Blinded by Pity (boyxboy)

Chapter 1

"I told you we were going to be late!"

"It's not my fault you took Stonewall, I told you to get on 3rd Street and then go all the way down."

"Is this a joke? Hurry up and get out of the car!"

"Give me a second, let me grab my jacket. Hold on, I can't find my phone."

"I swear to God. Steven, get out and come on."

"Jackson, calm down we're like two minutes late, no big deal."

*smack*

"Oh, God! Jacks-"

"I told you to hurry up. Guess I have to walk in by myself and look like some stupid loner. Now, find your shit and get your ass inside." After that he just walked away.

Wow, this night had started out well. Not only was my cheek bleeding from where Jackson's ring had scraped it, but I was extremely embarrassed. To make matters worse, the valet had clearly seen our little argument judging from the look he was giving me.

Pity was written all over his face. That's what I hated most, the pity I got from people. I don't need it. It doesn't help.

"Sir, do you need some help?"

I smoothed over any negative emotions that were threatening to show,"Uh yeah actually, hold this open. Yeah, like that"

I handed him my hand held mirror, then I grabbed a tissue and my concealer. I wiped away the blood and proceeded to cover up the slight abrasion. When I finished I looked up, "How's it look?"

Clearly perplexed he said,"Well, honestly like it never even happened."

"Perfect, that's kinda what I'm going for."

"If I may ask, sir, does that happen often?"

I grabbed my mirror from him and sighed,"If you must know, yes. However, it usually doesn't start this early-"

"How else can I help?"

He was clearly still hung up on mine and Jackson's little scene. I looked at his name tag which said "Lee".

"Look Lee, there's no problem here." I knew he was waiting for me to say something along the lines of 'I want you to go beat up my jerky-ass husband because I hate him! Oh Lee, save me! Please save me!'

But, why would I say something stupid like that. He would lose against Jackson, first of all, and secondly I've already caused a big enough scene out in the parking lot. There's no need to take this ridiculousness inside.

"I'll tell you how you can help," his face lit up slightly. "By not asking so many damn questions and parking our car, thanks!" I barked as I threw a $20 at him. I didn't look back to see his reaction.

...

Tonight's occasion was like all the rest. Glitzy, extravagant, but most of all just plain fake. It was a gala hosted by the mayor to raise money for some poor village in Africa that needed... well, I can't even remember. They always need something. It really doesn't concern me. I'm not the one writing the check, that's my husband's job.

Speaking of writing checks, that's exactly why Jackson and I were invited. Jackson David Wesley III was known for his generosity in the financial department. He was the posterity of generations upon generations of successful businessmen. He himself, though, had never worked a day in his life.

It's not like I have room to talk though, why work when you're married to a multi millionaire? The simple answer is, you don't. Sure, I went to school. I have my degree which is... well, doesn't really matter. I don't need it, I got it simply to appease my parents. They never agreed with my idea to stop working after I met Jackson, but what do they know. I'm sure they're just jealous, like everyone else.