Episode 1

TRACY

Dad rarely calls. And even if he does, half the time, I don't answer his calls. Half the time that I pick up his calls, I'm very unfriendly and agitated. I just didn't like talking to him and having us pretend that he was this good father who wanted nothing more than the happiness of his two offspring. He wasn't- not to me, not to Justin.

As far as billionaires go, Dad was a pretty decent man. Some even went as far as calling him a very kind man and I have heard people say he had a heart of gold. Well, he had a ridiculous amount of gold, both in jewellery and those he invested in. Gold was indeed very dear to his heart, but his heart wasn't made of gold. I knew that.

At best, Dad was a decent man, but a terrible father. And it was worse when he “tried” because even though the man was the world's most successful and leading movie producer, he couldn't play his role as a father even if a manual was placed on his lap from the heavens.

“Hmmn,” the naked man on my bed let out as he turned on his bottom, still snoring.

For the life of me, I couldn't remember what his name was. Was it Luke? No, Luke was Stella's driver whom I had slept with four or five times. Maybe six times. At most, seven. I couldn't put a number on it.

Well, if the man who was still asleep had told me his name, I had totally forgotten. I met him last night at the bar I usually went to. Truth be told, I didn't like him when I first saw him. Not saying I liked him any better now. He seemed to be one of those dudes that spent half their lives in a gym and a significant part of the other half thinking about going to a gym.

I wasn't going to deny it, he caught my attention real quick. I mean, he was handsome and I had a very high sex drive so my eyes scarcely miss a hot guy.

He approached me immediately he saw me because I was drop-dead gorgeous. Or because I had a very short skirt on and a top that was no bigger than a bra. He began to tell me stories I had no interest in. Also, can someone tell me why men thought it was cute to tell ladies that their mother was amazing and the very best? Well, that's cute and all that, but I'm sure I don't care.

After listening to him talk for one hour straight, I brought my hands to the crotch area of his khaki shorts, and said, “Wanna go home with me?”

The rest, as they say, is history.

I woke the naked man and respectfully told him to get the heck out of my home. We had fun, yes, but that was over now so he had no business in my house. Of course, he asked for my number and I didn't want to appear to be mean. Without any doubts, he had been most useful last night— at least a part of him had been. So I gave him a number so he wouldn't feel bad. I hoped he wouldn't feel bad that the number I gave him belonged to one of my Dad's old friends who was a psychiatrist. A number was a number.

The bathtub was a place where I found a sense of peace and serenity. Sadly, today I wasn't feeling much like myself so I spent less than seven minutes in the tub. On other days, it was never less than thirty.

I made myself an omelette, pancakes, and a huge glass of hot unskimmed milk. Never succeeded in following a diet or anything, so don't judge me.

I had my breakfast watching some teenagers dancing on the internet and was quite enthralled by their moves.

Then Deborah, a friend of mine called. She was always vibrant and a fun person to speak with.

“Hey, Tracy girl, how are you doing?” She inquired. Of course, knowing Deborah, I knew she was much more comfortable when she had her mouth running, and man, was it always running.

She told me that she wanted to buy a vintage god. By “god”, she meant a car that was manufactured seventy years ago and shouldn't be worth the price of a half-eaten burger, but damn, it would surprise you how much such cars went for.

“What do you think about the price? Too expensive?” Deborah asked me.

I chuckled. “Debby, anything is too expensive for that car. Why not get something new and reasonably priced?”

“Geez, you're so boring and classless,” Deborah shot at me. “Everybody knows that getting such cars commands a certain type of, you know, respect.”

“What do I know about class, your Royal Highness?” I didn't want to get into an argument with Deborah so I agreed. “Yeah, it is very cheap. Get it right away before someone beats you to it.”

“I know, right? That is precisely what I should do,” Deborah let out, apparently not catching my sarcasm. “Let's keep the story of my car aside, what's up with you?”

What was up with me? Hmmmn, nothing interesting. To be honest, it was rarely ever anything interesting.

I was going to check out a “new” cave that had “appeared” on a man's farm. Yeah, out of nowhere, they say. I didn't believe that for one second because it was a made-up story. Something the press created to get the attention of the masses. Caves don't just appear on farms and it would surprise you the number of people who took this very seriously. Anyway, since it was causing a fuss, I had to check it out.

That aside, the only fun thing about me was the hot men I slept with. I lived a …very boring life. Clearly, Deborah would have zero interest in anything about work so I didn't tell her about the cave I was going to check out tomorrow evening. Instead, I told her that I slept with a very sexy man. And gave her all the detail, only because she asked for it— like she always does.

