The Billionaire Throuple

Samuel the Third [Birthday Party]

I haven't heard from Nehemiah since his thumbs up emoji. It's coming up on eleven-thirty and he left work at ten, so even if he took his time, he's still a half hour late.

I already know the reason.

He ran into someone, not just anyone. I follow @SantiAndi on Instagram, so I was notified the moment he uploaded that cute picture of himself and Nehemiah at Luciano's. I assume they've decided to come together. Neither seem heartless enough to flaunt that they ditched me so openly on my birthday. I'm not jealous. They will love me, so I need them to love each other.

I am amazed though.

The simulation spared no expense in making Andreas beautiful and he amplifies his gift through an unwillingness to go out in public with so much as a hair out of place. He has luscious honey brown hair that he highlights in vivid colors whenever the mood strikes.

Tonight it's black bordering red in the front. He gave a 'shout-out' @StrandArtSalon for their careful work. It looks good on him, as does anything. While I wish he wouldn't damage his lovely hair, my love won't ever be of a controlling kind. He may do as he pleases.

His nose is absolutely beautiful, exactly how the simulation intended. It is the perfect combination of wide and pointed. I know this because I possess an algorithm that reclassifies it according to camera angle. That's also how I know his face is perfectly symmetrical.

If he had breasts, he'd be the one woman with both the same size. He is the anomaly and I must have him, but it wouldn't surprise me if he is forbidden. He was created as a tease to make us unsatisfied with whomever we're with.

He's androgynous, blurring the line between sexes. He shatters women's hearts, both straight and queer alike and has devout heterosexuals doubting gender altogether.

He is the simulation's wooden spoon, stirring its boiling pot of discontent. Without me, that spoon would no doubt slip and fall to the scalding hot bottom. Beauties like him cannot survive on their own. They aren't meant to. The simulation can use a gruesome death like his to break the hearts of millions. Thus, protecting him is for everyone's sake.

*****

My phone vibrates on the coffee table where I left it. I peer down at the screen to see that my IMEI search on Andreas's phone has returned results. It pinged the tower that covers the edge of town, the one that often interferes with the rural tower that services my estate.

I have to assume they're stuck since they've been out of service so long. It's too cold of a night for me to allow them to brave the walk here. Nehemiah could soldier through, but I cannot have Andreas endure it for long.

I throw on my leather coat by the door and head out to my five-car garage. It's heavy and has way too many straps, but it goes perfectly with the glossy, black python boots I have on. I like the way the heels click against the epoxy sealed showroom floor. I create my own gait to give it a cadence. I feel like a modern day cowboy set to reign in the law, like Joe Biden meets Wyatt Earp.

I'll never tell Andreas the boots are made from actual pythons. He'll throw a fit, despite being deathly afraid of snakes. One day, I'll adore watching him contradict himself while having no idea he's doing it, but it's way too early in our relationship for arguments.

I glimpse my reflection and come to an abrupt stop. I'm mortified. This isn't the look I'm going for. I need to seem shaken, distraught, disappointed even. Then, grateful and desperate for affection, for honest friendship.

No matter what I do, I cannot show up as a savior. They have too much ego to appreciate that. I have to rethink. I cannot drive out looking for them without cluing them into the fact I've been tracking their phones.