Alphahole
Author: D.D. Prince
Date: 2018-08-15 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Contemporary; Adult; New Adult; Humor; Erotica; Drama; Family
Description: An enemies-to-lovers, office, roommate romance. Aiden is an alphahole and absolutely infuriating. You're going to effing love him! I'm Carly. A nice girl. A nice girl who has recently figured out that nice girls get the shaft. So, I've decided to become Carly 2.0 and say buh-bye Carly 1.0, the doormat. There's a problem, though. An alphahole is my new roommate and my CEO’s son. He’s also my boss and the alphahole is gunning to ruin me. Alphahole: A grade-A alpha male asshole. The epitome? Aiden Carmichael. Aiden wants to give me the shaft. In multiple ways, if you get my drift. Good thing the

Good Girl

Alphahole roommates series

Book 2

A
contemporary
enemies-to-lovers romance

By

DD PRINCE

Copyright: 2021.

by DD Prince
http://ddprince.com

Cover Design: DD Prince and Haelah Rice Covers

Cover images: Shutterstock.

Sign up for DD Prince’s free newsletter to get notified of upcoming book releases - http://ddprince.com/newsletter-signup/

***

All rights reserved. This book may not be copied, duplicated, stored on any retrieval systems, such as on a file server, posted online, or shared by file transfer without the permission of the author. Only brief quotations /excerpts can be shared for review purposes.

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This book contains mature language and sex. It is intended for adults.

This is a fictional story, the product of the author’s imagination.

Good Girl

Alphahole Roommates 2

You met Austin Carmichael in Alphahole and he seemed like a great guy, right?

He is. But when he gets pushed and has to deal with one thing after another, after another… apparently he can get a little testy.

And like his brother Aiden, this means he can act like a bit of an alphahole, too.

Austin has to spend some time in New York and finds himself with a new roommate.

And the circumstances around their first meeting  – instant hate.

Though… with two hot, young, single people living in close proximity, things are bound to be interesting.  Especially when Austin finds the stories she’s writing about him on her computer.

