of our clubs. I figured I’d just tell him what happened, nothing big.
He asked me to reenact the whole thing.
So, word for word, I told him exactly what I told Alex: go fuck yourself.
He was... not pleased.
I might’ve said something to provoke him, something like,
“I’m not Cyrus. I’m not gonna take it up the ass.”
And then he hit me.
Yeah. Straight-up kicked me in the eye.
Now, I had a lot of pent-up frustration inside me. I was angry at everyone. I blamed him. I blamed my mom. I blamed Sarah. Hell, I was frustrated, and I hadn’t gotten laid in a long while. But still, I couldn’t hit my father back.
Apart from the fact that he was the Don and could shoot me on the spot, he was still my father.
So I chose something else. I started hitting the furniture, breaking things. That got him even madder. He came at me with a bat. Cyrus and the consigliere had to hold him back. And then Cyrus... Cyrus had the guts to tell me to get the fuck out.
So there I was, with an eye I thought was gonna go purple, leaving the club, climbing into my car. I just started driving. I didn’t even know where I was going. I figured I’d go out of the city altogether, head to my favourite spot out of the pollution, clear my head, and relax.
I needed time.
As I was driving, I remembered, that today was my parents’ anniversary. Shit. I had to be there.
I couldn’t let my mom down... Fuck my dad. But I couldn’t disappoint my mom.
So I messaged Sarah. Told her I’d pick her up. Of course, I knew my parents had to show up together and it’d be weird if they brought Sarah along without me (mom had reminded me this morning of such). But mostly, I just knew I had to show up to this goddamn anniversary.
I felt bad about my relationship with my mother. I’ve always been closer to my mom. We spent a lot of time together when I wasn’t working, fighting, or clubbing with girls, doing whatever... I liked hanging out with her.
People think she babies me, but the truth is, she teaches me things. Grooms me, in a way. My father usually takes advice from her, and talks to her about things. She’s mad smart like that.
But ever since I got married, ever since Sarah came into the house, I had to take a step back. I didn’t want Sarah getting the wrong idea, thinking I was hanging around the house for her. I didn’t want her getting any ideas, or trying to get my attention.
She seems like someone who thrives on attention. Given the recent crap she pulled... yeah.
That’s why I didn’t want to stay at the house. I thought I’d get her an apartment, throw some guards in there, and never have to see her again.
But then... thank you, Cyrus.
You messed up, and now I have to stay in the house with my parents watching every damn move, forcing me to sleep in my matrimonial bed every night, and tugging my ear off if I don’t.
So yeah... thank you, golden boy. Thank you very much.
Anyway, I stayed out until late. When I realized the time, I knew I had to go. Had to cover up the bruise on my face and pick up my drunk wife. Yeah, that’s what she’s become now.... a drunk.
She thinks she’s slick, but I can smell the wine. I can see it in her eyes. She’s not fooling anyone.
I don’t say anything anymore because I am selfish. She’s not focused on me. Nowadays, she’s more focused on her own little world and the result is phenomenal.
Our marriage? It’s just... a breeze.
***
So late in the evening, I drive back to the city. I head straight to our tailor’s shop. I change there. I ask him for something to cover up my bruise, a little makeup, face cream, whatever works. I just need to hide it. I can’t show up to my parents’ anniversary with a purple eye. Not with everyone watching. Not tonight.
Then I get into my car and drive to the house. As I change cars, I text Sarah and tell her to get down.
As I watch her coming down the stairs toward the car, I have to admit....she’s pretty. I’ve never argued with that. Sarah, my wife is kind of beautiful. She always has been.
If only she didn’t sway a little with every step. Even from a distance, I can tell she’s drunk. She’s not even close yet, but I can see it in her eyes and the way she walks. She’s fucking drunk.
I cannot deal with this today.
I decide to handle it with peace. No arguments, no engagement, no words. Just quiet. But then she gets in and I smell it. The alcohol. It's strong....fresh.
She knew. She knew she had to come to my parents’ anniversary tonight. She knew how important this was. There would be people there, important people. Politicians. Mafia families. Men and women who have power. And she’s showing up like this?
I’m done. I can’t take it anymore.
And of course, after our little fight in the car, it hits me.... my wife can’t attend this party. Not like this. My little contract wife is a risk, a liability.
So I send her back home with the driver.
That’ll teach her some manners.
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