“You get all the good men, don't you?”

I laughed out loud. “I don't keep them, so do I really get them? I just have them f*ck me, no strings attached.”

“You are a very dirty girl,” Deborah joked. “Queen of sex, aren't you? No one's ever taking the crown off your lace front.”

Deborah went off the line and I got lost in my thoughts.

I'm a very dirty girl? Queen of sex? Deborah wasn't wrong and I was in no way offended. Deborah wasn't the only one with this view of my personality, was she? All my friends saw me as this bad chick who went around sleeping with every hot dude she saw. And yes, that was pretty much all I did in my spare time. Those who weren't close to me thought I was this billionaire’s daughter who just cared about sex and spent her father's money anyhow she liked.

Well, they couldn't be more mistaken. I stopped asking my Dad for money the very day I graduated from university. That was some three years ago. Since then I had survived on my own and had built my own wealth as the twenty-three years old independent bitch I was. Yeah, my wealth was barely anything in comparison with my father's, but it was mine at least. Many didn't know this and went around spitting out trash, but I wasn't popular for caring about people's opinions about my personal life.

I remember how innocent I was as a teen. I never really cared about dating, or boys, or sex, or anything. I only took interest in studying, reading romance novels, and seeing as many movies as was humanly possible. I remember when I was fifteen and a then friend of mine told me that she couldn't believe that I had never kissed a boy and that I was a virgin. I remember how silly that sounded to me because, at the time, I had zero interest in dating anyone and was just living my best life.

Amidst all my friends in high school, I was the last to lose my virginity. I had even promised myself to stay a virgin forever because I just wasn't interested in dating. Back then, I thought boys were stupid, gross, or weird. And I found many to be stupid, gross, and weird. I had always been attracted to guys, couldn't understand why at the time …but the attraction wasn't enough to want to have anything to do with them.

I religiously kept to my principles of ‘no boys’ until I met Kane Hamster.

Kane played on the lacrosse team and was the captain. He was very good-looking, well-built, respectful, and as major plus, very intelligent. He had asked me out to lunch one day, and I had told him what I told every other guy: I'm not interested.

Kane wasn't just any guy, so somehow he got me to go to lunch with him. After hanging out with him for a week or so, I had fallen in love with him and he claimed he loved me too. What came next? We started dating and spent a lot of quality time together. Taking pictures and we even planned on getting matching tattoos when we turned eighteen. I didn't even realise it when I threw away all the principles I thought were made of rock in my heart. None of those childish thinking had any relevance because I had found the one for me. I was madly in love with Kane Hamster and nothing else mattered.

A month and a half after dating Kane, I lost my virginity to him and was delighted that I did. That experience with him had felt like something very special. I remember how I felt when I had him inside me— I knew it was the beginning of many warm nights together. We had “solidified” our relationship by having sex, or we thought. We made love even more often than was normal. That aside, everyone thought we were well suited for each other… though I learnt that that's what people say about every couple ever.

To cut it, our little romance ended painfully for me as I went into Kane's home one day, unknown to him. I had planned to surprise the love of my life at home and instead got the biggest shock ever. I had walked into the room where we had always made love and found him being f*cked in the ass— by some old dude. Yeah, Kane played for the other team.

That had broken me and till this very day, I haven't fully recovered. I didn't love him, but that heartbreak still had its effect on my life. It was more than six years now and even the three years of university hadn't brought me to my old self. Kane had only dated me so people wouldn't suspect he was gay. I was nothing more than a distraction so no one would look at the closet where he was hiding. That made me feel … less of the person I knew I was. I was nothing but a pawn to him.

I had loved him so dearly and I never knew he hadn't cared for me at all. He couldn't even if he wanted to. How sad for the seventeen years old Tracy. To this day, I remembered how pleasurable it was making love to Kane, little had I known that he had never felt anything at all. He had probably envisioned me as some dude with a hairy chest. Judge me if you like, but the thought of him thinking that made my skin crawl.

I never spoke to Kane after that day and I didn't “out" him either. If he was comfortable in the closet, who was I to judge? No matter how hurt I was, I couldn't allow myself to become like him. However, from that day, I regarded sex as just sex and nothing more. I never got into a relationship and just slept with every and any hot guy that crossed my path.

My phone rang again. This time it was Justin, my brother. Well, I would be damned. Justin calling his big sister? Was I dreaming?