He’s completely unprepared for how interesting.

~~~

Jada:

I’m a nice person. I’m a good girl, I swear. I just met Austin at the worst possible moment. My life has never sucked harder.

He’s got the complete wrong impression about who I am and everything I stand for.

I might be a good girl, but, I’ve found a stubborn streak. And he’s been such a jerk to me that I’m determined to rock my job and be 100% professional.  If only I could stop myself from writing down my fantasies about the growling, angry, sexy grouch.

And then one day, I come in and find Austin reading something on my laptop.

***

Best experienced AFTER Alphahole.

Dedication:

To all the hot sauce lovers who wanted more.

And…

To all the readers who want to be good girls <wink> for their alpha.

In loving memory of Koopa the Mediterranean / Greek tortoise.

1

Austin

“We’re getting married on the beach at sunset,” Aiden tells me. “Carly couldn’t decide between the beach and the rainforest, so to decide, we,” he leans in closer, “made a game of it.”

“A game of it?” I ask before cutting into the deep-fried burrito on my plate, and then it hits me – what my brother is doing.

“Yeah,” Aiden grins and I know by his body language that I do not want to know the details of that game.

I dredge my forkful of burrito in salsa and sour cream, avoiding the mound of guacamole the waitress neglected to make sure I didn’t get before shoving it in my mouth.

Aid waits.

I continue chewing, ignoring his expectant stare, the smirk. He’s patiently waiting for me to ask questions about this ‘game’. But I know better. My brother has no problem telling me all about his sex life. In detail.

Most men I know, myself included, don’t get explicit about their sex life with their friends or brothers. Aiden does.

And while I’m not all that forthcoming with details of my own sex life, thanks to loose lips while drunk a while back when I was wallowing over what happened with a girl, he now knows more about my recent sex life than necessary, including that I like little games with girls I’m with. I regret it, because now he uses that fact in an effort to bait me into letting him give me details about his sex life.

Whatever games he and Carly get up to - I don’t wanna know. I even tried ratting him out to his girl at a family dinner, figuring she’d get angry about his locker room talk about her and tell him to stop.

She got outraged for all of three seconds before he leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go glassy as she leaned into him. Aiden brags about his creativity in getting her to forget being pissed at him.

They haven’t been together that long and are already getting hitched. He proposed last week and are getting hitched in a couple days.

In fact, I asked her out not long after she moved to our San Diego head office. But it became clear real quick that Aiden had his eye on her and wanted me to back off. He very nearly fucked it all up in a way that seemed beyond repair, but a few months after he fixed things, he locked that down with an engagement ring and a lightning-fast destination wedding plan.

Too bad. She’s my type.

But of course I backed off, because it was quickly clear they had something – even if it looked to everyone like she hated his guts.

And good for Aid, because him getting involved with Carly Adler made a huge difference in my brother.

I don’t believe people will change for love, but I do believe love can bring out the best in a person. Aiden is a prime example of this.

My brother is someone I’d have had pegged as a confirmed bachelor who’d wait until he was pushing sixty to tie the knot, figuring he’d then marry a twenty-five-year-old with fake tits who could play nurse and later nurse him in his old age.

Carly came along, completely different from the women my brother usually went for and it was the beginning of some changes. For Aiden and frankly our whole family.

Him falling for Carly brought him back to us where he’d been doing his best to keep his distance for years.

And it sounds cliché but it’s true.  He’s still Aiden, but with Carly - he’s a slightly better Aiden.

There’s been a lot going on with our family the last few months including some hard truths to face as well as hard changes, but also some changes for the better.

As for me, I’m still single. I’m single and too busy to do much about it. But truthfully, I’m probably ready to settle down, too.

The family business is growing, we’re all making money with that and our own private investments, and despite the whack of drama we’ve dealt with lately like health scares with Dad and legal drama for our mother with a DUI that went viral when she slapped the arresting officer, things are good.

The legal drama caused a public stink, a memeable one that resulted in her being the poster rich bitch and the punchline in a lot of jokes, a rehab stint for her, her and my father splitting up, and to top it off, Dad getting treated for prostate Cancer amid all that. Him getting treatment has meant me and Aid have had to step up and take on more responsibilities.

Dad should’ve taken a leave of absence; he hasn’t. The thing is, too, Dad had a heart attack not that long ago. He’s trying to still be Quentin Carmichael, workaholic, but he’s dropping balls all over the place, and my brother and I have been on clean-up duty.

When I do get down time, I don’t have the patience to navigate the bullshit of dating. Because it feels like bullshit trying to figure out what’s real versus what’s under a filter or flat-out lies. To say I haven’t had a great experience with the fairer sex lately is an understatement and my sister Adele tells me I’m on the verge of turning into a woman-hater. She worries about me going like Aiden used to be.

I don’t want to hate on women, but I’m tired of the games, tired of trying to look for truth through the filters people wear these days, tired of the bullshit.

When Aiden’s wedding is over, I’m even considering using a matchmaking service to take the legwork out of it for me. A service that at least partially vets them. That does background checks. Personality tests. Because I’m sick of hoping for something different, only to be served with more garbage.

I’ve played the field. I’ve had fun. I’ve dealt with girls who are gold diggers. I’ve dealt with girls trying to get me jealous to make me stake my claim with them when it was a) just too soon for that and b) done in a way that let me know the girl was not worth my time.

I’m watching my parents’ marriage fall apart for most of my life, but my sister has a solid marriage and now Aiden is getting hitched. I do not plan to be the forty or fifty-year-old guy just having kids. I hope to be a dad in the next three or four years. A dad who can coach, who’s young enough for the kids to play catch with. Not some old father who parents from his recliner. I plan to be a much more present father than my workaholic dad has been and to marry a woman much more hands-on with family than my mother was.

The Carmichael kids might be privileged materially, but if it weren’t for having one another and being raised by an amazing nanny, we’d be entitled shitheads.

Okay, so Aiden can be a bit of a shithead at times, but under it all he’s a good guy. His temper is on a hair trigger and he’s stubborn. The guy thought our father wasn’t our biological dad and sat on the evidence for a year being miserable instead of opening an envelope that would give him answers. Turned out he was wrong, Dad is Dad. Aiden’s heart is bigger than he’d ever admit – his fear was so big he’d rather worry and not know than have an answer he didn’t want.

I’m the sort who wants to know. Tell me bad news as soon as possible so I can figure out how to deal with it. As a numbers guy, I want details and want them fast so I can look at the possible repercussions. And I’m cool as a cucumber most of the time. It takes a lot for me to blow my top, though when it happens, it’s a volcano.

“You wanna know how we decided?” Aiden tries.

“I really don’t.” I stuff more burrito in my mouth.

“I did this thing, where…” He’s leaned in closer and I wish I had extra burritos to stuff into my ears.

“Don’t,” I warn. “I haven’t got the stomach for it.”

“Bro,” Aiden retorts, “You’re putting shit in your mouth right now that’ll have you sharting your pants if you don’t make it to the can fast enough. I think your stomach can handle this.”

I swallow what’s in my mouth. “So, I don’t have the dick for it right now. I’m in a dry spell, brother.”

He smiles. “Carly talked to that Meryl chick. She says she thinks she can make it to St. Kitts for the wedding. Carly sent her a plane ticket and booked her a hotel room at the resort. Maybe you two can hook up again.”

I roll my eyes, hard.

“Doubt it.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s going to the effort. To see you again.”

I take a sip of my Coke and shake my head. “Doubtful.”

“What happened there?”

I stuff more food in my mouth, so I don’t have to speak – still don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t wanna think over how me and that girl spent that night together. Don’t want to remember how it was one of those rare nights where you feel like you really connect with somebody. It was the kind of night that feeds romantic comedies. And it was just more bullshit, obviously, because she ran back to the Philippines without saying goodbye. No, saying goodbye, but doing it after she got home. Via email.

I didn’t even read it. It said “Sorry” in the subject line and I deleted it without reading it.

Before she left, she talked about how stuck she felt in her life and then went off and did exactly what she said she didn’t wanna do – go back to get engaged to a guy because it was expected of her.

Things clicked with us. We played a ‘what if’ scenario out, deciding after a few drinks to pretend she had no responsibilities, no crushing need to please her family, only the need to make herself happy, and we talked all night about the things she’d do, the life she’d have if she had nothing but her own happiness to worry about.

She was a virgin. She kept her virginity that night, but we made one another come. And the intimacy involved in that felt like a gift that she gave to me - her first orgasm. Not just with another person. Period. She was so innocent and sweet that she admitted in the dark, after I made her come with my fingers and she cried into my mouth that she’d never even made herself come. She got close once and stopped, feeling guilty about it. The way she was raised, she thought it was wrong to not save all of it for marriage.

She clumsily jacked me off until I came on my stomach and then cried in my arms telling me how beautiful it was, how she’d never felt closer to another person.

I was sure she’d want our thing to continue. Sure we’d figure it out somehow.

She then dodged me and flew home, quitting her job and leaving my team in the lurch as well as quitting me.

I was ready to fly there and confront her about being entitled to her own happiness, ready to talk to her parents about how I could not only provide for her but for them too - but I canceled my plane ticket when I got the ‘sorry’ email.

A fucking email.

Cowardly.

It stung.

It stung because it was obvious I was her walk on her version of the wild side.

But I saw her with me. I dug the idea of a partner in life being someone who gave a shit enough to work overseas and send all her money home to her family. I wanted a girl who felt strongly enough about virtue to make it count.

It’s not that I need to marry a virgin, it’s that I dug the potential idea of it that night with her curled up to me, being sweet and shy and trusting.

She was smart, attractive, witty, demure, a little nerdy, and a math junkie and chess player like I am. Making her purr like a kitten for me knowing she’d done it for nobody else meant something.

Fuck it. Her loss. I have no shortage of women that want to spend time with me, even to get serious with me. It’s just that I’m particular about who I spend my time with.

I’ve been on a couple dates the last few months since she’s been gone, even fucked a couple women, but it was all empty to me.

Aiden raises his hands defensively. “Fine, I won’t tell you.”

Our father joins us, looking frazzled.

Aiden rears back. “You pull an all-nighter?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, why?”

“No reason,” Aiden mutters, stuffing food into his mouth and giving me a look.

Dad looks rough.

“Sorry I’m late, boys.” Dad sits and beckons the waitress over with a finger crook that she’ll probably take as chauvinistic or at least elitist – and she’d be right about the second.

My father is a good man, but he’s a workaholic who lives by the creed of time is money and he’s not exactly the sensitive type. He’s used to ushering orders and having people follow them. If he’d gotten a dollop of guacamole on his plate that he specifically asked them not to include, he’d have not only sent it back but given the server a speech that would include some adage like, “If you’re gonna be a shoemaker, be the best damn shoemaker in town.”

She rushes over and takes his order. Then without thanking her, he immediately launches into telling us more about what he wants. That’s why we’re here. He called this lunch, but then fifteen minutes after we’re here, Aiden sends him a text to ask if he’s running late and he replies that he’s on his way.

We don’t bother to point out it’s obvious Dad forgot. He didn’t tell his assistant about the lunch or she’d have made sure he came.

His memory has been off lately. Not only has he endured a lot with fighting Cancer, but his life has also been upended since he and our mother split. He tries to hide it, is shit at it, but we don’t bother to point it out. He doesn’t need that.

We’re trying to be there for him where work is concerned.

As for family otherwise, Adele hosts a bi-weekly family dinner and Dad usually comes.

“Austin,” Dad pipes up, “I need you to spend a couple months in our New York office. I want you canning Bassell as soon as we’re back from Aiden’s wedding. Guy’s a bonehead, his numbers are down, and I got a call yesterday from Blake leading me to believe Bassell’s aligning with Franklin. He’s either feeding them information for kickbacks or getting ready to jump ship. He has a non-compete clause, right Aid?”

“Yeah; of course.” Aiden used to run that office and he hired Jim Bassell.

My jaw drops, and then tightens. The first, not because Dad thinks Bassell is a bonehead, he is, but because he wants me in New York.

“Need you to clean up there,” Dad continues, “He’s made a mess of things. I want you to figure out who else needs to go. My guess: three quarters of that office. We’ve had four people quit in the last three months, two of them gone to competition, one to Franklin and we’re gonna sue.”

Aiden makes a sound of agreement.

I blow out a long exhale.

I don’t wanna spend months in New York. As far as I’m concerned, the big apple is rotten with a worm in the middle. That my father wants me to be the one on clean-up would normally be a surprise since it’d be a job he’d give to Aiden, but obviously he’s not going to send Aiden when the guy is about to get married because Carly would have to go too, and she has her hands full here.

The New York office was my brother’s ‘baby’ until he moved back around half a year ago and moving here, we promoted another staff member to run it, but he left not long afterwards to start his own business and Bassell was the most senior guy left.

Obviously, Dad can’t go himself for medical reasons.

So, I’m up.

I hated living in New York when I spent a semester there, my first year of college. While I was there, I got in a fist fight that almost meant an assault charge, got mugged, got my heart stomped on by a cold-hearted cheating bitch, and just generally didn’t enjoy the lifestyle there. Bottom line, I’m an orange guy, not an apple guy. I like a view of the ocean not of a bunch of skyscrapers.

My face must relay how I’m feeling about this, so Aiden pipes up.

“Stay at my place.”

Aiden has a sweet condo with a multimillion-dollar view just a two-minute drive from the office, though with New York traffic, it’s usually fifteen or twenty minutes. Still. I’m not a fan of the idea of spending months there. Or of having to do a reorganization, which is always ugly.

“In fact, I have a girl that worked for me, but I had to let her go a while ago since we barely used it. You want her to look after the place, cook, do your shopping, re-hire her. Carly talked to her last week, I think; they stay in touch. She’s a go-getter. I’ll send you her number.”

“I probably don’t need a housekeeper,” I say.

“You’re gonna be busy with that clusterfuck up there, Auz,” my father throws in, “Having the apartment kept in order, kept in scotch and food would not hurt. You’ll be there two or three months and you do best when you’ve got order around you, son. I see you putting in a lot of late nights. I’ll authorize putting that housekeeper on CC payroll. Sweeten the pot for you. She’s good, Aid?”

“Yeah. I’d hire her again,” Aiden says.

“All right, yeah. Get me her number, Aid. Or, Dad, maybe you can just have Alice make those arrangements for me? I’ve got a full plate this week with work. Also got me a bachelor party to host.” I flash a smile, hiding my real feelings about going to New York.

“Sure,” Dad says, “I’ll have it taken care of.”

Aiden’s eyes light up as I wiggle my eyebrows but then his expression changes. He sees through my smile.

But beyond the New York thing, I am happy for my brother, looking forward to the long weekend getaway for his wedding. I could use a breather, though being Aiden’s best man won’t get me that. Dad goes on to tell us I should go straight to New York from St. Kitts.

2

Austin

Five of us make our way into Club Foxxx at the end of the night, and not because I want to – because my brother put the squeeze on our brother-in-law until he spilled the beans about where the girls are.

I didn’t realize it was happening until we pulled up.

“Why, Aid?” I ask, trying to stop my brother from going in.

“Because I need to see her, Auz,” Aiden defends.

“This is supposed to be your bachelor party.”

“I had my bachelor party. It was great.” He slaps my back.

“You’ll see her on the plane in the morning,” I volley.

“Don’t you want your last night of freedom?” Our buddy Jude puts in. “Puttin’ those shackles on early? Shame.” He shakes his head. “You might look back and wish differently.”

“Yeah, well I need to see her tonight, man, and if I didn’t feel this, maybe it’d mean I’m about to marry the wrong girl.”

Jude snickers. “Point taken. But who the fuck are you and what’ve you done with Aiden?”

Aiden grins over his shoulder at Jude while he gets out of the limo.

What he just said sounds sweet, but I know my brother and he’s not full of hearts and rainbows while he’s imagining his girl right now. No, Aiden is thinking with his dick, especially now that he’s had more than a few drinks.

We started the bachelor party festivities with twelve of us, some guys from work, some friends of Aiden’s from college. The group has now dwindled to five.

The day started early with paint ball and then the driving range and batting cages before we started our late afternoon pub crawl through a few micro-breweries. Dinner happened on a chartered boat cruise with some gambling in a charity casino and more drinks before finding ourselves at a strip joint a little over an hour ago.

We only lasted that hour before Aiden insisted on choosing the next stop. This one.

“The next stop is home to bed, bro,” I told him. “I figured we’d close this place.”

“Meh. I’m done here. One more stop. Another drink not far from here. I know a place; I’ll give the driver the address.”

My brother looked happy. He’s looked happy all day. He’s slapped me on the back with a big grin multiple times, obviously enjoying his bachelor party.

I’ve had three warning texts from Carly’s friend Ally, who informed me that Aiden’s pretty face had best not get mucked up during his bachelor party or I would be paying for her Photoshop skills on the wedding pictures.

Aiden told me beforehand he wanted to skip the strip club, and when a few of the other guys whined, he agreed to go, but not until I got permission from Carly. He would not live that down any time soon judging by how the rest of the guys reacted.

I got permission but not before I made assurances.

Like - no lap dances. Like - no women would lay hands on my brother. Carly put forth these conditions after Aiden forbid her from going to a male strip show.

Apparently Aiden got wind that Ally had plans to take the bachelorette party to some Down Under male dancer show and this resulted in an argument between Aiden and Ally. Carly really didn’t care if she went or not, stated she was along for the ride and trusted her maid of honor to make the plans, but as soon as Aid got wind that a strip joint was part of tonight’s plan, he laid down the law.

No male strippers for Carly.

Then, finding out I’d made a strip joint part of our plans, I had to get on the phone and broker a peace deal on Aiden’s behalf.

Aiden wouldn’t lay hands on a stripper and I wouldn’t let them touch him.

“Someone touches him, I hold you responsible, Austin,” Carly told me, before passing the phone to Ally.

It was too late for Carly and the girls to go to that show that Ally wanted to take them to and for that reason Ally was pissed hearing I had a strip joint lined up, and I was informed that if Carly caught wind of any rules being broken tonight, the girls would belatedly go to that Aussie show and make sure Carly was centerstage getting given the star bachelorette treatment.

Seeing my brother go apeshit over the idea of his girl at a male strip joint was comical as he had never been the jealous type or even much of a commitment type. But he was convinced it’d be a bump and grind fest and I did not disagree. In fact, that idea likely stemmed from a conversation with Aiden and me a couple years back.

One of my exes made me sit through Magic Mike with her. It didn’t hurt that she was fully primed and ready for an all-nighter by the time it was over, but I wasn’t just bored, I was borderline disgusted at the level of hypocrisy. Aiden’s level of concern tonight was most likely down to the fact I’d been so verbal about it a week or so later during a night out where Aiden was there.  I got into a debate with my then-girlfriend about how guys would be bounced out on their ear laying hands on a female exotic dancer, but the rules were different for the male strip joints. Evidently, Aiden remembered my rant. He didn’t want the woman he loved being manhandled by a male entertainer angling for dollar bills to be stuffed into his G-string.

And in fact, once we were there at our reserved booth, my brother looked bored with the girls trying to get in his space. He fucked around on his phone, turned his back to the stage repeatedly and waved away any women that approached. Except… then a dancer took the main stage and did an exotic belly dance number to that song Hips Don’t Lie. It struck me that the stripper looked not only like the artist who did that song, but she also looked a little like Carly. And Aiden’s neck twisted, and he was no longer sitting with his back to the stage.

And now he’s dying to see Carly, probably imagining her giving him a lap dance.

***

Club Foxxx is, as per usual, loud and crowded. The place has been hot since it opened. It’s not hard to find the girls; they have a VIP booth, the very same booth as that night when Aid got into a brawl on the dancefloor over Carly. That was the night I spent getting to know Meryl. Or thinking I was getting to know her. Whatever.

All that was over, it’s been months. It’s time for me to stop feeling bitter about it.

Carly and Ally are huddled with drinks, looking like they’re in serious conversation. Four other girls are at their table, two from the office and the other two I don’t know. I see a couple empty seats with drinks, so the others are likely dancing. I know Adele is here so she must be on the dancefloor.

A redhead sitting beside Ally sizes me up with lust flaring in her eyes. She has the look of a maneater, and I am not interested.

I catch something pass between Carly and Ally and then both their eyes are on Jude. He gives Ally a dark look. Is something up with them?

I know he’s not coming to the wedding; he’s said he can’t get out of town because of work.

I say something is for sure up with them. She feigns a look of disinterest as he stares her down while Aiden approaches his bride-to-be with a big smile.

Ally thinks she’s hiding it but she’s terrible at it. Her knees jiggle under the table as she examines her phone screen and mutters something to Carly.

But Carly? She’s paying no attention to Ally now. Her eyes are lit with fire and lust as she takes in my brother approaching her.

“Dance with me, Peaches.” He reaches out his hand.

She lifts her hand and then snatches it back, smile fading. “Did you go to the strip joint?” she demands.

“I did. These fuckers dragged me there. I wanted nothing to do with it, baby. Two drinks and here I am.”

“Did any girl lay hands on you?”

“Not one.”

“Not three?” she retorts with eyebrows up.

“Not any, Peaches.”

“Did you see any boobies?” Ally asks, sipping her drink.

“None better than these,” Aiden’s eyes are on Carly’s rack. I look the other way, so I don’t find myself eying the same rack.

“There was a Carly lookalike doin’ a belly dance,” Zack, Aiden’s college buddy calls out.

Carly laughs.

Aiden beams a smile at her and shrugs.

“I might buy me some boobies with my next CC bonus,” Ally says, staring down at her chest.

Ally Kingston is a huge personality in a tiny package with her big, expressive blue eyes. She’s small-chested with great skin and great legs.

She’s always doing weird shit with her hair. It was pink, then it was jet black. I think it changed a couple more times, too. I’ve lost track. Right now she’s got multi-colored dreadlock extensions halfway down her back in multiple colors – telling us she’s going for the look of a rainbow mermaid for Carly and Aiden’s beach wedding.  The chick has lots of tatts, a strange fashion sense, and yet she’s also appealing. She’s one of those women you get curious about. She’s fun. Bubbly. Extroverted.

I’d wager a guess she’s great in bed. She’d be the type – if I didn’t work with her and if she wasn’t best friends with my future sister-in-law – that I’d sleep with and then put into the friend zone. Because it’d be fun, but she wouldn’t be relationship material for me.

I know the night Jude met her his interest was piqued; it was written all over his face. She seemed more than mildly interested in Jude who is a big, built, tattooed guy himself. Practically announced her intent right there and all but threw herself at him. Apparently their evening got interrupted by his job and she’s been giving him the brush-off ever since. Or so I last heard. And I know Jude isn’t happy about that and says he thinks she’s hiding something. As soon as she found out he’s a private eye, she went from piping hot to cold.

Jude told Aiden he wanted to investigate her. Apparently Carly put a stop to it and told them both to mind their own business.

As far as I can tell, this intrigued Jude all the more.

3

Jada

“Jada?”

Knock-knock-knock.

“Jada!”

Knockknockknock.

“Jayjay-”

“Not funny!” I snap, throwing the pillow in his direction. It misses.

My brother Shane considers it a sport to get me up in the most annoying of ways.  He should have an Olympic gold medal in his possession for it.

His next move is a dirty one.

He hauls my blanket off, leaving me shivering.

I bolt up and glare at him. He’s in my doorway and looking like something the cat dragged in while he holds my pillow and blanket, a goofy grin on his unshaven face.

“You said to make sure you got up,” he explains.

“Shane.” My voice has gone from annoyed to concerned.

He usually looks impish when he wakes me creatively. He doesn’t look that way at all right now.

Shane’s eyes are bloodshot, his long dirty-blonde hair is everywhere, and the hand he’d just been knocking with has scabs on each knuckle. And beyond that, he just looks – bad.

“What happened?” I ask.

My eyes dart to my digital alarm clock. It’s earlier than I need to get up and I didn’t ask him to wake me.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

I shake my head. “To your hand?”

“Oh.” He flexes his fingers while he examines it. “Dunno.”

Lies.

Or worse, blackouts. Not more blackouts, please.

“Did you miss taking your meds yesterday, Shane?” I do my best to ask this gently.

“Ran out.”

He looks away when he says this.

“When? Yesterday?”

“While ago.” He waves his hand dismissively as my heart plummets. “Got thirty bucks, Jayjay?”

And now I’m ticked.

I glare at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of your medication?”

“C’mon, Jayjay,” he drawls, looking exasperated. “Thirty. I’ll get you back soon.”

“You need thirty to get your pills?”

“No… need two hundred and three for my pills. I need thirty for something to take the edge off not having a hundred and eighty-three. You got it?” He reaches for my leather backpack purse on the hook on the back of my bedroom door as I absorb the fact that those numbers weren’t even the same.

“No!” I snap, rising and pointing at him. “Stay out of my bag. I don’t even have an extra dime right now.”

“No?” His face falls. “Damn. You sure you don’t have twenty-seven or something?”

“I told you, rent is due the day after tomorrow and my entire pay plus the tips I’ve saved up for two weeks will only just cover us. Just. We’re gonna be living on Ramen, rusty tap water, and air for the foreseeable. I take it you didn’t go to that job expo yesterday?”

His eyes go blank for a second and then a wrinkle forms over the bridge of his nose. “It was a fuck-about. Stood in line for three hours and they said it was already full.” He starts biting on his nails, which are already bitten to the quick – this is another sign he’s off the rails and lying to me.

This feels like a typical Shane excuse, but there’s no point in saying so.

There’s no point in asking just how long he’s been off his meds. It’s obvious to me that it’s long enough that he can’t sleep and looks like he’s either been on a bender or is about to step off the ledge to go on one.

I don’t even want to ask what his magical ‘take the edge off’ thirty-dollar cure is. Illicit drugs, no doubt, though he won’t outright admit it to me, knowing I’ll lose my mind if I think he’s back on drugs again, so no point in asking about that either.

There’s also no use pushing about why his knuckles are all scabby – I know he won’t tell me the truth, if he even remembers. Injuries he can’t explain are one of the things that often happens when he’s off his medication. Fibbing is another, though I think he’s trying to protect me from the truth more than trying to be deceptive.

The only thing I can do right now is go take my shower and get ready for my shift at the coffee cart. Shane woke me thirty minutes early, something he tends to do when he’s spiraling like this, anxious to talk to me, pretending to be my human alarm clock, but I’m up. And I know that when I leave, he’ll try to find another way to get some money, and then he’ll crash for the day. Another day will go by where he does nothing to help himself. Or me, who is trying desperately to help us both.

“What about the clinic? When do you go again?”

“I missed two appointments so now I’m on the wait list,” he says. “That’s why I need the thirty-six bucks. There’s something holistic that’ll help.” He looks at me with eyebrows quirked.

“I don’t have thirty-six dollars.”

Holistic. I don’t even ask. It’s probably magic mushrooms, or that dream DMT stuff, or something like that.

My big brother’s life has been an ongoing rollercoaster of a battle with mental illness, self-harm, and substance abuse. He lives with me because after losing a job and getting evicted with his last downhill spiral, he moved back in with Dad. Dad had strict rules for him staying, but Shane screwed up, resulting in Dad coming home to a party in his house after a hunting trip ended early. Shane was getting Narcan administered to him in the bathroom by his then-girlfriend when Dad walked in and Dad lost it and tossed him out as well as the twenty-or-so people hanging out in Dad’s living room smoking dope, doing lines, and the biggest sin of all – sitting in Dad’s recliner.

Things have been rough for Shane since then. He moved in with me and shortly after that, he ended things with his girlfriend because Shane tried to get clean and take care of his mental health and she wouldn’t try to kick her drug habit. She died of an overdose almost two months ago and I think that’s when things went extra-bad with Shane’s state of mind.

Me sticking up for him and trying to play peacemaker with Dad meant my father all but stopped speaking to me, too. Not that Dad and I have ever been close, but he told me not to come to him for help when Shane ruined my life.

My brother wants to be well; I know this. He struggles through phases where things are mostly good but then something goes wrong. He runs out of meds, or he loses them, or he decides to try to go cold turkey to see if he can get by without them.

I know I’m out of my element with his cycle of issues, but how can I give up on my brother? Mom gave up on all of us a long time ago, Dad on him.

When I was small, especially after Mom left, Shane was the one person always there for me. Tucking me in. Chasing away the monsters under the bed. Getting between me and bullies. It’s always been me and Shane against the world. But I hit adulthood and somehow I took on the protector role.

I take a shower and get ready for my shift. As I’m on my way to the door to leave my dated, small one-bedroom apartment where I have the tiny bedroom and Shane sleeps on the couch in the living/kitchen combo, I see he’s zoned out in front of the television.

“Call your doctor, see if she can get you enough samples until we can get you back in.”

She did this last time.

“Yeah,” he says.

He looks almost catatonic.

“Shane?”

“Have a good day,” he says slowly, “Gonna grab a nap.”

“You’ll call her when you wake up?”

“Yep.” He flashes me an empty smile with barely meeting my eyes and then his bloodshot eyes move back to the screen where he’s watching an infomercial about a steam mop.

I trudge with heavy feet and a heavy heart out the door and hold my breath as I descend three flights of stairs quickly, as if I can outrun the smell of that stairwell. A minute later, I’m out on the filthy street, breathing in the equally pungent smell of fast food and garbage. My neighborhood sucks. My apartment is small, with noisy pipes, awful drafts, and shitty water pressure. But it’s cheap and near transit.

Despite how cheap, I can barely afford it. I work temp jobs in between shifts at the coffee cart and do the odd writing gig at night on my laptop for money and extra experience writing.

Writing is what I want to do. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.  But I dropped out of college when – after I couldn’t stand living in my dad’s house a minute longer – I took on rent and bills that meant finishing school would have to wait.

I had a sweet housekeeping and personal shopping gig that meant I could spend more time on my passion, and was almost ready to go back to school, but then the job ended because my boss moved to California. Good things seem few and far between for me and the good never seems to last long, but I’ve always tried to be an optimist. I feel like I’m failing at that effort right now, though.

I’m trying to get another server job or something that pays cash tips as well as an hourly wage, but no luck so far despite a few interviews.

The guy I was working for on the personal shopping and cleaning job made it easy. I feel like that spoiled me. He paid me well to clean his apartment and stock his kitchen. Sometimes I’d pick up dry cleaning, or grab him new clothes or do other errands, but mostly it was about cleaning up after him and making sure he had food, cigarettes, and booze at home.

He wanted fresh food to choose from daily, never sure what he might want so I’d keep his kitchen stocked with a couple pre-made meal choices several times a week. He didn’t expect me to cook, only shop, and so I was there often, clearing out leftovers and dropping off new food. A lot of the time, the leftovers were perfectly edible, so I had practically no grocery bill because Aiden Carmichael’s leftovers pretty much fed me and my brother.  I was in his apartment a couple hours a week plus errands, and he paid me enough to keep me afloat.

He was messy to clean up after, but he was drop dead gorgeous and paid well.

Alas, he met a girl and moved to build a life with her. They kept me on for a bit, saying he was going to be back and forth, but he clearly couldn’t justify my salary any longer. I was cleaning an empty apartment, not stocking it with food because he wasn’t there often, and that was the end of that good thing.

I was a little sad at first when he got a girlfriend. Not that I had the nerve to make a move and he didn’t seem at all interested in me, but I had a crush.

He was aloof, arrogant, but also jaw-dropping gorgeous with this tousled hair, his huge muscles, his sexy voice. I was smitten despite that he had no manners, never bothered to even make small talk. But man, was he nice to look at. And though he was messy to clean up after, drove my OCD cleaning tendencies a little nuts, the money was well-worth it.

I’m missing that money. I’m missing the free groceries.

Aiden’s girlfriend was even better to work for. Whenever they’d been here the last few months, she’d keep the apartment clean and give me my orders for food or whatever else was needed. I only did deeper cleaning and the food shopping the last few times they were here. My only complaint about her, besides the fact that she has Aiden all to herself, is that she stopped me from removing leftovers every second day because she, too, had ascertained they were perfectly edible. She probably figured they were being tossed in the trash and went on about hungry people lining up for free soup as she stashed leftovers in the freezer.

What little I knew of her, I guessed that if I said I was the one on the soup line, she’d have kept letting me take those leftovers.

The last few times they’d been here, she wanted ingredients to cook with, too, rather than pre-made food and stuff I bought that I knew would probably wind up in my freezer later. Carly was not wasteful like her boyfriend. And she was way nicer and tidier than the other girls he’d had around in the time I’d worked for him.

Aiden told me he’d call me if they were coming to New York and if they were, I could take care of them when they did, provided I had time. I didn’t turn that down, but it’d been a month and a half since they’d been here.

Aiden tipped me extra well last time and Carly slipped me two fifties on their way out the door, too.

It’s nice that a nice girl got the attention of a hot guy with money. It gives me hope. Not for money, more for a hot guy who gives me the time of day. I’d settle for a nice guy, too, even if he’s not totally hot.

So, it was nice having enough money to pay my rent, the free gourmet food, and having to not work forty hours a week to get it. I only worked for him for not quite a year, but since then, things have been a lot harder. And my big brother isn’t making them any easier.

***

When I get to the coffee cart, there’s no actual coffee cart.

I must look idiotic as I twirl in the empty spot where it’s supposed to be. When it doesn’t magically appear somewhere in my peripheral vision, I pull my phone from my pocket and see a missed call. Mr. Bolliano, the owner.

I call him back.

My luck just went from bad to worse.

He said he lost the cart spot because of a business deal, whatever that means.

What it means for me is no job. And evidently no pay tomorrow, either. He tells me he’s sorry, he’ll do his best to pay me back as soon as he’s back on his feet. Whatever that means.

What it means for me is that I’m totally screwed.

4

Austin

My brother and Carly didn’t need any of us here at their wedding. It’s as if nobody’s even here but those two as they say their vows to one another.

Carly glows as she makes her promises to Aiden and my brother says his vows in a soft tone, a tone I might never have heard from him before.

I feel a stab of jealousy for a split second, but it goes fast and instead swells into happiness for them, especially for Aiden. Carly has already made Aiden and in fact our whole family better these past few months.

Carly’s mother Charlene and her Aunt Susan are both openly weeping with big smiles on their faces, their arms around one another. My mother is holding herself nearly stoic, never one to overdo the facial expressions lest her face crack, but her lips are upturned slightly. My eyes move back to my brother as he leans in to kiss his bride, looking like he’s just won the lottery. That’s when I hear a choking sound and my eyes move to where the sound comes from. My mother. It came from her throat. She’s doing her best to not lose it, but she’s failing.

Well, shit. Audra Carmichael isn’t made of complete stone after all.

She’s holding that sob in her throat and doing it badly, so this sets my sister Adele off. Adele bursts into an audible sob that morphs as she tries to hide it with a loud wolf whistle. Adele then laughs loud and wraps her arms around our mother as Aiden and Carly’s mouths fuse together.

I hear the shutter clicks as the photographer captures it from beside me. The videographer is on the other side of Ally, doing his thing, too.

The backdrop of St. Kitts is wild, because we’re on the beach outside a resort where Aiden and Carly have themselves a private beach house. The rest of us are inside the luxury hotel.

My brother and Carly just tied the knot in the sand with the backdrop of pinks and oranges flowing through grey clouds. It’s like the sky has a split personality right now and can’t decide if it wants to show us the sun setting or erupt into a nasty storm.

The pinks and oranges are above Aiden and Carly who have their feet in the water and a local minister with them, his suit pants rolled to his calves and water shoes on his feet.  Ally, Braeden, and I stand back a little and the rest of the guests sit on chairs on a raised deck.

Aiden lifts her off her feet by her butt and her legs wrap around him. He walks off toward their beach house and she says something, looking back at all of us. Her eyes go soft as she kisses him again, weaving her fingers into his hair. My brother changes his mind, turns, and runs toward the water with Carly in his arms.

She screams, “Noooo Aiden! My dress!” but it’s too late, he’s running full speed through the water until the depth gets to his knees and slows him down. He keeps moving, though slower, and then he kisses her again before things drop off and they’re in up to his shoulders. They then go under, as if getting baptized and come up with mouths attached. There’s continuous shutter clicking beside me and laughing all around.

My nephew Braeden throws the ring pillow toward Adele and runs toward the water in his little tux. Adele passes her husband Dirk the pillow and follows, lifting the length of her dress up on one side and catching Braeden’s hand with her free hand.

Dirk stands back with baby Lilly in his arms, a big smile on his face and then I hear, don’t you dare from my mother who is pointing at my dad. Dad has a mischievous grin and he’s got bent knees, reaching and obviously about to lift my mother up.

I spot two things then that send the blood in my veins to ice.

I see Sienna Greer, Aiden’s ex, standing off in the distance about two hundred feet away near a group of people packing up their beach gear.

How fitting that Aiden and Carly are in the water kissing and laughing under a pink and orange streaked sky and Sienna stands off under a dark grey cloud.

She has sunglasses on, and her arms crossed as she watches them. I straighten, ready to go over there and make sure she doesn’t approach. I’ll sprint and tackle that bitch to the sand if need be.

A group with volleyball gear moves and I spot Sienna’s father Roger rushing up behind her. He says something to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, also seeing me watching them. Sienna twists and walks off.

This whole thing pisses me off, but I’m not shocked. At least I don’t have to draw attention to them now that they’re leaving. It wouldn’t just upset the bride and groom, it’d get my father riled, too. The last thing we need is a big smackdown happening here between my father and Roger.

Our mother and father split and Roger, Dad’s former best friend is the reason. Well, one of the many reasons. My mother wasn’t just having an affair with Dad’s best friend, the husband of her own best friend, Mom was cheating on both Roger and my father with anyone who’d give her the time of day, with a penchant especially for men under the age of forty.

A case of a fifty-something former beauty queen fighting the clock while drowning her sorrows in a bottle, she’s also just recently out of rehab and her and my father lasted all of about five minutes after she moved home before Roger declared that they needed to be adult about all this and not only would Audra and he be starting their life together, but the rest of the family would need to be on board. That was not taken well by my father. Nor Roger’s wife, Suzette. Or Sienna,  Roger’s daughter and Aiden’s ex. Mom moved into her own house and I heard that a week ago, Roger moved in, making all sorts of declarations, and altering his life plans to put my mother first.

But as far as I can see, my mother is doing okay with him. She’s off the booze and trying to be a better mother and grandmother now that she’s not spending all her time focusing on punishing my father and battling with Aiden.

The second thing I spot is Meryl after a frizzle of static shoots up my spine. She’s obviously arrived late as this is the first I’ve clapped eyes on her, and though our party is small, only forty or so people, she managed to escape my attention until now because she’s sitting in the very back, behind a row of Carly’s relatives who flew in with her parents from Buffalo.

Meryl looks good, which doesn’t make me any happier. She’s wearing a pink dress, pink low-heeled sandals and her long, dark hair is up in a twist. She has on more makeup than she usually wears, and I’m not sure it’s an improvement as she has that natural beauty that doesn’t need makeup. Her hands are in her lap, toying nervously with a handkerchief and she’s watching me. My eyes immediately move to her left hand. No ring on that finger. And then my eyes land on her face and stop there.

Her expression? She’s looking like her dog died. Sad? Fear mingled with what… remorse? I don’t know, but I fail at hiding my reaction before I turn away and scoop Ally Kingston into my arms and carry her into the water, too.

Ally squeals in delight when we both wind up underwater. When we come up, she cackles with glee and then splashes me. I splash back and then dive under and come up under Ally, getting her on my shoulders.

This reaction has a chain reaction and more of the wedding party wind up in the Caribbean Sea. Someone from the beach tosses over a beach ball after a wolf-whistle request from Adele. Carly gets on Aiden’s shoulders. It breaks into a game of water dodgeball that doesn’t last long because suddenly Ally shouts Carly’s name and Carly dives off Aiden’s shoulders into the water.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize it has something to do with Carly’s white wedding gown being wet. Now she’s in the water up to her neck, blushing and covering her chest.

***

We’re on the decking again and an attendant has brought out towels for our mostly soaked wedding party.

The mood is great, from most everyone else and I feel like I’m doing a decent job of hiding how I feel about Meryl being here.

I say nothing and don’t make eye contact as I hear Meryl talking to the girls. She’s hugging the soggy bride and explaining that her flight was delayed. Her voice is shaky, like she’s been made to do a presentation in front of a stadium of people and I know it’s because I’m here.

Ally breaks the ice in her Ally way.

“So, let’s get some drinks and toast the bride and groom. Austin, say hi to Mer, will ya? Put the poor girl out of her misery.”

I give Ally a cutting look before I say, “Hey.”

Everything goes quiet. We’re not a big group but clearly everyone else in the group is picking up on something, thanks to Ally.

“Hi Austin,” Meryl whispers.

“Don’t you work for me?” my father, moving closer to her, asks.

“I – I was with the Manila office and I spent some time at your head office a few months back.”

“You’re the one who took off with no notice, right?” Dad asks, looking like he’s searching the memory banks.

“Dad!” Adele snaps.

Meryl squares her shoulders. “I am so sorry about that, Mr. C. There were circumstances beyond my control and –”

“It’s fine, Meryl,” Aiden says. “Dad, not the time. Meryl’s a guest at mine and Carly’s wedding. I want everyone to make her feel welcome.” Aiden doesn’t look at me, but I know that’s aimed at me, too, probably so it doesn’t upset Carly.

My father’s eyes bounce between Aiden and me. And then he gives me a quizzical look for a beat before a server comes over with a tray of glasses of champagne.

“Before my bride and I head to our room to consummate our marriage-” Aiden starts.

“You mean… get out of these wet clothes,” Carly corrects.

“That too,” Aiden winks at her.

“To change and come back,” she says quickly, giving him a look of murder as color climbs up her cheeks.

Carly’s father scowls. “Give me some proper hooch, please there, dude.”

The server nods and hurries off.

Aiden laughs and slaps his back good-naturedly. “I can legally see her naked now, Pops. Don’t sweat it.”

“Call me Pops again, and you’re getting a knuckle sandwich.”

Carly’s mother laughs while her father continues to stare at my brother without blinking. The guy looks like he wants to murder him.

“You can call us Mom and Dad if you like,” Charlene Adler corrects, giving her husband a scowl before her smile returns. “Or by our first names. Whatever makes you most comfortable, Aiden. And, Darryl, be nice.”

Finally, Darryl Adler’s face relaxes. “I need bourbon.”

“Get my father-in-law some bourbon, somebody!” Aiden bellows, then kisses Carly’s lips again. “I want to make a toast. Everyone, grab a glass.” He passes Carly one and takes another for himself before the rest of us grab ours.

Carly’s face goes as pink as the contents of the glass she accepts from my brother, eyes darting briefly to her father. A bottle of bourbon and several tumblers are now beside the tray with the ice bucket and two more bottles of pink champagne.

“To Charlene and Darryl Adler. A toast to you for raising this beautiful, smart, forgiving girl. Thank you from the bottom of my soul.”

Carly’s mother’s chin wobbles and she raises her glass. Darryl’s expression softens. Carly leans over and gives Aiden a kiss.

We all drink.

“Another one,” Aiden adds, lifting his glass again. “To Carly Adler. I mean Carmichael. Carly Carmichael. What a ring that has.” He eyes her from head to toe, shaking his head before he lifts her hand and kisses the rock on her finger. “Like it was meant to be this way. To Carly. A girl that is way too good for the likes of me. I love you, Peaches. I can’t believe you’re mine. I feel like the luckiest asshole on the planet.”

“To Carly Carmichael,” I repeat.

There are echoes from the rest of us and Carly takes a big sip, eyes bright with emotion, and as soon as she swallows, my brother leans in and plants another kiss on her lips.

“To my new husband, and to all of you for coming,” Carly holds her glass up. “And to breaking my most important rule.”

“What rule was that?” Aiden asks.

“To never ever, ever sleep with you.”

Everyone busts up laughing.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Carly mutters to her father.

He downs the rest of what’s in his glass.

I like the guy. I’m sure I’d feel the same watching my niece Lilly get married to some cocky asshole. He seems like a good guy though. He only busts my brothers chops a little.

“I’m glad I get to sleep beside you for the rest of my life,” she adds. “Okay, I very much need to get out of this dress,” Carly sets her champagne glass down.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” my brother drawls.

Despite how she looks right now, wet and a little disheveled, wrapped in a towel with her gown still dripping, she’s a gorgeous bride who looks happy. Prior to my brother taking her into the sea, she was a vision with her curly hair piled up high with little orange roses through it, her off-the-shoulder white gown with the long slit up the front, her bare feet and peach colored pedicure. My brother calls her peaches so that’s the color they went with for bow ties for the men, for the dress for Ally, and my baby niece Lilly’s ballerina tutu-style dress with a big peach bow on her little head.

Carly’s hair is pretty wet, but she’s still got some of the flowers in it. The towel around her shoulders covers her chest so she doesn’t give everyone more of a show than she did in the water, but the rest of the white dress that clings to her is transparent.

“We’ll be back,” she says and then tags Aiden’s hand while holding the towel covering her upper body in place.

He shoots a grin at us over his shoulder. “Thanks everyone for coming. We appreciate having you all here. We’ll be back in two or three hours.” He winks.

“Hey!” Charlene Adler calls. “Thirty minutes. No more. We have dinner being served soon.”

He salutes her. “Right. My new mother-in-law is the one in charge. Gonna have to be a quickie, peaches. Your mom said so.”

Charlene laughs loud and then shouts, “It’s okay if you’re quick, Aiden, as long as you do it right.”

“Somebody kill me now,” Carly pleads at the same time as Darryl grumbles, “Fuck sakes, Char. You don’t gotta be so loud.”

Carly slaps my brother’s shoulder and he immediately scoops her into his arms and heads for their beach house.

“You catch sight of Rog and his daughter?” Dad asks in a low voice from behind me.

“Yeah, I did. Looks like they left though.”

“Mm,” Dad grumbles and then shoots my mother a dirty look while he downs the rest of his champagne, then reaches for the bottle of bourbon Darryl told the server to leave.

Mom looks at him like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and sips from her glass. A glass of non-alcoholic bubbly was handed to her by a server. Carly made sure her new mother-in-law wouldn’t feel left out.

Roger’s presence explains why my mother was dropped off at the resort this afternoon, too. Adele had been in a frenzy looking for her when the girls were getting their hair and makeup done. It was obvious she didn’t stay here last night, lied to us about it, too, saying she had to go out for something.

I’m just glad Aiden’s wedding ceremony wasn’t ruined.

Aiden and Carly’s beach house is only a couple hundred feet from where they said their vows, but the rest of us are in the main hotel and that’s where the reception is happening, so we all head back in that direction. And likely just in time. Thunder claps loudly and the sky has gone dark.

It’s as if it held off for them, giving them their perfect sunset for their ceremony and some of the pictures.

