- 03.
Day three of being a wicked stepmother.
The defiant Matt hadn’t given up, calling his father eighteen times a day.
His father, of course, never answered.
If my calculations were correct, he was currently in France, having a fateful encounter with his one true love. He was far too busy with his whirlwind romance to bother with the son born from a loveless business marriage.
Undeterred, Matt called his maternal grandfather.
The old man had a softer heart. He sent someone to give me a gentle warning, along with a black card, asking me to go
easy on his grandsons for the sake of the money.
(Holding the unlimited black card): Well, that puts me in a tight spot, doesn’t it?
On one hand, eternal youth. On the other, an infinite line of credit.
Oh, fuck it.
For the money, I decided to be a little nicer to Matt.
I personally prepared him a gourmet “light” meal.
Tomatoes, lettuce, and crystalline ice plants.
Drizzled with a magnificent salad dressing, it was a feast for the eyes.
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Matt stared at the plate of what looked like lawn clippings, his face a mask of silent rage.
I glanced at the soft, plump little girl beside him and had a moment of magnanimous inspiration.
“Starting today, we’ll have a competitive eating contest. Whoever finishes their ‘grass‘ first gets a reward: one piece of
grilled chicken breast,
At my words, the two of them bowed their heads and began shoveling the greens into their mouths.
Heh, heh, heh…
Being a stepmom was a blast.
