FlyGirl 2.0

Chapter 9 - Siobhan

PEOPLE WHO DON'T know my oldest brother Aidan think he's a saint.

A lot of it has to do with his looks. He's tall and fit, with greying blond hair that somehow makes him look even better than he did when he was young. People call him a silver fox. Makes me want to gag a little, but they're not wrong. He's handsome, so he must be good.

It's so superficial, but hey, people are superficial.

His life is like a stock picture of a happy family. There's his wife, Amelia, who's a real-life princess, and his kids, all of whom are ridiculously good looking, great students, and genuinely nice. He's absolutely religious about going to their extracurricular activities.

He's also absolutely religious in general. The man is an elder in his parish, a Bible study leader,  and a freaking paragon of virtue.

The only thing he's not good at is being a lawyer. That would normally be a problem, but he's so charming and pretty that the Firm has better lawyers do his work for him. That frees him up for charity work. The man volunteers for a ton of charities and other worthy causes. Aidan gives back. He honestly believes that to much is given, much is expected. He would get that tattooed on his chest, you know, if he were the kind of guy to get a tattoo.

Aidan brings in soft capital. Reputational capital. He makes the firm look good. He makes us all look good.

Now, here's the truth of him. Underneath all that carefully honed self-righteous persona is a kinky old man who likes his women young and blond.

I know this because I know his current mistress. Her name is Kristen Kissett. I suspect he has others, but Aidan is amazing at hiding his tracks. The human survival instinct is so strong. Amelia would literally kill him if she ever found out about his little hobby.

She'd get away with it, too. She's crafty.

I met Kristen last year at the Stuart Weitzman trunk show on Chicago's Gold Coast. I had my eye on this pair of black leather thigh-highs when this knock-out blond whispered to me, "Those would look amazing on you."

Was she hitting on me? I was very flattered. She was hot. I would totally tap that. "You think?" I held one up. "Not too slutty?"

"Slutty's okay, sometimes," she said with a knowing look. "It's all about the timing."

The moment she said that was the moment I knew she was hitting on me. I bought the boots, and we went out for drinks. I ordered mimosas. She preferred tea. Spilling it, that is.

"Can I be honest with you, Siobhan?" she asked as she slipped off her mink coat. "I kind of have a secret."

"Okay." I studied her. "Are you a dude? Because that's cool, and omigod, if you're a dude, you are gorgeous, and you need to teach me how to be a better woman."

"I'm not a dude..." She frowned. "Why would you think that?"

I shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, look at you."

She would have furrowed her brow, if it weren't for the botox. "W-what do you mean?"

"I mean, a gorgeous stranger wants to tell me a secret, I figure it's probably that she's a dude." I sipped my drink. "What else would it be?"

She looked even more perplexed. "No... I'm not... okay, whatever." She played with her cocktail napkin, her eyes on the table, like she was ashamed to look at me. "It's, like... I'm kind of seeing your brother."

"Which one?" I held up my glass at the waiter for another mimosa. "It can't be Colin, because he's so gay... is it Sean? I know it's not Pat. He likes black girls."