Thankfully, the whole event wasn’t planned as being outside. Dinner is happening in a banquet room with both indoor and outdoor space and they planned it in case the weather didn’t cooperate.

I know Meryl is walking behind me toward the elevator; I hear Ally chatting her up. Most of us look like dressed-up drowned rats inside the swanky hotel and we’re drawing attention.

“I’ll be right back,” Meryl says with panic in her voice as the elevator doors open.

“Don’t be silly. Come,” Ally says, grabbing Meryl’s hand.

I see her wide eyes are on a huge guy standing by the doors to the resort. He’s drenched from the rain, looking pissed. He’s Filipino, I think.

The guy has arms like tree trunks and his face is like stone.

Is this guy Meryl’s fiancé? His eyes touch her and then they’re on me. And he looks like he wants to eat me for lunch and spit my bones on the marble floors.

Yep. That’s exactly what he wants to do.

“Oh boy,” she whispers. “Here we go.”

“Who is that?” Ally asks.

“That’s Nate,” Meryl says.

Ally’s body jerks back in surprise. “Is that angry hottie your hottie, Mer?” Ally asks. “That doesn’t sound like the guy you described.”

It sure as fuck doesn’t.

“Oh no,” Meryl repeats.

“Oh my,” Carly’s mother mutters.

The guy crooks his finger at Meryl.

She stares like a deer in the headlights a second and then blows out a breath. She looks absolutely terrified and this means my hackles rise.

I guess she doesn’t move fast enough because the guy drops his suitcase on the floor and is now on the move, erasing the space between them. Reflexively, I step directly in front of Meryl and this puts me and him nose to nose. Or, not quite nose to nose. I’ve probably got three inches on him. Despite that, he’s for sure got weight on me and it ain’t from fat. The guy is bulky and it’s all muscle.

I work out and it shows, but this guy probably has an eight pack to my six and his arms are almost twice the size of mine.

I give no fucks how big he is, what I want to know is why is Meryl looking like she’s scared of him?

“Yo,” I call out. “You afraid of this guy, Mer?”

She’s directly behind me.

“No, Austin, I’m, uh…”

“Wanna move?” the guy grunts and he’s pissed.

He’s really pissed. And I don’t like the energy coming off him at all.

“Nathaniel, please,” she requests. “Calm down.”

“You want me calm, woman, you come out from behind this guy right now,” he demands.

The way he says this, the way his eyes are on me, he knows. He knows about us.

“What’s happening here?” Ally asks, trying to get between me and this guy.

“Stay aside, Ally,” I say, now feeling like I’ve got to protect both of them from this meathead.

We’ve got lots of eyes on us now from the lobby filled with resort guests. My father and Carly’s father both flank me now.

“Is this guy bothering you, young lady?” Carly’s father asks.

“Everyone, it’s okay. He’s my fiancé. Let’s go talk, Nate.” Meryl steps around Carly’s father and reaches for the guy’s hand.

“This is him, isn’t it?” he asks her, chin jerking toward me.

“It is, but-”

And then a fist comes at me. Fucker sucker punches me with no warning.

My head snaps back with force and the pain is practically blinding.

“Shit!” Ally shouts and then my father gets in there, trying to play peacemaker, but he gets shoved and then as the guy comes at me again, I’m ready and my fist hits him square in the chin. He goes flying back.

“All right, let’s just simmer down here,” Darryl Adler suggests and then the guy is coming at me again.

Meryl jumps between us.  “Stop, Nathaniel. It’s not what you think!”

“Step aside, mahal,” he says, touching her face.

I’m feeling a little dizzy, but I’m also pissed. And the sight of him touching her like that, sick rises in the back of my throat.

“Son, listen…” My father puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Not your son, back off man,” he shrugs my father off and Dad stumbles.

My nostrils flare and I lunge and punch the guy, getting him square in the chin. His head flies back. I hit him again.

“Stop!” Meryl pleads. “Austin, please!”

“Everyone, break it up,” a security guard is now in our space, pulling me and this guy apart.

“You don’t lay hands on my fucking father. The man is fighting Cancer.”

“Nathaniel, please listen to me. I arrived late for the wedding, he didn’t know I was coming, and -”

He shoves the security guy and swings for me again, but I dodge it. “Buddy, I never fucking met you,” I say. “What’s your damage?”

“No, but you met her, didn’t you? And she’s here for you, so I followed to-”

“I’m here for Carly’s wedding. I told you why I wanted to go!”

“If you folks don’t break this up, you’ll all be ejected from this resort,” the security guard says, once again pushing between us. He’s smaller than either of us and needs backup.

“And when I didn’t want you to go because he’s here, you took off without me, so here I am and I see you with him,” Nathaniel grinds out.

“I’m with all of them. We’re heading to our rooms before dinner. Most of them have to change, and- ”

“And where is his room?” Nathaniel demands.

“People?” the security guard tries to get our attention.

“We’ll break it up,” Ally tells him. “No worries.”

Meryl gasps. “You didn’t just say that to me.”

“Is that where you were going, Merry?”

She pulls a keycard from her bag, holding it up. “Look. Austin, can you show him your key?”

I see 402 on her ring.

I wanna rip this guy’s face off.

“Fuck you, buddy. Maybe if you didn’t act like a neanderthal, she wouldn’t have taken off on you.”

“Maybe if you’d kept your hands off her, you wouldn’t have confused her.”

“Nathaniel!” Meryl pleads, pulling on his hand.

“Austin’s not even on the fourth floor,” Ally says. “He’s next to my room on the twenty-third.”

“I read her diary, man. I know exactly what went down with you two,” Nathaniel says.

I give him a cocky smile, pouring gasoline on the fire.

Now there are two more hotel employees coming over.

The guy growls at  me.

“You what?” Meryl demands.

He looks at her. “Yeah. I read it.”

Her mouth drops. She’s pale.

“I knew a little about him from what your sister said, but the diary gave me the full picture since you wouldn’t.”

“Whoa. Everyone settle down here. Why doesn’t everyone go to the bar over there, sit down, have a drink, and talk like civilized people,” My father suggests.

“If this doesn’t stop now, management will have to decide if your party is welcome at this hotel,” the security guy says.

“Whoa. This can’t affect the reception, everyone. Break it up!” Carly’s mother orders and then gets louder with an almost guttural, “Break it up!”

Mama bear mode has been initiated at the thought of disruption to her daughter’s wedding reception.

“I apologize,” Meryl says to the guard. “This is over. You guys go ahead. I’ll talk to Nate. You all have the reception to get to. I’ll… I’ll see everyone later on.” Meryl grabs his hand and tugs on it, steering him in the other direction. And she no longer looks timid. Now she looks pissed.

I scoff, eyeing the guy. He glares back over his shoulder at me as she stomps back to where his luggage sits, pulling him along.

Carly’s mother puts her hand on my elbow and ushers me into the elevator.

“Let’s go, honey. Give things a minute to simmer down.”

As the doors close, I see Meryl mouth, “I’m sorry” to me.

Whatever.

***

There’s a knock on the door to my hotel room. I’ve showered and gotten halfway to dressed. I approach the door, buttoning up a fresh shirt.

I open it to Meryl.

“Austin,” she says softly, apology in her eyes.

“No. Fuck this shit,” I snap, and she backs up with a wince.

My mother’s suddenly here, waltzing in and closing the door on Meryl.

“Are you all right?” Audra asks.

“And here you are,” I wave her in and then step into my shoes.

“That’s an odd thing to say,” she remarks, and then reaches for my face. “You’re going to have a black eye for the photos. Look at that, Austin. Though, really, what does it matter? Did you see what Carly’s maid of honor did to her hair? That girl is an odd duck, isn’t she?”

I pull back. “I’m fine,” I say. “You missed the action. Guess you were busy with Roger?”

She flinches.

“Yeah, I saw. He was chasing down Sienna is my guess, who showed up about ten minutes too late to disrupt the wedding.

She sighs. “At least she didn’t get here on time. Roger told her the wrong resort name, suspecting she was fishing to find out how to disrupt the wedding. That girl is such a bundle of emotions. She has got to get over her fixation on your brother.”

I shake my head. “No thanks to you she has that fixation.”

She straightens. “Sometimes we have to put the past behind us.”

My mother meddled trying to get Aiden and Sienna back together a few months back and Sienna evidently still carries her torch. Or she just wants to stick it to my brother and ruin his life.

“Well, if she’d gotten anywhere near the ceremony, she’d have had her hair torn out by Adele. Or Ally. I’m glad she was late. The last thing Carly deserves is to have her wedding ruined.”

“Do you think anyone else saw them?” she asks. “Aiden?”

“Doubt it. Aiden’s eyes didn’t leave his bride from the moment she walked toward him on that beach. But Dad did.”

My mother lets out a sardonic sigh. “Ah. The sudden cold shoulder. Makes sense now. Well, Whatever - we should get to the reception; I’m sure the photographer is looking for you for pictures.”

“Whatever?” I volley. “Your boyfriend and his daughter just came ‘this’ close to ruining your son’s wedding. That’s mighty fucking flippant of you, mother.”

She rears back. “Austin.”

I’m pissed and I’m not hiding it.

“Yeah, you heard me.”

She clasps her throat and stares for a minute. “Roger wouldn’t have allowed Sienna to do anything. And nothing happened, so I don’t know why you’re acting like this, especially after you just had a public fist fight in a hotel lobby during your brother’s wedding and ruined your face for photos.”

I shake my head and grab my belt from the dresser. I weave it through the beltloops of my pants.

“Look at your face, Austin. What on earth is going on with you and that girl?”

“It’s over. It was nothing.”

“There was something? Didn’t she work for you? That’s not like you, Austin.”

“Let it go, will you? That’s irrelevant and I don’t appreciate you deflecting from the issue at hand.”

“The issue?”

“Roger Greer. Sienna. You know what I mean, Mother.”

My face hurts, as does my pride, and it’s minutely helpful to lash out at my mother.

That guy Nathaniel? Not only did he have a lot of power behind his punches, he also doesn’t look like some loser arranged fiancé.

Meryl described him as a guy she grew up with, but hadn’t seen in years. In my head he was a nerdy little skinny dude that would have nothing on me in the looks department. Shitty of me to think that way but when you think arranged marriage, you don’t expect the guy to look like he could get a dozen girls with a snap of his fingers. And of course for her to run back to him, in my head it’s because of her family’s expectations of her, not because he’s in any way a catch.

He was well-dressed, was a good-looking guy. And the guy knows how to fight, unfortunately.

She told me they grew up like cousins because their parents were best friends, that their folks had talked as far back as she could remember about the guy being her future husband because of the family bond. She never felt anything romantic for him. She said he’d gotten a scholarship for some prestigious school in the U.K. and had been gone for the past few years. She hadn’t laid eyes on the guy in a couple years and told me she wanted to choose her husband herself but that she also didn’t want to disappoint her family who thought that the guy was perfect for her, that it’d bring two close families even closer.

Meryl is a couple years younger than me, seemed pretty naïve, but the way that guy looked at her, the way the guy looked – I don’t know if she told me the truth or what to think.

My mother and I are the only two in the elevator as we head to the banquet level.

“Roger’s keeping her away from the reception?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“He’d better,” I say.  “I should warn Aid.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t. Roger has it under control. No point upsetting your brother over something that didn’t happen and that won’t happen. Let it go. Please.”

“Why’d he even come?”

“We decided to have a little getaway,” my mother says with a shrug. “He has a place in St. Maarten, so we’re going there tomorrow after the family brunch.”

My mother looks in the mirror over the buttons and smooths out her lips and separates eyelashes with the pinky nail of her perfectly manicured hand. She’s always one hundred per cent put together. But it’s a veneer. It’s fake.

“It’s obvious you spent the night with Roger last night,” I say.

She flinches.

I’m in a mood, clearly. I usually keep my opinions to myself when it comes to family drama, but for some reason I can’t find it in me to give a fuck right now.

My mother has been on the wagon for months, seems like she’s doing well after rehab, though still traumatized from the embarrassment of being ridiculed for slapping a cop with a rich-bitch response to being ordered to submit to a breathalyzer. That video still pops up on social media as a variety of memes.

She’s lucky she’s not in prison. She’s doing the rich-lady version of community service with charity work instead of being in the trenches picking up trash like other convicts. Why does she get to host a police foundation charity fashion show when anyone else in her position would have to scrub spray paint off the side of a building? She changed her hair and had more filler put in her face, but she still gets recognized for her five minutes of fame.

“Will you be okay at this reception with the booze flowing?” I ask, “The last thing we need is you getting sauced and causing a scene.” I hear how much of an asshole I sound like but can’t seem to make myself stop.

She waves her hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Carly and Charlene made sure to have options included for me when they did their planning. They consulted me and I talked them out of some of their ridiculous ideas. Sadly, I was not able to talk them into overhauling most everything.” She rolls her eyes. “The centerpieces are atrocious. You’ll see. They’re about as classy as that Ally’s hair.” Her eyes roll backwards.

“The ceremony was nice,” I say, staring at her. “I thought it was perfect.”

My mother smiles as the doors open and we head out to the banquet level of the hotel.

“It was.”

Her expression appears genuine and I’m taken aback.  I know things with her and my brother have been rough the past couple years, so that she’s even been invited to his wedding is no small feat.

My mood softens a little as we head into the banquet room and I get back into party mode.

***

It was a good night. The whole wedding had fewer than fifty people, but we ate great food, there was good music, too.

And my favorite part of the evening, when the doors opened during the first course of dinner with a drumroll and Suki, our childhood nanny walked in with Adele who had slipped out a few minutes before.

Suki had said she couldn’t come, but Adele made arrangements for her to arrive, though it was late due to a medical appointment she had. Her arrival made the whole family ecstatic.

We all gave speeches, some of them made people laugh, some of them got some of the girls weepy. My father cried during his speech, talking about his Cancer wake-up call and how much he loves his family, and this got most of the room crying. My mother stared at the tablecloth for most of that speech.

Dad then took credit for matching the bride and groom up, talking about meeting Carly in Buffalo and then hiring her and putting Carly in Aiden’s apartment.

Most everyone got drunk and danced their asses off. Except my mother. She sat back, though, and chatted with Carly’s mother, aunt, as well as Suki.

I got drunk. Shitfaced, in fact. It helped numb the pain in my face and fist as well as made it easier to ignore the shit weighing on me. I had eyes open in case Sienna or Roger Greer showed up, and they didn’t, thankfully.

But Meryl did. And that resulted in an escalation of my alcohol consumption.

Meryl popped in for dinner and our eyes didn’t once meet. I intentionally didn’t allow my gaze to go near her. She did not bring her fiancé, but I did notice she suddenly had an engagement ring on her finger. Not big, not microscopically small either. I guess my eyes did stray to her a time or two. But she didn’t get the chance to see it because I managed to get away with it without her noticing.

She didn’t stay long, looked like she wanted to approach once; I felt her linger near the head table as she said goodbye to my brother and Carly and I intentionally got into a conversation with Dirk, who was holding a sleeping Lilly.

And then no Meryl; I didn’t see her leave.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, I dodged what may have even been a pass from Ally, who was equally smashed as me, sort of fast-dancing, mostly singing together and pumping our fists in a co-ed group to You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC, telling me how she was going to Photoshop my black eye and slightly swollen upper lip out of the wedding photos, but that it’d cost me. I told her she should edit her weave out of the pictures to appease my mother and that made her cackle. The fast song went slow and before I could get a chance to vacate the dancefloor, she wound her arms around my neck and slow danced with me.

I noticed then that my mother and Aiden were dancing, too, and in conversation. Aiden even had a smile on his face as they talked.

This took me by surprise, in a good way, and my eyes met my sister’s. Adele, dancing with her husband, pulled her lips tight and her eyes went big when we were facing one another, her chin jerking toward Aiden and our mother. I gave her a wink and a smile and that’s when Ally’s grip tightened.

I took it as harmless at first, but then she said something and I looked down to ask her to repeat it and saw she was giving me a look, a look I recognize. Looking up at me through lowered lashes, smiling. Did she think I was winking at her?

“What’d you say?” I tried.

“That black eye makes you look hot, Austin.”

I laughed.

“Hey Pinky, don’t try to seduce my brother.” Aiden and my mother were suddenly in our space.

Ally laughed. “Aww, come on, don’t spoil my fun. Everyone needs to at least try to get lucky at a wedding when you’re in the wedding party. I know I’m actin’ a little trashy, Mrs. Carmichael, but it’s part of my charm.”

My mother actually laughed. Without a shred of her typical elitism.

I laughed too and then the song was ending, so I made my escape, saying goodnight to my brother and his bride as Aiden carried Carly out of the place, stating it was time for wedding night festivities, getting high fives from all the men in the room except Carly’s father, who folded his arms across his chest and leveled a dark gaze on his new son-in-law before saying, “Don’t be a dumb ass.”

Aiden laughed and so did Carly who was also drunk, calling him Red Forman and patting his head as my brother passed him with her in his arms.

I followed them out and instead of getting off on my floor, followed them to the lobby, figuring I’d get some fresh air.

***

“You’re not coming with,” Aiden tells me once we’re out in the fresh air. It’s a balmy night and the sky is clear. No sign of the earlier storm.

“Man, I just wanted some air.”

“Thank you for everything, best man. Best brother-in-law,” Carly gives me a high five and Aid gives me a side hug.

“Love you, man,” Aiden says, with feeling.

“I love you, man,” I parrot, giving him finger guns.

They’re laughing as Aiden staggers a little and heads down the beach toward their honeymoon suite.

And that’s when I see to my left, another couple.

Fuck.

Meryl and the meathead. Standing on the beach and she has her arms around his waist. She looks up, says something to him, and he leans in and puts his mouth to hers.

And fuck that. I head back inside.

There’s a whack of people waiting by the elevator so I’m gonna take the stairs to my room, but then remember there’s a bar in the lobby and I could use another drink, so I head there instead.

And there’s Sienna Greer, sitting at the bar by herself, drowning her sorrows while chatting up a good-looking bartender with long braids. He’s got his black shirt rolled to the elbows while jiggling a silver cocktail shaker and giving her a big smile.

I’d hedge a guess she’s planning to close the joint and take him back to her hotel room. The body language, the way her long auburn hair is over one shoulder, exposing that creamy long neck? That girl is definitely a looker. Supreme bitch, but she does turn heads.

“Hey,” I say, sitting on the barstool beside her. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She looks at me and sighs. “Game over,” she says.

“The best woman won,” I say.

She pouts and I laugh as I order a drink.

Ten minutes later, she’s flirting with me and I’m smashed, with no intention of letting it go anywhere, but I’m getting a laugh out of watching her try to turn on the charm.

I hate this bitch, but she’s entertaining right now, and I figure as long as I’m sitting here in this bar with her, there’s a good chance she won’t go looking for my brother’s beach house.

***

“Asshole… something something… a woman’s voice. Bitch… something something… can’t believe you… something something, and then my name coming from my mother’s mouth as I open my eyes and see it’s not my mother, but Sienna jiggling my arm. She’s naked, I’m naked, and what in the fuck happened last night?

Unfortunately, looks like Sienna didn’t go home with the bartender.

She’s in bed with me.

My mother and Aiden are in my hotel room. Sienna keeps jiggling my arm.

Fuck, I’m groggy.

What the fuck happened last night?

I remember sitting, I remember talking with her and telling her to move on with her life, to forget Aiden, and listening to her bitch about my mother and her father, bitch about Aiden treating her like garbage, then she got weepy. She talked about fucking up with him. She talked about how she arrived with plans to interrupt the wedding and try one more time to get him to see sense, then found herself at the wrong wedding because her father fibbed about the venue. She bitched about her mother wallowing because her father left her mother for Audra and how her mother’s gained ten whole pounds and won’t stop eating. Suzette lost her best friend Audra at the same time as her husband. Sienna told me she’s taking her mother on a cruise when she gets home so they can both forget about the Carmichael family.

I laughed it off, letting her ramble. She seemed pretty drunk, too. And I was feeling sour about Meryl, but not getting into any of my shit because I knew better than to share any of my secrets with Sienna Greer.

She ordered me another drink.

I went to the can and came back, and she and I talked about something else, something I can’t recall, but I’m pretty sure it was irrelevant.

And then I remember nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“Did you roofie me last night?” I ask her while Aiden stares at me with a face he usually only points at our mother. My voice sounds slurred.

The room is moving.

“For heaven’s sake, put some clothes on, Austin,” Mom says. “You missed the family brunch. We wondered what happened to you.”

“You roofie me, Sienna?” I ask again, leaning toward the girl.

She looks at me with shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says, clutching the blankets to her chest.

“Aiden, fuck. She drugged me. I have no memory of this shit. I saw her on the beach yesterday, minutes too late to interrupt your wedding and then ran into her last night. Had a drink with her, figured I’d keep her from lookin’ for your honeymoon suite…”

“And you said nothin’?” Aiden’s pissed; I can’t blame him.

“No, because she didn’t ruin your wedding day and wasn’t going to, if I had my way.”

He scowls at me, then storms out, slamming the door. My mother shoots me a disappointed look and folds her arms.

“Out,” I tell Sienna. “I don’t wanna see your face.”

“Austin…”

“You fucking bitch. You roofied me, didn’t you? You gave me something…”

“Everyone’s wrong about you,” Sienna hisses, pulling the sheet around her as she storms toward the bathroom past my mother. “You’re just as much of an asshole as your brother. It’s obvious who you both take after.” She glares at my mother before slamming the bathroom door.

My mother rolls her eyes. “Why didn’t I wait to quit drinking until after this wedding?”

“I’m going to a doctor and if there’s Rohypnol or any shit like that in my system I’m having you fucking charged,” I yell this at the bathroom door.

Did I have sex with her? I’m naked, but I don’t fucking remember.

***

I’m heading for the revolving door of the hotel with my suitcase late that afternoon when I see a bunch from the wedding in the lobby at the front counter with Ally, Sonia, and Stacy from the office.

“Shuttle for the Carmichael guests to the airport is leaving in fifteen. Feel free to board out front,” a hotel employee says.

I see a passenger van pulled up outside the revolving doors.

Meryl’s fiancé lifts her suitcase and his, eyeballing me with what’s probably a warning. I’m happy to see his face looks almost as fucked as mine.

Meryl approaches me and her man scowls. “Merry?”

“Wait here, Nate. Austin, can I talk to you?” Meryl asks. “Just quick.”

“Fuck that,” I snap and turn my back on her.

Fuck this shit. I’ll take a cab. No way am I getting in a van with all these people.

I push my way through the revolving doors and walk down the street to find a cab.

I’m catching my flight to New York. And while I didn’t want to go there, maybe this is better. My brother is pissed, I didn’t see him again before I left. My sister came to my room right after Sienna stormed out, telling me she’d talk to me later once I calmed down, and I had to listen to Adele ream me out while I was packing. A minute into my defense, Adele said she believed me but wanted to continue to rant about Sienna and Roger even being there and turned it into a “How could Mom let it happen?” My father strolled in and interrupted Adele, talking business and giving me orders about the New York office while my head was still spinning. I’ve already stopped in to see the resort doctor and told him to take a blood and piss test to find out if Sienna drugged me. She had to have. He took a hair sample, too, as he said newer date rape drugs can be easier to detect that way. I paid this doctor extra to expedite the results to me in New York and then as I was leaving the doctor’s office, my mother tried to get me to come talk to Roger about my suspicions about the drugs.

I took a pass.

“I’ll deal with this shit when I get the results. Right now, I just need everyone to leave me be.”

Memories are still murky, but I’ve gotten a few visual flashes and I’m pretty sure I did fuck Sienna. Or rather, she fucked me while I was on my back. She just climbed on and did her thing and I’m disgusted at that notion.

I send Aiden a text before I leave.

I swear to you I had no clear recollection past sitting down beside her at a bar last night and having a drink but things are starting to come back. If she drugged me, I’ll know about it in a couple days. As far as I’m concerned I was date raped, Aid. I swear I’d never fucking do that to you. I went and did a blood and piss test and they took a hair sample to find out what’s in my system. I’m heading to NY. I’ll text when I have the results.  Ok?

He hasn’t replied by the time I get to the airport, so I call him. His voicemail box is full. I turn my phone to airplane mode.

***

I get to New York and the cab gets T-boned at the intersection six blocks from my brother’s building. I’m not hurt, but the driver is disoriented and gets taken away by ambulance. After sitting there for fucking ever giving a report to the cops, I decide to leg-it to the condo.

It starts fucking raining.

When I get to the doorway of the building, half drenched, a guy steps out of the shadows and for a second I’m ready to swing a fist, thinking I’m about to be jumped. I got jumped once when I was here as a teenager and that fucker even stole my sneakers.

This time it’s a gangly junkie with sores on his face. The guy makes a funny noise that I don’t soon enough realize is him gagging before he leans forward and heaves hard, puking on the concrete and spraying vomit on my shoe and the side of my suitcase.

Fuck sakes.

This swanky building has a security desk, but the desk is empty. It’s late evening but I would’ve figured there’d be someone here around the clock.

By the time I get upstairs, I’m ready to chew broken glass. I just want a hot shower and bed, but then I hear the music from the hallway as I put the key in. What the fuck? Music playing in Aiden’s supposedly empty condo?

I open the door and there are about thirty people in my brother’s apartment with Rage Against the Machine blasting from the stereo.

I’m standing in the doorway with my laptop bag slung over my soggy self cross-body, with my dirty suitcase and puked-on shoes and take in the scene ahead of me.

And then my shoulder is bumped as someone pushes their way in.

The guy who pushes his way in is the guy that just puked on my shit. And my eyes take in a guy in a security guard costume smoking a huge bong on the couch, a girl dressed like Harley Quinn spilling a drink on the rug while she dances, and another guy off to the side near the fridge with a snake wrapped around his neck.

The volcano that’s been brewing inside me?

It erupts.

5

Jada

I’m on my way back from a horrific experience assisting a magician at a birthday party.  I’ve never been a magician’s assistant before and don’t expect after tonight I’d ever do so again.

What a nightmare.

I took the gig because it paid two hundred dollars for a Sunday and this is two hundred dollars that I need. Desperately.

I got the gig through a legit employment agency, the one that I used when I got the job for Aiden Carmichael and they rush-couriered me a uniform. That uniform got my Spidey senses tingling, but I proceeded.

Unfortunately.

At least it’s over and I’ll have two hundred dollars tomorrow.

I put on the trashy outfit and off I went… to a banquet room in a family restaurant an hour-long commute on public transit away. I had put track pants on to cover the offensive-looking clothing, but those track pants went missing when I went to leave so I came home like this.

I figured as a magician’s assistant, I’d be at a wholesome kids’ party. Nope. It was a fiftieth birthday party for a guy with fifty to seventy-five or so of his closest friends, and two thirds were male.

And… it was a disaster.

One of the party guests even got handsy, resulting in the magician I was assisting getting extra obnoxious, not to even defend me, just putting in digs about society and misogyny and being snide about the #MeToo movement as he casually referred to the way my butt cheeks wanted to peek out of the booty shorts I had on.

The outfit resembles something Columbia, the short-haired redhead in the top hat from The Rocky Horror Picture Show would wear. Short and glittery black booty shorts on top of black fishnets, a black and silver tuxedo shirt with cleavage, fingerless long black cocktail gloves, a black bow tie and I’ve got on lots of makeup on my face as per the directions. My dirty-blonde hair is up in a bun at the back of my head and there’s a smallish top hat fascinator hat pinned to my hair. Add that my lipstick is black and I was told to go heavy on the black eyeshadow as well as paint my fingernails black and I look like a nightmare.

The magician was a similarly dressed clown with white clown makeup and black lips, a black clown nose, black fingernails, too - and he wore a very Victorian tuxedo.

The whole thing was strange.

Half the people couldn’t be bothered to watch his magic show and that ticked him off, making him get louder and agitated.

But yet he hugged me goodbye and told me “Good job. I’ll tell them I’d like to use you again. I might have a gig in three weeks in Hartford.”

This left me dumbfounded.

The agency is getting back the uniform tomorrow; I’m not doing this again.

God, it was humiliating.

But, at least it’s over. And besides, humiliation feels like my middle name this month.

I have to figure out what the heck I’m going to do.

To back up about what the past week has been like, it’s been awful, the worst.

It started when I got evicted because I couldn’t pay the rent on time due to getting stiffed by Mr. Bolliano who hasn’t returned my calls the past few days.

I tried to work it out, buy more time, but my brother made life harder by coming home the day after the rent was due and for reasons unknown, kicked in the fire extinguisher window in the lobby of the building. It was caught on security camera, so after the eviction notice got taped to the door with a Post-it adding that if we didn’t leave that day, my brother would face charges for property damage, we packed up quick.

So, homelessness is a daunting prospect, to put it mildly, especially when you’re down to your last seventy-five dollars and don’t even have a car you can sleep in.

I even degraded myself by asking my father if me and my brother could stay with him temporarily. He still lives in the house we grew up in. Our bedrooms are still there, mine looking the same as the day I moved out. Empty. Dad hung up on me after telling me he ‘told me so’ and that Shane was “just like your mother”.

I ignored the nagging feeling that last statement gave me, because yes, I was pretty sure Mom had mental illness, too. She left when we were small, and she, too, had extreme ups and downs in her moods.

I haven’t seen her since that day I watched her walk out with just the small floral suitcase. Of course I spent many nights wondering where she wound up, if she’d found happiness, and why she never tried to reach out to us, especially after we grew up.

Dad is old school, old-fashioned, and hard-headed. I could almost see how she’d have trouble dealing with him after she left, but surely she could’ve made room in her life for us once we were grown up and she wouldn’t have to deal with Dad anymore.

I didn’t get a chance to explain to my dad that my situation wasn’t entirely because of Shane, though if I was honest, the fact that he left me to handle all the financials and didn’t once try to step up knowing I was struggling – he definitely didn’t help matters.

My brother’s friend Sedgewick, a punk singer I’d never met before came and loaded our stuff into his rusty pickup truck and it’s now being stored on one side of the rented warehouse unit where he rehearses with his bandmates. All my worldly goods are stacked at one end of that smelly unit filled with old couches and graffiti-covered walls. Oh and there’s a wall of cages on the other side, with rodents and insects and one large aquarium with a python in it. I’m terrified of snakes so no way could I sleep there.

That garage was our only offer of a temporary place to stay and Sedgewick seemed like a good guy, but no way was I staying there.

Anybody else in my very small circle either made an excuse or outright refused to let me come unless I came alone. I couldn’t bear to let Shane go to that unit by himself, especially with the fact that his state of mind seems to be worse. If I leave him to his own devices, Lord knows what’ll happen.

He needs his meds. He’s partying really hard. He’s barely eating or sleeping. He doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of our situation. And I’m ready to rip my hair out because of all the stress.

So, I felt stuck.

And that’s my excuse for doing what I did.

What I did wasn’t ethical. It’s technically not even legal. And believe me, I feel bad about it. But I didn’t know what else to do – and I tried to get permission. But when I couldn’t… well… I’ve just been hoping it’ll work out, that I’ll figure something else out quick and it won’t come back to bite me.

It was this or stay in that garage with our stuff in an even worse neighborhood than I lived in. With a snake and only a dingy bathroom without a shower, even.

What did I do?

I still had Aiden Carmichael’s key. I called him first, I did, but I did that while I was on the way there. He didn’t answer, so I left a voicemail message. He didn’t call back, so I left two more. I also texted but he didn’t answer, either so I called the number I had for Carly. Full mailbox. I tried their office, too, and their reception said they’re both traveling.

I hated to do it, felt bad about it, but me and Shane have been at Aiden’s apartment for the past three days.

My voicemails and texts are long and rambling, apologizing, and telling Aiden I’m stuck, I’m sorry, and I am in his condo, to please call me and please not have me arrested. Please let me know if there’s some work I can do in exchange for temporary shelter.

Today is Sunday, I’ve been here since Thursday night, and I have submitted two dozen resumes and now have worked this one gig, which means I have enough cash to get Shane his medications.  And I have to replace some of the stuff in Aiden and Carly’s pantry and freezer we’ve eaten.

I sent a friend request to Carly on three social media sites, too, so I have definitely tried to get ahold of them.

I’m feeling sick about being here, but in three days I’ve had no other options. I’m super-stressed about it, but know that all I can do is wait to hear back from Aiden or Carly and then I’ll know my immediate fate.

How sad is my life that the only choice I’ve got beyond sleeping in a filthy and unsafe warehouse with no amenities is to stay at my former boss’s condo because he’s out of town and trusted me enough to let me keep his key?

Luck would have it that Shane knows the night watchman. I half-expected to get stopped by the security people and at least quizzed like I did last time, because the guy didn’t recognize me. This security guy and Shane used to work at the same bar, so no questions were asked. Just bro shakes and talks about vibing to some music later.

This is not sitting well with me at all. None of it. Not my financial situation, not where my stuff is being stored, not being homeless, and certainly not my brother’s state of mind - acting like there’s not a care in the world when we’re squatting at my ex-boss’s apartment temporarily.

He’s acting like everything is copasetic. He’s on some sort of ‘high’ right now where just before we were evicted, he was down in one of his ‘lows’.

When I get back from the disastrous magician’s assistant gig, there’s music blaring, so I rush inside and see wall-to-wall people. Not using coasters. Smoking in the apartment. Smoking dope in the apartment, too.

I can’t fucking believe Shane is having a party here!

“Where’s Shane?” I shout.

The night watchman guy, Kevin, jerks his thumb toward where the bedrooms and bathroom are. Shit. Damn. Please tell me he didn’t pass out again with a house full of people, in a place that’s not even his (or mine).

And the security guy is smoking a bong. A bong that’s about four feet tall.

“Jada!” He greets like we’re best pals.

“Party’s over. Sorry. Please get everyone out, Kevin,” I head for the bedrooms. The spare room, where Shane and I have been crashing has all sorts of coats in it and there are two people making out.

“Please go. Party’s over,” I call out again as I head into the master bedroom and find Shane in there, leaning against the window.

I’m snapping his name and approaching before I spot that a girl is on her knees in front of him.

Shit.

He looks like he’s in a daze as her head bobs.

“Shane,” I shriek. “What the fuck?”

He’s looking right at me but he’s expressionless.

“Is that your wife?” the girl turns around and asks over her shoulder.

I shield my eyes. “Shane, God!”

I hear the music halt. Are people leaving?

Good. Thank God.

Shane looks down. “I’m not even hard.”

I give my head a shake, unable to fathom this.

“My wife? Ha. That’s funny,” Shane says slowly. Too slowly. He’s on something. Something bad.

“Get out. Get out. Get out!” I shout at the girl.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shouted at a person like this before, but I’m livid.

She stares blankly at me.

“Jayjay?” My brother looks at me like he’s just waking up from a nap. His eyes are screwed up. He’s so pale. What on earth is he on?

“Shane, I can’t believe you. I can’t fucking believe you!” I screech.

“What the fuck!” I hear from behind me.

I spin and there’s a guy standing there, probably a neighbor, because he doesn’t look at all like any of the people that are here, other than the fact that he’s got a black eye.

He’s tall, mid-to-late twenties, athletic, five o’clock shadow, boy band-like undercut, and wearing chinos and a leather jacket with a button-down dress-shirt.

“I’ve got this under control,” I say, raising my hand. “I’m ending this party now, so you can go home. Sorry about the noise.”

The guy eyes me like I’m from outer space.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, folding his arms over his chest. A suitcase falls over beside him.

“Did everyone leave?” I ask the guy.

“I kicked ‘em out. Now: you need to tell me who the fuck you are before I call the cops.”

Shane starts choking. And then dry-heaving. He’s bent forward, face turning purple and he’s making an awful wretching sound. It’s as if he’s hurling invisible vomit into the air.

“Shane!” I rush over and smack his back. He seems to recover on his own.

“Hey Jayjay,” he greets.

“Oh my God, Shane.”

“What’s up, sis?”

The girl gets to her feet while pulling a sweater over her head.  “This party is lame, Shane,” she says. “Let’s take it to my place. I got some pills that’ll get you hard.”

“Yeah, babe, sure.” He stumbles after her, putting his junk away, his pants still undone.

I clap my palm over my eyes and shake my head.

“Shane!” I call out. “Do not go anywhere. We have to talk. Shane! Hey!”

“It’s all right, sis. It’s all good. See ya tomorrow, JayJay. Love you.” He blows me a kiss and stumbles out behind the girl.

I go to follow. “Wait…”

“Excuse me, who the fuck are you and what’s going on here?” The guy in the doorway blocks me.

“I have to go stop him from leaving.”

He refuses to budge, and I do something totally unlike me. I push past him and storm to the living area and see that the people are all gone, but the apartment is a disaster. I run into the hallway. The elevator doors are closing. Shane is gone.

Damn it. Damn it.  I trudge back into the apartment, cussing under my breath as I take in the disaster area.

There are cups, beer cans, and booze bottles. The couch cushions are mostly on the floor and someone spilled a drink on the rug. There’s laughter from the hallway.

I turn in that direction and spot Kevin making out with a girl against the wall?

This is a cluster-fuck.

This is going to get back to Aiden.

I might even get charged for this.

Damn it, Shane!

“Hey!” the guy behind me barks.

“Sorry about the noise. I had no idea he’d throw a party while I was out. I apologize.” I hold the door and gesture for the guy to leave. “It won’t happen again.”

I am totally pretending he didn’t come in here with a suitcase. I’m praying that’s a coincidence, that Aiden hasn’t turned this into an Airbnb.

The guy’s jaw flexes. “One more time. Who… the fuck… are you?” He’s glaring at me.

My eyes rove over him and then it hits me. The resemblance to Aiden.

The suitcase.

The scowl. Definitely reminiscent of Aiden Carmichael.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

He does look like Aiden. Eyes are different, blue instead of chocolate brown, hair is a little lighter, but the jaw, the nose, the scowl.

He folds his arms over his chest.

“I’m, um…” I wince.

I can’t even think, can’t form words, so I shake my head and then move into the kitchen and get a glass of water and chug it.

He looks angry. Really angry as he watches me glug it down. He levels me with a dark gaze. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops.”

He pulls a cell phone from his pocket.

I choke on water and lunge to grab the phone from his hand. “D-don’t do that. Cough cough. I can cough cough explain.” I grab the phone from his hand.

“Do not fucking touch my shit!” He levels me with a hate-stare.

I cough a bit more and try to catch my breath.

I set his phone back in his hand and he takes it from me like I’ve got the cooties or something.

“My water went down the wrong way,” I defend.

This guy is pissed. Not that I can blame him, but I’m pissed too. I can’t believe Shane did this, can’t believe the state of this apartment.

The guy looks around. “You wanna explain who you are, why you’re here, and why this place is trashed?” He looks me over from head to toe as if to mentally add, ‘and you can explain why you’re dressed in that getup?’ He doesn’t make that last statement, but I’m sure my outfit is not going to help me talk my way out of this mess.

I wince. “I realize how this looks. Are you related to Aiden?”

He glares at me.

“I’m Jada. I’m uh…”

“The housekeeper?” He cocks an eyebrow and then looks around and both eyebrows shoot up. “I was afraid of that.”

I look around, too. Yeah, the place did not look like this when I left earlier.

Damn, it, Shane!

“I was. I was his housekeeper and personal shopper. Listen, I’m sorry, but there’s just been a series of unfortunate events, and I’ve been trying to get ahold of Aiden to tell him I’m here, and-”

“Forget it. You’re fired. Get your stuff and go. I’ll hire somebody else.”

I stare, in a daze, as everything feels like it’s falling on me. All of it, stress, worry, despair… it’s piling on me like bricks falling from the sky and I’m about to crumble under the weight of it.

“Get out.” He points.

Oh my God. Where the fuck am I gonna go?

“You on drugs, too? Get. The. Fuck. Out!” He roars. “I don’t need this shit.”

I stare, dumbfounded for a minute as it all starts to dawn. All the shit I’ve got stacked on me right now. All of it.

And I find myself immobile.

“Are you stupid on top of wasted? Go. Before I call the cops. You’re fired. Leave your keys.”

I have no idea where I’m even going. I don’t know where Shane went, either. What do I do? What the fuck will I do?

I woodenly walk back into the bedroom where I’ve got a duffle bag and a backpack. My stuff is all inside, I never made myself at home here. Tried to just stay here with as minimal a footprint as possible, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be here and that I hadn’t gotten permission.

I’ll grab my stuff and I’ll go. Go where? The warehouse? Where the heck is Shane gone? I’ve only been there once, and it’s in an industrial complex so I’m not even sure if I can find it on my own. I have to grab my stuff and his stuff and track him down, I guess.

But where would he even be? I don’t know anybody who was here, except sort-of the security guard.

Where’s my laptop? I look around. I need that laptop. That’s my only source of money, the only way I can look for jobs, the only thing I can do right now to help myself. It’s where my stories are, too, and I need it.

I check the master bedroom. Shane was there, maybe he took it in there.

I’m dizzy, I feel weak, and my heart hammers hard in my chest. Fast. Too fast, it feels like, but I keep looking for my laptop. Please don’t let it be gone. Please don’t let one of Shane’s junkie friends have taken it.

I look under the bed. It’s not there. I look in the bedding, which is all messed up (it wasn’t when I left earlier. We haven’t used this room. I’ve used the master bathroom, but Shane and I are both using the spare room for our stuff and he’s sleeping on the floor.) I sway with a headrush, like I got up too fast.

The guy hollers from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Why does he keep hollering at me? I can’t take it anymore.

“I need my laptop! And I don’t know where I’m going and what I’m doing and where Shane went and God, this is just my luck.”

I realize that I’m shouting at him instead of talking calmly, instead of acting sorry, which I am, but I can’t make myself stop shouting.

I blow out air and try to calm myself.

“You understand you’re fired, right? I’m gonna need the keys.”

“Fired from what, though? I tried to tell you I don’t work here.”

He looks at me strangely.

“You’re quitting after trashing the place?”

“No, I did work for Aiden and he moved. Do you not know this?” I snap.

He looks at me with confusion. “Did you know I was coming? Alice call you?”

“Alice? Who the fuck is Alice?”

I almost laugh. That’s the name of that song. A song Shane’s punk band friends started practicing after we moved our stuff in there the other day.

He gives me a weird look. “Let me get this straight. You aren’t here because you were rehired by CC?”

“Cici?”

“Carmichael Consul – never mind. What exactly are you doing here? Throwing parties and squatting in my brother’s place if you don’t work for him?”

“I…” I feel dizzy. Dizzier. “He said to consider myself freelance. I was just stuck and…” I lean against the wall.

“Does freelance mean you can throw sex parties in his apartment? Are you a hooker?”

“A what?”

“Stripper?”

He gestures to me with a face that says, duh, look at you.

My face burns hot.

“I’m not a hooker, not a stripper! How dare you!”

“I came in here and found a couple goin’ at it in the spare room and you in your dominatrix gear with that other couple gettin’ it on in my brother’s room, so yeah, I dare.”

If I were a stripper or a hooker I probably wouldn’t be homeless. Though, maybe I’d be bad at it so homeless anyway.

He shakes his head. “Just go or I call the cops. My brother might decide that they’re getting called anyway when he gets a load of this fucking place. Is that a goddamn … what the fuck? Is that a tarantula?”

“A what?”

“Look!”

I don’t wanna look, but he’s looking so I turn my head to look over my shoulder and immediately let out a blood curdling screech. There’s a giant furry spider walking through the sheets as casual as can be, like it’s his bed!

I run behind the guy, grabbing his shirt at his back.

He shrugs me off.

Ew. This guy is tall, built, and well-dressed, but he smells like vomit.

“Bitch, do not touch me! What the fuck?” he snaps.

What the fuck is right. It’s the biggest spider I’ve ever seen. It has to be over a half a foot in diameter, and it’s one of those fluffy ones. Is it poisonous? I do not want it to get close enough to me for me to find out.

It tumbles off the edge of the bed onto the floor, and rights itself, then comes toward us, making me screech again.

“Shut up,” Aiden’s relative snaps.

I book it for the living room, shuddering, while shouting, “Shut it in there. Shut it. Shut it!”

Aiden’s relative shuts the door and demands, “What was that?”

“I don’t know!” I’m still yelling in a screeching, high-pitched voice.

That was the biggest, scariest spider I’ve ever seen.

It dawns that it could be one of my brother’s friend’s. Sedgewick wasn’t here tonight, but there was another guy that might have been the drummer. I remember Shane talking about the singer walking around with his exotic pets out in public and he said he often has them on him during their shows. Their punk band name has something to do with insects, too, if I recall.

I didn’t even get into the master bathroom for all my toiletries. And my clothing bag is still in there because I dropped it while I was looking for my laptop.

I’m not going back in there. I’m still wearing the stupid slutty magician’s assistant getup and I might have to wear it for the rest of my life. Unless I have to exchange it for an orange prison jumpsuit.

“This… this is all just a series of unfortunate events. I’ll try to call Aiden again, explain…”

“Aiden is on his honeymoon. How is it a mishap that you’re in his apartment throwing some sort of freak sex party with costumes, giant spiders, pythons, and puking drugheads?”

“They got married? That’s awesome.”

He looks at me like I’m insane and then pulls the phone from his pocket again.

“Wait, pythons?” I look around, absolutely terrified.

He’s dialing on his phone.

“Wait… I was just… I was stuck and I still had a key, and I couldn’t get ahold of him and Shane… Shane threw the party and…”

“I don’t know who the fuck Shane is. Keys.” He holds his hand out.

“He’s my brother, and… he’s in trouble. Um…” I’m so lightheaded. I sit down on the couch and put my face into my hands.

“Are you junked out too, lady? Seriously, you need to gimme the keys and skedaddle. I really don’t wanna deal with the cops tonight after the fuckin’ day I had but I will if that’s gonna get you outta here.”

I can’t find my laptop, I don’t know where Shane went, and I have no place to go. And this guy is yelling at me and threatening to call the police.

He’s talking to me in a way I’ve never been spoken to. I don’t think I’ve ever had a confrontation such as this in my entire life.

I blow out a breath as my eyes rove the kitchen. There are my keys. Where’s my purse? I don’t see it there. I move in that direction, feeling super dizzy. Where’s my purse? He follows me and he’s asking me where I think I’m going.

I wrack my brain. I think I dropped it on the island when I got in and headed to find my brother.

Why did I drop it? This place was full of creeps. Why did I put it down? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, Jada.

I’m not thinking straight. I haven’t been thinking straight, I’m that stressed out. I look around me. I twirl at least twice trying to find it.

I’m feeling downright sick to my stomach right now. Lightheaded. I don’t know where my brother is, where my purse and phone and laptop are, or what the heck I’m going to do.

Oh. My phone is in the back pocket of my booty shorts. I pull it out. 3% remaining. No calls or texts from Shane.

I text him.

“Call me!”

I have to find my charger. I see it plugged in by the microwave.

“Listen,” the guy calls out, “I don’t know what your game is, if you’re even this girl that worked for my brother or not so I’m gonna say this is your last chance. Out.”

God.

“Out or I physically remove you,” the guy adds.

“Can I leave my and my brother’s stuff here tonight and come back tomorrow and figure it out? I’ll clean up and…”

“Go.”

“Let me have twenty minutes to get some charge on my phone, please? And then I’ll go. Fuck. I don’t know where, but I’ll wait for Shane outside, I guess. And then when he gets here, I’ll come back and clean and pick up all my stuff. I need to find my laptop and…”

“Bitch,” he grinds out, “just fucking-”

I rear back. “There’s no reason to talk to me like that, buddy! Nobody in my life has ever spoken to me like this, not even my dad and my dad is a real dick.”

He looks around and then his blue eyes hit mine with those eyebrows raised again. “No? Really? Would you rather I call the cops and you spend the night in jail?”

“Maybe,” I whimper and then I’m crying into my hands. God, what a mess. “Maybe jail is a good idea because I don’t know where I’m gonna go tonight.”

“Right. Fuck off.” He gestures to the door, sounding like he’s exasperated, like he’s had just about enough of my nonsense.

“Believe me, buddy, I’ve had enough of it, too,” I mutter.

“What?” He reaches for my elbow and tries to usher me toward the door. I pull away.

“Listen, I know you don’t know me, but I have nowhere to go. My bag is missing. My laptop, and my brother left with some skank!”

“Why is this my problem?”

I back up until my back is touching the door and try to reason with him.

