𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬 | pete davidson

thirty five: the truth

"Hello?"

Her voice rang true through the receiver.

"Dahlia, my darling--" Jack began, but was immediately cut off.

"Call this number again and I'll have a restraining order put on you. I don't have to explain myself to you. You fucking forced yourself on me."

"Dahlia! I--"

The phone call ended before Jack could finish his thought.

Staring down at his phone in disbelief, furious, he chucks his phone down as hard as he can through the glass counter of his living room coffeetable. The glass explodes with a loud bang as it shatters and shards of glass lay sprawled across the luxurious floor.

Jack screams in defeat, in agony of his situation.

Paul sits in the chair across from the now shattered coffeetable, thankful he had picked up his cup before she picked up the phone.

"Do you think I'm crazy, Paul?"

Paul shakes his head vigorously. "No, sir, no... You're the most sane person I've ever met, sir!"

Jack furrows his sharp, intimidating eyebrows at him, grunting in annoyance. He turns in his sherpa slippers and makes a beeline towards the bar.

"I-I-I think the most genius people have a little bit of crazy in them! Like, like, Donald Trump! Or, or, Kanye West--!"

"Don't you ever compare me to Kanye West again." Jack snarled at Paul.

Roughly dropping the bottle of absinthe on the counter, he startled Paul along with the booming roar of Jack's voice.

"I'll have you followed for the rest of your life if shit like that ever craps out of your mouth again." Jack warned, making Paul's hands twitch out of nervousness.

"Y-you know, boss, I don't think you should let this P-Pete guy get in your head." Paul muttered, cautiously taking another sip from his drink.

"I'm losing her, Paul." Jack whimpers, croaking to himself before downing a glass of the green liquor in one swig.

"I'm losing my grip on her. She's letting Davidson work her like a puppet, and get these ideas. She's not the girl I had before."

The absinthe rolled down his throat and it burned all the way down. Jack's desire for the drink proved stronger than his liver, as he sought comfort in the burning sensation. It was like a punishment for him, with every drop he felt he was being cleansed of all his wrongdoings.

He believed drinking absinthe was his consequence to self-inflict, and to him that was more than enough that he believed he deserved.

Now, he would just describe the taste of his drink as "smooth." Like drinking melted gold.

"I was going to tell her I was drunk that night. And that I don't recall any of what had happened, and that I was acting foolish, but..." Jack folds his arms over his chest, lavished in the black and burgundy silk of his long robe.

Jack sighs, frustrated. Meanwhile, Paul's in his head, trying to think of something (anything!) to de-escalate his boss' anger.

"This was the year I was going to ask her to marry me. I wanted us to come out to the public first, so they'd accept me more when I take over Cherry Aphrodite."

Paul almost choked on his now lukewarm coffee. He clears his throat and nervously laughs before speaking again. "Excuse me?"

Jack smirks to himself as he pours another helping of the green liquor, filling it up nearly to the brim of the glass.

"Paul, Paul, Paul..." Jack tsks at his assistant as he slowly approaches him at the couch, taking his time so he can sip from his stout glass. "You damned lummox."

He takes another swig from his glass, leans down closer to Paul's face, looking him dead in the eye.

"Maximus Oscar is dying." Paul's eyebrows shoot up.

"No one in the industry knows just yet. But I do, because Dahlia trusts me.

Once he's gone, he's leaving the brand all in her name. All of his shares transfer to her.

Once I own her, I own half the company. I'll have my expert lawyers find a way to sign her shares over to me.

Once it's my name in ink, it'll all be legally mine. I'll own the golden eggs and the motherfucking goose!"

Jack was too proud of his plan. He had waited too long for this moment to finally arrive, and he was not about to let up because some stick bug made goo-goo eyes at his girl.

"Oh, alright, I get it... s-so you want to own makeup?"

"An extremely lucrative business in an industry that's booming right now? Yes, I want that for myself.

I want the second income that comes from my future wife's business;

Country music is my love, always, but it just ain't paying the bills like it used to before." Jack snickered, swishing his glass around as he watched the last bit of absinthe dance.

Paul swallowed hard, nervously twiddling with the cup in his lap.

"What about Dahlia, boss?" He cracked. "She's not going to marry you if she's with that Pete dingus." Paul snorted at his own joke.

"She's playing games with me, Paul, she's done it to me before." Jack said confidently, puffing out his chest.

"You have to reinforce dominance by targeting the homewrecker and separate them; make her see the kind of bug she's dating now.

For you see, Dahlia thinks that she's been winning the game, but really she's been playing checkers while I've been playing chess."

☆