9:44 P.M.
9:44 P.M.
Philip bided his time in approaching his wife. He studied how she fraternized detached from his presence. And what a marvellous performance of independence and strength it was! What he saw was the antithesis of his stay-at-home wife, who was distant, disembodied, reserved, the sort of woman whose bones had the peculiar ability to shift from mouse to matriarch to monster effortlessly, or, in this case, into a confident socialite – a complete stranger. Though Brigit Donaghue lacked classical beauty, in its place was striking character, or, more appropriately, characters. She had the face of a thespian instead of a starlet. Philip Donaghue Jr., son of revolutionary industrialist Philip Donaghue Sr, woke each morning next to a loyal wife who raised their children, Kimberly and Christopher, with an attentive distance. But despite his affection for Brigit, his attraction to her had long ago waned.
Being woefully inexperienced sexually when they’d first met, he later discovered that Brigit was little more than a husk in bed, a fleshy-mannequin he could fuck as if she wasn’t even there. It wasn’t until experiencing the magmatic passion of his mistress that he learned what physical intimacy was, for she was the apotheosis of feral, skin-shedding, toe-clenching passion. However, his recent proximity to death did force him to take stock of what’s his, and he was surprised that seeing his wife around all those looming men of means made him jealous in a manner he recognised to be petty and hypocritical. Yet, when he sidled up and planted his palm like a flag on her bare backside, he was jealous all the same.
His warm skin on her cold back brought out a stern jolt of surprise.
“Bridge, I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“Philip, dear,” she said, regaining her breath with a fanning hand. “You startled me.”
“Good.” He said with the smile of an alpha.
She pulled his palm free of her back and positioned him at her side. “Have you met Tevin Greene before?”
He looked up at the obscenely handsome man with umber eyes and slicked-back blonde hair and extended his hand as though he were half a foot taller than Tevin, despite being the shorter one. Tevin’s tuxedo made Philip’s own expensive tuxedo look cheap.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Donaghue." Tevin applied such force in the squeeze Philip hoped the pain didn’t show in his face. "Your wife has told me all about you.”
“Only the good parts, I pray.” He took back his throbbing hand and hid it behind Brigit, where he slyly cracked his knuckles in a tense fist.
Tevin smirked. “Actually, your enchanting wife was just telling me you are considering a new home.”
Philip faced her. “Are we looking?”
“Not officially.” She said. “But you were saying you’d like to live closer to the city since you’ve moved offices.”
As if she never answered, he said to Tevin, “So you’re in real estate. Makes sense. You look the part.”
“How so?”
“Prepped to sell, I mean.”
“Is that an insult, Mr. Donaghue?”
“It wasn’t intended to be.” But it was. “You must forgive my tone. My tongue can get away from me after a few drinks. You clean up nice, is what I meant.”
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Brigit said. “Truly.”
“It’s quite alright, Miss Donaghue.” He reached out and touched Brigit’s forearm, testing Philip’s defences. “I’m a big boy. Words can’t hurt me.” He locked eyes with Philip, casting a baleful glare that swiftly turned congenial. “Please forgive my assertion, Mr. Donaghue. I too have had a couple of soda pops.”
“Don’t fret over it. However, Mr. Greene, I am afraid that I must steal away my wife from you. Friends of ours are waiting for us on the terrace.”
Offering his unflinching hand, he said, “She’s all yours.”
“We will talk again soon, Mr. Greene?” Brigit said.
“It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Donaghue.” Tevin offered a slight bow.
While Philip directed his wife away, he looked back over their shoulders.
Tevin’s beady pupils tracked their every motion.
Despite never having met Tevin ‘The Closing Machine’ Greene until minutes before, his reputation preceded him. Tevin became a new big player in New York City in the past five years as his moderate real estate business blossomed into an empire – Greener Pastures Real Estate Ltd., primarily dealt in corporate real estate while maintaining a sturdy foothold in the residential market as well, notably top market homes and condominiums, so he’d become the one who housed the filthy rich at home, work, and play. Philip had on good authority that Tevin Greene was oft to close deals while opening married women’s legs. With Tevin’s reputable panache with men and women alike, and his lofty fortune which dwarfed his own, Philip now discovered it was Tevin’s devilish good looks he envied most...second to his intoxicating youth in a room bursting with older men.
The two men formed grins in opposing corners of their mouths like two gunslingers with their waltzing fingers hovering over the butts of their six-shooters, equally confident their draw was faster.