“You don’t believe me but I’m telling you, I’m really stuck here. Please. Let me clean up, I’ll sleep on the couch and tomorrow, figure out what I’m gonna do. Someone took my purse, I can’t find my laptop, my phone has three per cent power, and my brother is on some sort of bender. I don’t know where he’s gone but he will know how to get back here to me when he sobers up. Please. Carly and Aiden wouldn’t send me out onto the street like this. All my stuff is in Aiden’s room and I can’t go in there with that spider there. I’m terrified of spiders and snakes.”

He glares at me. “If there’s a fuckin’ snake in here, too…”

“That’s not what I mean. But you said you saw a snake.”

He stares for a long minute. My god, I feel so sick. I think I’m having a panic attack and this guy thinks I’m on drugs.

“A guy had a snake around his neck. I can only assume he took it. Fine,” he snaps, finally. “You stay here with the spider. I’m goin’ to a hotel. One of your junkie friends threw up on my shit and I do not know who the hell has been sleeping in these beds but judging by the look of all of you, this place needs to be fumigated before I’ll sleep in it.” He points at me. “If you’re not Jada that worked for my brother, I’ll find out who you are, and you’ll be charged.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of me.

I jolt. He takes another one.

It feels like I just got my mugshot taken.

“And if you are her, there’s a good chance you’re never working for my family or our company again and you might still face charges.”

And I’m just feeling the lowest I’ve ever felt in my life.

“Thank you for not making me go.”

He growls at me and grabs his suitcase. “I’m coming back here in twelve hours. You’ve got that time to clean this shit up and get your shit sorted. You’re not working for me. And get that fucking spider outta here. And if one single thing is missing…”

“I’m not taking anything! What does that even mean?” I ask. “I’m not working for you? Why do you keep saying that?”

“You were supposed to get a call from my father’s assistant, Alice, to hire you for the next two to three months doing for me what you did for Aiden. Clearly she didn’t get ahold of you.”

I drop my head. No.  Nonono.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Though good thing she didn’t, or I wouldn’t have seen your true colors.”

“These aren’t my - I can do for you what I did for Aiden,” I whisper, but I already know it’s too late.

This isn’t who I am but he’s never going to believe that.

“Fuck that shit. You think I’m gonna hire the likes of you to make my life easier? I don’t even wanna fucking be here and I’ve got a shit job to do while I am. The last thing I need is to have a walking disaster trying to take care of my shit when she can’t take care of her own.”

I bite my lip and fight my hardest not to burst into tears.

If I had that job again, I’d get myself sorted out.

Why didn’t I get that phone call?

If I’d gotten that phone call, I wouldn’t have been at that magic gig today. I’d have been here making sure the apartment was ready for him. I’d have had Shane stay in the warehouse with my stuff and I’d have been here, looking professional and ready to do the job they were going to pay me to do. I’d earn enough to get us a new place, to get him his meds, to not be in the position I am right now. It’d be okay to sleep in that warehouse for a couple weeks because an end would be in sight.

Not now though.

Now? Things are royally screwed with no end even on the other side of the horizon, it feels like.

He snarls at me once more for good measure, I guess, and signals for me to move aside. I do and he goes.

He goes and I continued to hunt for my purse, fruitlessly because obviously someone stole it.

And I want to go back into the master bedroom to look for my laptop one more time, in case Shane had the presence of mind to stash my most valuable item, but there’s a giant spider in there. A spider Aiden’s brother expects me to take care of. I laugh. My life. At least the door is closed, and that thing is way too big to climb under the gap.

I shudder.

Will I even sleep tonight knowing it’s in there? And not to mention, not knowing what I’m going to do tomorrow, where Shane is and what possible disaster is up next for me.

I scoff at that notion and pour another glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge and drink it back. Slower this time. I haven’t eaten today. This might be why I feel so weak. That and the stress. The stress that is my very existence.

Maybe I should at least try to look in the master bedroom for my purse.

I find a bag of trail mix in the pantry and munch on a few handfuls, trying to get my blood sugar up. I then grab a trash bag from the cleaning supply cupboard and begin shoving cans and bottles into it. What a mess.

“Where are you, Shane?” I mutter.

The door swings open and hope flares.

Aiden’s brother is holding my backpack purse. My purse!

Hope for Shane burns out, but the sight of my purse is a relief. Even though he’s holding it like it’s going to bite him.

“Oh, thank god,” I say. ”Where was it?”

He looks at me with the bag of trail mix and shakes his head. And I can read his mind; he thinks I’m in here casually eating Aiden’s food in the apartment that is dirty because of me and my brother. He thinks I’m a waste of space druggie who takes her clothes off for money – not that I have anything against strippers or anything, but the way he looked at me? He thinks I’m a piece of shit. With the munchies.

“The elevator,” he says and puts it on the console table by the door. “The wallet was on the floor. I looked inside.”

“At least you know I am Jada Miller,” I mumble. “And I won’t have to replace my ID. That’s something. Of course my cash is gone. Ugh! At least you got my purse back. Aiden’s sister bought this for me.”

And then my eyes go wide. “My wallet! Aiden’s credit card was in here.” I’ve fished around through all the pockets because the pocket I had it in is empty. “Oh shit. It needs to be reported as stolen.” My heart drops.

He rears back and shakes his head. “My sister bought you a purse?”

“Yeah. As a gift. She gave me a gift card to thank me for -  never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

He shakes his head. “And why do you have my brother’s credit card?”

Why is it stranger to him and worth noting first that his sister gave me a gift over the fact that his brother’s card is missing?

“It’s mine, or it was. It was even in my name. I had it to do his shopping when I worked for him, so he told me to consider myself freelance for whenever they might come back. That’s why I had the key and the card.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair.

Yeah, it sounds like a bad decision for Aiden to leave a key and a credit card with someone who doesn’t work for him anymore, but Aiden trusted me.

“Could it maybe occur to you right now if you stop being angry for one second that your brother trusts me and… and maybe, just maybe you’ve got the wrong impression here? This is not who I am. This…” I point to the floor, “Tonight… it has been a shit storm that I’m caught up in. All out of my control.”

He scoffs. “Your life is the sum total of your decisions. Yours. Mine. Anyone who says anything different is a cop-out lookin’ for a scapegoat for their failures.”

I blink in astonishment.

I mean, in some ways he’s kind of right. But not. Not everyone has control over their circumstances. And how could I make a different decision? A decision to abandon my brother? Unthinkable.

“All this here tonight is your doing,” he continues, waving his finger in an air circle to indicate the entire room. “You had the key. You had the credit card. You hold responsibility for all of this. Like I said, be back in twelve hours. Clean this shit up and be ready to vacate.”

I stare at him, feeling dead inside right now.

This jerk thinks I’m a piece of crap.

He’s definitely a jerk. I’ve tried to explain myself, but zero benefit of the doubt has been given at all. I mean, he doesn’t know me, but if his brother recommended they hire me why wouldn’t he at least hear me out?

He leaves again, locking the door on his way out and I collapse onto the couch and bawl my eyes out. I do it for all of five minutes, because crying will get me nowhere.

So, I get back up and get to work on tidying the apartment (all but the master bedroom because I am not going in there) and charge my phone.

I head into the spare room and Shane has messed that up, too. I start cleaning it and hallelujah, find my laptop under the comforter.

I hug it and cry some more. At least this wasn’t taken. I can job hunt. I haven’t lost my stories. My life is in this thing. It’s a cheap, old, secondhand laptop, but it’s such a relief that it’s here.

***

It’s late when my phone makes a text ding. It’s past two o’clock in the morning, but I grab it in case it’s Shane. I’m sleeping on the couch in case he comes in.

Hey, this is Phil. Bonez gave me your number. Is Gramma with you?

That’s obviously a wrong number - so I pull the blanket over me and close my eyes again. I don’t fall asleep straight away. Because I don’t know what the heck tomorrow will bring.

My phone makes another noise. I look and I’ve gotten a Facebook messenger alert from Carly Carmichael. Oh wow. She changed her name already. I get a pang of happiness for her, for them.

I drop the phone in my haste to read the message, reach to the floor beside the couch and slip off and fall on my ass.

“Of course,” I grumble as I lift the phone from the floor. She’s responded to my inbox message.

Hi Jada! Of course you can stay at the condo. Austin only needs one bedroom and there’s the spare. It’s not a big deal since he’ll be busy working all the time. Just ask him but I know he’ll be cool. But we’re kind of confused - did Alice not call you to ask you to work for Austin for the next little while?”

Austin is his name. Figures. Sounds like a rich guy snob name. Yeah - Austin won’t be cool. Austin is a grouch and Austin thinks I’m a junkie, a stripper, a squatter. Well, I guess I technically am a squatter.

I send Carly a reply.

Huge congrats on your marriage. Sorry, this is gonna be long. Or I’ll try to make it as brief as possible. I was stuck and you guys didn’t answer so I used the key and stayed and my bipolar brother is off his meds and had a party. Austin came home mid-party as I was freaking out and double freaked. Rightly so. Everything was a mess but I’m cleaning up now. I’m homeless atm and freaking out. I’m so sorry, Carly, to lay this on you guys. This isn’t your problem, I don’t even work for Aiden anymore but I had the key and was stuck so was just hoping to stay a few days. I got abruptly evicted and was just stuck. Austin isn’t going to want me here after this and I totally understand. He went to a hotel and told me he’s back in 12 hours and I have to leave then. He wanted to call the cops and didn’t believe the misunderstanding. I know you’re on your honeymoon and this is the last thing you need to worry about but please don’t let him call the cops on me. I’m cleaning up everything and if anything is damaged, I’ll pay for it. As soon as I can. My purse was stolen but Austin found it in the elevator. Oh and pls can you ask Aiden to report his credit card that he gave me stolen asap? Again, I’m super sorry. Again, my apologies that I laid this on you guys while on your honeymoon. Congrats again. I can’t wait to see pictures from your big day.

My finger hovers over the send button for a second and I think about how all that must sound. Scattered. Lame. I’m tempted to go back and edit it into something less frantic and without saying sorry however many times, but instead I just hit the send function and then I start biting my nails. Asking to see pictures. Oh yeah, nice wedding pictures, they’ll make me forget all about my homeless problem.

Poor Carly, getting a message like this from me while on her honeymoon. We’ve only met a handful of times. I don’t know what I’d do if I got a message like that and was in her shoes.

Austin Carmichael is right. I am a walking disaster.

I’m still in my slutty magician’s assistant outfit because my clothes are in that bedroom with a gigantic, fuzzy spider.

I laugh sardonically and then I’m on the verge of tears again when Carly dings me.

My heart races as I read.

Shit happens. We’ll figure it all out. Don’t sweat, Jada. You’re not homeless. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll text Austin now and tell him you can stay. Aiden is calling his bank now. We’re not upset. We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry! Just sleep. Take a bath in the master and use some of my lavender bath bombs. They’re truly magical and have Epsom salts which will relax you and help you sleep. Hang in there. I’ll message or phone you tomorrow. Everything will be okay. Ok? Hugs.”

I blow out a breath.

How magical are these bath bombs? Magical enough to un-fuck my life? To undo tonight? I’m not about to go find out with that spider in there.

Thank God Aiden Carmichael just married Carly. She’s angelic. And she might be my only friend in the world right now.

Lord knows my brother is not my friend. My brother… I know he’s sick, I know he needs help, but he’s really screwed things up on me this time.

And I’m really really angry with him.

I text back.

Thank you, Carly. From the bottom of my heart. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

I put a bunch of hearts and type congratulations again.

And I flop. Relieved. I don’t have to walk the streets aimlessly tonight.

6

Austin

I get to the apartment and see a lump under a blanket on the couch. The lump snores.

“Wake up.”

I kick the couch and the thing moves an inch.

She startles and sits up straight, fast, gasping for air, then grabs frantically for the blanket she’s got on and covers her chest. Too late, I already saw most of her boobs spilling out of that tuxedo top.

She’s still wearing that ridiculous getup, all but the glittered little hat that sits on the coffee table. Her large eyes are wide on me and I see she’s washed all that black makeup off her face and her hair is now down, falls just past her shoulders, straight, shiny, a dark blonde, verging on light brown.

Despite that she looks like a different person and the place looks cleaner, my foul mood of last night hasn’t cooled much at all.

I barely slept three hours.

She seems disoriented. Probably jonesing, ready for more drugs. She doesn’t look like the type today, but I’m not convinced she’s not a pill popper or something in that vein.

“Deal with the spider?” I demand, arms folded over my chest.

She shudders. “I… I can’t go in there. I have to tinkle, sorry…”

I watch as she stumbles toward the hallway then to the bathroom. I roll my eyes and sip the coffee I brought. I stare at the back of the closed door after she goes inside.

I immediately hear her breath hitch and then she’s blowing her nose and sniffling.

Sounds like she’s crying in there.

Fucking hate seeing or hearing a woman cry. It grinds my gears especially when I’m fairly sure it’s fake. This chick probably gets what she wants by turning on the waterworks like many of them try to do.

I move to the kitchen cabinets and open a few of them before I grab down a large glass salad bowl, then head down the hall past the bathroom to the master. I open the door and look inside, ready to try to trap it under the bowl. A quick look around and I don’t see it.

She clearly hasn’t been in here since last night, the room is still a sty. That’s one of the many differences between my brother and me, he’s happy to live like a pig but I hate mess. I like order.  It must be my numbers-oriented brain. The sight of this room? I wouldn’t be able to sleep in a room like this, I’d have to clean it before I could rest.

I got to the hotel last night, unpacked my stuff and threw out my shoes. I had two other pairs of shoes in the suitcase as well as a suit and some casual clothes and the case is a Samsonite so nothing inside was soiled. I cleaned the suitcase with hand soap  in the bathroom and then left a note to housekeeping asking them to sanitize it for me, leaving a tip with the note. I’ve got enough stuff to get by until more of my clothes get here. My delivery was supposed to arrive today, but I checked tracking and my stuff is delayed.

It’s just as well, I want her out of here before my shit arrives and I move in.

I’m dealing with this shit today, getting this chick out of Aiden’s place and having it cleaned professionally as well as – looks like calling pest control for a giant spider. I’ll move here in a couple days when I’m satisfied the place hasn’t got bed bugs, lice, or some other parasite problem.

I got a text from my brother late last night, too, and wasn’t real happy about it.

Carly is talking to Jada. She’s fine to stay in the spare room. Whatever’s going on, help her sort it. She’s a good girl.

Help her sort it? Good girl? Right. Whatever.

I didn’t reply until this morning.

If I’m staying in your place while I’m in NY I don’t want her there.  She trashed it, had a party with a bunch of junkies, and she’s a bitch. Didn’t believe a word out of her mouth. Don’t have time for that shit. I’ll hire a maid service myself. Cancel the credit card you gave her. She says it was stolen. My guess is she’s run it up and is playing games. After she goes I’m changing your locks in case she made key copies.

I headed out after texting him and though I heard a text alert shortly after, I haven’t reached into my pocket yet to see what his reply is. I’m kind of steamed he never got back to me about the Sienna shit, just glazed over that and instead has the nerve to tell me to help the girl in his apartment.

This Jada obviously pulled the wool over his eyes to make him think she’s something she’s not. Carmichael men often have blinders on with women.

Not this one. Not anymore.

7

Jada

I come out of the bathroom and he’s standing there gritting his teeth, looking pissed off as he looks at his phone screen.

His eyes bounce up to me and he looks even more annoyed, like he was annoyed with something and has now decided I’m even more of a pain than whatever that was.

“So, um, Carly said I can stay here while I figure some things out,” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up.

“And again, I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding, but if you need me to do for you the things I did for Aiden, I would be more than happy to.” I make myself smile.

He looks me over with a judgmental expression that makes my skin crawl.

“What kinda shit did he get you to do?”

My eyes bulge.

He doesn’t mean what I think he means, does he?

He looks me over a second time and rolls his eyes.

“Your services won’t be required, thanks,” he mutters as he turns his back on me and heads down the hall toward the master bedroom.

“Nothing like that! You’re serious?” I follow him but then realize he’s going in. In to where that spider is. He has a big bowl in his hand.

I brace as he turns the door handle and looks around.

I get as far away as I can. I’m on the opposite end of the living room, plastered against the window, but then I remember I’m afraid of heights and my belly dips as I look down. I slide over to the wall, hyperventilating.

He comes out, holding it in the glass bowl with a piece of paper – a pizza menu, I think, underneath. Holding it! Only a piece of paper separating the palm of his hand and a freaking spider and there’s space around the glass, so the huge spider is not  adequately trapped.

I can’t recoil any further.

He sets it down on the kitchen island. At least now it’s stuck.

“It’s someone’s pet. Came right to me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know anybody from last night except my brother and kind of met the security guy the other day.”

He stares at me.

“My brother is a good guy, he’s just got a lot of problems right now, problems he needs medication for. I was out doing the thing that I have this outfit on for, a stupid temp job assisting a magician, and when I came back, he was throwing that party, and… I talked to Carly and she said –”

His phone rings. He lifts his hand, halting me and answers his phone.

“Aid? What?”

“I’m gonna go take a shower and change,” I say, slipping past him, walking as far away from the counter as I can get because that spider is just sitting there, under that big glass bowl. Yikes. The glass bowl hangs an inch off the counter, too, probably to give the spider air, but still…creepy.

Giving him a minute to talk to his brother will probably serve me well. Aiden can tell him I’m not a drug addict. That he trusts me.

I’m so relieved Carly was so cool about me being here.

Aiden might want to talk to me, but I really need that shower, a minute to myself, and to get out of this outfit.

God, I hope there aren’t any more surprises in here.

8

Austin

“Hey man, you at the condo?” Aiden asks.

“Yeah. Just pulled a giant black spider out of your bed.”

“A what?”

“Yep,” I say, annoyed. “I’m calling animal control to get them to pick it up.”

“Where’s Jada?”

“Since the bedroom is no longer a danger zone, she went in there to get her things, get dressed, take a shower, something I guess.”

“So like I texted, she needs to stay in the spare room for a bit,” Aiden says.

“Not while I’m here. I want no part of that shit.”

“Why? She’ll be there cooking, cleaning, and shopping anyway, what’s the big deal if she stays there, too?”

“Aid. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Uh, no, Auz. I’m not. What’s the prob?”

“The prob is that this chick is a walking disaster. She was throwing a party in your place last night with a whole shitload of druggies. There was a six-inch black tarantula in your bed. When I got here, one of the partiers fucking puked on me…”

Aiden laughs. “That doesn’t sound at all like Jada.”

Laughing right now? For real?

“Again, are you kidding me right now?”

“Auz. Lighten up, buddy."

“Did my brother just tell me to lighten up when I told him the chick that used to work for him was throwing a wild party in his apartment while he was out of the country?”

He’s riding the high of getting married. That must be it.  He’s pussy-drunk.

As soon as I have that thought, I feel bad for it – I don’t think of Carly that way and I am happy for my brother, I’m just feeling incredibly foul right now.

“Yeah, man. It’s just one of those things. Girl got caught up in some bad stuff but believe me, Jada is a great employee. Never had a single problem with her while she worked for me. Girl works hard. Carly talked to her late last night and told her she can stay while she figures stuff out. You’re there the next three months, have her work for you, stay with you, that oughta give her the ability to figure that out. Listen, tell her the guy that stole the credit card got arrested. Not to worry. You gonna get Alice to send her a new CC company card so she can handle your stuff?”

“Did you not hear me? She’s not working for me. She hadn’t even gotten the call to work for me, Dad probably forgot to tell Alice.”

“He did forget. Carly called Alice. We already have her on the books. She’s on payroll now, Carly straightened things out this morning. We just need a couple quick details.”

I shake my head. “She’s not working for me, not staying with me. I can’t fucking believe this shit sandwich you’re serving me.”

“Shit sandwich? How’s that?”

“Man, are you serious? Your new wife is nicer than you are, or you know that this wouldn’t happen.”

“Back up. Fill me in Auz, I don’t know what you’re going on about with a shit sandwich.”

“That shit the day after your wedding? You didn’t return my call and now you’re all, help Jada out, and you haven’t even fucking addressed that other shit.”

“Oh, the other shit where I found you in bed naked with my also naked ex?”

“That shit,” I confirm.

He scoffs. “You get the lab results?”

“No. Not yet. But I tell you that bitch date-raped me and you storm out and don’t return my calls?”

He blows out a breath. “Listen, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Auz, but I got married two days ago and I’ve been kinda tryin’ to enjoy that.”

I roll my eyes. Now he’s being even more of a fucking dick.

“But you can imagine the shock it was finding you in bed with my ex when you’re supposed to be at a family brunch the day after I get married. I had to walk it off. You telling me you wouldn’t have reacted?”

“Imagine my shock, too, since I’m the one that woke up in bed with her with no fucking knowledge of how I got there!”

“I cooled off. Talked it out with Carly. I believe you.”

I grind my teeth and hold the phone.

“What, you want an apology from me? You grow a pair of tits or something, Austin?”

“Fuck you, Aiden. I had to face Meryl, worry about making sure Sienna didn’t ruin your wedding, deal with Roger there, try to keep it so nothing fucked with the vibe for you and Carly, got in a fist fight with Meryl’s fiancé and then that shit happens with your ex and you walk out on me; I think I have a right to be a bit put out about all that shit. The bitch drugged me, she had to have, and fucking climbed on my dick while I was half unconscious, man. I don’t need the shit of coming here, which I didn’t even wanna do. You know I hate this city, and I get here, exhausted from that scene with Meryl, from that fucking – whatever it was with Sienna, and I walk in and some bitch is squatting in your apartment without your permission and there’s a fucking giant spider running around your room, and people everywhere. I got into an accident on the way here and then got puked on by a junkie, and-”

“Austin,” Aiden’s voice has changed. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think of all that shit with Sienna that way.”

“Whatever,” I grumble.  “Your wedding was beautiful. I’m happy for you that you saw none of the drama happening around it. But I’ve had a really shitty couple days.”

“I get it. I just reacted seeing you two in bed and as soon as I thought on it I knew you wouldn’t do that shit to me. I’ve already let it go. Man, I’m on my honeymoon, I’m just tryin’ to enjoy it.”

“I get that. I don’t need the shit of dealing with this chick, Aid. I wanna send her packing, get this place cleaned and fumigated, and get on with whatever I have to do here. I’ve got to go to the office tomorrow and play tyrant boss on top of all this shit and you know that’s not me – I hate that shit.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“Fuck,” I run my hand through my hair.

“Do what you’ve gotta do there today, man. Let Jada stay today, tonight. Stay in the hotel another night. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow morning at the office and we’ll go from there.”

“Fine.”

“Tell Jada to call Carly within the next hour. Then we’re goin’ swimming with dolphins.”

“All right, man.” I’d laugh if I weren’t so pissed about him swimming with dolphins to make Carly happy. It’s obvious he’s also agreeing to let Jada stay to make Carly happy, too.

“Auz?”

“What?”

“I believe you. I know you wouldn’t fuck Sienna on purpose. I’m sorry I acted like an asshole.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

9

Jada

The shower works like a magic tonic for making me feel semi-human, and giving me a chance to think. I take note of Carly’s bath bomb brand for later. One day, when all this is behind me and I have a place of my own, a bath of my own, I’m taking a bath with one of those supposed magical bath bombs.

After the shower, getting into my own clothes, a pair of black jeans and a soft and slouchy sweater hoodie, I feel a little more like me. Things still suck, but I have a plan at least. I brush my teeth and put my hair up in a ponytail and stare at myself in the mirror.

I look tired. I look broken. I feel even worse than I look.

Though I haven’t heard from Shane yet, I’m praying he gets here soon so I can start to figure stuff out, but obviously he can’t stay here, too. I can’t ask Aiden and Carly if both of us can stay. Even if they were okay with it, Austin wouldn’t be, and I don’t want to make things any more tense than they are. I’m going to try really hard to convince Shane to go into rehab. He needs that. I have my laptop so I’m going to get on it and look for options for intake for him. He needs rehab, not to stay in a warehouse where a punk band rehearses and parties.

What started off as him going off the rails because he was off his meds has spiraled into drug addiction – clearly. Though the fact I’ve been so broke for months and he hasn’t made any money, I don’t know how he managed to get high so much.

He needs rehab, counseling, and to get on a new regimen for his meds. He needs to listen to me. After this latest stunt and how it truly screwed things up, he needs to really listen this time. I’m prepared to lay down an ultimatum and that’s not my style with him, because I know ultimatums rarely work. Obviously, I’m at the end of my rope here because it’s not my style to make empty threats; I hope he’ll take me seriously.

He has to; I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do everything for us and especially not if he’s on this road of self-destruction.

I’m going to try, one more time, to convince Austin Carmichael to let me work for him. If that doesn’t work maybe Aiden and Carly will let me stay a couple weeks so I can find a job, any job, and then I’ll either rent a room or go stay with my cousin Darlene in Jersey City. She’s a single mom with a good job and a decent apartment who said I could stay, that she’d bunk her six-year-old daughter in with her and I could take her daughter’s bedroom for a little while, maybe even be her part-time nanny in exchange for free rent. She insisted Shane and I couldn’t share that room though.

I can hardly blame her – she has a kid to worry about and Shane hasn’t been stable for more than a few months at a time in years. He borrowed a grand from her last time he spiraled out of control and I paid it back so she’s extra-wary. She knows he can get dark when he’s depressed. It’s less than ideal, but I could make it work for a little while if I have to. If Shane is in rehab getting well and working on himself then I’ll have the time and space to try to get myself stable. Get a place, steady income, and catch my breath.

First, I’ll try to figure things out with Aiden’s brother and go from there.

***

I emerge from the master bedroom and see him sitting on a stool at the island separating the kitchen from the living area. He’s doing something on his phone while jiggling his knee like he’s pissed off. The spider sits there under the glass bowl and startles or something when I move into view, so I startle, too.

I blow out a breath. God, it’s huge.

Austin is now looking at me and I can see he’s nearly scowling.

“The credit card thief has been arrested. Aid says you can stay here one more night if you need to. I won’t be here. Tomorrow, we’ll see what’s what. I’ve got shit to do so try not to burn the place down.”

He stands.

“Wait. You’re leaving?”

His eyes skim me with what looks like annoyance.

Here goes nothing…

“So, I wanted to take one more stab at talking to you about me working for you.”

Austin’s phone rings. He gives me the hand and answers as he heads for the master bedroom.

I blow a stray lock of hair out of my eyes.

Okay, I’ll have to try that again…

There’s a knock on the door, so I look out the peep hole and see Kevin, the security guard from last night. He’s dressed in regular street clothes. He’s standing there with Sedgewick. Oh. What?

I open the door and Sedgewick smiles, looking me over like I’m dessert. He’s a good-looking guy with kind of a punk/Viking thing going. Giant ear spacers, a long goatee in a beard with some of those Viking rune jewels, and tattoos on his neck and his hands.

“Hey, Jada,” Kevin greets, “You know Sedge? He’s here for Gramma. You still have her?”

I blink. “Gramma?”

“My tarantula. Phil, our drummer, brought her to the party last night and lost her.”

I open the door wider and Sedge obviously sees the bowl with the spider under it because he breathes out relief, calling out, “There.” He rushes for the island.

“Gramma?” I inquire.

He lifts the glass bowl off the counter and I shudder as he lifts the spider and puts it on his shoulder.

Austin comes out of the bathroom, looking tweaked.

“Yeah, Gramma.”

“Gramma,” I repeat, shaking my head.

“She’s a Grammostola pulchra,” Sedge explains, like it’s obvious.

“The fuck are these people?” Austin snaps.

“That’s Sedgewick and that’s Kevin. They’re here for the spider.”

“Hey man,” Sedgewick says calmly and extends his hand. “I’m the singer for Arachnid Asylum. Gramma’s my five-year-old Black Brazilian spider.”

Sedge points at his band t-shirt and there’s a spider as part of the logo.

Austin just stares at him.

He pulls his hand back. “Oh-kay then. Not a fan, I guess.”

“You left a deadly spider somewhere unattended? What the fuck?”

“She’s not deadly. She’s a black Brazilian spider, not a Wandering Brazilian. Someone broke up the party and Phil was out havin’ a smoke and couldn’t get back in. Tracey, that hooked up with Bonez was holdin’ Gramma for him. And then the party was over. Phil texted Bonez’s sister after Trace got him the cell. You didn’t answer. Gramma’s stressed. We gotta go so I can get her fed.”

“I got a weird text, but I thought it was the wrong number.”

“You’re Bonez’s only sister, though, right? You got another sister?”

“Bonez?”

“Yeah. Your brother. You know… dirty blond guy. Skinny. Sells. Spaced out, usually wasted. We put all your stuff in the warehouse last week?” He’s joking, acting like he needs to remind me of things I already know.

“It’s just that I’ve never heard anyone call my brother Bonez in my life. Sells? Sells what?”

“I’ve known him four years,” Sedge says. “What’s his real name then? Never heard him called anything but Bonez.”

“Shane,” I say.

Sells what?

“Hmm. Who knew?” He shrugs. “You got another sister?”

“No. What does Shane sell?” I ask.

“Didn’t think it was you when they said Bonez’s sister was losing her shit tryin’ to kick everyone out.”

“How’d you people even get in here? What’s with the lack of security in this place?” Austin butts in.

“Kevin’s the night watchman,” I say, and Kevin gives me a look of mortification.

Austin glares at him. “Good luck keeping your job, bud. I thought that was a costume.”

Kevin goes sheet-white and blows out a breath.

“Sorry, Kev, but you are one shitty night watchman if you’re up here smoking bongs instead of doin’ your job,” Sedge puts in, petting the spider on his shoulder.

“It was a good run,” he shrugs, “Lasted two months.”

“Wow, okay, well you’ve got your tarantula; fuck off now,” Austin says as he gestures toward the door.

I glare at him. “Wow. That’s rude. I’m trying to talk to them about my missing brother.”

“Bonez is missing?” Sedge asks.

“I’m rude?” Austin cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah. You are rude.”

I’m just full of sass right now, surprising myself even, but I can’t make myself stop.

He scoffs and opens the door. “You wanna go with them?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Carly said I can stay. Until I’m sorted, not just for tonight. Nice try. Listen you guys, have you talked to my brother?”

“No,” Kevin says. “Not seen him since last night when he disappeared into the back bedroom with Trace.”

“Could you possibly do me a favor?” I ask Sedge.

“Sure, babe,” he says and he’s looking me over like he likes what he sees.

Not happening. A) he walks around with a giant spider on him that he calls Gramma and b) not happening anyway.

“Could you text me Tracey’s number so I can try to track Shane down?” I ask.

“Sure thing.” He lifts his phone out of his pocket.

I ramble off my number.

“Do it in the elevator on your way out,” Austin suggests and then he waves them out and slams the door in their faces. He locks it.

“Wow,” I stare at him. “Rude.”

Time to change tact. I have to see if he’ll give me that job. This is my last kick at that can.

I hate how timid I feel, but I do. Timid and desperate.

His phone rings again. He answers it. “Yeah?”

And his eyes flash with something I can’t decipher and then settle on me. “Oh, hey. How are you?” His voice has gone soft. “Oh, okay… Yeah… Oh. Here, I’ll pass you to her.” He hands me his phone and I see it says “Aiden” on the screen as I put it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Jada.”

“Hi Carly.” I feel my face go hot. A) because Austin is staring at me and B) because I’m suddenly so embarrassed about the texts, about the voicemails, about the fact that I’m here at all.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, Jada, but I have bad news. We just got off the phone with the NYPD and it looks like the guy who was arrested for using Aiden’s credit card is named Shane Miller.”

My heart plummets.

I grab the counter for stability and then see the glass bowl and for a second forget that the spider is gone, and I shriek, moving away and colliding with Austin, who catches me.

I look up at him and for a moment I’m frozen. For a moment, the sensation of big, strong arms around me, catching me – I want to just fall apart right there. But I know I can’t do that. Because he didn’t mean to catch me. He wouldn’t hold me through a breakdown and stroke my hair, whisper words that would make me believe things might be okay.

“Jada?” Carly inquires.

“Oh my God,” I whisper into the phone.

Austin lets go of me and backs up, a look like he wishes he didn’t even touch me slashing across his face.

“I know,” she says softly, “I’m so sorry. Listen… I know what you’re feeling. My sister is in jail, she… she had a severe drug problem. I know you said your brother is bi-polar, but it sounds like drugs are a factor, and… I can relate. I can so relate. Never in a million years did I think I’d have my wedding day and not have her there by my side. But…yeah, I feel you.”

“I’m sorry about your sister, Carly. Wha-what happened with Shane? Can you tell me everything they said?”

“He used the card to take a cab, used the tap feature and again to buy booze and stuff at a store a few blocks away, and then he was found beating up an ATM trying to make it give him cash with the card. The machine took the card because he kept entering the wrong PIN so he got caught beating it up.”

My eyes close and I bite my lip.

“And they found drug paraphernalia on him and something with drug residue. He’s also resisted arrest and punched a cop. He dropped Aiden’s name saying he had permission to use the card. Honey, I think you should… I mean, I have no right to give you advice, and Aiden won’t press charges himself, but the bank probably will and there’s the drugs and the cops’ll probably lay charges for the other stuff.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

She continues, “But I know where you’re at right now, sort of, and I think you should let him stay in there. Maybe he’ll get the help he needs because he won’t have access to drugs and maybe they’ll get him on medication for his other issues.”

A sob tears from my throat.

A sob of despair braided with relief. I sink against the wall and slide on my socks to the floor. I curl into myself, Austin’s phone still against my ear.

“I’m so sorry, Jada. We’re happy for you to stay there. You can use the spare bedroom. I got your email address from Aiden and sent you an transfer of some money to tide you over. Austin’s a little resistant about the job idea but I’ll work on him. If that doesn’t work, I’ll see if we can use you in the New York office in an admin capacity or something, so you can get on your feet. Today, don’t worry, just… know you’ve got a place to stay and some cash to tide you over.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.

“Don’t say anything. Just know that I’m here for you. Anything I can do, let me know.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“No, you don’t. But family craps on us sometimes because they know we’ll forgive them and-”

“No, sorry to interrupt Carly, but I mean I don’t deserve your help. I stayed here without permission. It’s my fault that Aiden’s card got taken, and… and you hardly even know me.”

“You’re just having a rough spell. I know what that’s like, believe me. Anyway, we have to go – our shuttle is here. Aiden and I have a day with dolphins planned, and –”

“I’m so sorry your honeymoon got interrupted by my… my shit.”

“Stop apologizing. I feel bad that I’m here getting to swim with dolphins and you’re over there feeling like everything is being flushed down the toilet. Believe me, I know what that’s like. My job offer to move to San Diego came at the absolute best moment, when my life felt like it was in the crapper, too, Jada and – and I’m happy to help a little, to give you a breather like I got. I’m paying that forward to someone I feel deserves it. Okay? Take what I’m offering. It’s just an advance on whatever job you end up doing. You can pay me back later. Or not – maybe next time Aiden and I are in town you can just barter it back in doing what you used to do – though, I hate even saying that because I feel like we’re friends and friends help friends, right?”

“Right,” I whisper.

It feels nice to have a friend, but I feel like I don’t deserve one. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anybody. What do I have to offer back to the friendship other than all my excess baggage?

“Anyway, when we get back, we’ll plan a trip there soon. You and me can go get mani-pedis and then get drunk together. By then, maybe things will be looking up for you.”

I’m sobbing now. Austin is nowhere near, I have no idea when he exited the area, but I’m relieved no one is seeing me like this, especially not someone who hates me.

“It’s gonna be okay, Jada,” Carly says.

I don’t know if it is. God, I hope it will be.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you isn’t enough, though.”

“I’ll text you the name and number of the cop Aiden talked to so you can find out what’s happening with your brother, but Jada, please don’t feel tempted to get him out of there. If you’re anything like me, you’d try to sell your own blood to get your sibling out of a jam until it gets to a breaking point but believe me, I know what I’m talking about here - at some stage they have to help themselves. ”

“I think I’m at that breaking point,” I choke out. “He’s really gone off the deep end, Carly. This isn’t him. I mean, it wasn’t, but things have escalated. I think he started using drugs to take the edge off the mental health issues and that just sent him spiraling. And the guys that were just here to get that giant spider said things… I think he was selling drugs to fund his habit. And there I was, working multiple jobs to keep us afloat while he did nothing. No-th-thing.” I’m sobbing again. Ugly-crying.

How could Shane do that to me?

“I get it. My sister Caitlin is only doing better now because we all finally cut her off and she sank to lows I know Cait would never have sunk to if she was in her right mind. Those were the actions of the drug-addict Cait, not my sister Cait. You know? And it got bad before it got better. Really bad. She got hit by a car and almost died and now she’s doing time. And her nonsense got so bad my father had a heart attack due to the stress. She’s had to face everything she did, and the consequences of that, of nearly killing Dad, of nearly dying. And if she weren’t incarcerated like she is right now, she probably wouldn’t have gotten clean. She might be dead by now. She’s lucky she’s not dead. Jail probably saved her.”

In jail, maybe they’d get Shane some counseling. Maybe he’d get his medication that he needs and can’t afford. Maybe he’d only do time for a little while. How bad was it to steal a credit card? The drugs? Punching a cop? Would he be in there for long? So many thoughts flood my brain.

I hear Aiden’s muffled voice in the background.

“Gotta go; the shuttle is here. I’ll check my messages tonight in case you have any news or need anything.”

I wipe tears from my eyes. “Carly, please enjoy your honeymoon. Don’t worry about me. God, you barely know me.”

“I know you, Jada. Believe me. You’re a lot like me. If you need anything and I mean anything, message me.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Bye for now.”

She ends the call and I sit there on the kitchen floor, my back against the wall.

Holy shit. Shane’s in jail.

I feel a strange pain but also a sense of something else. I think it might be relief. I’ve been worrying about him for so long. So damn long.

I feel guilty, too, because jail? What if he gets hurt?

But what if he gets better, gets his life together?

He’s going to have a record. He’s lost freedom for at least a little while.

The phone rings and I rise, deciding to look for Austin. There’s a long number on the screen, way too many digits, with no caller ID. I find him in the master bedroom staring out the window. He turns as I come in the slightly open door. I guess he was giving me privacy and hears his phone ringing.

I pass him his phone, not making eye contact.

I get out of there to give him privacy for his phone call.

10

Austin

I end the call with the doctor in St. Kitts.

That bitch Sienna did drug me.

When I get off the phone, I’m livid. I knew it, but having the evidence, I’m ready to tear things apart.

I still only have vague memories of seeing two of her as she climbed on top of me and started jacking me off to get me hard enough to get me inside her.

I storm past Jada, who tries to talk to me, raising my hand and saying, “Save it,” as I storm out. I jump into a cab and head back to my hotel so I can call our lawyers.

After I get on the phone with one of them, I send a text to my father.

“I now have proof Sienna Greer drugged and date-raped me in St. Kitts. I’m pressing charges. Just wanted you aware.”

I make a call to my mother.

“Hello Austin. Are you in New York?” she greets.

“You tell Roger Greer to get ready. I’m having his daughter charged with date rape.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me correctly, Mother.”

“I… Austin, are you certain?”

“Am I certain? I woke up naked with her in bed and then vaguely recalled a dream where she climbed on me and had sex with me, only it wasn’t a dream.”

“You were drunk at that reception, and…”

“And? Really, mother? You think I’m making this up?”

“No Austin, I don’t think that, it’s just-”

“I had lab tests that confirmed GHB, a date rape drug, was in my system. I can’t believe you’re doubting me.”

“Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m just shocked. So shocked. I’ve known that girl since she was a small child.”

“I said as much at the hotel that morning,” I remind her.

“I know. I thought you were just covering things with Aiden. I… is there any way we can let this go?”

“Let this go?”

Unbelievable.

“Roger is very worried about his daughter. She hasn’t taken her parents’ pending divorce well. He’s trying to get her into counseling. She’s upset about Aiden’s wedding, and – ”

“And clearly she went to St. Kitts with the intention of giving Aiden that drug and fucking up his wedding, but Roger gave her the wrong venue and she was too late, so guess she decided to fuck me over instead. Any way to stick it to our family.”

My mother holds the phone and says nothing for a minute.

And I’m seething. Why is she being protective of the Greers and not me, her son? If I were a woman, would she be reacting like this?

“How would you react if Xander Greer had done this to Adele, Mother? Tell me that? Would you ask her to let it go?”

Maybe she would. Anything for her precious Roger?

We grew up with Xander, too.  He’s a douche bag who Adele gave her virginity to. He dumped her two days later.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry, Austin.”

My phone beeps and I pull it back to see the screen. Dad is on the other line.

“Whatever, fuck. I gave you the heads up. I’ve gotta go. Dad’s on the other line.”

I end the call without waiting for her to say her goodbye and switch over.

“Are you all right, son?”

“No, Dad. Not at all.”

He sighs. “Okay. Anything I can do, you let me know. I’m very sorry, Austin.”

I swallow down a lump. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Your mother argued with me about this, after you left. I knew there was no way you’d do that to Aiden. No way in the world. That girl opened her hotel room door in a blanket with a smug smile on her face when she was greeted by your brother. She’s a piece of work.”

“That means a lot, Dad. Thanks.” All Dad was worried about when I was leaving was work, but I guess delayed support is better than no support at all.

“So, you’re in New York?”

“Yeah.”

“All settled in?”

“No. That’s another story.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Never mind for now. Nothing I can’t handle.” I don’t bother telling him he forgot to tell Alice to hire Jada Miller.

“So, tomorrow then… call me directly after you fire Bassell. Have him escorted out by security. I don’t want him getting any sort of heads up either so be there early and make sure he doesn’t get access to any of his files before he goes. Confiscate his company cell phone immediately so we can check it, too. And call me from his office so we can go through some of his files on the phone.”

My lip curls. Fuck. Priorities, right? Carmichael Consulting comes first.

“Yeah, Dad.”

“I’m here if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

Whatever.

I hang up and stare out the window.

11

Jada

It’s been a few days since my brother got arrested. I’ve had a few days alone in the condo; I haven’t seen Austin. I have had a check-in message once daily in the evenings from Carly the last two days and now she’s video calling me.

She’s a good person, making sure I’m doing okay. I wish we lived in the same city. This friendship won’t go anywhere, sadly, since she and Aiden are based in California.

She looks amazing as she waves at me on video chat. Her curly hair is everywhere, her happiness glowing like the sun.

“Hey,” I greet with a lame little wave.

“How are you?” she asks, taking a sip of a drink with an umbrella in it. She’s outside in an orange swimsuit.

“I’m okay,” I nod and reposition myself on the bed. I’ve officially moved into the spare room and have everything spotless in the Master for whenever Austin comes back, but I have no idea when that’s happening.

“Any news on your brother?” she asks.

“I talked to the public defender today, actually. They had him in under supervised detox. He was doing really badly with the withdrawals. I should be able to see him by Friday or Saturday.” I shrug.

“What’s gonna happen?” she asks, sadness in her eyes.

“He’s being charged for all of it. Stolen credit card, destruction of property, resisting arrest and fighting with the police. Plus the drug stuff. The public defender is going to try to get the judge to agree to let him go into drug rehab or maybe push the angle of his mental health. I’ve told them about his bi-polar disorder and given them a list of medications he was on, so they’re trying to get him in with a specialist.”

“And how are you doing?”

“Um, that’s a good question.” I do my best to hold back emotion. “Thanks again for all you’re doing to help me. I can’t express how much it means. I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.” I do, though. I’d probably be in my cousin’s spare bedroom, or if not for that option, I’d be in a shelter. It’s really sobering to realize you have so few options, such a small support system.

She gives me a kind smile. “I talked to Austin today and he’s being a bit of an alphahole right now, but he’s going through some stuff, too. He’s a really great guy, but…”

I roll my eyes. “Alphahole. That’s a good word for him.”

“Yeah, sorry. He’s not usually like that. But there are some extenuating circumstances.”

“He wants nothing to do with me because of how things looked when he came in. I get it, I don’t come off looking good in this situation but, I’d just come in too and I was wearing this ridiculously slutty outfit because of a temp job that was a nightmare, and… anyway, I’m not surprised he wants nothing to do with having me work for him or live here. Basically that was my job interview, I just didn’t know it. I wish I could have a do-over.”

“Well… I’ve asked him to give things a trial run as a personal favor to me. He told me he’ll let me know. Normally, he’d say yes immediately so I think he just needs to cool down. If he digs his heels in, maybe I can get you a job at CC’s New York office. There might be something in the mail room or in data entry. I know it’s not your thing. Or I’m guessing it isn’t. What is your thing? Maybe we’d have something else for you. Do you want to work in the corporate world?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been doing a few jobs at once for eons and I’ll take just about anything legal to be able to survive. What I really want to do is go back to school and take some more writing courses. Finish getting my English degree. Doing what I did for you guys would be awesome as a stop-gap. It paid well, Aiden paid better than most do, and if I get something like that that’s steady enough and find a place with decent rent I can take some classes and have time to do it.”

“Are you looking to get into journalism?”

“Not exactly.”

She waits.

I say nothing.

“Not exactly?” she repeats, encouraging me to elaborate.

“More writing stuff.”

“Oh, what about copywriting? We need people to write ad copy, corporate literature, stuff like that.”

“I mean, I could… I’ve done a bit of that but I’m actually looking at fiction-writing,” I say and feel like my face is on fire suddenly. I haven’t talked about this to anybody. Not a soul. And I realize how crazy it sounds.

“Really? That’s amazing. I read constantly.”

“It feels like a bit of a pipe dream but, yeah, it’s the longer game goal. I was working for Aiden, doing nearly full-time at a coffee cart as a barista, and I had another personal shopping client for a little while, but that ended just before the gig with you and Aiden did. And then something went wrong there and the coffee cart guy didn’t pay me – the cart just up and disappeared and that messed me up and got me evicted. All I have right now is the writing gigs I do for a freelance website and it’s not super-steady.”

“What kinds of gigs?”

“Random stuff people ask for. I have a profile set up and people approach me, or I bid on jobs in the marketplace. A couple people have paid me to write business letters, love letters, product descriptions for online stores, a few obituaries. Some guy had me write his mother’s obit and then offered me a gig to write some kinky stuff and …”

Her eyes widen.

Here goes nothing. “Aiden’s not in earshot is he?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’s napping. I’m out by the pool by myself. Nobody’s around.”

“Well,” I drawl, and Carly has moved in closer to her screen, like the plot has thickened.

“Well, so, I almost turned the gig down but decided to just try it – the whole site is anonymous, I just have a screen name. And it was kind of fun, so then he paid me to do two more of these short erotic stories and it stirred something up in me, so I want to see about expanding on that. It was fun and I’ve done a bit of research. I think there’s a market for it.”

Carly is smiling. “Erotica.”

I shrug. “Is that crazy? I looked online and I’m thinking about self-publishing. It seems like there’s an audience for it.”

“It’s awesome. Own your sexuality, girlfriend.”

I laugh. “All I’ve got for sexuality are the things I write down. Not exactly any real action happening in my life, so…”

“Well, never say never. Look at me. I went to San Diego right after getting dumped for being too boring, looking to start fresh and here I am just months later with a great career and a sexy husband who loves me. And girlie, I’m getting all kinds of action. Amazing action.”

I bark out a laugh. “I bet you are.”

God, it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed.

“Gotta say, I had a huge crush on him while I worked for him, before you… obviously now that’s over.”

“That was obvious,” she says, smiling. “The first time we met, I knew. And I mean, how can you not find him at least attractive? Aiden is nice to look at, even if he sometimes ruins it by opening his mouth.”

I cough out another laugh, doubling over. She laughs too.

“It’s what I do. Carry torches, have crushes, and never do anything about them.” I shrug. “I haven’t had a serious boyfriend in three years.”

“What happened? What ended it?”

“He died,” I say softly.

And then my chin wobbles.

I manage to push it back before I break into ugly sobs.

She gasps.

“Car accident,” I explain. “He just got a new car. A fast one. He died in a head-on collision late one night after sneaking out of my room. He was driving too fast, lost control of the car. The person in the other car died, too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shrug. “Me too. We dated for three years. We dated in semi-secret because a) he was friends with my brother and a couple years older than me but that was for the first two years. The last year, Shane knew and seemed okay after an initial blow-up. And b) because he was black, and my father is a racist, so Dad had no idea the whole time.”

She swallows and shakes her head, her eyes brimming with sadness.

“It was hard. All that sneaking around. He was sweet and so smart, and I felt like he loved me. And then I couldn’t hide my pain when he died, and my brother was there for me, but Dad was less than supportive while I grieved. My father was so awful about it, so disappointed in me. Even hit Shane for letting me and Josh happen. I moved out. And because I moved out and had to support myself, I had to quit school temporarily. Temporarily two and a half years ago.” I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be this long. Ugh. Sorry, I’m a bummer.”

“I called to check in on you,” Carly says. “To find out how you’re doing, not for you to pretend you’re okay even if you’re not.”

“I’m gonna be okay,” I tell her. “Thanks to you guys.”

She smiles, but I know it’s a pity smile. That’s okay; I’ll take it.

“So, I’ll keep working on my new brother-in-law,” Carly says, straightening up. “He likes me, and I think I have sway over him. And if I can’t talk him into it, what do you think about some office work?”

“I’d appreciate either thing. I appreciate your help so much. I’ve sent out a bunch of resumes this week, but no nibbles so far. And I’m going to pay you back, too.”

She waves her hand.

Carly sent me a thousand dollars the other day. I’m so grateful.

I’ve only spent a little to replace groceries and household supplies I used of theirs and to buy some food. It feels good to have some money in the bank. Though I’m under no illusions, it’s not my money. I won’t feel comfortable with any sort of spending until I know where my next paycheck comes from.

I hear noise. I straighten up. “I think someone is here. I better go see.”

“It’s probably Austin. I’ll wait – go look.”

“Okay, one sec.”

I put the phone down and peek out of the door. Yep, it’s Austin. He has two suitcases and a gym bag. He’s dressed in jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. He looks good. I shake that thought off as I close the door softly and back up to pick the phone back up.

Austin Carmichael is probably just over six feet of sexy. He’s athletic, he has a sexy mouth, brown hair that looks soft – like you could forget all your troubles by sinking your fingers into it, and he has an air about him that would normally instigate my instincts to immediately fall into crush mode. It’s only because of the way we met and the way he thinks of me as an absolute piece of trash that has prevented me from entering that mode. But, on the plus side, I don’t feel shy around him like I typically would.

I grab my phone.

“It’s Austin. I’m going to go see if… if I can talk him into hiring me.”

“I’ll work on him too.  No reason you two can’t work together and be roommates.”

“He hates me,” I say. “What kind of a disaster will that be? Working for him while we’re living together?”

She gets a weird look on her face. She bites her cheek and something sparks in her eyes.

“What?” I ask.

She looks like she’s just had a brilliant epiphany.

“Nothing,” she says. “I better go wake up Aiden for dinner. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks for the chat. It was helpful to talk to someone.”

“Any time,” Carly says.

“And um, please don’t say anything to Aiden about my former crush or about my, um, stories.”

She smiles big. “No problem. He thinks everyone has a crush on him, the egomaniac, so that’s not a biggie, but don’t worry about the stories. Though… when we get back, I wanna read them.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I say. “That’d be mortifying.”

“Oh, he’s up, gotta run. Talk to you later.”

“Thanks again, Carly.”

“My pleasure. Bye.”

She smiles at me while she swipes to end our video chat and I catch sight of Aiden moving in behind her, bare chested, in just a pair of blue swim trunks, and he looks sleepy and sexy as he approaches her. I put my phone down, pushing away jealous thoughts. She’s about to get lucky – of course she is. She’s on her honeymoon.

I sigh, thinking about the fact that it’s been nearly three years since I had sex. Josh and I had sex just before he died. Literally right before he drove home and died on the way. I swallow down a lump of emotion before I set my phone on the bedside table, and then I head to the kitchen.

Austin isn’t there or in the living area which is all sort of together. This apartment isn’t huge, but it has an open almost loft feel to it. You walk in to the gourmet kitchen with an island and then the living space which is surrounded by big windows with a great NYC view. Beside the entry door there’s a short hallway with two bedrooms, the main bathroom, and the utility room. The spare room used to have a small ensuite bathroom, but a few months back, Aiden had it taken out to make the master ensuite bathroom bigger and more luxurious.

The master bedroom door is open an inch and I catch sight of his shadow in there, so I go to the kitchen counter and I wait.

12

Austin

I’m back here, because the hotel I’m in basically kicked me out. Turned out they couldn’t extend my stay because of pre-bookings for a convention. I could’ve moved to another hotel, but decided to come back here and stay in Aiden’s apartment. I’m not happy about this chick being here, but I’ve also reluctantly given my family the okay to let her work for me on a trial basis, but only because of the urging of both Carly and my sister Adele.

Sounds like Carly wants to help this girl out and got Adele on her side, which doesn’t take much. My older sister loves to meddle in what she thinks of as a great cause and Adele met this chick while she worked for Aiden and likes her.

Carly sweetened the deal, too, with a sales pitch that followed her telling me she’d gone to the hotel manager about what happened to me in the bar that night. She got them to fork over video surveillance from the bar and the elevators that night and it’s very obvious that Sienna fucked with my drink and that I was looking totally out-of-it as she escorted me to my room, even having to open the door with my keycard because I was that disoriented that I couldn’t do it myself. I’m glad that hotel has cameras everywhere. Four pieces of footage were given to our lawyers and I’ve seen the videos myself. Weird watching yourself when you have no recollection of the events. I hate how it felt.

In the first video, two drinks are put down on the bar and she pulls something out of her bag, leans in and blocks the camera view, but then you see her stir the drink with her finger and hand it to me when I get back from the men’s’ room. Then there’s video of her steering me toward the elevator from the bar, me looking wrecked. Then, helping me stagger out of the elevator. Then, the scene by the door to my room.

That coupled with the lab report and eyewitness testimony from both Aiden and my mother – if my mother will testify about the following morning – this is going to mean Sienna has to answer for what she’s done.

As far as I know, the ball is rolling and she should be arrested this week, though the lawyers told me it might take a couple months to go to trial.

Carly used the security video to her advantage, telling me about getting it for me and after sending it to me, adding, “Can you do me a huge favor, Austin? My favorite brother-in-law?”

My immediate response was “of course”.

And then she asked me to please give Jada Miller a one-week trial as my housekeeper and personal shopper.

I deflated, feeling cornered.

“That’s dirty, Carly.”

“I know,” she said through the phone, sounding contrite at least, “But that girl has had the kind of few weeks that beg a break. She needs a break. She’s been screwed over by her brother, lost everything, she’s got nobody, and letting her stay at the condo and giving her a job to help her get back on her feet are something she really needs, and deserves. She’s got no one. She’s a great girl, Austin. You’ve got the wrong impression of her.”

“Whatever. For you, fine. I’ll give it a week. If she fucks up, she’s fired. And I’d tell you that you owe me one, but I don’t work that way…”

“If you asked me for a favor from the bottom of your heart, I’d do it, Austin, even if it was hard.”

“Sweet talker,” I grumbled.

She laughed. “Okay, thank you. I’m sure she won’t mess up.”

“And if she gets on my nerves too badly, she leaves the apartment, too.”

“No. Nope. Sorry. I told her she can stay for as long as she needs.”

“Aiden also told me I can stay,” I volley.

“Then I’m sure you two can make it work.”

“If we can’t, you’re telling me your favorite brother-in-law has to find another place to stay while he’s in New York?”

Two can play dirty pool.

“I’m sure you guys can make it work,” she says, brimming with confidence.

“We’ll see,” I grumble.

And later I got a call from Adele who slipped it into conversation that Jada kept his apartment immaculate for Aiden when he was here, that he came home every day to great food, his errands taken care of, and even his clothes shopping done for him.

“I know how much you hate clothes shopping, Auz,” Adele said. “Besides, I met her twice when we were visiting and she is so nice. She set up a romantic evening for me and Dirk once, and I just love her. She’s super sweet.”

And I rolled my eyes, knowing Carly has recruited Adele to her cause to get me to give Jada Miller a chance.

Frankly, I don’t care all that much; this chick should not be my problem. I’ve got no time for other people’s problems. But I also don’t need to get ganged up on by  Adele and Carly, so whatever. I’ll give it a week. And I’ll be a hard-ass to work for.

And either she’ll prove herself or she’ll hate the hard work and she’ll quit. And I’ll have given her the chance my sister-in-law emotionally blackmailed me into giving, so I won’t be the bad guy when Jada quits or fucks up and gets fired with good reason.

I’ve had plenty of practice being a hard-ass the last few days at our New York office. To say things are fucked up there is a gross understatement and it’s been a good outlet for my frustrations, because things at the office are a fucking mess so I’ve fired people, reprimanded people, and been a demanding prick.

I’m doing an in-depth internal audit and finding all sorts of shit with red flags, like the way Bassell fudged shit with his expense reports and petty cash. There are even fake temporary employees on the books, with their pay checks coming from petty cash. It’s a mess and I’ve been working from eight in the morning until after midnight most nights since I’ve been here. Having someone make sure my suits are cleaned for work and that I don’t have to fuck around with room service or take-out food sounds good – though I have very low expectations for Jada Miller. But that doesn’t mean she can’t jump through hoops trying to prove herself.

***

“So, I, um… are you moving in?” Jada asks when I come out. She’s sitting at the kitchen island.

I nod and lean against the counter. “Yeah.”

“And are you all right with me being here, too?”

She’s asking this timidly, her big eyes on me, her body language … submissive.

And everything about her right now has me angry.  Her body language. Her look. The way she’s being all… demure and soft-spoken.

Because that’s the kind of thing I go for, to a tee, and it almost feels like she’d somehow know that and use it to try to buy her way into my good graces.

Though, she can’t possibly have a clue about what I prefer or don’t prefer in a woman.

She’s got her hair up in a knot on the back of her head with pieces hanging loose, framing her face. She’s make-up free. She’s wearing loose grey shorts and an off-the-shoulder black t-shirt. The t-shirt is old and nearly sheer so I can make out her bra outline. She’s got a great body. Bare feet with pink painted toenails. Curvy hourglass figure. A generous ass. A wholesome face. And I’ve got a thing for that messy bun, fresh-face look. I’ve got a thing for everything she’s got goin’ on right now, not the least of which is her generous rack, but I will absolutely not be taken in by that image she has goin’ on right now. Not like I did with Meryl. Not like I’ve done in the past, either.

In my experience, sweet, innocent-looking women often hide their true nature.

13

Jada

Austin strolled out giving me a dark look, like I don’t belong here. Like I’m unworthy of his time.

I ask if he’s okay with me being here and he folds his arms across his chest and glares. He’s wearing a washed out soft-looking grey t-shirt. The guy has muscles. And pecks that make my mouth water. He’s even got a sexy neck. Weird to think a neck is sexy. I pry my eyes away from his throat and stare at my hands resting on the island.

“Under certain conditions.”

“Okay?”

“No company. My brother and Carly agreed you can stay temporarily, but you’re a guest; this isn’t your home. This is supposed to be my place for three months, so you’re entitled to your room, the main bathroom. I won’t use that; I’ll use the master ensuite so that main bathroom is all yours unless I have guests over so make sure you keep it spotless. We’ll obviously have to share the kitchen.  I don’t want to come home from work to any noise, any people, any mess. When I’m here, make yourself scarce; do your best to make me feel like I’m living here alone.”

This is going to go well. Not! But what choice do I have?

“About that… what would you say to me doing for you what I did for Aiden? I know you said no, but I could really use the job, and I’m good at it. I’m here anyway, so I can cook, clean, shop… run errands. Aiden was very happy with me while I worked with him, enough to recommend me to you. You just… you caught me at my worst. It wasn’t even my worst – it was like someone else’s worst because that… that’s not my life. I don’t live that way, I don’t have parties like that, and I just got caught up in-”

“Save it. You’ve already said it,” he interrupts.

My shoulders slump.

“The fact that you’re not even lookin’ me in the face right now says something about you,” he mutters.

I look up. “I’m embarrassed. That’s all it says about me.”

He scoffs like he doesn’t believe me.

“Fine. You’re on a trial run, only because Carly and Aiden wanna help you out. I’m not convinced you deserve their help after the crap you pulled, but whatever. That’s how I feel. First impressions and all.”

“Yeah, well my first impression of you wasn’t all that great, either,” I mutter and instantly regret it.

Something about this guy brings out some outspoken brattiness in me that I don’t usually have. I’ve never been one to stand up for myself. I’ve never been one to engage in confrontation. I normally go completely introverted around any sort of conflict.

He just told me he’s giving me a trial run and I backtalk him. Dumb move.

I looked him right in the eye when I said that, too, and now his jaw is ticking. And it’s incredibly sexy. My heart skips a beat, but I don’t know why. Am I getting aroused by ticking him off?

“The day we met was a bad day,” I say quickly. “I can get past it and do a good job for you. Just tell me your expectations and I’ll make sure I exceed them.”

He examines me for a minute, then asks, “What did you do for Aiden?”

“I kept this place clean, did his laundry and grocery shopping. Dropped off and picked up dry cleaning. He told me what he liked to eat and I came in every other day with new meal options and cleared out whatever he hadn’t eaten. Laundry, personal shopping for clothes and gifts, that kind of thing.”

“And how were you paid?”

“He did a weekly Friday deposit into my account. Thursdays I’d send him an email with copies of all my receipts and if I did something extra, I’d list it and he’d add accordingly. He was generous.”

“How generous?”

“He paid me well. And when I did extra things, he paid extra. I used his credit card to manage the expenses, so if you need me to do that, I’d need another one.”

“What sorts of extra things did you do?” he asks, and his voice has gone husky.

My face burns and I’m sure it has to be beet red.

He’s trying to get a rise out of me by being insulting. I don’t believe he’s really propositioning me, more like he’s testing me.

“If something had to be done here, I’d be here to oversee it. Like upholstery cleaning, any repairs. Cable installation, that kind of thing. Packing for trips. Liasing with his driver or other employees for things when he lived here. Making calls for things for the apartment and waiting for repair people or picking extra things up. Sometimes he’d make a list of things he wanted. Shop for a birthday gift for somebody, get theater or concert tickets, pick up stuff at the post office, buy a better showerhead and get it installed, errands to a pharmacy, buy him new shoes or clothes. You know… errands.”

“You haven’t exactly shown responsibility with a credit card.”

I sigh. “I’d be careful. Very careful after what happened.”

“How much money did you make?”

“About two thousand a month. Sometimes more. That was for the basics.”

“And how much time did all this take you?”

“Ten hours a week, maybe.”

“I could probably get all that done a lot cheaper.”

“Aiden was also very happy with my efficiency and my ability to be discreet about things. I guess it was worth it to him to not have to worry about that stuff. If he wanted something done he’d tell me and I’d make it happen.”

“Discreet about what?”

“Sorry, but that’s none of your business.” God that feels good to say. “Wouldn’t be very discreet of me to reveal that, would it?”

“Hm.”

“And it was worth it to me. The flexibility with him allowed me time to work on other things knowing I had steady money coming in. He didn’t police my time, just told me what he wanted and I made sure it happened around my schedule.”

“And you think you deserve that kind of money when you’ll be living here too?”

I shrug. “If you don’t want to pay that much, I’m willing to negotiate.”

“Maybe for the fact you’re staying here you shouldn’t be paid at all.”

I tilt my head to the side. “If that’s how you feel, I can deal with that.”

He scoffs. He doesn’t believe me.

“Really, Austin, I need a place to stay for a little while. If it makes you feel better to have me cook and clean as part of that bargain, I can deal. I’ll look for a job. Carly said maybe she’d get me a job at her New York office, so I’ll just-”

“I’m running the New York office, so that’s not exactly up to Carly.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he returns, injecting it with snark.

I shrug. “What would be fair to you?”

He studies me for a minute.  “I’ll give you the same deal you had with Aiden. The company agreed to cover your salary as part of my duties here. But don’t screw it up, don’t break my rules, and meet my expectations. I won’t hesitate to fire you.”

I’m relieved.

Of course I’d clean and cook to stay here for free for right now, but that money means a lot. It will mean I can start moving forward. I’ll save every dime I can until I have to move so that I have some money aside.

I blow out a breath.

“Thank you. Thank you very much. You’re fine with the expectation that I might not be fully available 24/7 though? I might take some classes at the college. Part time.”

“No. For that money and the fact that you’re living here and, I’m assuming, going to eat the food that’s here and use the toilet paper, shampoo, and laundry detergent that you’re going to be at my disposal 24/7.”

I blink. “You’re counting toilet paper as part of the deal?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re not paying for it, are you?”

“I will happily pay for my own toilet paper if it means you don’t own me,” I counter. “I’m not looking for a master/slave relationship, bud.”

He eyes me from head to toe, a dark expression brewing in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat.

He doesn’t even crack a smile. It makes me wonder if Austin Carmichael has ever cracked a smile in his life.

“We’ll see how this first week goes. Consider yourself on probation.”

“Fine with me. Do you have a brand preference for toilet paper, shampoo or anything else?” I ask, hoping to get on a different track because while I didn’t mean anything sexual about that master/slave comment, suddenly it feels like I said something overtly in that vein.

“Probably. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Fine. Maybe I can take a list of things you like and don’t like. Aiden gave me his meal and brand preferences, but most of it was ready-made and he could just heat it up when he got home. He usually didn’t know what he wanted so I’d have two or three fresh options here and get rid of whatever he didn’t eat. And if he didn’t like something or really liked something, he’d just leave me a note or send me a text. Since I’m living here, I can cook or pick up food each day if you’d prefer someone else cook it.”

“We’re not sitting down to meals together,” he clips.

“I didn’t mean like that. I wouldn’t expect that.”

“You cook and I’ll eat. I don’t need a pile of options every day. If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you. Make sure there’s extra stuff here in case I don’t like dinner. If I hate your cooking, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Okay.”

“And again, I want it to feel like I live alone.”

“You’ve already said I’m only entitled to my room and the bathroom, so I’ll be out of your sight when you’re here.”

“Fine.”

My heart skips a beat. I have a job. I have a place to stay. I know where Shane is and hopefully he’s going to be getting some real help. I can deal with this guy’s awful attitude if I must. Things could be worse. Way worse.

“Thank you, Austin. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he warns.

“So, if you want, we can do a list of the kinds of things you like to eat, anything specific you’d like done for you…”

The look on his face tells me he’d rather be having a root canal than standing here talking to me.

“Or,” I offer, “would you like to hook me up with your housekeeper in California? I can get tips from her.”

“I don’t have a housekeeper in California.”

I’m surprised. And it shows.

“I like Mexican food. Steaks and seafood. Italian. Sushi. Nothing much I don’t like.”

“Okay.”

“I have a big appetite. No bird-sized portions. And I want a bagged lunch every day.”

“Oh?”

“Sometimes hot, sometimes sandwiches. I don’t care how often it’s one or the other, I just want a variety. I just want a bag ready in the morning when I leave for work. Make sure I can find it in the fridge. I’m busy at work and hunger hits me and I hate having to send someone out or call something in. It hits me and I get hangry. I want a cooler bag, something I can have in my desk for when I’m ready.”

“Okay. Hangry? Yikes. Can’t imagine you hangry.”

His eyes narrow and a thrill shoots up my spine. Why though? Why am I provoking him?

I can’t imagine hungry-angry on this guy compared to how he seems, now.

“I don’t like laundry piling up,” he continues. “And I go through clothes fast. I wear a suit to work, I change to work out when I get home, and then I also wear casual clothes in between. There’s gonna be a lot of laundry. I usually shower twice a day so if Aiden doesn’t have a heavy towel supply and you have a problem doing laundry often, we’ll need more towels.”

“Okay.”

“I like things tidy. Spotless, actually.”

And he doesn’t have a housekeeper? Is he exaggerating to try to be a hard-ass? I can take it. I worked for his brother for almost a year; I’m used to terse hard asses. Terse good-looking hard asses, at that.

He keeps talking. “I’ll make a list of everything I can think of that I want for toiletries and snacks I like to have. Drinks.”

“Okay. That’ll be good. I’ve done a bit of shopping for me. Would you like me to make dinner tonight? I have stuff for pasta, I have some chili that I made yesterday, I could do something with some chicken breasts I have in the freezer, or I have, um, eggs and sandwich stuff, and-”

“Start working for me tomorrow. I’ll take care of myself tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Carmichael.”

He makes a grumbly sound. “Austin.”

“Okay, then.” I clap my hands. “Austin.”

“I leave for work at seven to seven-thirty. I get home anywhere from five thirty to midnight.  Make sure I know where to find my dinner at night for heating up. That’s all I have for you right now. I’ll leave notes on the fridge if I need you to do anything. I’ll work on getting you a new credit card tomorrow. I have to do some stuff with my corporate bank manager, so do you need cash until it comes for food and shit?”

This feels like a test. I’m not failing it.

“I can just spend what I have if you’re going to reimburse me on pay day until that card comes.”

“You’ve got the cash to do that?”

“Carly gave me a loan. I can use some of that.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’ll get you some sort of card tomorrow. I’ll get the bank to put a rush on it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m putting a low limit on it.”

“Fine.”

No way do I want him to think I want cash for something nefarious.

“Can you even cook?”

“Yes, I can cook.”

“We’ll see.”

Yes we will.

He heads to his room and returns with an Xbox console. He moves to the TV and grabs the remote, then leans over and starts setting things up.

And then a few seconds later, he looks over his shoulder at me. I’m still sitting at the island.

I guess I was staring at him bent over. He has a pretty great ass.

He cocks an eyebrow and stares.

A pretty great ass for an ass.

And I’m not sure why he’s giving me a dark look, so I stare back.

“This isn’t gonna work if you can’t follow basic instructions.”

“I don’t understand,” I say.

He rolls his eyes.

“Oh.” It hits me. He wants me to go. I’m not to be around when he’s home. Right. I ignore the sting of that as I jump down and go to the guest room. I peek at him just before my door is closed and he’s already turned back to installing his Xbox.

God, he’s so dismissive. And grouchy. And Carly says this isn’t really him so I can’t imagine what’s going on in this guy’s life that he’s this crabby.

If this isn’t him, he definitely hates me. I wonder what it’d be like if the night he came I was just sitting here, waiting for him to arrive with an empty, clean, well-stocked apartment.

Oh well. It is what it is.

Whatever comes of this, I’m just relieved to have a job, I have a temporary place to stay, I know where my brother is, know he’s not on drugs, and that’s all I need for today.

My life has sucked lately, but today sucks far less than yesterday.

14

Austin

I feel a stab of guilt as Jada goes to her room. I can’t seem to shake my sour mood. My mood isn’t her fault, but having her foisted on me as a roommate when I’m feeling just miserable isn’t helping.

I need to kill stuff. I set my Xbox up and spend the next few hours doing that.

At one point she comes out looking contrite as she reaches into the fridge to take out some water and nuke something in a container.

I do my best to ignore her, but feel her eyes on me and it’s annoying.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten all day,” she whispers. “I’ll get outta here stat.”

I should’ve set my Xbox up in the bedroom.  Maybe I’ll move it.

No. Fuck that. She can be uncomfortable. This isn’t her place. It’s not mine either but I am a lot more entitled to stay here than she is.

The microwave beeps and she’s gone behind her closed bedroom door and whatever she’s eating, it smells good. I order pizza, thinking I should’ve let her make me dinner tonight.

The pizza is all right but I’m exhausted, so I eat just one slice and put the rest in the fridge before crashing early.

***

It’s nearly one in the morning when food smells hit me and wake me up from a dead sleep.

I’m practically drooling in bed when I sit up, annoyed. I go to the ensuite bathroom and take a leak, thinking cooking after midnight isn’t remotely conducive to being unobtrusive here.

I find myself storming to the kitchen and seeing her at the stove with a frying pan of steaming meat and vegetables.

“What the fuck?” I snap.

She startles with a shriek and then her eyes land on me. She grasps her chest at her heart and blows out relieved breaths.

I’m in my underwear. Just my underwear.

She looks away, pulling her lips tight.

And just seeing her in her bare feet, with those same clothes on but I’m pretty sure she ditched the bra, and all those smells hitting my nose, I’m livid and talking my cock down, so I don’t wind up with a semi that she’d definitely notice.

“I have to get up in a few hours and you’re out here cooking?”

“Sorry,” she says. “I…”

“Night one and you’re already pissing me off? This won’t work.”

I have to tear my eyes off her tits. She’s definitely not wearing a bra.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I just…”

“Have some fucking consideration,” I clip, “I’m going back to bed. Shit like this happens again, you’re gone.”

I storm back to bed.

***

It’s the next day and it’s noon when my phone buzzes. I’m neck-deep in spreadsheet hell trying to figure out some Enron-esque shit Bassell’s tried to pull with the books. It’s my assistant Candy calling. I hit the speaker key.

“Yeah, Candy?”

“Hi Austin!” she sings. “Jada Miller is here for you. She’s not in the book, but says it’s important. Do I show her in, or should I ask her to make an appointment?”

What? What the fuck is Jada doing here at my office?

This chick is gonna have to go sooner than later.

“Come,” I growl and fix my eyes on the door as I toss my pen down hard on the desk.

There’s a quick knock and the door flies open. Candy smiles wide at me. She’s blonde, stacked, sexy. And she’s trying to get my attention. I’ve been a prick to most everyone, but somehow I haven’t been able to take it out on her.  I can’t help but lose the scowl.

Jada comes in behind her and Jada’s dressed in business clothes. This throws me. She’s wearing a cream-colored power suit with a feminine blouse. She’s even wearing heels. Her hair is down and she’s wearing makeup and jewelry. It’s tasteful, nothing like the night I met her.

“I’m heading to lunch soon, Austin. Do you need me to pick anything up for you?” Candy bats her eyelashes at me.

I’m about to reply that yes, I’m starved, but Jada holds up a blue and purple cooler bag.

“Not necessary. I’m here to save the day.”

Candy’s expression drops and she looks Jada over with distaste.

“I’m Austin’s other assistant. I guess we’re like twins. But I take care of his personal stuff,” she says to Candy with a smile.

Candy’s face has gone sour.  And Candy doesn’t look so sexy suddenly.

I clamp my mouth shut, realizing I’m gaping.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll go to lunch, Austin.”

“Go ahead.”

“I forwarded calls to Liv.”

“Thanks, Candy.”

She closes the door after shooting Jada a dirty look.

Jada heads to my desk and holds the cooler bag out, gesturing for me to grab it.

I stare at it and my expression must make her think it’s with disdain because she says, “You can take it, you know. You’re looking at it like you don’t wanna touch it because I have the cooties.”

“Do you?” I ask, straight-faced.

Jada rolls her eyes and huffs. “I was cootie-vaccinated as a child, I’ll have you know. I got it while doing a handstand for three whole minutes and nearly passed out, but my cousin Darlene informed me those efforts meant it was good for life.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I warmed it up before I hopped in the taxi so it should still be hot if you’re hungry now.”

I fold my arms over my chest and stare at her. “Why are you interrupting my workday, Jada?”

“You forgot it.”

“I did?” I didn’t check the fridge for a lunch. I didn’t think we were starting that until tomorrow.

“Yeah. This is what I was cooking for at that ungodly hour.”

A pang of guilt hits.

She leans in a little. I find myself leaning back.

“You know, you could’ve asked me what I was doing.” She looks annoyed. She looks like she wants to shoot lasers from her eyes at me. “You told me to stay out of your way, but you also wanted bagged lunches, so I got up in the middle of the night to cook food for your lunch so I wouldn’t be in your way and then you hollered at me and threatened to fire me.”

“I get it. And I wasn’t expecting lunch today since we’re just starting today. Obviously a misunderstanding,” I say.

“Yeah. Funny how misunderstandings happen sometimes. They happen to… us all.”

She stares.

I stare.

“Anyway,” she looks away. “Your lunch is hot if you’re hungry. I put all the stuff in the thermos and wrapped the tortillas in foil and hopefully they’re still warm. Cold stuff is on one side, hot on the other. The thermos will help if you don’t want to nuke everything. I didn’t know if you liked guac or not, so I put some in.”

“Guac?”

“You said you like Mexican. I made you chicken fajitas.”

I blink.

“I hope that’s okay. That’s what I had on hand for ingredients. I put a paper in there with my cell number on it. We haven’t exchanged numbers yet so if you could put it in your phone and then text me so I’ve got you in my phone that’d be good. I’m grocery shopping this afternoon so if you have anything you’d like, feel free to let me know in the text. Otherwise I’ll try to wing it. Please bring that home and leave it where I can find it for tomorrow’s lunch.”

“You don’t have a credit card yet, do you want…” I lean sideways so I can fish my wallet out.

“I’ve got it. In fact, I’ve got the groceries this week. They’re on me. Or Carly, really, but I’ll be paying her back.”

I stare.

“Just my way of saying thanks for giving me a chance,” she adds.

Her shoulders jiggle as she scoffs, then she shoots me a dirty look. “And don’t choke on your thanks or anything. Have a good rest of your day. I’ll make sure dinner is ready by five thirty.”

She goes to leave, but collides with a redhead in the doorway.

Fuck. No.

That redhead.

“Oh,” Jada says to Sienna Greer. “Sorry.” And then Jada rears back with a weird look on her face.

Recognition?

“Uh,” Sienna returns. “Yeah. Excuse you.” She smooths out her skirt and breezes by Jada, eyes on me.

And Sienna is dressed head to toe in designer clothes, carrying a bag that probably cost her father five-grand. She walks like everyone has eyes on her, like things can finally get started now that she’s arrived. The bitch thinks her shit doesn’t stink and every eye just has to be on her and only her. She drops her bag on my desk and rounds the desk.

“Austin. Hot stuff,” she greets and opens her arms.

Jada shoots me a dirty look and then she leaves.

My focus moves to the bitch standing over me. I stand up and look down at her.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve. I suggest you turn around and fuck off right now.”

She smirks and then rolls her eyes.

“Austin, Austin… we need to chat.”

This ought to be good.

She continues. “My father called and said you’re talking about pressing charges against me. Austin, I don’t know what on earth you drank that night before we ran into one another or how you think things went, but you were all over me.” She sits on the edge of my desk, shoving my laptop back.

“And I enjoyed every minute of it,” she adds, opening her legs wide, giving me a view of red lace panties.

She smiles.

“I had a drug test,” I say.

She tries to hide the flinch behind what might be a very convincing poker face, but not to me, because I know this bitch can lie. I’ve known her since we were kids and I’ve watched her practiced lies more than once in my life. More than twice. She used them to get out of shit with her parents, with other authority figures, to get what she wanted with my brother on more than one occasion, too. And she’s a mean girl. I’ve seen her reduce teenage girls at our parents’ country club and our private school to tears.

“I did not drug you, Austin. That’s ridiculous. Maybe someone else did.”

“I’ve just hit record on my phone,” I say, setting it on the desk. “So, Sienna Greer, you know this conversation is being recorded by me, Austin Carmichael. Understand?”

“Don’t be so silly. I don’t know how many people served you drinks that night, Auz, but probably several since you were at a wedding reception, and-”

“I want you to leave, now, and I’m also telling you I’m pressing charges. I was gonna have you arrested in San Diego, but since you’re here, you might want to turn yourself in to the cops.”

“I’m doing no such thing. I don’t know what you’re pressing charges for since you were the one that came onto me, unhappy that the girl you liked showed up at Aiden’s wedding with her fiancé who beat you up.”

“Really, Sienna?”

“Really, Austin. You approached me at that bar. You were feeling sorry for yourself with your broken heart and your black eye, and I freely admit, I was broken up about Aiden getting married, so you and me wallowed in the bottle together. We got drunk and then we had sex. End of story. If you took drugs, that’s on you or if it was slipped to you, it had to be on some bartender or other scammer that maybe hung out waiting for an opportunity to drug you so they could rob you or something. That’s not on me. In fact, if that happened to you, it’s a good thing we were together because maybe you’d have woken up in a bathtub with vital organs missing if I hadn’t been there.”

“Tell it to the judge, baby,” I tell her. “Now go. I’m not speaking further to you. You have something to say to me, like that you’re sorry for drugging me and date raping me, it should go through your lawyer.”

She barks out a laugh. “Date rape? Look at the size of you and the size of me. That’s rich. I didn’t do anything to you that you didn’t want. And newsflash. You did stuff to me, too. You made me come twice that night, Auz. You were a very, very willing and responsive participant. I was gonna wait till you got home to reconnect, but after Dad called and told me you were being a little bitch about this, I decided to make a special trip to tell you that maybe your memory is murky from that night, but we had a great time. You are damn good in bed and I wouldn’t mind another round. As long as you stop being a whiny bitch, that is…”

“Wow, Sienna. Fucking wow.”

“Besides, I’m no longer broken up about Aiden. You cured me of that and I planning to tell you I’m interested in you. So, why don’t you erase that recording and take me to lunch?”

“Got lunch already.” I gesture to the cooler bag behind her.

She stares at me for a minute before she replies.  “If you’ve decided to take a play out of your brother’s handbook and be a jerk about this, your call. You probably feel like you need to save face with your brother who might about now be realizing his mistake marrying that girl instead of getting back with me.”

This chick is delusional.

“Drugging someone and climbing on them while they’re halfway unconscious is date rape, Sienna. I didn’t consent to that and I wasn’t in any sort of state to consent to anything, because you drugged me. If I got hard enough for you to get off, it’s not because I wanted you. And what are you up to now? Thinking you can string me along and keep pissing off my brother? You think I’m that gullible? You think Aiden gives that much of a shit what you do?”

“Pff. You’re sure you want to play it this way? It doesn’t have to be this way.” She slowly parts her legs wider, giving me a view that I’m not interested in.

“Very sure. Get out.”

She stares at me with shock. “You’re seriously going to drag both our names through the mud with a bogus charge?”

“It ain’t bogus, and yes I am.”

“You’re bluffing. Aiden put you up to this?”

“Wait ‘n see.”

Her lips twist into a very unattractive scowl before she straightens. “Good luck in our circles trying to call rape, Austin. Not only is it untrue, you’ll be a laughingstock. Have you thought about that?”

I glare at her. “Get out. Or I’ll call security.”

“Think about this before you do anything. This would be really fucking stupid of you,” she warns. “Think long and hard, Austin.” And then she storms out.

I hit my phone screen to make the recording stop and then I forward a copy of it to Dan, the lawyer on our team that’s spearheading the case for me.

I lean back in my chair and blow out a breath while finger combing my hair back.

Bitch.

The bitch isn’t wrong, though. There will be people who laugh at the prospect of a 6’1” 185-pound guy calling rape against a 5’7” 100-pound woman. And that’s bullshit. Because whether I’m a guy or a girl, she drugged me and took advantage of the situation.

I don’t think she planned it, but she did act on opportunity.

She took her opportunity when I walked up to her in the bar. Obviously, she had the drug on her because, my guess - she planned to give it to Aiden before his wedding so she could derail his life and make sure Carly called off the wedding.

Her father thwarted that plan by lying about which resort. Then I walk in and bam, plan B. She wanted us to get caught. She wanted to cause problems in my family.

And bottom line, whatever her reasons, I should get to decide who I fuck.

I don’t know how she knows about my fight with Meryl’s boyfriend, but there were a lot of eyes on that confrontation, or for all I know, she overheard my mother talking to Roger about it.

Whatever. I’ll let the lawyers deal with this shit.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me and now my head is fucked. I’m pissed.

My eyes land on the cooler bag and a stab of remorse hits.

How was I supposed to know Jada was making my lunch? I told her she didn’t have to start working for me until today and I didn’t even consider lunch factoring into that.

I unzip the bag with multiple compartments and catch sight of something written on the tag on the bottom. “Jada” in purple marker. She lent me her lunch bag.

In the top compartment there’s a bottle of water, a banana, and three small, lidded containers holding guacamole, sour cream, and salsa. There’s also a Snickers protein bar. I open the other side and there’s a foil packet of warm tortillas with a Thermos. I open the Thermos. Chicken peppers, mushrooms, and onions fried in salsa. Steam curls up from the mouth of it and it smells great.

Inside a zippered sandwich bag there’s a knife, fork, napkin, even a fucking wet wipe packet for me to wipe my hands afterwards. There are also individual salt and pepper packets.

Guilt hits again.

But why should I feel guilty? Because this girl that is getting paid to do shit for me actually does what she’s being paid to do?

I open the foil packet wide to use it like a plate and dump some of the thermos contents onto the top tortilla, using the plastic knife to add the sour cream and salsa. I skip the guacamole and wrap up the tortilla.

It’s fucking delicious. She’s packed me enough for four of these things. I eat two and a half of them, eat like it’s my last meal. Or the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I wind up with salsa on my knee, chicken on papers on my desk, and I don’t give two shits.

As I’m wrapping up the half-eaten one in the foil, because I’m stuffed (but I might want it later because it’s too good to throw out), my phone rings. Dad.

“Great,” I mutter and wipe my mouth as I answer the call.

He’s been a demanding prick since I’ve been here. He’s rightfully livid about the shit Bassell was up to, shit that’s still being uncovered through my audit. That employee is going to see us in court, in fact, and I’m looking to find out if he had any accomplices that haven’t already been fired. We’re damn near sure he was feeding stuff to the competition.

“Hey, Dad.” I screw the lid tight on the Thermos and lean back in my chair, using the wet wipe to dab at the food stain on my knee.

“Austin, are you all right?”

“Debatable. Why?”

“Alice was on the phone with Olivia at reception there and she said she thinks Sienna Greer just left your office.”

“What? How do Alice and Liv know that’s even an issue?”

“I told Alice what happened. And Olivia mention some dramatic redhead with an attitude was leaving your office in a huff while they talked on the phone.”

My eyes close. I’m not fucking happy about this.

“I told her not to say anything, and she won’t,” Dad adds.

“Dad, fuck.”

He’s silent on the phone for a second.

“I’d prefer you not tell anybody about this shit. This is highly personal, Dad.”

“I…” He lets that hang and just holds the phone.

I scoff and shake my head.

“Sorry, Austin,” he finally says.

“Whatever. Just please, nobody else, Dad. Okay?”

“Okay, son. Alice will be discreet. I promise.”

I shake my head. I fucking hope so. Why would my father tell his assistant about this?

“What happened with Sienna in the office?” he asks.

“She breezed in here acting like she wants a relationship. Flashed me her underwear. Playin’ like I’m crazy if I think it wasn’t consensual. Says we were drunk and not only won’t I have a leg to stand on legally, but I’ll be a laughingstock too. A guy reporting a girl for date rape. Of course she’s playing it off like anybody could’ve drugged me. She doesn’t know I have video.”

“Unfortunately, she’s right about public opinion.”

“A man can’t possibly be taken against his will?”

“Obviously, he can,” my father says.

I sigh.

“I’m sorry, son. Very sorry that this happened to you.”

“Thanks. I recorded the conversation and sent it to Dan.”

“You need anything?” Dad offers.

“Just some peace and quiet to get work done.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Let me know your findings when you’re done with that audit.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When’s that gonna be?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow, maybe?”

I feel my blood heat up even more.

“No, Dad. At least three or four more business days. At least. This is a mountain of shit I’m digging through.”

“Oh. Okay. As soon as you can. Bye for now.”

I’m about to slam the phone, but think better of it. This is Quentin Carmichael – he’s built this company for us and he cares a lot about it.

“Wait. Dad, how are you doing? How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Fine, Austin. Fine.”

“Honestly, Dad.”

Silence for a second, then, “Feeling like shit. Feeling twice my age. Forgetting stuff. Hate it.”

“You should take time off.”

“No. I shouldn’t. I need to keep busy. Don’t need time in my head, son.”

“I get that.” And I do.

“I know you do. Thanks for all you’re doing there. I have to run.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Bye, Auz. You’re doing great up there. I’m glad I have you there ironing things out.”

Once I hang up, I head to reception and first I tell Olivia not to let anyone in like that again. When she defends that she was in the bathroom and the relief receptionist didn’t get a chance to stop Sienna from just waltzing in I lose my cool and call the entire remaining staff of a dozen out to the floor and ream them all out, telling them nobody should be inside the office without an escort. I warn there’s an audit being done and say some of their former coworkers were fired because of fraud. No one but staff are allowed in the office until further notice and the end of my tirade warns that if any others are found to be in cahoots with the people who have been fired over mishandling of company documents or funds will not only lose their jobs, they’ll be charged criminally.

The mood the rest of the day is tense. Of course it is. I all but told them they’re all under suspicion. The tension hangs in the air of the office, which is a lot quieter than usual, and I’m tired. Tired of being pissed off more than anything, but I can’t seem to shake my anger.

Adele even messaged late in the afternoon asking how I’m doing, if I’m okay.

No. Hate every single person in NYC. Hate them. This is bullshit.

A few minutes later, she replied with,

Even Jerry Seinfeld? You love Jerry.

I snickered at that.

My guess is Dad told Adele I’m having a rough time. My sister is a beautiful soul who will immediately take issue with anyone in her family being the least bit unhappy.

She replied again.

What about Spike Lee? You can’t hate Spike. You’ve seen Clockers how many times? You love Spike.

And one more time before I had to answer.

Surely you don’t suddenly hate ScarJo. I know all about your giant ScarJo crush.

I replied.

Stop Googling famous New Yorkers just to argue with me.

Her response:

Busted. But I wasn’t trying to argue with you. I was trying to make you smile. Isn’t Mother Teresa a New Yorker too? I know my baby brother isn’t a saint-hater…

Me:  I think she was Italian.

Adele: “Nope, Macedonian.”

Me: “Get off the Google, addict.”

Adele: “I’ll get off the Google if you get off the grumpy. I’ll send you cute pics of your niece and nephew. Will that help? Bray misses you already. I went to your house to grab your mail the other day and he looked for you even though I told him you weren’t there. He was convinced you were playing hide and seek.”

Me: Definitely. I need Braeden and Lilly pictures badly. Thanks.

She sent about twenty texts, pictures and short videos of Braeden and Lilly, including one with Braed waving and saying “Miss you Unco Auzzie”.

That kid is smart as a whip. And I’m gonna hate it when he loses his toddler speech impediment. Kid is too smart for his age, too. Me and my sister live in the same neighborhood, so I see her kids a lot. I miss my little buddy.

But that slice of home did help. So I again scroll through everything she sent during my cab ride back to the apartment after work, carrying Jada’s empty lunch bag with me. I left my laptop at the office tonight, knowing I’m too exhausted to do any more work today. It’s Friday, but I plan to be at work tomorrow anyway.

I ate the last fajita and a half at four o’clock with the banana and stashed the protein bar in my desk. I can’t help but wonder what she’s made for dinner.

15

Jada

Austin Carmichael is an alphahole jerk. I barely slept last night after he threatened to fire me for cooking his lunch. I lay in bed for forever - seething. I tossed and turned and finally I sat up and snapped open my laptop. I started writing to get my frustration out.

I’ve taken to doing this a lot in the last year. When I can’t have the kind of exchange with somebody I want, I write it down.

I’ve written letters to my father, my brother, my absent mother, where I’ve said what I really feel, said what I really need them to hear.

I couldn’t bring myself to type ‘Dear Austin’ and somehow, my plans to write a confrontation scene between a housekeeper and her boss that would end in her telling him everything she thought, maybe even murdering him at the end so that I could purge my anger went a different way.

I wound up starting a story and not the kind of story I want to be writing. Because it’s a smutty story and he’s the main male character.

Yep, I’m writing dirty sex stories about my boss – that I hate.

And I’m feeling guilty about being the main female character, and about all the things he and I wind up doing in this story.

But I can’t seem to stop writing it. I worked on it until four o’clock in the morning. I worked on it again after my first cup of coffee at nine o’clock. And I opened my laptop up the minute I got back from dropping his lunch off, too.

That he didn’t bring his lunch today gave me the perfect opportunity to show him he was wrong about me last night. The look on his face when he realized I brought him lunch that I’d been cooking when he hollered at me – priceless.

I even wore my job interview outfit for extra punch.

He felt guilty for a split second for yelling at me last night. And then that girl came in and I almost fell over. Because I know who she is. There are pictures of her in this apartment. Or there used to be. I haven’t seen that photo album in a long time, so Aiden must have gotten rid of it.

Organizing for Aiden, I found it and couldn’t help, being in my crush mode – I looked. I saw lots of pictures of Aiden with that girl and lots more pictures of that girl, including some very risqué ones. I’ve seen her naked, in fact. In picture form.

Is Austin having a thing with Aiden’s ex?

Wouldn’t surprise me - a jerk like that.

***

He arrives at 4:20. When he enters, he’s looking at his phone, smiling, and I barely recognize him with that smile on his face. It’s kind of startling, actually, in contrast to the scowl that’s usually fixed in place.

His eyes then move from his phone to me as he shuts the door and his expression changes. Even the air in the apartment feels like it changes and suddenly I’m tense. On alert. Defensive. Feeling like I’m about to get in trouble for something.

I’m at the island with my laptop, working on that story. Because I can’t seem to help myself.

I quickly save the document and close the lid before I hop down and grab my laptop and my phone to take with me.

“Your dinner is in the fridge,” I say, “There’s a ‘reheat’ setting on the microwave that should work great, unless you want me to heat it up for you.”

“I’ll do it. Just need to shower and work out first.”

I move to the stereo and turn the music off before I slip into my room and shut the door without a word of reply from him.

I am determined not to fail at this. Everything will be immaculate in this apartment and he won’t have a thing to complain about again. I’ll be a consummate professional staying out of his way and delivering on making his life here easier for the next few months while banking everything I can and working hard on my stories.

I had a productive day. I cleaned, went grocery shopping, took Austin his lunch, and spent hours writing. Even if it’s stuff I shouldn’t be writing, I figure I’ll count it as practice. ‘

I also did something for my future and enrolled in a writer’s workshop at the library. It’s free and the group meets once a week, starting the week after next. It’s held by a published romance author and I figure I’ll be able to get something out of it.

If not, at least it’s free and it’ll get me out of the apartment for something weekly that’s just mine. I need something that’s for me after all this time of doing things for everyone else.

I’ll think about school in a couple months when this job ends.

Looking after Shane, looking after Dad and Shane before that – it feels like it’s about time I do something for myself that might help me move forward with my hopes and dreams.

After Mom left, I tried to be the woman of the house, doing laundry and cleaning at nine years old. Cooking dinner from the age of ten with little to no thanks from my father whose life consisted of work, the local bar for a few drinks, then dinner and the news followed by a sports or old rerun sitcoms, more news, and then bed. Same thing every day. On weekends he’d tinker in the yard or the garage and go for drives in his classic muscle car and then home, dinner, bar, TV, bed. Sometimes he’d skip dinner and spend a lot of time in the bar, especially once Shane and I hit our teens.

As for our relationship with him, he was always butting heads with Shane for forgetting to take out the trash, mow the lawn, or shovel the driveway in winters or who, when he did do it, didn’t do things to Dad’s standards.

I was determined to give Dad nothing to complain about where I was concerned so I barely asked for anything, got decent grades, never got in trouble and did as much as I could around the house.

Dad wasn’t exactly mean to me, but he wasn’t all that affectionate either. He’s a hard-ass, old-fashioned, and set in his ways.

I had an aunt who was there for me as a girl in ways that mattered: maturing, my periods, stuff like that, and I spent time with her often growing up, but she moved to Florida three years ago to retire and then suffered a fatal stroke a year later. After Aunt Jade died, I felt truly alone other than Shane.

As for Shane, I’m supposed to go see him tomorrow. He’s back in his cell and allowed visitors. I don’t know what to expect and I feel guilty for being relieved that he’s likely safer in jail and at least unable to get his hands on any drugs or get into any more trouble.

As much as I’m sad my brother’s life isn’t his own right now, I can’t help but feel relief that right now I’m only responsible for myself.

Well, and Mr. Groucho – the alphahole, as Carly would say. But he’s going to be easy compared to living with my father and then trying to take care of my unpredictable older brother. A grouchy man with high expectations: I can do this with my eyes closed.

The guest room I’m staying in is pretty. There’s a double bed, armoire with television, and a huge window with a view of the park. Spending all my time in here I feel a little claustrophobic and creatively stifled, so when he’s not here and I’m not busy shopping or cleaning, I’ve decided I’ll work at that island in the kitchen. The nearby floor to ceiling window offers a billion-dollar view that I figure should be good for creative inspiration. I can stare out from my bedroom or here. One giving me a view of Central Park where I can imagine all sorts of fun guy meets girl in the big city scenarios. Walking a dog at the park or in the zoo. Waiting for the subway. Meeting up for a clandestine rendezvous in a local bar after swiping on a dating app.

The other window gives me a quintessential view of New York City with the Hudson river and it’s pretty inspiring to look at.

I parked my butt at the kitchen island late this afternoon, hoping the change of space – outside my bed - will inspire me to work on a different story than the one I’m currently writing.

No such luck.

Despite that I’ve tried to stop multiple times since I started it last night, somehow that document keeps getting opened back up. Somehow I keep finding my fingers pecking away at it, like some sort of addict. And it’s already over fifty pages and four chapters.

I blame Austin. Austin last night in his underwear, yelling at me in the kitchen while I was trying to make food. Looking so… hot. Flexing his muscles while he yelled and waved his arms. That bulge in those grey, skintight, boxer briefs.

Gulp.

The stories I’ve been writing up until now have been straight erotica between completely fictional characters that don’t exist. Most of my stories are straight sex for twenty pages max with little to no backstory.  Not so with the story I started after the berating.

Each chapter has had a graphic sex scene and the chapter I just wrote was verging on not just erotica but erotic romance. Because there are interactions beyond sex.

Somehow I went from the male protagonist reprimanding the female for streaks on the windows that turned into sex against the window with him carrying her to bed and holding her while she cried, told him about her problems, and then he promised to fix them all for her.

She told him she was strong, had always been strong and wasn’t used to a man fixing her problems but he held her face and told her that she shouldn’t have to be strong all the time, that he wanted to give her a break, to take care of her for a little while.

I’m about to backspace that scene out of the story when Austin comes in, so I just hit save and shut the lid instead.

And I’m feeling all sorts of guilt about this story that I’ve aptly named my Austin Smut File, but I bury it under denial as I keep succumbing to the urge to go back to writing it.

Damn it, that guy that paid me that money for that first dirty short story created a monster. I’m some kind of a pervert now.

My male character for this story is bossy. And grouchy. And hot. In fact his name is Austin Groucho the Third, because the ‘third’ makes him sound extra pompous.

My female character was homeless and found a classified ad for domestic duties with room and board included. The job interview for being his housekeeper consisted of her mopping the floor naked while he watched and inspected. And he inspected more than just the floors, I tell you that much.

Chapter two was about her burning his toast at breakfast and this resulting in him sweeping her over his lap, yanking up her French maid outfit out of the way so he could spank her bare bottom. And then I totally shocked myself because he used the burnt toast between her legs, rubbing the toast against her clit and making her come with it. I completely shocked myself with that scene! I’ve never imagined something so filthy in all my life.

I’ve been celibate for three years, have gone on a handful of dates that didn’t turn into anything beyond a good night kiss, and now here I am having those filthy scenes fly out of my fingers? Picturing my jerk of a boss as I write them?

Chapter three opens with the female character (who I’ve temporarily named Jada Sweetheart) cleaning the tub and while she’s bent over doing that, he comes in, lifts her skirt and inspects her work as well as her while she continues cleaning before he uses his cock to rub her off, then spills his load all over her lower back. She wasn’t allowed to stop scrubbing the entire time.

And then the fourth chapter, the window cleaning chapter… where I’m afraid of heights and have to clean the windows with my eyes shut while he fucks me against them is crazy. And I tell him I’m afraid of heights, so he carries me to bed and holds me and coos to settle me and that turns into him offering to fix my problems for me.

God, this story is filthy. Every bit of it. And I’m ridiculous.

Clearly, three years without sex is my problem. Seeing my sexy grouch of a boss in his underwear didn’t help. It’ll be the third anniversary of Joshua’s death this Sunday. Thinking of it makes my chest want to cave in, makes the pain want to come back at full potency. I push it away and try to work on another story. One without faces, ones that aren’t named after me and the alphahole boss I’m stuck having as a roommate, but as the story materializes in my mind, the way I figured out it would do when I first wrote that first paid story for the twenty-five dollars the guy paid, the hero in this new story looks, too, just like Austin Carmichael.

Tall, blue-eyed, muscled and California-tanned Austin Carmichael.

I had a serious crush on Aiden, but I never wrote sexy stories about him.

Damn it! I need help.

I slip out of my room to go to the bathroom and catch a perfect view of the back of Austin doing pull-ups with a contraption that hangs over the door frame of the closet in the master bedroom.

The way his back muscles move with every pull. The look of his hands holding on. The pronounced veins in his forearms. His sexy lower back. The muscles in his legs.

It’s like I’m frozen to the spot for a minute. Superglued in place.

He stops and drops to his feet and I quickly go into the bathroom and shut the door, eyes feeling like they’re going to pop out of the sockets. That is some eye candy right there.

I shake it off.

16

Austin

I haven’t joined a local gym yet, so after some pushups, pull-ups, and chin ups on the closet doorframe, I shower and warm up the food she made for me. She made me a mountain of pasta with shrimp and vegetables in a garlic wine sauce. And it’s delicious.

The apartment is spotless. The master bedroom has been cleaned and dusted. My laundry is even done and put away. Neatly.

I’m kind of impressed. She’s either as efficient as Aiden said or she’s putting on a great show for her trial run. Either way, it’s good I don’t have to fire her tonight. I don’t have the energy.

After showering and eating, I pass out in bed without even getting under the blankets. I’m that exhausted.

***

I wake abruptly at twenty after four in the morning and my stomach is killing. Absolutely killing me.

I run for the bathroom and throw up. And then the explosive diarrhea hits. I have it so badly and for so long that I go through almost all the toilet paper in the bathroom. I’m not sure I’m done yet, and can’t find any more bathroom tissue in the cabinets so I haul up my track pants and, gut churning all the way, make my way down the hall and whip open the closed door on the main bathroom.

And here she is, sitting on the toilet, pajama pants around her ankles, sweat-drenched face sheet-white, and obviously suffering from the same affliction as me.

She shrieks.

I slam the door and turn away.

“Sorry!” I yell, still holding the doorknob with one hand, my gut with the other. “There’s no toilet paper in my bathroom and I’m… I’m sick.”

I hear shuffling and then I back up because the door opens enough for her to toss a four-pack into the hallway.

I squat, grab it, and make a mad dash back to my own bathroom, racing the gurgling that tells me I’m about to erupt again.

This goes on until after six o’clock in the morning before I’m back in my bed, curled into a ball, feeling like death.

So much for that awesome dinner I ate. If I didn’t see her in the same state as me, I’d have thought she poisoned me to get revenge.

At least it’s the weekend. I don’t have to go to work. I was planning to, but I don’t technically have to.

At six forty in the morning with my gut raw, a sore ass, and feeling like I might finally be done, I decide to investigate the fridge for a sports drink and some pink gut remedy, which I know I saw in there.

I find her in the kitchen, chugging back some pink stuff herself.

“What the fuck did you feed us?” I growl.

She shakes her head and holds her stomach, not looking at me. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Jada?”

She glares at me and points.

“I don’t need this from you right now. I feel like crap and you walked in on me while I was on the goddamn toilet!”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Don’t you know that when a bathroom door is closed it means you shouldn’t go in?” she snaps.

“If you’d supplied my bathroom with toilet paper, I wouldn’t have had to hunt for toilet paper in the middle of the night. I didn’t think you were awake. Why are you hoarding it all in there?”

She looks at me like I’m insane.

Maybe I am insane.

“I am not hoarding all the toilet paper. I didn’t realize you were low,” she defends.

“Well I wasn’t until you fucking poisoned me!”

“I don’t need this. If you wanna fire me, can you do it after I’m not feeling like I’m going to either hurl again or shit my pants? Because clearly I poisoned both of us. The cramping is insane, I might even die and the last thing I need to do in my short life is argue with the likes of you.”

“Whatever.”

“Nice comeback,” she snaps.

And I want to throttle her.

I can’t believe that thought crosses my mind as she passes me the bottle of Pepto Bismol. I grab a spoon from the drawer, already feeling guilty about it. She passes me a bottle of blue Gatorade, too, not gently.  I think she wants to hit me with it.

“Thanks,” I mutter as I snap it away.

“Again acting like I have the cooties.”

“You do. And you fuckin’ gave ‘em to me tonight.”

She flips me the bird and then heads down the hall. She’s got her underwear all twisted in the back with her pajama pants. One pantleg is up around her knee and the other is long. And her ponytail is crooked.

And I fight the urge to laugh.

She flipped me the bird after food-poisoning me.

She’s got some nerve.

Then again, I walked in on her while she was having diarrhea.

I double over and hold my gut while I take the medicine and then find my way back to bed.

***

I sleep until noon and feel half human when I sit up. But only half.

I take a long shower and then head out to the kitchen.

There’s a note written in neat cursive handwriting, with a purple pen.

Austin,

You forgot to text me your number. I don’t know if you want me cooking for you 7 days a week or ever again, but I have plans today so I won’t be back until later. If you need me to make dinner, please text me. There’s cereal and eggs and bread for breakfast choices. Or yogurt and granola and fruit. I’m only planning on soup today for myself. I’m picking up Pho on my way back later and can get some for you if you like. I’m sorry you got sick from something I cooked. I hope you’re feeling better. I threw out the rest of the shrimp and whatever vegetables I used.”

Jada

She wrote her number on the bottom, so I add it into my phone and send her a text.

“Pho sounds good. Beef please. With crispy noodles. And Vietnamese fresh vermicelli rolls. Extra peanut sauce.”

She replies right away.

Jada: Seafood or vegetarian fresh rolls?

Me: Usually seafood but not in the mood for shrimp today.

17

Jada

Shane has lost weight. And he was skin and bones already.

Bonez.

Yeah, bones.  That nickname sends a chill up my spine. Bonez the drug dealer. How did I miss that? How did he have enough money to get high and not help me out with the rent, never put a loaf of bread in the kitchen, not find a way to save us from eviction when the coffee cart went out of business?

And then to steal my last seventy-five dollars and my ex-boss’s credit card after throwing a wild party in Aiden’s apartment? He could’ve gotten me arrested, too. I could be in prison right now!

I’m lucky Aiden and Carly were so awesome.

He looks gaunt through the glass window separating us. Though, he looked like this before everything went bad because of no sleep, no appetite, and I thought it was all the by-product of him being off his medication, but it wasn’t just that. It was also whatever drugs he was on.

But yeah, he looks terrible. Even worse than he did.

I lift the phone and put it to my ear. He does the same.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Jayjay,” he says, and his expression hurts. It physically hurts me to see the pain and devastation on him.  But it’s the first time in weeks he hasn’t looked just vacant to me.

“I’m really sorry about everything, Jada. Really sorry. I fucked up huge this time.”

He’s weeping silently. His shoulders are shaking and his chin is trembling as he rocks back and forth slightly in his chair.

And the sight of my brother crying has always bothered me, but today I feel a little numb, feel like I’ve seen it too many times, fallen for it. I know his illness is real, I do, but it’s been so exhausting. And this time? He really messed things up for me.

“You took my purse, Shane. With my ex-boss’s credit card. I was already putting myself in hot water for staying at his place without getting permission properly first, and then that? It made me look bad. Do you remember that guy that came in yelling?”

He shakes his head. “I remember taking the purse, Jayjay. I don’t know what possessed me.” He shrugs and opens his mouth, nothing coming out for a minute. It’s like he can’t explain himself.

“That was Aiden’s brother, who was moving into the condo that day, who was going to hire me to do for him the job I did for his brother, until he saw the state the place was in, saw you were there getting a blowjob in his brother’s room.”

Shane’s shoulders slump and he closes his mouth.

“And then you took off and I didn’t know what happened to you and my purse was gone with the last of my money and Austin Carmichael found it in the elevator, tossed. You tossed it like I was just a nobody you’d ripped off. And then I was there begging him to not throw me out on the street because I had nothing, no money, nowhere to go and you were… I didn’t know where… gone to party with some girl to get Viagra to help you get off.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and starts hyperventilating. He used to do that when Dad would lose it on him, sit there and breathe hard over and over.

It used to make me panic. I was afraid, back then, Shane would stop breathing, give himself a heart attack.

Today, though, I sit and watch him do it and I don’t feel that sense of panic rising in me.

I watch. And I wait.

He needs to hear this. He needs to know what he’s done. I’m not making excuses for him anymore.

He says nothing.

Finally, I speak up again. “Are you back on your meds?”

He nods, not looking at me.

“Are they helping?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. It takes time.”

I exhale, emptying my lungs and wait. I wait a long time before Shane finally speaks.

“My lawyer is gonna try to get me in rehab and I might spend some time in the psych ward. I might not get jail time. We’ll see if he can cut a deal. I’m sorry, Jada. I really fucked up this time. I own that. I was using because it was taking the edge off what was goin’ on in here.” He points to his temple with his index finger.  “Things are wrong in here, baby sis, and I don’t know why I can’t get them to stay right. You did good, you tried to help me and I will never forget that, but I need to fix me now.” He pounds his fist against his chest. “I have to do it; it’s up to me. Okay? You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m gonna fix me.”

The dam bursts and I’m weeping.

“You shouldn’t have had to take care of me, sis. I should’ve taken care of you. You’ve been trying to take care of me since you were five and I was nine, when Mom wouldn’t and Dad couldn’t be bothered. You’ve always tried to take care of me, and I let you down. I’m sorry. I love you baby sis.”

“I love you, t-too.”

“You okay? Where are you staying?” he asks, straightening up.

“Aiden’s.  I talked his brother into letting me work for him for the three months he’s here. Well, I guess Aiden’s wife Carly talked him into it. But yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Sedgewick works at The Rift on weekends. If you call there you can tell him when you’ll get our stuff. I wouldn’t leave it in that warehouse for long.”

“Good idea. I’ll see about a storage locker.”

“He’ll probably move it for you for a case of beer.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I gotta go. I’m not feelin’ so good. Gonna try and sleep a little.”

“Okay, Shane. Take those meds. Get better.”

“Yeah.” He looks off vacantly.

“Ask your lawyer to keep me posted on the court date. I really want to see you get well, Shane. And you can. I know you can. I believe it wholeheartedly. I’ll visit again as soon as I can.”

He kisses his fingers and touches the glass. I kiss mine and touch it, too.  My chin quivers and I sniffle.

He puts the phone down and walks away.

I close my eyes and blow out a long breath.

I really, truly hope my brother can turn things around.

I really, truly hope he gets a good doctor and the right medicine, the right counseling.

As I leave, I phone my father. It’s a Saturday afternoon and I know what he’s doing. Dad’s doing what Dad does. He goes out to the driveway to tinker with or shine his old muscle car. Then he takes it for a drive and goes for a beer with a couple of his buddies who also have old muscle cars. And then he goes home, heats up a frozen dinner, and falls asleep watching sports with a beer on the TV tray and a burnt-out cigarette in the ashtray.

He answers.

“Yeah Jada? What now?”

Great. This is starting off positive…

I gulp. “Hi Dad. Shane is in jail.  He went off the deep end and he’s done some stupid stuff, got hooked on some drugs while trying to deal with his mental illness. He is probably going into rehab and maybe in for psychiatric help. I’ll keep you posted on how the case goes. I just-”

“You callin’ for money for a lawyer?” Dad asks.

“No. I wasn’t going to ask for money for a lawyer, he’s got the public defender, but if you want to-”

“Naw. He’s made his bed. He can lie in it. This is why I pay taxes, so my fuckin’ loser of a son can get a shitty lawyer for free.”

I start to seethe. “Dad, you know, your son has a mental illness and now it’s spiraled into a drug dependency, but the mental illness is still there, too.”

“His problem is that the kicks in the ass he got didn’t work. That’s what his problem is.”

I can’t believe this. I should be able to believe it because this is who my father has been my whole life, but I still can’t fathom it.

“Never mind, Dad. Just… never mind.”

“You gonna ask if you can come home now?”

“Why? Would you let me? Knowing a week ago that you were fine for me to be homeless, you think I’m gonna ask again?”

“You wanna come home, you can come home,” he says. “As long as he doesn’t come with you. And watch it with that sass, little girl. Remember who you’re talkin’ to here.”

“No thanks. I’m good,” I hiss.

Silence.

Is my father actually speechless? Or did he hang up on me?

I strain to listen as I get to the bus stop in front of the jail. The bus is coming, I can see it stopped about a block away.

I hear background noise through the phone, so Dad hasn’t hung up. It’s time for me to do that, though.

“Bye Dad.”

“Yeah. Bye.” I hear the click.

I stuff my phone into my bag and get my bus ticket ready.

I feel depleted. Completely.

My belly is still raw from last night’s food poisoning, but I wasn’t about to miss this visit. I even got off the bus on the way here, thinking I was going to have more of what I dealt with last night and spent twenty minutes in a coffee shop bathroom where nothing happened but stomach pain before I walked the rest of the way.

I’m tired.

I’m sad.

I feel… lost. Alone.

I lean my head against the window on my way back home, or – home for now. No, not home, I’m still homeless, I just have a bed temporarily. I feel dizzy, panicked, and then that changes to reflective, about my life, my brother, my upbringing, about losing Joshua three years ago, about what I want from life.

My stomach rumbles again and this time, it feels like it’s hunger. It’s after five o’clock and I haven’t eaten today.

The bus will let me off by the Vietnamese Pho restaurant and then I can walk back to the condo from there.

***

When I get there, Austin’s asleep on the couch. He’s wearing a muscle shirt and basketball shorts and he’s got one knee cocked and an XBOX controller on his chest. There’s a half-drank bottle of Gatorade in front of him on the coffee table.

As quietly as I can, I begin unpacking the food.

He sits up and his eyes are on me.

I wince.  “Sorry,” I say.

He scrubs his eyes with his palms and heads toward me, then scratches his belly under his shirt, making it ride up. Oh God, those abs.

I tear my gaze away and go back to pulling containers out of the plastic bag. There’s been a leak and soup is all over the counter now, so I start mopping it up with paper towel, feeling him stand over me, feeling my face get hot as he watches.

He’s close. Really close. The smell of the food mixed with the smell of him has me lightheaded – in a weird way. In a way that’s wrong. Because I’m feeling lust. I really need to stop lusting after this grouchy ogre I’m working for and sharing this apartment with.  I don’t even like him. He definitely doesn’t like me.

But I guess you don’t have to like someone to find them physically attractive. At least most people don’t. I usually do. I’m usually way more about substance than this.

Ha. That’s funny, because Joshua was drop-dead gorgeous, too. All sorts of muscles. A great smile. Strong hands.

A lump forms in my throat at the thought of Josh, so I shake it off.

I guess I have a thing for gorgeous plus substance. And I have no idea what substance Austin is made of, other than anger.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of Josh’s death and I’m going to do something I always do. Visit his grave. Walk the park like he and I used to walk when we secretly dated. Have a picnic with a hot dog, orange soda, and warm spiced nuts in our old spot under the tree where he first kissed me after we had that same picnic.

“You want cash for this right now or you good for me to add it onto the tab for next week?”

“The tab is fine,” I mutter, scooping up my stuff to carry everything to my room.

But my hands are too full, so I can’t quite open my door. Ugh.

I squat to set my food down on the floor, but something goes catastrophically wrong and the lid falls off my soup, scalding my wrist, making me lose balance on everything in my arms and doesn’t my entire thing of soup fall? The soup sloshes down the hall, across the baseboard, all over my foot and it’s hot so it burns.

“Fuck!” I shout, yanking my foot back.

And then I fall down onto my ass and I’m bawling.

Like… really bawling.

18

Austin

I scoop her up and take her back into the kitchen, putting her on the island. She startles for a split second and then she stares at me, her already huge eyes bigger. She’s embarrassed. And having some sort of meltdown, and for some reason I don’t feel annoyed like I generally do when I see a girl cry.

Seeing that she’s scalded herself, without thinking I yank her shoe and sock off and in a few quick moves I’ve got ice wrapped up in a tea towel and cooling the burn on her skin.

She’s still crying, audibly, and I know this is about more than soup.

Her wrist is pink and wet, too, so I grab a wet paper towel and dab it on her wrist. She pulls her hand back and holds the paper towel herself, so I lean down and roll her jeans leg up into a cuff and examine her leg, then put the ice pack over the top of her foot.

A couple days ago, I’d probably have figured she was a drama queen with this, but something about her today, something about the way she came in, put stuff down, wouldn’t look at me, wasn’t throwing sass, and looked like the weight of the planet was on her small shoulders, it sparked something in me, something that’s making me react like this.

She’s got her hands over her face now and I’m holding the cloth to her ankle, so I swivel her sideways so that her feet are now on the island. I lay the ice-filled towel over her ankle and grab a roll of paper towel and head for the mess.

Yeah, if she were sensible about this, she’d have made two trips, but clearly the girl has a lot going on. And if I wasn’t an asshole making her spend all her time in her room, she wouldn’t have hurt herself trying to carry her food in there as fast as possible.

And she came in here carrying a giant bag of food and bought herself a small order, me a large one of soup and she’s probably not feeling great either today after last night’s food poisoning.

She sits there sniffling while I clean the mess off the floor. I look over at her. She’s holding the cloth to her ankle now and staring at me with her lips pulled tight, her big eyes filled with sadness.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Her gaze darts away.

“It’s okay,” I say, shrugging casually while bringing the bundle of wet paper towels over with the empty Styrofoam and dropping them all in the sink for now.

I reach down and gently take the makeshift ice pack. Her skin is just pink. No blistering yet.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods, not looking at me.

“Want ice for your wrist?”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

I place the ice bundle over her ankle again, then rescue the food that hasn’t toppled out of its containers outside her room. More rice paper noodle rolls and an order of spring rolls. Half an order, because some fell out and wound up in the sink with the paper towels.

I set them down on the island beside her, lean over and pull two bowls out of the cupboard and split up the large soup she bought for me. I then open the next container with the noodles and meat and split it between the two bowls before I set the container filled with the sprouts, lime, mint, and other toppings in between and then open the fridge.

“What do you want to drink?” I ask.

When she doesn’t answer me, I look over my shoulder at her and she looks confused.

“Beer?” I ask.

“Ginger ale, please,” she replies softly.

I grab one for me, too. Normally I’d have a beer with takeout like this, but not tonight; my gut isn’t up for it.

I move our food around to the other side of the island and gesture. She stares at me blankly and without thinking, I lift her by her hips and set her on one of the stools.

She bristles and looks at me like she’s never seen me before.

I grab spoons and set them down before I sit on the stool beside her. We’re close, only a foot apart. And it feels too close, too awkward, so I scoot over to the third barstool and slide my food over.

She lifts her spoon and hesitates before blowing on the soup in front of her.

I grab one of the fresh rolls and dunk it in my peanut sauce and then grab the remote and switch the TV over from the Xbox to television. It’s a sitcom I’ve never seen, but something with a laugh track feels like a good idea. Haven’t heard laughing in a while. I set the remote down and continue eating.

The food is good. Very good, actually.

“Good call on this food. This is what my belly needs,” I say.

I’ll definitely want to order from this place again. I look over, about to ask her where it’s from, about to say something, make some sort of conversation, but she’s sitting rigidly, staring at her still-steaming bowl.

She must catch me looking because she finally speaks.

“Sorry about the meltdown. I had a really hard day and that was just… the straw I guess.”

“I get it,” I say. “I had a day like that the day we met.”

“I was the straw,” she says softly.

“Something like that.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly.

And I find I want to hear more of her voice in that tone, that soft tone instead of the angry, sassy one she’s mostly been giving me, the tone I’ve bought myself with how I’ve been with her.

I sigh.

I feel like an asshole. But I also feel like it’s a good idea to keep my distance.

Because this girl is just the kind of girl I would go for – especially when she’s like this. Quiet, A little shy. She’s pretty. Rockin’ body, but she’s wholesome-looking. Great skin, shiny hair, and she smells good. Plus there’s something about her eyes that’s disarming.

And I don’t need that right now.

For one, I’ve got a steaming shit pile on my plate.

For two, I don’t even live in this city. I’ll be back in California as soon as humanly possible and I already know what it’s like thinking you’re gonna start something with a girl that lives somewhere else.

And besides, Jada’s not likely to forgive me for the way I’ve been acting anyway, even if I did try to change the nature of our relationship, which I have zero plans to do.

I decide I’ll eat the rest of my food later, so I can end this awkward meal.

“I’m full. Thanks for grabbing that.” I stand up.

“You’re welcome,” she whispers. “Thanks for sharing yours with me when I spilled mine.”

“I’ll clean up so you can rest your sore foot.”

“My foot’s fine, Austin,” she says softly, still not looking at me. “It doesn’t hurt that much. I can clean up.”

“All right.”

And I want to ask her what happened today. Because it looks like she could use an ear.

But I don’t bother. It’s not a good idea to spend any more time around this girl than necessary. I don’t need her story, no more than I already have. I don’t need her soft voice in my ear making me want to get closer, making me want to hear more of it, making me want to solve any problems she has.

I’m ready to head to the bedroom so she can eat in peace, but the phone on the wall by the door rings. The intercom.

Why would that be ringing?

Not Sienna.

I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Carmichael? This is Andrew, in the lobby. Your sister is here for you.”

“Does she have red hair?”

“No. Dark hair. An infant wearing a monkey hat and a little boy with her.”

I hear a little voice.

“A little boy wearing a dinosaur hat,” he amends.

Obviously, Braeden isn’t about to be upstaged by a monkey hat.

“Oh. Send her up,” I say. “Thanks.”

Adele.

I look at Jada who’s still got most of her meal to finish.

“You have company coming? I’ll just…” She swivels, about to get off the stool.

“No, don’t worry. Eat. It’s just my sister.” I wave and open the door and stare out into the hallway.

I wait there until Adele gets off the elevator, the baby in a carrier on her front and a giant wheeled suitcase in one hand, Braeden holding onto her other hand. She gives me a huge smile.

A security guy is behind her, carrying a fold-up stroller and Adele’s diaper bag.

My big sister is a sight for sore eyes.

Braeden squeals and runs for me. “Unco Auz!” I squat and catch him.

He’s three and this little guy means everything to me. Seeing him, smelling the hair on his head, I already feel a little more like myself.

My sister gets to me. “Surprise! I’m here for two days only. Just enough time to try to cheer up my baby brother.” She wraps her free arm around me, and I kiss her forehead, unable to hug her properly with the baby against her chest.

The door guy leans the stroller against the wall by the apartment door and hands me the diaper bag as he gives us a nod. Adele passes him a twenty. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

He thanks her and gives me a nod before glancing in my apartment, frowning, and going back to the elevator.

I look down at the fabric monkey-clad head poking out of the baby carrier. Lilly is now old enough to coo and giggle and sit up by herself and she’s a sight for sore eyes, too. She rouses and looks cranky immediately. Her little lips puff out in a massive pout and she begins wailing.

“Get in, get in,” I wave Adele in, grabbing the baby stroller, ushering them inside.

Jada has a perfect view of the whole exchange. She’s at the island looking at us and biting her thumbnail, looking like she’s trying to hide that she’s been crying with a smile.

“Oh, Jada! Hello again!” Adele greets. “Could you do me a huge favor and…” Adele throws her jacket off and starts undoing the wrap thing she’s got around herself. “I’m dying to pee. Can you hold her for me?”

Jada hops down off the stool and comes straight over, arms out, ready to take Lilly.

“I have to pee, too!” Braeden announces. “Hi! I’m Braeden. Are you my unco’s girlfriend? I didn’t saw you at the wedding. Why do you only have one shoe on?”

“No, I’m… I work here. But I know who you are. I see your face all the time!”

“You do? How?”

Jada jerks her thumb backwards to the wall in the living room of framed photos my brother took. He’s got lots of framed portraits of Braeden and Lilly here and in San Diego. Aiden is good with the camera and he takes mostly pictures of people, managing to capture them at the perfect candid moments. If he didn’t go into business, he’d have been great as a professional photographer.

“Oh. That’s me! Like at home!” He heads to the wall to look closer at the portraits. Oh wow!” Now Braeden is looking out the window. “We’re high up! Way, way high up!”

“We sure are,” Jada says, her voice going funny, making me look at her to see what that’s about.

She leans down and pulls her other shoe off, then her sock and carries both shoes and the socks to her bedroom door. She opens the door and tosses them inside.

My eyes bounce to the window, at the view of the river. It’s a great view. I prefer the view at home, but this view Aiden has ain’t too shabby. And the view from his bedroom is even better, a view of the park.

“What’s yer name?” Braeden asks.

“I’m Jada.”

“Oh. I hearded my mom talking about you on the phone with my Auntie Carly.”

“Bray!” Adele exclaims. “You’re such a little sponge. Zip your lips about Momma’s conversations. Go pee first. I’ll finish getting Lilly out. Don’t forget to wash your hands. Down there,” she points down the hall.

“I haven’t been here in a long, long time. Not since I was a baby,” Braeden says. “So I don’t really remember it.”

“Oh. That’s a long time!” Jada plays along.

Braeden nods and runs for the bathroom.

I’m watching the exchange when Adele hands Jada the miserable, crying Lilly.

“Just a minute, precious. Momma has to pee and then I’ll get you all settled.”

Jada snuggles Lilly to her chest. “It’s okay, baby girl. You’re okay. Shh.” And she gently bounces her as she walks.

“I’m using the master ensuite. I can’t wait,” Adele rushes off.

And Lilly has settled and stuck her thumb in her mouth, putting her monkey head against Jada’s chest. Her eyes are droopy.

Jada is still shushing her and bouncing as she walks back and forth along the length of the living room window, and then Jada gets a weird look on her face and backs up and instead walks back and forth by the island.

“You afraid of heights?” I ask, smirking. Because that’s obviously what that expression and the jolt away from the window was.

Jada sticks her tongue out at me and looks the other way.

I laugh.  Loud.

Jada looks at me, startled, and covers the now sleeping Baby Lilly’s ear.

“You’ve worked here a while. How do the windows get cleaned?” I ask.

She looks at me with horror.

“What? You’ve never cleaned the windows?”

“I close my eyes,” she says, looking away.

I laugh again.

She gives me a narrow-eyed look. “You don’t look like such an ogre when you’re laughing,” she observes.

“Huh? An ogre?” I ask.

“If the loincloth fits,” she mutters, and her face goes even redder.

I laugh again, but keep the volume down so I don’t wake the  baby.

“How’s that burn?” I ask.

“Not bad. I’m fine.”

“Here, I’ll take her; you should finish your dinner.”

“I’m full,” she says and holds Lilly closer like she doesn’t want to give her up.

And I’m smiling. I can’t help it.

Jada Miller looks like a natural with my baby niece in her arms.

19

Jada

Adele is back from the bathroom. She asks for one more minute while she gets things organized. I have no problem with this. Her little baby girl is snuggled into me and I’m in baby love. I love babies and they love me, too.

Adele and Austin get into a debate about where she and the kids will sleep, so I offer to leave for the night, which is stupid because I have no place to go, and she calls me out on that – obviously knowing I have no place to go but saying so in a sweet way that doesn’t make me feel like less.

She says she’ll sleep on the couch and make a bed up for Braeden on the floor, but then Austin announces that Adele and the kids are taking the master bedroom and he’s sleeping on the couch.

I’ve met her twice and really liked her both times. Once, she visited Aiden for a weekend and I met her just briefly.  She invited me to go to dinner with them. Aiden talked her out of it, much to my dismay at the time. I think she was trying to set me and Aiden up.

The second time, Adele and her husband came for a romantic weekend while Aiden was away at a convention and stayed here. It was their anniversary, so I helped her set up a romantic weekend via an exchange of emails and a few phone calls. She sent me a lovely card and a $500 gift certificate to a high-end department store as a thank you gift a week later. I still have that leather purse I bought with it. It was one of the cheapest items there but is still the most expensive accessory I own.

I happily hold the warm, cuddly, sleeping baby while Adele proceeds to unpack a bunch of things for the fridge. Baby food. Baby bottles. Juice boxes. Other snacks for Braeden. She then takes the rest of the massive suitcase and her diaper bag to the master bedroom. She calls me to come in and I gently lay the baby in the center of the bed and cover her up with a quilt Adele has passed me. The baby stirs and her eyes open, so I keep my hand on her back to fool her into thinking she’s still being held. She’s got a pacifier dangling from a strap on her fuzzy footed pink monkey pajamas, so I place the nipple against her lips.

It works. She takes it in and lazily sucks on the pacifier as her eyes drift shut again.

“Ooh, you’re good at that. You got nieces or nephews?”

I shake my head. “No, but I did a lot of babysitting neighbors’ kids during high school.”

“You want kids?” she asks.

“Definitely,” I breathe. “I mean, someday…”

Adele barricades the baby on all four sides with pillows and then I grab some bedding and we set up a makeshift bed on the lounge chair in the corner for Braeden who is in the living area with Austin. The chair is a big easy chair with a long ottoman and pushed together is nearly the size of a twin bed.

She then sighs. “I need a drink. Do you want a drink?”

I smile. “I’m okay, thanks. I’ll let you hang with your brother and catch up. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Oh.” She looks disappointed. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says under her breath. “He’s going through a super-rough time right now. I decided to come for a couple days and see if I can cheer him up. How does he seem to you?”

“Uh…” My face heats. “I really don’t know him so I wouldn’t know if how…uh…he’s been is… how he usually is.”

“How’s he been?” Her eyes are sharp. Concerned.

I wince. “Uh… I-”

“Can’t answer that on the grounds she could get herself in hot water with her asshole boss,” Austin finishes for me from the doorway.

My face goes hotter.

He’s standing there smiling with his arms folded across his chest. Looking hot. Just my luck. Why can’t Austin be hideous?

“Language,” Adele chides.

“He can’t hear me. He’s playing Xbox.”

“What? No. Not the kinds of games you play. Turn that off. I’ll set up a Disney movie in here for him to go to sleep to. “You sure you don’t want to have a drink with us, maybe catch a movie, Jada?”

“I’m, I’m good. Thanks. Good to see you again.”

I (without making eye contact again) squeeze past Austin, who is still in the doorway and head for the kitchen to put away the rest of my dinner. I glance down the hallway and see that the wall could use a better cleaning by my door, but I don’t want to deal with that while Austin has company, so I grab my bag and head into my room and close the door.

I then send a text to Austin.

Do you need anything from me tomorrow at all?

He responds right away.

Austin: I’m good until Monday. The rest of the weekend is all yours.

Me: Thanks.

I breathe a sigh of relief, happy for solitude. Happy that working for him won’t infringe on my plans to go to Josh’s grave tomorrow and do my little ritual.

Adele Carmichael slash whatever her married name now is – she’s a very nice person. She’s attractive and poised, but also down-to-earth, not at all stuck-up and snobby. She always tries to be friendly with me, and that doesn’t surprise me that she’d invite the hired help to hang out with them, but I need to not be near Austin, so I’m going to ensure I’m scarce for the duration of her visit. After all, it’s what I’m paid to do. Be scarce.

I can’t figure out what to make of his demeanor with me earlier, when he was all gallant and, well… human, but I frankly don’t have the emotional capacity after today to deconstruct it. I also have no desire, whatsoever, to think about how it felt when he lifted me up off the floor and took care of me.

I try to watch television, but before long I’ve got my laptop open and yes, I’m working again on that story.

Him asking me about cleaning the windows was like a trigger. I had the urge to do what I did in the story.

I need to write some more smut about him. About him being bossy and sexy and telling me what to do. About him being chivalrous and protective.

I can’t seem to stop myself.

I write a scene where Jada Sweetheart burns herself making him some soup and he kisses the burns better before making sweet love to her.

Not dirty and erotic sex. Lovemaking.

I’m ridiculous.

20

Austin

Lilly and Braeden are asleep, and Jada hasn’t come out of her room since she slipped in there a couple hours ago.

Up until now, Adele and I have been rehashing the Sienna thing. Quietly. Because I don’t need Jada overhearing that.

“If I get my hands on her…” Adele growled earlier, doing an imaginary air-choke hold.

I waved it off. “Don’t. Don’t do anything to jeopardize the case against her. She’s goin’ down for this. I’ve got rock-solid evidence.”

“Good for you,” my sister said. “A lot of guys would let that go because of how it might be viewed in the public, but you are so right to pursue it. So right. She’s such a cunt.”

“Adele Quinn Carmichael-Burke!” I faked a gasp. “That word!”

“Good Audra impression,” Adele laughed. “What can I say, the c-word likes to come out when I’m on my second cocktail, which is a rare occurrence. Oh, speaking of cocktails, I should call Dirk and tell him I got here safe.”

“I do not wanna know what Dirk and cocktails have in common.”

I raised my hands.

She giggled and reached for her phone. “No, you probably do not.”

I decided to check on the kids while she made her call.

Braeden was crashed and Lilly was also out like a light, hands thrown over her head, her little green rubber soother still in her mouth.

I leaned over to kiss his forehead and then went to Lilly and pull the soother out. She pouts in her sleep without rousing. I kissed her head, too.

By the time I slipped back out, Adele was saying goodbye to Dirk and hunting through Aiden’s sparse liquor cabinet. I should get it topped up.

***

I sit down on the couch and lean back, taking another sip of my water after bringing her a bag of tortilla chips and a container of Mexican dip I found in the fridge.

“Can’t believe you’re making me drink alone,” Adele pouts.

“I had food poisoning last night. My gut still isn’t right,” I defend.

“What happened?”

“Just dinner,” I wave my hand. “Probably some bad seafood.”

“She’s really pretty. And sweet,” Adele whispers.

She’s on her third cocktail and she’s slurring a little. Lightweight.

“Who?”

“Jada, silly.” She leans over and slaps my arm.

I shake my head. “Don’t.”

“God, Auzzie, she’s perfect for you. I tried to set her up with Aiden once, only meddled this much,” she holds her finger and thumb aloft with an inch between them, one eye closed.

“But that was all wrong. She wasn’t right for Aiden, so I didn’t push it. I’m gonna meddle this time, this much.” She holds both hands a meter apart and smiles at me. Big.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need that right now. I need to focus on getting shit done here at work, making sure Sienna gets taken to task for what she did, then get home and get the fuck on with my life.”

“You’re hung up about that girl from the office that came to the wedding?”

“Stop. I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Carly told me that she talked to Ally, who said that-”

“Stop,” I groan. “I’m not hung up on her. It was almost six months ago, and it was one night. I have dated and gotten laid since then, you know.”

Adele keeps talking, “When she went home, he was there, back from school in the UK, and he courted and pursued her with all sorts of vigor. Sounds like he was a real prince charming.”

“If you don’t stop…”

“Listen please … she wasn’t interested at first, but her dad got sick, so she humored the whole thing to make her dad happy. Her dad passed away by the way, two months ago at home of an aggressive Cancer, and Nathaniel was really there for her and something blossomed between them. She didn’t even want to come to the wedding because she couldn’t afford the time off work. That’s why Carly paid for everything for her to be there for the weekend.”

“Fuck, Adele; I said I didn’t wanna hear it.”

“Don’t be so grumpy. I hate seeing you like this. It isn’t you, Austin.”

“Yeah, well go through what I’ve been through lately and see if it doesn’t put you in a shitty mood,” I grumble.

I hear the click of a door.

We both look over our shoulders and I see Jada slip into her room without looking at us. She must’ve gone into the main bathroom while I was in the other bathroom. She’s got a towel turban on her head so hopefully she didn’t hear anything.

“Subject’s done. Stop,” I warn.

Adele pouts. “I want to see you happy. If Aid can find some happy, you certainly can. Look at the turnaround in him. Having Carly has made him like the Aid he used to be. It’s even better, though, because we get Carly, too, and I like Jada, so...”

“I’ll find who I used to be. When all this shit here is over with.”

“She’s perfect for you, Auz.”

I tilt my head.

“Jada is!” she says, too loud. “She’s totally your type.”

I lean over and flick my sister’s nose. “Shut it.”

“Ow,” she groans, then throws a couch pillow at me.

“What movie you wanna watch?” I ask, nabbing the remote from her lap.

“A slasher film,” she says. “Something gory. Dirk is a wuss with scary movies and when he’s not home, I’ve got kids crawling all over me and can’t exactly watch then. When Lilly was about three months I was nursing her and watching Saw and caught her looking at the TV. I’m afraid I might have corrupted her little brain.”

I laugh.

“Look at what our parents did do our brains. We’re okay.” I shrug.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” she agrees.

I flick the TV over to the movie guide. Adele and I stay up late watching two slasher films, though she nods off during the second one. I nudge her with my foot as the credits roll.

“I’m the one who should be sleepin’, you’re on Cali time.”

“These kids, though. I’m always tired. Night. Love you,” she leans over and kisses my cheek and ruffles my hair before heading toward the bedroom.

“Adele?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for coming. I needed this.”

“I know you did. You’re welcome.”

“We’ll do something fun with the kids tomorrow?” I say. “Zoo?”

“Sounds good. Love ya.”

“Love you, too.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

21

Jada

I managed to avoid everybody Sunday morning, slipping out before anyone woke up. I get back, around eight o’clock and the baby and Braeden are playing on a blanket on the floor with some big Lego.

Braeden talks me up, telling me he’s building a replica of the empire state building, while I try to be nice but yet look to make my escape as quick as possible.

An animated TV show catches his attention, so I’m almost in the clear, but as I try to make my way past Adele and Austin who are at the island eating Chinese takeout, Adele promptly offers me some food.

“I’ve eaten, thank you,” I say, and then I back up, about to turn to head to my room.

“You wanna play a board game with us?” Adele calls out.

“I can’t, I have some work due,” I sort-of lie, “but thanks.”

I have nothing on the go for the freelance site, I haven’t bid on any jobs, nor heard from any previous clients lately, but I have been planning to get into my room and start on a new story. A new story with characters that look nothing like me or Austin Carmichael. And ‘work’ would be a good reason to not socialize with Austin’s sister.

“Work? What kind of work?” she asks.

“Oh, I do some writing gigs on the side.” I shrug.

“Really? What kinds of writing gigs?” She pats the empty stool beside her.

Austin scowls at her.

My eyes bounce between them, but her smile doesn’t wane, and I can’t be rude to her, so I walk back over and sit down, avoiding Austin’s gaze, which feels like it’s on me, and I’m sure it’s filled with disdain.

“Various things. Descriptions for online stores, resumes, stuff like that. Just do the odd gig here and there.”

“Oh, cool. I didn’t know you were a writer. Austin, did you know Jada is a writer?”

“Nope,” Austin says, shooting his sister a dirty look.

“Have some food,” she offers.

“No, really, thanks, I ate.”

“We ordered way too much. Me and the kids leave in the morning, so you won’t have to cook for days for yourself and my brother.” She starts spooning chicken fried rice onto a clean plate and slides it in front of me.

“Honest, I just ate, Adele. I’m full.” I put my hand on my belly.

“Oh. Did you go to see your family for Sunday dinner?” she asks and then takes a bite of an egg roll.

“No,” I say. “Definitely not. Don’t have a Sunday dinner kind of family.”

She looks at me with questions in her eyes.

And I wish I could take that last statement back.

“Adele, don’t be nosy,” Austin reprimands, digging around in a square cardboard container with his chopsticks.

“I was at the cemetery and the park,” I say softly.

Adele’s expression drops.

“It’s the third anniversary of someone’s death,” I explain. “Someone who was close to me, so I visited his grave and did some other things to remember him, including having certain food in a certain place.”

I purposely avoid looking at Austin.

Adele’s face falls. “I’m so sorry. Auzzie’s right; I am a Nosy Parker. Sorry Jada.”

“It’s okay.”

“Was it a relative?”

“And she gets nosier,” Austin mutters.

“Shush,” she waves a hand at him. “I ask because I care.”

I shake my head. “My last boyfriend.”

My eyes bounce to Austin.

His eyes are on me.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Adele says. “Your last boyfriend died three years ago?”

I nod and look away from Austin back to his sister.

“Who died?” Braeden calls out.

“Nobody you know, sweetie,” Adele calls over.

“That’s sad,” Braeden says. “That someone died. How did they die?”

“A bad car accident,” I say.

The little guy wanders over. “How? Did the car crash?”

“Braed, let’s go watch your show. This is something personal to Jada so we don’t want to make her sad by trying to make her talk about it. Skedaddle,” Austin orders.

“Okay. Sorry Jada,” Braeden says.

And a lump forms in my throat. “Thanks sweetie,” I manage.

Austin hauls Braeden onto his shoulder, making the little boy squeal happily. They head to the couch.

Adele reaches over and squeezes my hand.

I blink hard to stop the tears from falling. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really wanna be alone,” I say.

She nods. “Of course, I’m sorry. I have a question, but… I’ll ask you later.”

“Ask,” I whisper.

She looks hesitant.

“It’s okay,” I encourage her.

“I wanted to ask if you can help me to the airport in the morning with the kids. It was a disaster coming here with them alone. I’ll pay for your time, buy you breakfast, and pay for your taxi back. If you can’t, don’t worry. Sorry to ask, I just know Auz has an early-morning meeting and I could just use a hand with the kids and luggage.”

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me to do that. I’ll help. Gladly,” I say.

She smiles brightly and squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jada.”

“Thanks. It’s been three years, so I’m okay. I just… I like to remember him on the anniversary, and I guess I’m not used to talking about that.” I’m not. I typically do my thing and no one notices, not even Shane, who was best friends with Josh.

“I can only imagine,” she says with kindness seeping out of her pores.

I really like Adele.

“See you in the morning,” I say. “I’m happy to help.”

“Okay,” she whispers, giving me a sad smile.

I hop off the stool and hurry toward my room, sparing a glance at the gorgeous baby on the floor with the block in her mouth, drool coming out. I wave at her and she reaches for me.

I stumble, almost tripping, and Austin is magically there, catching me, hands on my shoulders.

“Whoa,” he says.

“Oops.” I return and our eyes meet. And lock.

“Wah!” the baby exclaims.

I tear my gaze away from him. She’s got both arms up, reaching for me, bouncing a little on her bottom.

Shoot.

“How could I turn that down?” I ask, ready to pick her up.

“I got her,” Austin says.

“Oh. Okay, thanks.”

He lets go of me, and I feel the loss of it and the disappointment I can’t have baby-time. I hurry to my room, blowing a kiss at the baby before I go.

As I close the door, I see Austin scoop her up off the floor. He blows a raspberry on her belly and she breaks into giggles.

Boom! There go my ovaries.

***

And at the end of a long, emotional day, I let myself indulge, because I deserve it. I let myself indulge in writing without embarrassment, a fantasy in which Joshua is still here. He’s finishing college and has a great job offer on the west coast, so we get a house on the water. And we learn to surf, something we talked about.

I’ve always wanted to live right on the water. Someplace fresh, clean, salty. I’ve never even been to the ocean so have no idea if you can feel the salty air or smell it, but I like to imagine that you can, and I get a certain feeling as I try to get lost in the story.

But I don’t finish writing the story, because despite my best efforts, it doesn’t seem real, doesn’t seem possible. I feel the sea air, I feel the warmth of the location, but the words, words about me and Josh having our happy ending, they just won’t flow.

Maybe because they’re not supposed to. He’s not my happy ending. My happy ending might not be tied to a man, though. Maybe my happy ending will be tied to becoming published. To doing something wonderful. To some day adopting a bunch of orphans and being a great mom without even having a husband.

I resist the urge to work on that other story, the smutty Austin one, and instead lose myself in television, trying to ignore the noises of a happy family outside this door bonding. Children making happy kid noises. A tantrum of some sort from the baby, though I hear Braeden defend himself for something to do with that tantrum, and the sound of Austin’s deep voice that seems like it calms whatever that situation is. I envision him holding that baby, calming her down, and then I stare into space and try to think about something else. Or nothing. And it takes me a long, long time to finally fall asleep.

Until I wake up abruptly at five o’clock Monday morning, remembering I need to make Austin’s lunch for work.

***

I stumble clumsily to use the bathroom, and then hurry into the pitch-dark kitchen. Shoot. What the heck am I going to make him?

The bread is all gone. There was half a loaf on Saturday. I’ve got no wraps. Will he balk at leftover Chinese food? There’s a lot of it in the fridge.

“Shit,” I whisper, staring into the fridge. And then I turn the light on so I can look through the cupboard for a container to pack some leftovers into.

And a head pops up from the couch.

I gasp, part startled but mostly horrified.

Oh darn.  I totally forgot he was sleeping on the couch.

What a stupid dummy I am.

He sits up and sifts his fingers through his hair.

“God, I’m sorry. I wanted to make you lunch for work. I completely forgot you were sleeping out here. Sorry!”

“I’ll order lunch in today, forget about it.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Go back to bed, Jada,” he says, standing up. He stretches and makes a loud growling stretching man-sound and it makes my nipples go hard.

He’s shirtless.

Oh my fucking God.

His eyes rove over me as he passes me on his way to the bathroom.

I feel naked, for some reason.

“Uh, that’s my bathroom,” I say as he opens the door down the hall.

He looks over his shoulder at me with challenge. But I think I catch something playful in his gaze.

I smirk, hoping it shows that I’m joking.

I’m feeling relieved for not getting ripped a new butthole because I forgot about his lunch and woke him up.

“I put my work clothes in the laundry room last night. You want me to skip my shower or you want me to wake my sister and the kids to take one?”

“I suppose you can use my bathroom,” I say, smiling. “I’ll consider it the penalty for waking you up.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rolls his eyes. “Though a penalty system could be a good idea. What do you owe me for the food poisoning?”

“What do you owe me for walking in on me on the toilet?” I return.

“What do you owe me for letting you work for me even though you showed no signs of being qualified?”

I shrug.  “There was your brother’s ringing endorsement. Good enough?”

“Not even close. Fajitas for lunch tomorrow would be a good start,” he says.

I bite my lip and blush. “You like my fajitas?”

“Yeah. I also like your seafood pasta; it just didn’t like me.”

My shoulders jiggle with my silent laughter. “It didn’t like me much, either.”

“So, is it okay if I use your shower?” he asks, smiling.

He has a great smile. A really great smile.

“I mean, yeah, you probably really need that shower.” I plug my nose.

He snickers. “Yeah, well, you out here without a bra on, I’ve gotta make it a cold one.”

My mouth drops and I cover my chest with my arms. “That could be classed as  sexual harassment, Mr. Carmichael!”

“You’re the one harassing my eyes,” he teases, closing his eyes and then opening one cheekily. “And Mr. Carmichael is my father.”

“Well, I ain’t calling you Daddy, that’s for sure,” I throw in.

He smiles. “No? Too bad.” He winks and disappears into the bathroom.

Holy moly.

That was out and out flirting right there. On both sides. I think. I think I was flirting; I don’t know if I even know how to flirt, but that sure felt like flirting.

I’m still smiling as I make myself a coffee and head back to my room and open my laptop.

I’m not going to be able to help myself. Now I’m going to have to write another dirty chapter for my secret Austin Smut File.

It’s gonna be a long day with such little sleep, but I don’t know the precise time Adele needs me for getting her to the airport, so I’ve decided I’ll just stay up and hit the hay early tonight.

I have a message from Carly in my inbox from last night, asking me how I’m doing, asking if Austin is still being hard to get along with.

I reply to her, giving her short answers on the Austin front, telling her that I saw my brother the day before yesterday and that was hard, but that I’m doing okay overall.

I hear the front door close a while later as Austin obviously leaves for work, and I enjoy the next few hours of quiet as I write.

I indulge in writing in the Austin Groucho the Third smut story, only I don’t even rewrite the scene from the other day where they talked about the future.

Instead, I leave it in and start on a new chapter where he institutes a penalty system. Jada Sweetheart has to pay for any infractions with sexual favors. And then I write another chapter. They go to a beach. And in the story, Jada Sweetheart has to cover Austin Groucho the Third in suntan lotion. This lets me indulge in my salty sea air fantasy as I vividly describe every muscular inch of his body.

I hear a baby babbling and hop up and head out to the kitchen and there’s Adele with the baby on one hip as she heats up a bottle, Braeden looking sleepy, flipping through TV channels.

“Mornin’,” I greet.

“Hiya,” Adele returns.

“I made a pot of coffee half an hour ago,” I say.

“Bless you, you’re an angel.”

“What time is your flight?”

“Don’t have to head out for three and a half hours.”

“If you wanna grab a cup of coffee and get your shower, I’ll feed these guys. If we eat breakfast here, you won’t feel so rushed.”

“Really? A shower all by myself? Oh my God, you’re more than an angel. You’re a goddess.”

I laugh and hold my arms out. “Here. I need a Lilly fix.”

“She’s had her bum changed already,” Adele says, “but she usually has her morning constitutional right after breakfast. I’ll take care of that. She’s turning into a little wiggle worm that’ll try to roll away on you while you change her and that could be messy for that champagne-colored area rug.”

I laugh. “Adventures in motherhood.”

“For real,” Adele agrees.

Lilly reaches for me and I get her a bottle and mush up some banana and baby cereal for her and set her in her stroller to eat. I feed her bites while Braeden eats a bowl of oatmeal with fruit.  He chitchats with me about his TV show’s premise while we watch, and just as Adele emerges, I hear a wet explosion sound. Lilly is slightly red-faced.

“Oh. Just in time,” I joke.

“Story of my life,” Adele says with an eyeroll. “You put your feet up now. I’ll make us breakfast after I change her bum. Thank you for that twenty-five minutes of bliss; I feel like a new woman.”

She’s dressed, full face of makeup, has her thick, dark hair dried, and she’s ready to take on the day.

She changes the baby and then I hang out with the baby on her playmat, passing her toys while Adele pours another coffee for herself. I decline her offer of a top-up as I’ve already had three, and then she washes up the kids’ breakfast dishes and makes us a frittata.

Conversation with her through the morning is easy. Nothing heavy. She asks me questions about Shane and we try to converse in a way that doesn’t let Braeden know much. He seems mostly focused on the television and on coloring. She whispers that he soaks up everything at one point when she asks me a question about my family dynamic and he gives her the side-eye, suddenly looking so much older. He goes back to his coloring, but I suspect he’s paying close attention.

“No, my mother left when I was nine. It was me, Dad, and Shane, and I had an aunt who was a mother-figure, but she passed away a couple years ago. I don’t get along great with Dad. He’s very old school, working class, no bs kinda thing and doesn’t believe my brother has anything wrong with him. Also thought kids should be seen and not heard. I was a quiet kid, just trying to be a caretaker. Things all fell apart at once and it made me look really bad to Austin.”

“Austin is really easy-going and understanding.”

My eyebrows shoot up before I can stop them.

She shakes her head, noticing. “Usually. It’s not my business to tell any of his personal stuff, so I won’t, but he’s a great guy. Patient. Tolerant. And so supportive. But he’s had a lot to deal with lately and … it sounds like you’ve seen him at his worst; just know that’s not him. Not really.”

“He’s been a thousand times calmer and nicer since you’ve been here, honestly. I think it did him a world of good having you visit. Not that I’m trying to talk bad about him, I appreciate him giving me a chance here despite his misgivings, though I’m thinking Carly pressured him into it and Aiden pulled rank about this being his apartment, so…”

Braeden’s eyes are on me, so I decide to halt that part of the discussion.

“Anyway, I’m appreciative to Aiden and Carly for letting me stay and to Austin for giving me a job.”

“Aiden and Carly speak highly of you. I told Auz that, too. He was just being stubborn.”

I shrug. “He has that right.”

“Hopefully things will be better going forward.”

“I’ve been kind of stubborn, too,” I admit.

“Yeah?” she prompts.

“I don’t usually stand up for myself. I’m super-quiet and reserved, introverted especially with guys who look like that.”

She smiles. “My brothers both do turn heads,” she says.

“Great genes in your family, for real,” I throw in. “But, uh-huh, I’m the most non-confrontational person you’ll ever meet, but he caught me at this moment where he was an absolute jerk to me, and I was so beyond frustrated and angry that I just let a temper I didn’t know I had fly.”

“Funny,” she muses. “Austin is the most non-confrontational person I’ve ever met.”

I look at her like I don’t believe her. Because he seems to be going out of his way to have arguments with me.

She lifts her hands up, pointing her palms at me defensively.

I shake my head and shrug. “And it’s kind of weird, because I keep letting it happen, maybe because he’s seen me at my worst and I got away with it, giving not two you-know-whats, because I was at the end of my rope with nothing to lose. And there’s a dynamic now where I can act like myself. I don’t feel shy around him to speak my mind. That’s new for me.”

“That’s good. Could be a good foundation,” she observes.

“Pardon?”

“Hm?” she asks.

“A good foundation for what?”

“What?” she asks fake-innocently.

I shake my head. “No. This isn’t going anywhere.”

“We’ll see,” she says smugly.

My face burns beet red. “He doesn’t even like me. He’s just watching for me to fall down on the job and mess up again so he can fire me.”

“Maybe he was, but I don’t think he is now. You see the way he looked at you when you were holding Lilly that first night?” She clicks her tongue.

I didn’t. I don’t get a chance to say that, though.

“My brother… you’re just his type. And you clearly like kids and he wants kids.”

“He wants lotsa kids,” Braeden adds, not looking up from his coloring book, showing he is, in fact listening.

Adele sips her coffee and announces, “Yep. My brother is gonna be that hands-on dad who coaches little league and braids his little girls’ hair, and reads bedtime stories to them. Builds them a tree house. He’s gonna be an amazing husband and father. Girl, get in there.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing between him and I. No chemistry. Not even a little spark, Adele. I get that you want to see your brother happy, but trust me, he’s not interested in me. I’m also not remotely interested in him.”

“Okay,” she says and the word drips with disbelief.

I say nothing, because there’s nothing to say.

Her phone is ringing.

“Oh. That’s my hurry up n’ move alarm. Let’s go, Bray. Grab your toys and your tablet and get your booty in gear. Chop chop!” She claps her hands twice.

“Where’s my nap pack? Uh oh!”

“Right here, Braeden,” I say and pass him the blue knapsack that’s hanging from one of the kitchen cabinet knobs.

“Oh, thank you, Auntie Jada.”

“I’m not your auntie, sweetie,” I correct.

He waves his hand. “You will be.”

I laugh nervously.

Adele laughs. “See. He sees it too.”

“Sees what?” Braeden asks.

“Why do you think Jada will be your auntie?” Adele asks.

“Because you two are gonna be good friends, I can tell, and you always tell me to call your good friends auntie.”

“Ah,”  I say, feeling a little better about that.

“Besides,” he adds, “Maybe you’ll marry Unco Ausben and then you’ll be my auntie like Carly’s my auntie.”

Adele laughs and ruffles his hair giving me a look that screams, “See?”

“Not likely, little man,” I say.

“Unco Ayben and Auntie Carly lived in the same apart-a-ment and said they weren’t gonna get married and look at them!”

“You do have a point, Bray,” Adele observes, zipping up her diaper bag and getting her baby carrier ready to go on.

“Not everyone who lives in the same apartment gets married,” I say.

“That’s true,” Braeden says, like he’s got wisdom beyond his years. “I need to go to the baff-room before we go, Mom.”

“Okay, baby boy. Go to the big bathroom and make sure I didn’t forget any of my stuff in there, like your toothbrush, okay?”

“Okay.”

***

“Can I call you Auntie Jada even if you don’t marry my unco?”

“That’s up to your mom,” I say.

“Of course it’s fine with her,” he waves his little hand and squeezes me one more time.

“Your kids are the cutest, Adele,” I tell her.

She smiles. “You have my number. Let me know if I have to come back here and kick Auz’s ass.”

I laugh and then tickle Lilly’s cheek before I pass Adele the cart holding her luggage and stroller.

I wave goodbye one more time before they disappear out of sight to board their flight and then grab a taxi back to the condo and arrive mid-afternoon. I took steaks out of the freezer before we left. I check on their thawing progress and then prep potatoes and brussels sprouts to go into the oven, too. I run the vacuum, empty the dishwasher, change the beds, and tidy Austin’s as well as the main bathroom before I set my laptop up on the island and put some music on.

Time to write.

I can’t make myself start something new and I am far too addicted to that Austin smut I’m writing, so I decide to bid on some freelance gigs. Maybe if I do something else, it will spark some new ideas.

I also decide to keep my distance from Austin. I plan to do everything I can to avoid him as much as possible this week. And, going forward.

I make sure I’m in my room at five o’clock. I’ve got his dinner on the top shelf in the fridge, his lunch bag packed for the morning.

***

It’s Monday evening and I’ve held off with my need to pee for almost half an hour until I surmise he’s most likely in the master bedroom because there’s no noise, not even the TV.

I held it, wishing this room still had that ensuite Aiden took out to make the master bathroom bigger.  Unable to wait any longer, I dash quick in and out of the bathroom and go to bed early.

Phew. I managed to avoid him all day.

***

Tuesday, I work some more on the Austin smut story (because I can’t help myself) and then I go out for a long walk in the park to clear my head in the afternoon. It works wonders for my creativity and I go back to the apartment and while putting together a lasagna and Caesar salad for dinner, I decide I’ll also pop a piece of lasagna into his lunch for the next day. I’ve thought smart and bought a second lunch bag so that I don’t have to wait for his bag in the evenings to pack his lunch. My two lunch bag system will mean that as long as one of them is on the hook by the door, I’ll be good to prep lunch when I prep dinner and continue my avoid-Austin efforts.

While walking today, I saw a young couple arguing in the park. She looked furious and he looked sorry. There was some sort of grovel happening there and I had to keep moving so I didn’t get to see how it turned out, but her eyes were softening so I’m thinking good things.

I came up with an idea for a romance story based on a misunderstanding. The couple in the park were both good-looking and so I finally start working on a story about characters I could envision, looking nothing like Austin, nothing like me.

***

Wednesday, I have a similar schedule as Tuesday. I clean in the morning, go out in the afternoon for a walk and to hit the butcher shop to pick up some chicken for tonight, and then my last stop is the deli for some sandwich fixings. I make a roasted stuffed chicken and some roasted potatoes with glazed carrots for dinner and then put some aside for chicken salad on croissants for myself and him for lunch the next day. He hasn’t gotten in by the time I’m in bed, so I gather he’s worked late, or he’s gone out.

In the morning, like usual, I see that his lunch is gone and the plate and cutlery from the night before as well as the coffee mug from the morning are in the dishwasher.

A great thing about working for Austin Carmichael is that he’s tidy. Aiden wasn’t. Not remotely. Working for Aiden was like cleaning up after a pack of zoo monkeys who’d been given props. The only thing that saved me was that the apartment isn’t huge and he never cooked.

Austin rinses his dishes and puts them in the dishwasher. His dishes come home in his lunch bag washed. The other night he must have made a late-night sandwich because there were extra things in the dishwasher. There were no crumbs on the counter, though. He doesn’t leave dishes out, he uses coasters for his glasses, he even makes his own bed, hangs up his wet towels, and throws his laundry into the hampers.

He’s a rare breed of single hot male, that’s for sure.

Like it was with Aiden, it’s the same with Austin though – doing their laundry feels intimate. Folding the boxer briefs. Rolling socks together. Putting things in their closets or the dresser drawers.

But there’s something peculiar going on with me that has me feeling guilty. I’m just relieved that Austin clearly isn’t using a nanny cam in this condo, because if he were, I’d surely be fired or taken in for psychiatric evaluation. Because I have this habit with Austin’s laundry that I didn’t have with Aiden’s.

Smelling Austin’s shirts before I wash them.

I’ve done his laundry twice now and didn’t do it the first time, but when I tackled his laundry Wednesday morning, I had this odd urge to smell every shirt before I put it in the washing machine. I smelled each one by inhaling deep, by even rubbing one of the t-shirts over my cheek, before dropping it in the machine.

Okay, so I’m a little perverted and creepy – writing stories about a fictional Austin (based on the real one) who wants me (despite the grouchiness) and sniffing his shirts. I probably need to stop this. All of this.

But yeah, clearly I’m a perv.

A perv who has had hardly any inspiration to write any of the stories I’ve started except for one. That one.

***

Thursday, I almost successfully avoid seeing him. I’m typing up my email with my expenses for the week at the island when I hear the door open. Shit. He’s home early.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Oh. Hi.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks, hanging his jacket and lunch bag up.

“Pot roast,” I say.

He smiles and wrings his hands. “Ooh. It’s ready?”

“Yeah, actually. You’re early so it’s probably not even cooled down yet. You want it now?”

“I’m starved. Can you make me a roast beef sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“I already did,” I say.

He smiles brightly. “Mustard?”

“Oh, I made it with gravy and cheese. Just a bit of gravy. Not enough to make the bread soggy. I can add mustard.”

I head to the fridge.

“It’s okay. I’ll add mustard to it at the office. Gravy and cheese sounds good. You’re a great cook, Jada.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

A compliment. Wow.

Weird.

I pull out the mustard and reach into the drawer for the package of disposable condiment cups with lids I bought to use in his lunches. I fill one with mustard and pop the lid on and then put it into his lunch bag.

“You probably don’t need to keep giving me Snickers protein bars, by the way. I have four of them in my desk now.”

“Oh. At least you won’t have any chance of getting hangry,” I quip.

He laughs.

My face heats as I try not to react.

I pull his dinner out of the fridge and keep my eyes downcast.

Him laughing has done funny things to my belly and I don’t want him to know that.

“Still warm,” I say and set it on a placemat by the stool I know he prefers. I grab him some cutlery and a napkin. “I only put it in the fridge five minutes ago.”

He rolls the sleeves of his soft-looking grey button-down shirt to his elbows, then washes his hands and gets a beer from the fridge.

I quickly gather up my laptop and phone and head toward my room.

“You eat already?” he calls out.

“I have, yeah.”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “Okay. Thanks, Jada. We got any horseradish?”

“Yeah. I bought some.” I head back his way.

“I’ll get it. Where is it?”

“It’s in the door of the fridge.”

“Cool,” he says.

I go into my room and shut the door. I’m out of breath. My heart is racing. And part of the reason why is him asking if ‘we’ have horseradish.

We.

I shake it off and then I open my laptop and an hour later, I’ve written eighteen hundred more words. But not for my misunderstanding romance that was inspired by the couple in the park. Nope… I write eighteen hundred words for my Austin smut. If I could take my Austin word count and apply it to my other story, I’d be nearly done writing my first novel.

And it’s not a smutty half-chapter I write, either. It’s a sweet one.

I am such a moron. A perverted shirt-sniffing, smut-writing moron.

22

Austin

I get home early for the second day in a row. It’s just past four o’clock and I had a case of “fuck it” at the office and decided to bring my laptop home to work and get some peace and quiet to help me finish digging through this audit. It’s Friday and I know Sienna got arrested today, so that’s also got my mind off my game.

That, and the staff seemed restless. I know the mood in the office has been shitty all week, so I bought the office pizza for lunch today and handed out hundred-dollar preloaded credit cards to everyone to thank them for being so helpful as I’ve bombarded them all with questions for my audit.

This perked the mood up and got them buzzing with activity to the degree that the noise got to me.

I walk into the apartment and there’s music playing. Shitty pop music. I’m a classic rock guy. The smell of lemon hangs in the air and I see a burnt-out candle by her laptop there on the granite island.  Beyond the scent of the candle, there’s another smell. I smell something good.

Jada’s bedroom door is open. She’s not in there. The bathroom door is open. I peek into the laundry room and finally the master bedroom and bathroom. No Jada.

I check the oven. Whatever it is, it’s on warm. I lift the corner of the foil over the long casserole dish and it’s looking like enchiladas. My mouth waters. I lift a lid on a pot on the back of the stove and there’s a pot of Spanish rice with beans.

My stomach growls.

This girl can cook.

I haven’t had any complaints since the food poisoning, other than that she hasn’t made me fajitas again yet. The fact that I’ve been at my desk so many hours a day and not doing enough working out, I am gonna need to take time this weekend to find a local gym to join because my quick nighttime bedroom workouts aren’t gonna cut it with these menus. This girl is gonna get me fat. It’s like she’s killing me with food. In the best way. She hasn’t cooked the same thing twice. Some of the best meals I’ve had in years have been in the past week. She’s packed me leftovers for lunch a few times too, and I’ve not been disappointed yet. I should probably tell her to cook leaner food for me, but I’ve been enjoying it too much.

I wonder where she is.

I’m starved and this food is ready, so I decide to serve myself.

Once I’ve washed my hands and loaded my plate up with two big enchiladas and rice as well as gotten myself a beer, I sit it down at the island.

I don’t bother to change my clothes, today is casual Friday so I’m in jeans and a black Bob Marley concert t-shirt with long white sleeves.

I dig into the food while scrolling on my phone.

Something catches my eye. I’ve grazed her computer keyboard with my elbow and the screen has come to life.

It’s her desktop I’m looking at, and unlike how she has her life – organized (even her room is clean, not that I’ve gone in but today I was pleased, for some weird reason, to see from the doorway that it’s tidy) but this desktop is a fucking mess.

Doesn’t she know that having all these files saved here will slow her system down? Every inch of the desktop screen is filled with icons, thumbnails, and shortcuts.

Why wouldn’t she organize it into subfolders at least?

I don’t know why I’m irritated by this.

She’s got pictures, PDF files, software shortcuts, and a whack of Excel spreadsheets and Word documents on here.

I see a spreadsheet named, Austin Carmichael Expenses.

Shit. I have to pay her today. I wanted to watch her actions closely so emailed Alice and told her to take her off payroll and let me handle the weekly deposits, that I’ll add them to my expense report. Looking at my phone, she emailed me last night with the details of her expenses. I also got a credit card for her, too, today at the bank when I picked up the loaded Visa cards.

I take a bite of rice. It’s good. It’s fucking good. And then I dig into the enchilada. Beef and beans. With vegetables and mounds of cheese. It’s delicious. I take another big bite and scroll the spreadsheet of her expenses on the phone. I don’t see the cab fare for when she brought lunch on that first morning. The grocery line item is also too low for what I’ve been fed this week. The fridge is full. Is she being some sort of martyr?

I pay her with a bank transfer from my own account and I add on an extra three hundred bucks for the food and cab fares and then take another bite of food.

Her screen goes dark again. I run my finger over the mousepad and it comes back on.

And then out of annoyance and my mild OCD tendencies, I lean over and right click her mouse and tap ‘sort by’ and then select name.

The screen rearranges into alphabetical order and my eyes land on the Austin Carmichael Expenses spreadsheet. Next to it, there’s a Microsoft Word document and it’s called Austin Smut.

I blink hard, wipe my eyes, and look again to make sure I’m not seeing things.

Austin Smut?

What the fuck?

23

Jada

I’m out of breath coming into the condo. Oh. He’s here. He’s early. Why is he early?

He’s sitting on a stool at the island and his eyes are pointed at my screen. My laptop screen.

He’s got a plate of dinner beside him. His eyes… They are on my screen.

Oh. My. Fucking. Shit.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, NO.

It’s over.

I will die of embarrassment right here, right now.

Dead. Gone. Bye-bye, Jada.

He licks his lips and then looks like he’s mentally counting.

I stand there, frozen in my shame. Frozen in my utter and complete disgrace.

“Where were you?” he asks, eyes still on my screen.

I’m floored. What an odd thing for him to lead with.

I know he knows. I can see it in his eyes. I know by his tone. I don’t know how to measure what I see but I know what I’m seeing is there because of what he’s read.

I hold the bag up.

“Avocados.”

“Why?” he asks calmly. Too calmly.

“To make you some guac.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like guacamole.”

“Oh,” I say.

His eyes move to me slowly. Very slowly.

He shakes his head, looking at me like he’s about to… to what? Tell me to get out? Explode? What?

“You’d better get over here,” he announces and then he rolls his eyes.

“I what?”

“Right now,” he demands, pointing to the floor in front of him.

I bristle.

His chest is falling and rising like he’s mentally counting, trying to calm himself down.

Someone talking to me like this would typically, what… send me running away screaming? Make me run straight up and do just what I’ve been told?

I don’t know.

But right now, I want to give him the middle finger. Right now I want to swear at him. Or maybe burst out crying because I’m sure he’s read things I never dreamed he’d read.

I also want to curl into a ball and cry out of embarrassment.

But I can’t move. I can’t freaking move. I’m rooted in place. Because my brain can’t unravel itself after the shock of seeing him with his eyes on my laptop screen short-circuited my brain.

What on earth would possess me to leave that laptop out here?

He’s never been home this early before, and the guac afterthought just hit me and I was only gone no more than thirty minutes to buy that avocado from the bodega a couple blocks away. He’s usually not home for at least a few more hours.

But how could I do that? And even though I did, in fact leave that out, I know that the highly offensive offending document wasn’t open. I haven’t opened it today.

So, did he snoop?

Obviously by his face I can see that he did.

Do something, Jada.

Say something.

I will myself to do something.

I can’t move. Can’t swallow. Can’t even blink.

“You didn’t,” I finally say.

I say it hoping he’s about to look confused. Hoping I’m wrong about what I don’t think I’m wrong about.

“Oh yeah, I most certainly did.” He folds his arms. “You coming over here or am I coming over there?”

“Uh, what?”

He marches over to me and I shrink against the door.

He’s towering over me as he gets directly in front of me.

I plead with my throat to find the strength to work down a swallow.

It doesn’t happen.

And now he’s tipping my chin up with his index finger.

I stare, in shock.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he says in a husky voice.

My lips part. My eyes feel like they’re popping out of their sockets.

He grabs the avocado bag from my hand, takes my hand into his and marches me to the island. He sets the fruit down and then he’s turning me so I’m forward against the island. He’s directly at my back.

My heart races.

His mouth is right by my ear. “Somebody forgot the guacamole, so maybe they need their ass smacked.”

I draw breath in sharply.

“You just said you don’t like guac.”

I can’t believe that was my response even as I’m saying it.

He chuckles into my ear and then kisses behind it.

Yep, my heart is going to leap straight out of my chest.

“That’s not the point.”

I swallow. Finally, I manage to do it.

Did Austin Carmichael just touch his lips behind my ear?

“The point is, following the rules.”

Oh my good gravy. That’s a line straight out of the Austin Smut file.

I blow out a breath as I feel his hands cup my hips.

His hands are on my hips!

“Bend forward, cheek to the counter.”

“Wh-what?”

“I think you heard me,” he growls.

God, my nipples are completely erect.

“It was just a joke,” I say. “I get paid to write that stuff. It’s a gig. I just borrowed our names. It’s just…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I snap my mouth shut.

“Are you gonna be a chicken-shit or are you gonna own up to what you did, what you want.”

I’m shaking. And the gusset of my panties is now drenched.

Do I want that?

Do I?

I listen to him breathe for a moment. His breathing is heavy, like mine. He’s still against me, his nose behind my ear. His lips touching the ridge near my lobe.

“You shouldn’t have looked at my computer,” I whisper. Tears brim in my eyes.

“It was a fluke. My elbow grazed your keyboard while I was eating. I saw my name,” he says. “And a few minutes later, the word smut.”

He’s leaned up against me now. He’s moved in.

“How could I not look?” he asks.

I gulp.

Is this really happening?

“Well?” he asks.

“Well, what?”

“You gonna bend forward and take your punishment?” he asks.

His voice is so stern.

“Austin,” I whisper.

“That’s Master Groucho to you, Little Miss Sweetheart,” he says and then my earlobe is in his mouth.

His hot, sexy mouth.

I hear the clink of my stud earring against his teeth.

My eyes drift closed and I lean back into his heat.

“I’ve been an asshole to you. I want to apologize,” he then says, mouth still against my ear.

My body goes rigid.

“Some shit has been goin’ on in my life that’s been… rough.”

“I know the feeling,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I say nothing.

“So, can we forget that?” he asks.

I shake my head, and as I’m doing that, I’m melting more into him, absorbing the scent of him, the heat of him; the amazing way this feels.

God, the way this feels…

“Can we try? I’ll start. I’m Austin.” His hand snakes up from my hip to band across my belly. “Austin Carmichael. It’s really nice to finally meet you.”

The way he says finally is as if he’s wanted this for a long time. I’m confused.

He’s got me in a back to front embrace and it feels like I suddenly have something I want that I didn’t even know I wanted.

It’s been so freaking long since a man has held me.

My hand lands on his wrist. He stiffens. He might be expecting me to pull his hand off. I don’t. I run my palm along his forearm for a beat before turning around in his arms and looking up at him. Now his hands are wrapped around my lower back.

“No. I can’t forget that.”

He looks down at me and he looks hurt.

Seeing that expression on his face is dangerous because it makes me feel something – something that makes me want to give him what he wants. Anything he wants. Everything he wants.

“I have to explain why I can’t,” I say.

The spot between his eyebrows wrinkles and he swallows.

He looks so vulnerable looking at me right now. And it’s a good look on him.

“All the bad stuff that happened to me was bad. Like, extra-bad. But I’m the type of girl who has bad stuff happen and just never defends herself. I’m the kind of girl who has always, always put my own self last. I never speak my mind to stand up for myself. Never. That’s why my brother did what he did. He wasn’t afraid of the consequences because I’m always such a push-over. And with you, I somehow did. I defended myself. You didn’t believe me, thought I was a piece of crap, but that’s not the point. The point is that I actually stood up for myself. And then I kept on doing it, even though it was really not smart because you could toss me out and I’d be screwed. But you didn’t. And I felt like… like I got stronger.”

He caresses my face. His expression is now soft. So soft. Also a good look on him.

“Stronger with every argument,” I add, leaning into his palm.

God, he’s attractive.

“Jada, there’s a lot of shit going on for me right now, too, and it’s made me act like somebody I’ve never been. Like you, I often bottle shit up that pisses me off. It also felt good to let it fly without worrying so much about ramifications. Though, that makes me a complete asshole because those ramifications were your feelings. I’m sorry.”

I swallow.

“I think I also tried to push you away, because I didn’t want to want you.”

I bite my lip.

“But I do,” he says.

I lift my hands and rest them on his chest.

“I wanna kiss you,” he tells me.

I nod and watch as he moves in before my eyes drift shut as his lips touch mine. God, this is amazing.

He deepens the kiss and now he’s holding my ponytail. Man, that’s sexy.

And I know he’s sampled the dinner I can see here beside the laptop because I catch it in the kiss.  I also know that he tastes incredible.

“Kiss you and spank you,” he whispers.

My face heats and I hide it in his chest.

“And do other dirty things to you,” he adds into the top of my hair.

Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening.

He tips my chin up again.

“You’ve been hiding from me all week?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I admit. “Well, doing my job. You know… making you feel like you live alone.”

“I miss fighting with you,” he says. “It was a good stress outlet.”

My shoulders jiggle with silent laughter. “I guess I found a different outlet.”

“Writing.”

“Mm hm, yeah. I often wrote out argument scenes I was too afraid to have with people. I have this leather-bound journal filled with fake arguments. I’d write down what I really wanted to say. But this time, I didn’t have it. It’s in storage, so I went to my laptop to write down stuff and I wrote down… other stuff too.”

“Well, if you write those stories as an outlet and we’re not gonna fight anymore, I’m gonna need an outlet, too.”

I stiffen.

“I like to play,” he says. “And I’d like to play some of those games with you from the story.”

I blow out a breath and gaze straight into his smoldering eyes.

“You write vividly,” he tells me.

I bite my lip, feeling my cheeks heat.

“You’ve got some great ideas; it’s hot as fuck.”

He begins to back up, taking me with him, and before I know it, he’s falling onto the couch and I’m falling, too.

He’s in a sitting position and I’m straddling him.

“You wanna play, Jada?”

I find myself nodding.

Without thinking, I should add, because I probably can’t think. I’m probably in a state of shock.

My heart races in my chest, trying to pound its way out. The room goes a little spinny for a beat.

His hand slides down the back of my yoga pants and underwear, straight to holding my bare bottom.

He jerks me closer so I’m directly on top of his bulge. He’s hard.

He grasps the back of his neck with his free hand to whip his shirt up over his head and then he’s doing something with my hands. He’s tying my wrists together with the arms of his shirt!

I gasp.

Holy shit. Is this happening?

The next thing I know, I’m being thrown over his lap. My wrists are tied and my yoga pants are being pulled down in the back.

Suddenly there’s a clap at the same instant as my skin stings. He’s slapped my ass. I haven’t ever been slapped on my butt. Not once. Until now. It’s a surprising sensation.

He does it a second time and then I’m repositioned back on his lap while he yanks my yoga pants and my plain white cotton bikini briefs down, then off.

“For real?” he asks.

I look at him questioningly.

“These aren’t the panties of a naughty girl.”

I laugh silently. “That’s because I’m not a naughty girl.”

“No?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Or I didn’t think I was.”

He smiles and shakes his head with an expression of astonishment or something and then there are fingers between my legs.

His mouth attacks my neck, making a trill of shivers shoot up my spine, across my nipples, and sending another surge of wet between my legs. He lifts my bound wrists and hooks them over his head so that the fabric rests at the back of his neck and then he assaults my clit with his fingers. His erection is sliding back and forth across my bare pussy. He’s still in jeans and I’m moving on top of him, rocking my hips a little.

I feel so slutty, and so good.

“Eyes on me, Miss Sweetheart,” he orders.

“I want to feel you. You, Austin,” I whisper, opening my eyes.

Who am I? I’ve never even asked for anything during sex before this. Never. Just stayed silent through it. But here on this couch in broad daylight, I’m leaving a wet spot on the crotch of Austin Carmichael’s jeans and asking to feel him.

Damn, he looks good in these jeans.

His eyes are on me and they’re searching my face. For what? Pleasure? To make sure I’m fully on board with this?

“You good?” he asks.

I laugh.

“Anything happens that you don’t like, you just say it. Don’t be afraid to.”

I shake my head. “I won’t.”

“Good. Gimme that mouth. I think you need one more smack on this fantastic ass before I put my mouth between your legs and finish you off.”

My eyes bulge again.

His mouth spreads slowly into a smile.

Austin Carmichael thinks I have a fantastic ass?

“Got all sorts of dirty talk stashed if that’s your thing.”

“I think it might be,” I say.

He smiles. “Reading your smut file, I thought it might be.”

And then his palm cracks across my bare butt again and I whimper.

I’m so, so wet right now.

He releases my hands from their binds and lifts me up. He carries me down the hall and I feel so exposed, wearing just a bra and nothing else, where he’s in jeans, but then a moment later, I’m on my back on the bed and he’s dropping those jeans and his underwear, and whoa, Austin Carmichael is gloriously gorgeous when he’s naked.

Oh. My. Lord.

“You have any condoms, by chance?” he asks me.

I shake my head.

“Never stocked up. Wasn’t plannin’ this,” he says.

“I’ve been celibate for three years,” I shrug. “I’ve only ever been with one guy. If I had any, they’d probably be expired.”

He laughs and then sobers. “Just one guy?”

My face heats and I avoid the question and keep talking. “I’m on the pill though. It’s… for cycle reasons. I haven’t been with anyone. If you’ve been safe, um, I guess I can assure you that I definitely do not have grown-up cooties.” I smile.

“Gonna need a condom,” he says with a look that … does that mean he doesn’t believe me? Or that he’s not sure he’s been safe?

Oh. It’s like cold water on my libido.

Is Austin worried he could have grown-up cooties?

And is Austin turned off by my inexperience?

“Just my policy. Better to be safe,” he says, obviously seeing the worry in my eyes. “Get some later. We’ll still play,” he adds and then he’s covering me.

I’m staring at him with wide eyes.

“If you want to,” he adds.

“Uh,” I reply. “Gotta say I’m suddenly a little nervous about the far-reaching impact of us doing this.”

“Let’s just do it,” he says with a big smile. We’re just two people who are attracted to one another, having fun playing a little physical contact game.”

“What game is that?” I dare to ask.

His mouth splits into a big smile. “It’s called, Let’s count how many times  Austin can make Jada come in an evening.”

“Whoa.”

I feel like a loser for reacting that way, until he smiles again in a way that makes me think he finds me amusing or cute, and then he begins to slide backwards, slowly, until his mouth is over my boobs. My bra is undone and then his lips are on my breasts.

“Mm. Been wanting a look at these,” he says and then he takes a nip out of the side of the right one.

“Ow!” I gasp.

“That’s a penalty for all the times you’ve taunted me by coming out with no bra on.”

“How many times is that?” I ask as I gasp again while my head lolls because he takes my nipple into his hot mouth and pulls on it while swirling his tongue around it.

He lets go to say, “At least twice.”

I laugh.

“Though I’ve looked at them more often than that.”

His mouth descends further down my body.

“And?” I ask, arching my torso toward him.

“And I like ‘em.  A lot.”

He dots kisses down my ribcage to my belly button, and then his hands, holding both my hips glide down. He gently parts my thighs.

My heart loudly gallops in my chest as his mouth touches down and his tongue exerts pressure at the perfect place.

He swipes across that spot with his hot tongue.

“Not exactly a piece of blackened Wonder Bread, but I hope it’ll do.”

I choke on laughter burying my face in my bicep in utter mortification.

Laughing, he caresses my butt cheek in a way that feels reassuring.

“I don’t know where the fuck that came from,” I giggle.

And my giggle quickly dies as he swipes his tongue across me again, as his grip tightens on my body like he’s done joking and is about to get serious about what he’s doing.

A little moan escapes.

And I feel embarrassed about that because I’m so inexperienced at this, but he’s giving no indication that it bothers him. In fact, he’s staring into my eyes intensely as he continues to lick and kiss down there, like he’s looking for more reactions.

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out as he kneads my butt.

His lips cover my clit and then his tongue dives inside again as he suckles, gently.

I’m going to climax. I’m going to climax huge on Austin’s face.

Oh my God, this is so, so fucking hot.

My fingers find their way into his hair. God, it is soft. His eyes drift closed, like he likes the way that feels, me touching him. My other hand finds its way into his hair, too, and I sift my fingers through it as sensation takes over every bit of my thoughts.

My breathing quickens and my hips start jerking. My grip on his hair tightens. And I’m coming. I’m coming and he’s working me harder, faster, sending the sensation from a 10/10 to a whopping 100 out of 10.

“Ah!” I cry out and then I’m whimpering as I ride his tongue.

Holy cow. Holy shit, that’s good.

I’m gasping for breath when Austin moves up my body, kissing my boobs again, and then the next thing I know, I’m reaching for his dick and pushing him to his back.

I tried to give Josh head once and I was so clumsy at it that he stopped me, told me we’d work up to that another time. We never got that chance.

Josh was the only one I had any experience with. He made me come with his fingers a few times. He did oral sex on me once, but I couldn’t let go. We fooled around and got to second or third base a bunch in our time together but didn’t have actual sex until near the end. I’ve had actual intercourse a total of four times, all happening in the last three weeks before he died.

I don’t want to think about Josh right now. That’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to Austin, so I focus. I focus and greedily take the tip of Austin’s cock into my mouth.

I lick. I suck. I kiss.

And then I cup his balls.

My hair is in his fist and it’s the sexiest thing in the world because he’s looking at me while I do this to him. I’m looking at him, too, as I suck his cock, then my eyes travel up over the beautiful length of it to his washboard abs, then up further across miles of sun-bronzed ripples of muscle to his stubbled jaw ticking as he watches, as he reacts. His face makes me think I’m doing a decent job at this. His eyes look on the verge of anger. Almost like the angry faces he was making before, when he yelled at me, and it’s the hottest thing in the world, sucking his cock while he looks at me like he wants to fire me, kick me out, no, wait… no…more like he’s looking at me like I’m naughty, like he wants to spank me some more. More spanking is way better than homelessness, so I tell my mind to stick with that as I reach between my legs. God, I’m soaking wet. I start working my still sensitive clit myself as I keep sucking him.

Did I just do that? Did I just touch myself in front of a guy?

He notices and then his fingers are there, too.  I pull my hand back so he can take over, but then he grabs my hand and sucks two of my fingers while rocking into my face. God, this is more erotic than the most erotic scene I’ve dreamt up.

I can’t get over this.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I have no idea what it means, either; I only know it feels completely awesome.

“Can I come in your mouth?” he demands, pace quickening where it’s no longer me bobbing, but him thrusting.

“No, I shouldn’t,” he rethinks.

I nod and take a firmer hold of his butt and hold on tight.

I nod some more.

He groans out as he quickens his pace again and then after just four or five more thrusts, he comes down my throat.

I choke a little and his eyes immediately go concerned.

I recover. He flops beside me, then jumps up and lifts me up in the air, making me squeal in surprise. I quickly realize he’s doing it to get the blankets down.

He puts us back in the bed and pulls the covers over us.

“Fuck,” he breathes into my neck, pulling me close. “Fuck, that was a nice surprise.”

I nod, snuggling in.

“Though not exactly safe…”

“Huh?”

“Me, coming in your mouth…”

“I haven’t been with anyone,” I remind him, but his lips are on mine again and now he’s holding my jaw as he kisses me.

He kisses me long and deep and it feels like my heart is going to explode out of my chest into a poof of glitter and butterflies.

“Fuck,” he says again. “That was nice.”

I giggle. “You said that.”

“I had no idea what I was comin’ home to,” he says. “I guess I’m in shock, now thinking on all of it.”

I cover my face, embarrassed.

“I’m very fucking glad I found that smut file, Cooties.”

I bark out a laugh. “Don’t you dare call me that!”

He laughs. “Okay, Squatter.”

“Groucho!” I add.

He laughs louder. “Master Groucho the third, thank you very much. And I’m not usually so grouchy. I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” I joke.

He chuckles. “Fair point. And what’s with the third thing? Who are Austin Groucho first and second? That’s what I’d like to fuckin’ know.”

“No clue. Adding The Third to your name made you sound even more pompous and snooty.”

He slaps my butt and I giggle.

“Sassy thing,” he says.

“I’m not usually so sassy.”

“Hm. Not sure I believe that.”

“Hm,” I return. “Fair point.”

He bites his lip and caresses my head, tucking loose hair behind my ear.

“You made me enchiladas,” he whispers as if he supremely approves.

I nod.

“I don’t like guac.”

“Have you tried my guac?” I ask.

“No. But despite that I don’t eat it, gotta tell you, Cooties, I’m now a very big fan of guac,” Austin informs.

I giggle. “Stop calling me Cooties.”

“Though I might never ever eat it.”

I laugh again.

“You should try my guac.”

“Maybe I will. You eat yet?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“You thought you had at least two hours to scarf down your meal and hide in your room before I got back.”

I nod.

“You’ve done a good job of avoiding me all week,” he says.

“It’s part of my job description. Just trying to exceed expectations.” I bat my eyelashes.

“Well stop that. I don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to just stay in your room. I was a dick about that.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“You don’t have to agree with me.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I do.” I smile wide. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

“How about you be a good girl for a little while and do what you’re told?”

“What am I gonna be told?”

He goes to his closet and pulls out a shirt, then tosses it at me. “To put this on,” he says.

I smile.

In my Austin Smut story, I wear his clothes after we have sex.

“And then come with me so we can go eat.”

“I think I can be a good girl for a little while…”

He smiles.

And then it hits me. I don’t know if he read the whole thing that I wrote. Did he?

Things turned from sex and punishment to relationship stuff from chapter four and by around chapter six there’s just as much romance as there is sex.

“How much of that did you read?” I ask.

He pulls on a pair of trackpants, smiling.

And I’m feeling panicky.

“How much?” I push.

“I was somewhere in the third chapter when you got in.”

I’m relieved.

It must show by what he says next.

“Did something happen in the later chapters I should know about? Do you kill me? Am I married? Do we wind up having a threesome with me and you and my wife?”

My face falls.

His does too. Instantly. Like he regrets what he’s just said.

“I’m not married, Jada,” he says, lifting his hands.

I force a smile. “I think I know that. Be right out, okay?”

“Okay.”

I slip into his bathroom.

“Wait. Hey! That’s my bathroom,” he calls.

“Consider it an advance on the very extensive penalty for snooping on my laptop!” I shout back.

He laughs loud.

And that’s a great sound to hear from him.

24

Austin

It started out as a weird day, knowing that Sienna was being arrested for what she did to me.

I messaged my brother to tell him it was about to happen and he replied with,

Ah, to be a fly on the wall.

I didn’t wanna see it. I was still too angry about what that bitch did to me. I didn’t want to derive any sick joy out of watching her suffer, I just wanted her to pay for what she did.

Nobody, male or female, should get away with doing what she did.

And then it was a weird day, trying to focus. Coming back here and finding that stuff on Jada’s computer? Talk about a shock to my system.

What happened when she walked in was totally not premeditated, more like it felt like the most natural thing in the world to me. It was like everything clicked into place when I put my hands on her. When I felt how she responded to me. When that look in her eyes, of fear and embarrassment transformed to lust and longing.

I almost backed off in the bedroom when she said she’d only been with one other guy. That almost sent me running, because that sort of thing is a big deal to me and the kind of thing that would make me drop all my walls and decide I’m all in – but after some of the shit that’s happened to me with the past few girls I’ve gotten involved with, I’m trying to be more practical now, more pragmatic instead of letting myself get lost quickly.

I’m trying not to read too much into it because frankly, I have no idea if this thing with her is going anywhere. It’s too soon to know, too out of left field.

Well, if I’m honest, I’ve been pushing back my emotions for two weeks where she’s concerned and likely pushing her back with my attitude. Or I thought that was what I was doing, but it had a vastly different effect than I intended.

I can’t help but dig that she’s this quiet, shy girl that found her voice to stand up with me. That she revealed that to me felt special.

I fucking dig it even more that she looks like this sweet, wholesome good girl and underneath it, she writes scenes about me getting her off against a burnt piece of toast.

That depraved shit gave me a hard-on.

Is this gonna go anywhere? Do I want it to?

Not a clue.

Not a clue at all.

All I know is she feels good. I love how she looks at me. I love that we’ve been able to blow off steam by snapping at each other and it’s led to this explosive sexual chemistry between us.

And instead of her jumping my bones like she couldn’t wait, she got shy, timid, and submissive with me. Her reaction to me today was exactly what I would’ve hoped for if I’d laid this out.

My phone is ringing as I head into the kitchen.

My brother. I’ll call him back later.

Aiden gives away too much about his sex life. I’m not like that. But he told me once that he dug when a girl he fucked wore one of his shirts afterwards and for some reason, the idea of Jada wearing something of mine – something too big on her – it turns me on.

As soon as the phone stops ringing, it immediately starts again. My mother. I snicker. I haven’t talked to her. She’s probably calling to ream me out because I had her boyfriend’s daughter arrested. Aiden was probably calling to warn me she was about to call.

She can stew a little longer; I’ve got enchiladas to eat.

I pop mine in the microwave and dish some up for Jada, who’s coming into the kitchen. Her hair is now down, tucked behind a headband, which makes me want to pound my chest like a primate because I messed her hair up so much that she’s now taming it with something that makes her look so shy and innocent. It makes me wanna take her to the floor and fuck her. She’s biting her lip while approaching me, wearing nothing but a white shirt of mine, just like in her story. And she’s looking at me in a way that I know my wants are written all over my face.

I grab her and plant a kiss on her mouth. She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me back, whimpering into my mouth. I fucking like this. I like it a lot.

“Next time you clean that bathroom, you’re gonna need supervision,” I say.

She looks up at me and her eyebrows knit for a split second and then heat stains her cheeks and she laughs and buries her face in my chest.

“No bathtub cleaning during the day.” I bop her nose.

“You get to the window cleaning scene yet?” she asks, face buried into my chest.

“No.”

“Good. I’m deleting it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m putting a password on my computer. I really should’ve done that a long time ago.”

I give her a serious look. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

She smiles. “Maybe I am, too. Which is crazy.”

My hand rides up the back of the shirt and I feel something lacy.

I look down and lift the shirt above her navel.

She’s now got on high-cut black lace panties with royal blue ribbon woven through the edge of the legs as well as the waistband.

I smooth my hands over her ass and pull her closer.

“These aren’t good girl panties,” I observe. “These are naughty girl panties.”

She bites her lip and her lashes lower just a little. It’s sexy as fuck.

“After we eat,” I whisper in her ear, “I’m goin’ to the store and buying condoms.”

The microwave beeps so I pull my food out and slide her plate in.

She goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer for me, a root beer for herself.

My phone rings again. Aiden again.

I grab it and turn the ringer down.

“Definitely should delete all that smut on here,” she muses, sliding her laptop to the side as we dig into our food.

“You do that, you’re in big trouble, Cooties. Though I do recommend you password-protect it.” I take a big bite of my beef enchilada. It’s delicious. “But I want the password.” I wink.

“You do know I never expected a soul to read that, don’t you? Only one person in the world even knew I write that stuff.”

“You write a lot of it?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nope. A couple months ago I got paid to write one from this freelance site I get writing jobs from sometimes. I almost didn’t do it. But it felt safe since I was anonymous and it was fun. And then I got paid to write another. And I decided to write some more, so I did. Then I met you…”

“Yeah? And?”

“And the night we had the argument when I made you the fajitas, I went to bed angry and was going to tell you off in a letter that I would never have sent, but I found myself writing that. Please, you can’t tell anyone I write that stuff.”

Her eyes are so panicked and she looks so mortified that I instantly move to her and pull her close.

“You’re damn good at writing sexy scenes, Jada. Even the stuff around the sex scenes, the inner dialogue from Miss Sweetheart that I read so far; you’ve got talent there. If you decide to become a fiction author, you should own that. Be proud of it whether you write sexy stuff or murder mysteries; who cares what people think?  That’s my opinion. Though, if you choose to keep it to yourself, that’s your choice. I just have one request.”

“To change your name if I ever publish it?”

I shake my head and smile at her. “To let me read them, especially if they’re about me.”

She turns away and buries her face in her shoulder. It’s adorable to me and incredibly alluring how she’s being both shy and open with me at the same time.

“If you never write them for money or for public consumption, I still hope you let me read them. And… right now, I have plans to act out every scene you wrote. I think.”

“Oh yeah?” she inquires.

“Oh yeah,” I confirm. “Every scene I read so far at least. Maybe some adlibbing to give you some ideas for later chapters.”

“I look forward to that,” she says.

“It’ll be like sexy improv. Like, maybe in addition to burnt toast, we’ll go all nine and a half weeks style on the kitchen floor and I’ll pull out some roast beef and horseradish sauce or something.”

“Ooh. I mean ouch. Wouldn’t horseradish burn your asshole?”

My phone vibrates. Adele calling.

I laugh. “Not mine. Yours.”

“Nope. Chapter thirteen was about me putting spicy condiments up your bum. If we follow script we’ll have to stay with the program.”

Fuck, she cracks me up.

“Layin’ down the law? I think that’s my job, Miss Sweetheart.”

She laughs. “Maybe we’ll adlib instead.”

25

Jada

Austin and I eat enchiladas together and he tries my homemade guacamole. He wrinkles his nose and tells me not to feel bad that it’s not his thing, says it’s a texture thing.

I shrug that off, not remotely offended, because Austin waxes lyrical while he eats three enchiladas. He goes on about almost everything I’ve cooked for him, almost as if he’s saved all the compliments he had because we weren’t exactly communicating. But we are now, and I feel not one shred of upset that he doesn’t like guacamole.

“And though I’m not a fan of avocadoes, I tell ya, sweetheart, I will forever look at them differently after today.”

I smile.

“You one of those girls afraid to eat around a guy?”

“Huh? No. Why?”

“You keep leaving full plates of food around me. Eat some food.”

“Maybe you ruin my appetite,” I give him a disgusted look and his smile goes so bright it’s a thing of beauty.

He likes that banter.

“Yeah, good, because who wants to sit here and watch you eat, anyway?”

“Watch the line, Master Groucho.  You cross it and maybe you’ll wear some enchiladas.”

He laughs.

“Maybe you’ll wear them too,” he threatens.

“Maybe I’ll refuse to make them for you again,” I add.

“Whoa. Let’s not be hasty!” He throws his hands up in surrender.

I giggle.

“You okay, though?” he asks, leaning over and tugging on a lock of my hair.

I’ve got too many butterflies in my belly to have an appetite.

“I’m good. Just ate a late lunch,” I say and rise.

And then something cool happens. Austin and I clean up the kitchen together.

I never saw my parents do this. Dad was in his chair while Mom did it, looking like she was in a daydream – probably wishing she was someplace else. And then I did it while Dad was in his chair when Mom was gone, wishing I were somewhere else.

Here, cleaning up with Austin, I’m feeling like I could stay here and happily do this with him every night until forever. And that’s exciting and scary at the exact same time.

After we’re done, he asks, “Wanna come for a walk? Keep me company as I walk some of this food off and find a place to buy some condoms?”

“Sure. But what do you need condoms for?”

He looks at his feet and tries to hide a smile. “Maybe it’s just a good idea to have them on hand. Never know when you’re gonna need to bend somebody over and give them a penalty-fuck for streaky floors. Got any plans to wash the floors any time soon? I could be wrong, but it looks like there’s a spot over there.” He jerks his chin.

“I cleaned the floors today. Too bad you missed it.”

“Damn.” He snaps his fingers. “I figure it’s a good idea to be prepared, anyway. Shall we?”

26

Austin

Adele is calling again.

“Okay, I’ve had multiple calls now from my brother, my sister, and my mother. I better return one of these calls in case something’s up.  I’ll call her back and then we’ll go. Okay? Gimme five?”

“Sure,” Jada agrees and then disappears down the hall.

***

“Oh, thank God,” Adele greets. “Dad had a heart attack, Austin. He’s heading into surgery.”

“No! Fuck. What happened?”

“Um, it’s kind of… uh…”

“What?” I push.

“He uh… are you sitting down?”

“No, I’m not. Just tell me.”

“He was having sex with Alice in a storage room at work.”

“What?” I sit down belatedly.

“Yeah.”

“Did I hear you right?”

“You did.”

“Alice?”

“Alice.”

“Holy shit. He was having sex with Alice and had a heart attack?”

“Yep. From what it sounds like, they got caught by Ally Kingston.”

I blink.  My father told us he was impotent.  I guess he’s not impotent anymore.

“How’s Dad?”

“He’s having a stent put in. He’s going into surgery soon and I’ll keep you posted. I’m at the hospital waiting for word with Aiden and Carly. And Alice.”

“I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Which hospital?”

27

Jada

“Got it,” Austin says and hangs up his call.

“What’s wrong? Someone’s in the hospital?”

“My father had a heart attack. His second one. I… have to go home.”

“Oh God. I’ll help you pack.”

“I don’t need to pack. I’ll… I’ll stay at my place tonight. I just need my laptop bag.”

He jerks his chin at his bag. He looks frazzled.

“Okay. Is there anything I can do?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. I’ll just grab a cab out front and…” he thrusts his fingers through his hair with an expression of exasperation.

I grab his hand and squeeze. “I’ll say a prayer for your dad,” I say. “What about a phone charger. You got one in your laptop bag?”

He looks surprised. “No. Good call.”

He pulls me close and kisses me. He kisses me hard, but also passionately. “I’m sorry our night is getting cut short,” he softly says into my ear.

“Me, too, but family first. Can you let me know how he’s doing when you get a chance?”

He nods and I follow him to his bedroom. He changes into fresh clothes, grabs his phone charger cord and block, then shrugs his jacket on.

“Oh. This is for you.” He pulls an envelope out of his bag after stuffing the cord and block in. “Company card for you.”

He sets it on the counter and I follow him to the door where he grabs his laptop bag from the coat hook and kisses me one more time.

“Call you later.”

“Safe travels,” I say, reaching up and rubbing my fingertips along his jaw.

He gives me a look of regret, but I see the worry on his face.

He goes.

28

Austin

I get to the hospital to the good news that Dad is out of surgery and that it went well.

It’s late, but the waiting room is still filled with Carmichaels, with Alice, and Roger Greer who is unabashedly sitting there with his arm around my mother’s chair.

I walk in to my mother shooting daggers at Alice Roberts despite that Mom is sitting there with her boyfriend. Hypocrite.

Yeah. She must be shocked. Dad having a heart attack while having sex with his secretary in a supply closet would shock her since the two of them haven’t had sex in eons and Dad has said he’s been impotent for a decade.

Alice has been Dad’s assistant for years. Many of them. I’ve got no idea yet what the deal is with them, but the fact that she’s here with the rest of the family probably means it was more than just a romp in the supply closet.

And Dad told her about my situation, which usually wouldn’t be his style – to discuss family drama with an outsider. Maybe he and Alice are serious.

I greet her with a smile. “You okay?”

She nods, not looking okay.

Roger eyed me warily when I got in and got updated by my sister who sat between Alice and Carly. Dad is still in recovery and someone will be out shortly with another update.

And despite Roger Greer’s eying me when I walk in, it takes a minute before I remember about Sienna. It feels like a long time ago that I got the call she’d been arrested. A lot of things have happened since then. It feels like days rather than hours since then.

“Come with me for a coffee run?”  Aiden says.

“We don’t need coffee,” my mother says, speaking for her and Roger.

“I need a muffin or something sweet,” Carly says. “And a little caffeine jolt.”

“Alice?” Aid asks.

“Maybe a tea. Hot. Weak. Extra milk, no sugar. Thank you, Aiden.”

I just got here so I wouldn’t mind sitting for a second, but I decide to go with my brother instead. Clearly he wants to chat.

“Fucking his secretary in the supply closet?” I mutter once I know we’re out of earshot.

“Quite a day,” Aiden remarks.

I scoff. “I’d say. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Yeah? The Sienna shit?”

I’m not about to talk about my thing with Jada.

“Yeah. What’s Audra been like?”

“Fuck,” Aiden’s shoulders jiggle with laughter as we get to the lobby of the hospital. There’s a lineup at the coffee shop so we hang back.

“She started calling and asking questions as soon as she heard he was rushed to the hospital. Don’t even know how she heard. She probably has spies at CC, but yeah, she gets to the hospital and starts firing more questions and tryin’ to get Alice to go get coffee for the family and that makes Adele snap at her that Alice isn’t there in an assistant capacity, she’s there as Dad’s significant other. I think Adele knows this has been goin’ on and just didn’t tell us. And then Audra starts firing questions about where Dad was when it all happened, and I finally threw in when Alice went to the ladies’ room that Dad and Alice were bumpin’ uglies. Ally told Carly what she walked in on. Apparently Ally walked in while Dad was already keeling over. Audra nearly keeled over when she heard, and it shut her up. She’s been quiet as a mouse since.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, make you hate bein’ in New York even more, missin’ out on that.”

“Fuck. So Dad’s okay?”

“I mean, he needs to take better care of himself, obviously. Heart attacks and cancer. Man’s a cautionary tale for bein’ a workaholic. We should heed.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Especially you,” Aiden adds.

The crowd has thinned so he gestures, and we move up.

“Been puttin’ in a lot of fucking hours,” I mutter.

“Fuckin’ Bassell,” Aid rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. No joke. You hired that bozo; should be you there cleaning up his mess.”

“Sorry, man, been busy honeymooning.” He winks and then rambles off the coffee order.

I add my drink to the order before turning to him again. “So, how’s married life so far?”

“Livin’ the dream,” he says without one shred of sarcasm.

“Good, bro.” I smack his arm.

“You should consider it,” he adds. “You know. Some day.”

“I’m definitely not ruling it out,” I say.

“You gotta stop working so hard so you can get out there and meet someone.”

“You met yours while workin’ hard,” I say.

“This is true. Maybe it’ll happen the same way for you.”

“Maybe.”

“I’d tell you to get with Pinky, but pretty sure Jude’s gettin’ in there.”

“Really?”

“He’s tryin’ to unravel the Ally mystery. Says she’s goin’ out of her way to hide something, so while we were in St. Kitts, I moved him into her apartment. He’s closing in, I think. He’s not saying much but he’s got that look of a guy gettin’ some.”

“Good for Jude.”

“Too bad, brother; don’t see that look on you. Like I say, you gotta stop working so hard.”

I snicker.

“Unless you’ve found something sweet in New York,’ he adds.

I shrug.

“Wait. You’ve gotten lucky.”

I don’t deny it.

Aiden’s eyes light up. “Let me guess… Candy?”

“No. She’s not hard to admire from afar but afar is as close as I wanna get with her. Got the feeling she’s not so nice underneath all that makeup and those fake lashes.”

He shrugs.  “You’re probably right. And I know your proclivities lean toward the good girls. Pinky – definitely bad. Candy strikes me as a bad one, too. Though bad girls can be good for a distraction.”

I shrug that off as we head back to where the family is camped out.

***

We’re there a few more hours and we eventually get five-minute visits. I step in with Aiden and my father gives me shit for flying home.

“It’s the weekend. I have my laptop if I’m here longer than the weekend.”

He shakes his head.

He’s tired.  He’s groggy. But he waves me closer, so I move in and he says, “Don’t spend all your life workin’ son. It’s not worth the sacrifice. You’re showing signs of bein’ too much like me.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll find balance. And somewhere other than the supply closet to get it on.”

Dad smiles sleepily. “Don’t knock the supply closet.” He pats my hand.

“So. You and Alice,” I say.

Dad smiles a little. “Me and Alice.”

“Not a bad way to go if you’re gonna go, but glad you didn’t, Dad,” Aiden says.

Dad smiles. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“I can see, now, why you didn’t implement a non-fraternization policy,” I add.

“And thank God you didn’t,” Aiden raises his coffee cup and then takes a sip.

“Amen,” Dad agrees. “She’s looked after me for years.” Dad shifts like he’s uncomfortable and his voice betrays that he really needs some rest. “She’s become my best friend. We talk about everything. And you know, she’s been widowed eight years and it shocked me when I found out she was going out on a date and I … got jealous. So I broke the date up.”

I laugh. Shit. That’s too funny.

“If you want something, you gotta go for it. I spent too many years being stubborn about what I wanted. Fixing things with your mother. We’re both happier apart. It took Alice going on a date for me to realize I was again being stubborn about what I wanted. So I stopped.”

“And look where it got you,” Aiden jokes. “Though, at least Alice got yer pecker workin’ again.”

He laughs. “That she did.”

“Audra is ready to chew glass about it, too,” Aiden mumbles.

“Your mother’s here? She knows?” Dad smiles.

He’s getting some satisfaction from this. Not surprising. He tried to fix things with Mom and she wouldn’t, so why shouldn’t he get himself some happiness?

“She is. I think she and Roger are heading out soon.”

“Fuckin’ Rog,” he grumbles. And the machine beside Dad’s bed starts beeping.

The nurse comes in. “It’s important for you to try to stay calm, Quentin.” She looks to me and Aiden. “He should be resting.”

“One more person to see and then I’ll sleep. Send Alice in, will ya?”

“Yeah Dad. Glad you’re okay,” I say and then I lean over and grab his hand. I squeeze it.

“Love you, my sons,” Dad says. “Proud of the men you are. Want you to know that. I’m high on drugs right now but I do mean it.”

“Thanks. Smarten up, though, old man. Enough scaring your family, all right?” I tease.

“All right,” he says, smiling a little.

Aiden moves in.

“Love ya, Aid,” Dad says.

“Me too, Dad.” Aiden kisses Dad’s forehead.

I turn away and bite back the emotion.

“My boys. My princess. Two beautiful grandkids and hopefully more soon. And I’m in love. I’m a lucky man,” Dad says and smiles as his eyes drift closed. “Where’s my hot assistant?”

I laugh. “We’ll send her in.”

“Keep my ex-wife outta here, will ya?” He tells the nurse.

“I’ll keep your hot assistant out of here if you don’t stay calm, Quentin,” the seasoned, sturdy nurse warns.

Dad smiles wide. He’s buzzed right out of it.

“Yeah, I heard all about you two and the supply closet,” the nurse clicks her tongue.

Dad gives her a thumbs up, looking proud.

“Be back tomorrow,” Aiden says, and we head out.

***

When we’re back in the waiting area, Roger rises. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Auz?”

“I’ll catch a ride home with you, Adele?” I ask my sister.

“See you outside,” she says.

“Later,” I say to Carly and she hugs me.

Aiden leans over to whisper to Alice, and she passes me to go see Dad. My mother shoots daggers at her back from her chair. Her arms are folded across her chest and her face is pinched into a classic Audra Carmichael scowl.

Aiden and Carly move toward Mom while Roger and I step outside.

“Austin,” Roger says, leveling me with a serious look. “I wanted to talk to you about my daughter. I realize emotions are running a bit rampant right now, Austin, but I was planning to fly up to see you tomorrow. Since you’re here…”

“Rog, I know things were already strained because of you and my mother, but serious – this isn’t about that. This isn’t about Sienna’s past with Aiden either. It’s all about what she did to me. What she did to me was fucked. This is only about that.”

He sighs. “She’s home right now with her mother, got booked this afternoon and released. She’s traumatized. Devastated. Frankly, Austin, we all are.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “And why do you wanna discuss this? I have no plans to drop charges if that’s what you’re about to get at.”

His expression – the man looks ravaged by stress. “If she gets convicted, she’ll be a registered sex offender, Austin. She’s a troubled young woman, but she’s a young woman. Do you really think she deserves to have that hanging over her head for the rest of her life?”

Sienna’s not looking for a career, she wants a trophy husband, so chances are her sex offender status won’t make a lick of difference to her, provided she snags the next man she wants and he’s like her – without morals. Despite thinking this, I don’t say it. Instead, I say something I’ve been saying far too often in defense of my decision to press charges.

“What if she were the victim, Rog, not me? What if it were me or Aid on trial?  Would we deserve the sex offender status?”

He flinches.

He knows what I’m saying is true.

“Yeah. Double standards.”

“I’m asking you, Austin, no, I’m begging you. What she did was wrong. I’m sorry she did that to you, but Austin, she’s… she’s my little girl. I have to ask for this. What can I do to convince you?”

I take a deep breath and a long look at Roger Greer, a man I’ve known since I was a little kid. He looks broken right now.

“Roger, you’ve been like an uncle to me growing up. Dad’s best friend. I’ve always liked you.”

His face relaxes a little.

And then I go for the throat. “But while I thought of you that way, while Aid and Adele also thought of you as an uncle, you were getting away with screwing my mother behind my father’s back. Behind your wife’s back.”

Roger’s expression drops.  I’m not done yet, so I keep talking.

“Behind your best friend’s back. Doin’ that to with my mother to your wife, your kids, me, Aid, and Adele. Did you think about the fallout for all of us with that? Seems like your daughter gets her recklessness honestly.”

His expression falls further, and he scrubs his face with the palm of his hand.

“I get it, Austin. But you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“I don’t know if you do get it. Despite all that shit, this isn’t revenge, man. It really isn’t. This is about what’s right and wrong from that night, my brother’s wedding night. Just that night. That’s one of the differences between me and your daughter. And I know she was there to break up my brother’s wedding. She cooked up a scheme and she just didn’t get there in time, so she decided to do what she could to fuck with us.”

“I know,” he says. “I know because I stopped her by giving her the wrong locale for the wedding.”

“Yeah. So she didn’t get to fuck Aiden over, but that didn’t stop her from going after my family. And now I’m supposed to feel bad for being pissed about what she did? She drugged me, man. She drugged me and you know what else she did.”

“I’m not discounting your feelings. I’m asking you, for the sake of both of our families, for the sake of a troubled-young woman, to reconsider. We’re willing to make amends in any way we can. Volunteer work. Counseling for Sienna. Tell me what you want.”

“It’s late, Rog. I’m on New York time. I wanna go home and sleep.”

“Think about this, please? Please?”

“Tonight, I’m thinkin’ about almost losing my father. Again. And you put this on me now?”

He raises his hands. “If you can think it over, I’d appreciate that. I’m sorry to put this on you. I’m sorry it happened to you. And I’m sorry it was my daughter that did it.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

My mother comes out.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a look and then goes to her, putting his hand to the small of her back.

“I want to talk to you,” my mother says, pointing at me.

“Not tonight, Mom.”

“Austin!”

“Mom, leave him tonight. He’s on New York time. He’s tired.” That’s Adele, now beside me.

“Okay. Tomorrow,” Audra warns. “I’ll come to your house.”

“I’ll be back here,” I say.

“Then I’ll see you here,” she clips and then she and Roger leave.

Aiden and Carly come outside.

“So?” Adele asks.

“He wants me to drop the charges.”

“Eff that,” Adele says.

I look to Aiden.

He shrugs. “It’s up to you, Auz.”

“What would you do?”

He shakes his head. “Dunno.”

“Thanks for the help,” I say.

He shakes his head again and gives Carly a dark expression before his eyes settle back on me. Obviously, Aiden has an opinion on the matter, despite the fact he’s saying nothing.

“I think you did the right thing, Austin, the fact that it’s Sienna aside,” Carly says. “But if you drop it to keep peace between the two very intertwined families and to move on with your life, that’s okay, too. She’s crapping her pants with the prospect of jail time, I’m sure. Just that fear right now is a punishment of sorts.”

“And being on the sex offender registry,” I add.

Carly’s jaw drops.

So does Adele’s.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Harsh,” Aiden says.

“Yeah. Is it deserved?” I ask.

“Damn straight it is,” Carly declares. “I saw the videos, Austin. We all did. She was a predator that night.”

I clench my jaw, hating that this makes me like prey, like it makes me seem weak. And this is part of why I’ve been barely able to stand myself the last few weeks.

Carly keeps talking. “And by now, Sienna probably knows there’s video, too and knows that she’ll be convicted if it goes to trial. But it’s also your life here, your time dealing with court and possible publicity, and if you decide you want it to go away, that’s totally okay. A lot of women don’t report this kind of thing because of what it’ll do to their lives, having it all public, and that applies for you, too. She took away your rights that night, but she can’t keep doing it. It’s your right to decide whether or not you want her to go down enough that you’re willing to do this. Your life, your choice.”

“Yeah. As of today, I’m going to say yeah. It’s worth it.”

“Good,” Adele says. “We’re with you every step.”

“Thanks,” I say as my big sister puts her arms around me and gives me a hug.

“And we’ll be with you if you decide to drop the charges, too,” Adele adds. “Though I hope you don’t.”

“I have no intention of that,” I say.

Aiden says nothing. He’s staring at the ground.

“Aid?”

He looks me in the eye, and I know that look. He has something to say.

“Say it, man.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you don’t wanna say.”

He shakes his head like he’s got nothing.

“Say it,” Carly tells him, then looks to me. “He’s not saying anything to me, either. I’d really like to know what he thinks.”

“If it were me,” Aiden says, looking at me, “I might take a different approach to get my revenge. One that hurts the bitch but one that doesn’t necessarily get made public.”

I scoff. Yeah, not a shock. My brother has been pretty creative with revenge multiple times.

“Yeah, but that can get you in trouble too, can’t it?” Carly hisses.

Aiden winces. “This is why I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Aiden and Carly split up for a while because of revenge he took against a girl named Bella Wilson that fucked with him. His revenge was dirty enough that he almost didn’t get his happily ever after with Carly.

She shakes her head again.

“Are we in a fight now, Peaches?” my brother asks. “Because if we are, that’s unfair. You told me to say what I was thinking. You punish me now, you think I’ll be so verbal next time?”

“Oh shush up,” she grumbles.

“Just sayin’,” Aiden raises his hands.

“Let’s go to my place and get drunk,” Adele suggests.

“I would, but I’m exhausted,” I say.

“I’m pooped, too,” Carly says.

“Yeah, I guess I am too,” Adele mutters. “Long day. And you’re three hours ahead of us, Auz.”

“Yep.”

“We’ll get drunk tomorrow,” Adele amends.

We say goodbye to Aiden and Carly, then Adele drives me home, telling me to come by her place for coffee and breakfast in the morning since my fridge is empty. I know Adele and Dirk’s door code to get in, so I have every intention of doing that, even though I’ll be up hours before they are.

Getting into my place, my house feels massive to me. I bought it wanting to live close to my new nephew and liking their neighborhood for eventually raising a family in. It feels too big right now with just me here.

It’s got four bedrooms, a finished basement, a backyard with a pool. I bought the model home furnished, figuring that when I got into a relationship serious enough to invite a woman to move in that she could then put her personality stamp on the place.

I get to my bedroom and pull my phone out of my pocket so I can plug it in.

I open up Jada’s text string and send a message to her.

It’s late so I didn’t call because I didn’t want to wake you, but wanted you to know Dad made it through surgery fine. I just got back to my place so I’m gonna crash. I’ll message you later.

Not five minutes later, I’m ready to climb into my bed when I hear the text alert.

Jada: I’m so glad he’s okay. Thanks for letting me know.  Thinking good thoughts for a fast recovery.

Me: Thanks. Me, too. Goodnight Miss Sweetheart.

Jada: Goodnight Mr. Groucho. Sweet dreams.

Me: Save the bathtub washing and window cleaning  until I get back.

Jada: Yes sir.

I smile.

And then I’m thinking about what a crazy day it’s been.

I think I’m gonna pass out as soon as my head hits my pillow, but I lay there for a good few minutes before my eyes finally close and I do it thinking about how good Jada Miller tasted, how good she felt, and how much I’m looking forward to fucking her.

***

Saturday morning, I call the doctor in St. Kitts and ask him if his bloodwork included testing for sexually transmitted diseases. He calls back a half an hour later and tells me yes, it’s standard when they get a request like mine. He says my tests were clean.

I’m relieved. I don’t know where Sienna Greer has been.

I use my own car and have breakfast at Adele and Dirks before I take her to visit Dad. He’s already less groggy.

Alice is there with him and he announces she’s moving in with him. She says she’s going to make sure he’s taking better care of himself. She’s in her mid-50s and is a fit woman that takes great care of herself, so this has the Carmichael kids’ seal of approval.

We have no problem with having Alice Roberts move into our childhood home. Though, I’m sure Audra is going to take issue with it, for sure.

When Adele and I leave the hospital, she gets a text and informs me that we’re expected at Carly and Aiden’s place for dinner.

My mother didn’t show at the hospital and hasn’t called, and this does not disappoint me.

My sister and I split up for the rest of the afternoon and I go to my gym and work out. The workout kicks my ass after spending the past few weeks at a desk and eating like a king.

Dirk comes over with Adele to pick me up, telling me they got Dirk’s parents as an overnight sitter. Dirk drives us so that Adele and I can have some drinks.

***

Aiden’s telling a story about Carly flipping her lid over a spider in their beach house when I find myself telling the story of Gramma the Brazilian spider. It’s then that I get a text alert.

I finish the story, looking down at my phone. “This is her, actually.”

Jada: How’s your dad doing today?

I smile and reply to her text.

Me:  A lot better. He’s gonna have to make more lifestyle changes, but he’s doing well. Thanks for asking. Were your ears ringing? I was just talking about you.

Jada: Glad he’s doing well! What were you saying about me?

Me:  I was telling them the story of Gramma the spider.

Jada: Oh God. I’m having PTSD over here.

I laugh and type out the word spider and it switches to an emoji. I send it.

I see her typing.

“Hey Auz?” I hear my sister ask.

“Hm?” I look up and immediately realize the room has gone quiet and all eyes are on me.

“What?” I ask.

“Something funny?” Adele prods.

“Oh, I’m just messaging with Jada.”

Adele’s eyes light up. Carly clears her throat and Adele looks at her. They share a smile.

“Really?” Aiden asks.

My phone chimes, so I look down again.

Jada: Don’t tease me or I’ll have to wash the tub and floors now.

I ignore the twitching in my fingers with the urge to warn her against doing that but instead I put my phone away and fight getting hard as the images that ran through my brain when I read from her story play again.

“Auz?” Aiden asks.

“Hm?” I ask.

“You’re texting with Jada?” he asks. “Jada that you said you couldn’t stand? With a goofy grin on your face?”

I say nothing.

He waits.

No one else says anything; I’ve got a captive audience.

“She wanted to know how Dad was doing.”

“Looked like you two were sharing a joke,” Adele observes.

“We were,” I say casually.

“So, you’re getting along now?” Carly asks.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I say casually.

“Good,” Dirk throws in. “It’d suck to share an apartment with someone you don’t like.”

Carly busts up laughing.

Aiden leans over and kisses her throat and then whispers something I don’t catch.

She giggles some more. “Yeah, yeah, Hot Sauce. You and your Siberia-sized ego. Whatever.”

“Listen here, Mrs. Hot Sauce,” he says and then he leans forward some more and whispers something else and then he leans back.

“Okay, everyone. Party’s over. Time to go home,” Carly says. “We’re suddenly very, very tired.” She fakes a yawn.

Adele laughs.

“Just kidding. Really, anyone want another drink?” Carly points at Aiden. “I’ll deal with you, later.”

“Ooh,” Aiden replies, staring at her ass as she heads to the counter with her empty glass as well as Adele’s.

There’s pounding against their door. Aiden heads over to answer it.

I fetch my phone and reply to Jada.

Me: Don’t you dare. Or there will be very serious penalties.”

“Penalties for what?” Adele is reading over my shoulder.

“Hey! Fuck off,” I say and laugh.

My phone chimes again and Jada has sent me an emoji of a tongue sticking out.

“What’s goin’ on, Auzzie?” Adele leans over some more as I pocket my phone. “Are you fighting with her or flirting with her? She’s stickin’ her tongue out at you.”

“With Jada, same difference,” I whisper.

Adele’s eyes go round and then she’s about to speak when I hush her.

“Not sure where it’s goin’,” I shrug. “But we’re havin’ some fun.”

“It should go straight to the church is where it should go. She’s perfect for you. And for me. I love her. So does Carly.”

“Fuck, you’re already tanked. You’ve had one drink,” I say.

Adele laughs and messes up my hair.

Ally Kingston is coming in. Her long dreadlocks are gone and now her hair is pink again. So are her eyes. She looks upset.

“Excuse us,” Carly says as she marches Ally down the hall toward the bedroom, pulling over the pocket doors.

“Can I come?” Adele shouts before the doors are completely closed.

Ally looks over her shoulder at us and nods. “Bring alcohol.”

Adele jumps up, grabs the wine bottle off the table and dashes to the kitchen cupboard for another glass. She runs down the hall and is back a second later for a second trip for hers and Carly’s glasses.

“Carly said to do the dishes. We’ll be out soon,” Adele adds.

Aiden’s face falls. “The dishes?”

“C’mon. We’ll clean up together,” I say and get to my feet.

“Shit,” Aiden grumbles.

Aiden reaches then, for his pocket and pulls out the phone and looks to the screen. “Oh. Got a call.”

“Likely story,” Dirk says sarcastically.

“Dude, look.”

It actually does say Jude Calling so Dirk waves his hand and Aiden heads toward the balcony door.

“Hey Jude,” he greets as he steps outside onto the balcony.

Dirk and I exchange glances.

“Perfect timing for Aiden,” Dirk says. “Guy goes out of his way to avoid any domestic chores whatsoever.”

I laugh. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

***

Evidently there’s an issue between Ally and Jude who are sharing an apartment in this building, a few floors down. The apartment she used to share with Meryl.

Funny how that thought doesn’t have me turning sour for a change. Maybe it’s because of what Adele told me about what happened after Meryl went home and had to take care of her sick father. It has me thinking maybe I should’ve read the rest of her email, saw what she had to say, and given her the facetime to talk to me in St. Kitts. All I read was,

I’m sorry. I have to go.  My parents are expecting me to marry him and-

That’s when I deleted it. I didn’t read the rest.

And maybe it’s more than what Adele said that has the thought of Meryl not making me clench my jaw. Maybe it’s about the girl in New York who’s probably looking at her phone, biting her lip, and wondering if she should text me some more.

A girl like that… is she what I need?

She doesn’t even live in the same city as me. And she’s got baggage. Baggage doesn’t generally scare me and right now I’ve got a fuck of a lot more baggage than most people.

It’s too soon to think this way. I fooled around with her after finding dirty fantasies about me on her laptop a day ago. Scenes she wrote as an outlet because I was being an asshole.

It’s weird… her using that as an outlet. But it’s also kinda cool. And I suppose a lot of people have weird reactions to things going on in their life – they just don’t get caught red-handed by someone peeking directly into their brain, which - to be fair - is what I did.

A relationship built from something that started out as hate?

My brother comes in and Carly emerges from the bedroom. They whisper to one another for a minute near the door before they head toward us.

Yeah, a relationship can obviously begin despite it not being love at first sight. The animosity between my brother and the girl he wanted - it made him get his head out of his ass.

Carly goes to the freezer and pulls out a bottle of vodka and a can of frozen juice. She then reaches for ice and throws vodka, the can of juice, and some ice into the blender. She looks at me and Dirk who are still cleaning the kitchen.

“Wine isn’t gonna cut it tonight,” she calls out over the loud blender. “Are you and Jada starting something?”

“Maybe,” I reply.

She points at me. “Be good to her. That girl is going through a lot. She doesn’t need any Carmichael alpha bullshit.”

I rear back at Carly’s harsh reaction.

She turns the blender off and leans forward.

“I’m not joking. Guys fuck with girls’ hearts all the time. It’s not nice.” She shoots Aiden a look.

“I’m being a good guy right now, helping with the dishes, which you know I hate. How am I in shit over something Auz might do or something Jude did do. What did I do, Curly Sue?”  He lifts a tea towel for emphasis, though he hasn’t done anything to help with kitchen patrol so far.

“Nothing that I know of. But, Austin, don’t,” she warns and then turns the blender back on.

We look at one another and say nothing until she leaves the room with the blender full of frozen vodka slushie.

“So, you guys wanna watch sports? I think we might be on our own for the rest of the evening.”

“Yeah, man,” Dirk says and tosses the tea towel to the side.

“Got one more joining us,” Aiden says and puts down a bottle of Crown Royal.

“Not for me, bro, I’m drivin’,” Dirk says.

“Live a little, Dirkie,” I say. “We’ll take a cab. Order a cab and a half and they’ll drive your ride home, so you don’t have to come get it tomorrow.”

Dirk smiles. “Mm… erm… yeah, why not? I don’t have to get up early. My parents have Braeden and Lilly. Don’t really like anyone driving my ride, though.”

“It’s a minivan,” I return. “A minivan is not a ride.”

Aiden laughs.

“Still, don’t like people driving it,” Dirk defends.

“We’ll bring the car over tomorrow. Me and Carly are comin’ for dinner, remember? I’ll drive my Ducati and Carly can bring over your van.”

“I’d rather you drive it over Carly,” Dirk says. “Carly’s got a lead foot. How many speeding tickets has she gotten since she’s lived here?”

Aiden laughs. “I’m not drivin’ that minivan.”

“Ah, whatever,” Dirk waves his hand. “We’ll figure it out later. Pour me a double.”

There’s a knock. Aiden jumps up and answers to Jude, who comes in.

“I do not think this is gonna go well,” Dirk mutters.

I sit up straighter, figuring I’ll wanna be alert so as not to miss whatever’s gonna happen next.

Jude sits down, greeting us with a “Hey.”

We all say hey and Aiden pours him a drink.

Dirk and I exchange looks after I realize he’s doing what I’m doing. Staring at the hall, waiting for one of the girls to realize Jude is here. Waiting to see if there’s gonna be a scene.

“What’s good, boys?” Jude asks, throwing back a mouthful of whisky.

“Uh,” Dirk says, “Why don’t you tell us? There’s a girl with pink hair in the other room that you’ve driven to drink, it seems.”

“Just a little game of cat ‘n mouse,” he says with a shrug. “And good. Maybe alcohol will make things interesting later.” He rubs his palms together.

I laugh.

Adele comes from the master bedroom, gets to the mouth of the hall, gasps, and turns and shuts the pocket doors.

“Oh shit,” Dirk says. “My wife’s about to rat the cat out.”

I settle in and wait to see what’s about to happen.

***

It takes five minutes before Ally comes out, blue eyes blazing.

“Leave,” she demands.

“I’ll leave when you leave. Since you’re comin’ with me. In more ways than one.”

She points at the door with lasers shooting from her eyeballs. The anger is so real I want to duck for cover in case it makes the whole room catch on fire.

“A bet is a bet, sweet cheeks,” Jude informs.

She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

“Believe it. You bet, you lost, and now you owe.”

“Owe what?” Carly asks.

“Peaches,” Aiden says, shaking his head, giving her a ‘stay out of it’ look.

“Don’t play if you’re not prepared to pay,” Jude advises.

“You’re really gonna make me do this.”

“Not only am I going to make you do it, you’re gonna like it.” He wiggles his brows. “We both are.”

She slumps. “Fine. But I hate you more today than I hated you yesterday.”

“And probably not half as much as you’ll hate me tomorrow. Let’s go.” He downs the rest of his drink and winks at Aiden, who smirks.

“Wait. No. I don’t like this,” Carly says and gets in front of Jude.

“It’s fine, Car,” Ally says, straightening.

“What’s goin’ on here?” I mutter to Dirk.

“Not a clue, but it’s like a soap opera and I can’t tear my eyes away.” He sips his drink. “Make some popcorn, Aid.”

“This guy tricked me into making a sex bet and now I have to pay up. Because he’s a snake.”

“Tricked you? Is that word now a synonym for won? Poor victim,” Jude laughs at her, folding his arms across his chest.

Ally points her nose into the air as she grabs the doorknob.

“You’re not gonna make her have sex because she lost a bet,” Adele stares at Jude with disgust.

“Of course I am,” he rises.  “A bet is a bet. Ask her if she’d have made me pay if I’d won.”

Ally glares at him. “Of course I would.”

“What did you bet?” Carly asks.

“If I won, he’d fuck off and leave me alone.”

Aiden scoffs.

“I’m ready,” Jude says and pulls the door open wide.

Ally leaves. Jude follows and shuts the door.

“What the fuck?” Adele gasps. “You guys, do something.

“She wants it,” Aiden says.

Carly glares at Aiden but says nothing.

“You know it, Curly Sue.”

Carly huffs. “What she wants and what’s right for her might not be the same thing. She’s trying to do what’s right for her by asking him to let her off the hook.”

“No, baby, she’s playin’ cat and mouse with a cat who will not play unless he knows he can’t lose. And she knows that. She wants him to catch her. She’s just makin’ the chase as interesting as possible.”

“Something about sticking two good-lookin’ people in the same apartment, huh?” Dirk muses.

I laugh.

Dirk adds, “I should open a side business. Roommate Match dot com. Big Brother style. Stick two people together, manufacture some conflict, and then start a betting pool and see how long before they have sex.”

29

Jada

I get a text alert at three o’clock in the morning. I hear another ding before I get a chance to look at my screen.

Austin: Are you sleeping?

Austin: Sorry if you are. If you read this tomorrow, hi.

Is he drunk?

Me: Is everything ok?

Austin: hi.

Austin: What are you wearing?

I blink in surprise. I sit up and turn the light on.

He has to be drunk.

Me: Would it be creepy if I said I was wearing one of your shirts?

Austin: That would be the popular opposite of creepy.

Austin: *polar.

Austin: Did I wake you up?

Me: I’m awake. Definitely awake now.

I first typed out Would it be creepy if I was sleeping in your bed and wearing your shirt? But I backspaced it out before sending, thinking – too much too soon.

Austin: That’s hot. Wearing my shirt. Didn’t know it’d be hot till I read about it in your story and it was even hotter when I saw it on you Friday.

He thought that was hot?

Me: I’m not actually wearing your shirt but now I know at least one thing you think is hot and I shall be tempted to wear your clothes every chance I get. Btw, you paid me too much on my pay.

Austin: You didn’t expense everything you were supposed to, so I took a guess. Don’t do that again.

Me: What are you talking about?

Damn. My fault that things are no longer sexy because I brought up that my pay was too much. I hadn’t even thought about it Friday, so caught up in the shock of what happened when I came back with the avocadoes and then thinking about Austin and his father being rushed to the hospital.

Austin: You took a cab to me and back with my lunch. That wasn’t on the expense report. You also had $46 in household supplies. I know you spent more than that. Don’t be a martyr.

Me: I told you the food was on me the first week.

Austin: Or I’ll spank you. Sexy martyrs get spankings.

Austin: I was not ok with that.

Austin: The food. Not ok with the food.

Austin: sexy spankings, btw.

Me: So you just guessed on what I spent? I didn’t spend that much. You overpaid me.

Austin: Well, next time be accurate. Accuracy on your expense reports are very important. I’m a numbers guy. I don’t like wrong numbers.

Me: Okay, Mr. Groucho Numbers Guy. I shall ensure I am most accurate with my expenses going forward, but this worked in my favor.

Austin: Good Girl.  And my company is paying your salary and for my expenses so it’s no sweat. Seriously, Miss Sweetheart.

Me: This got way too serious for three in the morning. I thought this was a sexting booty call.

Austin: Numbers are my thing. Believe me, this is a conversation I’m finding highly arousing.

I laugh.

Me: nerd.

Austin: Ya well you’ve got the cooties.

Me: Maybe you’ve got my cooties now. And you’re pretty hot for a numbers nerd.

Austin: Maybe I’d like some more of them, too. Cooties, that is. And numbers.

Me: Are you drunk?

Austin: Very.

Me: What did you do tonight?

Austin: I had dinner with Aiden, Carly, Adele, and Dirk. And there was some drama with Carly’s friend and our buddy and that was fun to watch. I’m pretty sure everyone of them is getting lucky tonight. Except me.

Me: I’m not getting lucky either, so I can relate.

My phone rings. Austin calling.

My heart is racing.

I answer it.

“Hi,” I say. My voice is scratchy. I clear my throat.

“Hey,” he returns. “Did I wake you up when I texted you?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay. I don’t have to be up early.”

“No, you don’t, I guess.”

“Your father’s doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “He’s recovering from surgery. He has a brand-new girlfriend after many years of celibate misery, so I’m happy for him. He had a heart attack while having sex in the supply room at the office. Got caught, too.”

“Oh my Lord!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. At least he’s okay. And my understanding, he recently ended a decade of what he figured was impotence. Guess it works right after all. Just wouldn’t work for my mother. I probably shouldn’t tell you this.”

“Probably not…” I laugh.

“But if you’re gonna go, sounds like a good way to go.”

“Holy! I’m glad he’s okay.”

“He is. Hopefully he smartens up with his workaholic ways. This isn’t his first heart attack. Dad is only 55. This is a bad sign.”

“Yikes,” I say.

“Yeah. Prostate cancer diagnosis six months ago, now this.”

“Scary stuff.”

“For sure,” Austin says. “They caught the cancer early. But he keeps getting warning signs with the heart. Puts things in perspective.”

“Does it?” I ask.

He’s quiet a minute. He’s gotten very serious.

“Austin?”

“What’s the story with your family, Jada?”

“It’s kind of a long one.”

“You too tired to talk?” he asks.

“No, I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you,” he returns.

I smile and then bite my lip.

“I like doing other things with you, too,” he adds.

“Like bantering?” I ask.

“That’s a nice alternative word for arguing.”

“I mean, it was arguing before. Now it could be more like banter, since there’s no longer animosity. At least I don’t think there is.”

“This is true.”

He says he’s drunk, but he sounds happy, playful. I like it.

My father gets mean when he drinks anything alcoholic besides beer. We gave him a wide berth when we saw a liquor bottle come out. A special occasion rarely ended without him getting ugly and confrontational with somebody and that was because of mixing alcohols or just maybe because of the whisky.

“So, you’re wearing my shirt?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

“Pretend,” he whispers.

“I can do better than that,” I suggest. “I can go get one and put it on.”

“Yeah?” Austin says. “Do that.”

“Just a second.”

“Wait. Take the phone with you.”

“Okay.”

“Put me on speaker before you do it. I want to give you some instructions and I want you doing it in there.”

Oh. Oh Wow. Maybe this is a sexting booty call. Austin Groucho the Third style.

“Okay. One sec.”

I dash down the hall to his room.

“Ow!” I groan.

“What’s wrong?”

“Stubbed my toe in the hallway. A little eager,” I say, laughing.

“I like that,” Austin says. “I mean, I like the eager part, not the hurt part. If I were there, I’d kiss it better.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

“Mm hm. I wanted to kiss your ankle that night with the soup.”

“You did?”

“I did. Are you naked yet?”

“Naked? No?”

“You in the master bedroom?”

“Yep.” I flick the light on. It’s too bright so I dash over and turn on the lamp on the nightstand and then flick the big light off.

“Well, now the master has some instructions for you,” he advises.

I’m about to be a smartass and reply that technically Aiden is the master of this bedroom, but that could backfire and a backfire might mean I don’t get to find out what’s about to happen. So instead, I say, “What are your instructions, then, master?”

He chuckles low. I hear a rattling sound. Ice cubes?

He smacks his lips and lets out a gust of breath like he’s just had something to drink.

“Wait. What are you wearing? What are you doing? I want a visual, too.”

“I’m sitting in my bedroom beside the window,” he says. “Looking out at the yard. Palm trees. Pool.”

“What are you wearing?” I ask.

“Just a pair of jeans. Socks, too, I guess.”

“Are you having a drink?”

“Yeah. Scotch on the rocks.”

“I can see it. I am liking what I’m seeing. But lose the socks.”

“Sure.” He pauses. “Done. Now, put the phone on speaker, Miss Sweetheart. Get naked. Slowly. And tell me what you’re doing as you do it.”

I blow out a gust of air as my heart speeds up.

And I try to think fast, try to think about how to make this sexy for him.

“I’m hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my pink trackpants,” I say.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mm hm,” I reply. “And I’m shimmying them down my hips.”

“Keep going. Let them fall to the rug.”

“They’re on the rug, Austin,” I whisper.

“Step out of them.”

“Okay.”

“What’s left?” he asks.

“My tank top and my panties.”

“What color are they?”

“My tank top is black.”

“You wearing a bra under it?”

“No.”

“Mm.” I hear the ice cubes tinkling again and then I hear him breathing. He’s taken another sip. And suddenly I’m parched. But I’m not about to pause this sexy conversation to go get a bottle of water.

“What about your panties? Are you wearing your plain cotton good girl panties?” he asks.

“No,” I whisper. “I’m wearing a purple thong.”

A gentle laugh comes through. A husky one. A sexy one.

“Are you bullshitting me, Miss Sweetheart?”

“Nope. I wouldn’t dare,” I say.

“Why are you wearing a thong?” he asks, and his tone has changed. It’s got a bit of an edge to it.

“It’s just what I put on when I got dressed after my bath tonight.”

“Why? Were you feeling sexy?”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

“Take your tank top off. Slowly.”

I follow his directions.

“Jada?” he calls out just as I drop the tank top.

“Yeah?”

Somebody’s sounding a little less patient now.

“Are you standing by the bed now in nothing but a red thong?”

“I am,” I say. “Except it’s purple.”

He chuckles. “I was testing you. Get into the bed,” he orders.

His voice is commanding. It’s sexy.

I sit down and scoot up beside the phone which is lying on the grey comforter.

“Lay back,” he says.

“Okay,” I reply.

“Take your panties off,” he tells me.  “And leave them under the pillow.”

I giggle.

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,” I say. “But you better hope your brother and his wife don’t decide to show up for a surprise visit before you’re back.”

There’s silence, then, “No jokes right now, Miss Sweetheart. This is a serious matter.”

“My apologies, Mister Groucho.”

He snickers.

“The third,” I add.

“So… now you’re there in bed, naked, then,” he says.

“Yes,” I whisper.

My nipples are hard. And I’m feeling all kinds of naughty right now.

“I want you to touch yourself, Jada. Cup your breasts.”

I blink twice, feeling my face heat.

“Are you doing it?” he asks.

“Uh…” I start.

“Don’t be shy. Do it, baby,” he urges.

And at that endearment, I melt.

While melting, I cup my boobs, slowly emptying my lungs of breath.

“Are you… are you gonna touch yourself, Austin?” I ask, and not without difficulty.

“I am touching myself,” he informs. “I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. I took it out as soon as you told me about your pink trackpants.”

The visual has my eyes widening.

My right hand slides down between my legs.

“You cupping your breasts?” he asks.

My hand slides back up.  “Yes.”

“Are you a good girl or a naughty one, Jada?”

“I… I’m a good girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You gonna do what I tell you to do?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That pleases me, sweetheart. I want you to slide your right hand slowly down to your pussy.”

I do it, but I keep my eyes closed.

“Part your legs. Give yourself plenty of access.”

I do.

“Rub your clit.”

Oh wow. This is serious now.

“I wish you were here to do it,” I whisper, touching myself.

“I do, too, Jada. Envision that it’s me doing it and I’ll envision it’s you fisting my cock right now.”

I’m super wet and very tingly. I feel so exposed here on the bed he sleeps in. I’m alone and naked, touching myself with his voice directing me, the light on.

If someone had told me I’d be able to do this, I’d tell them they’re crazy. I’d blush at just the notion. I felt like a ridiculous perv for sniffing his shirts before putting them in the washing machine, but here I am, rubbing myself at his command as his voice comes out of my phone after three o’clock in the morning in a bed that would smell like him if I hadn’t just changed the sheets. Damn me for that.

“Mm,” he groans and the fact he’s getting into touching himself is a huge turn-on.

“When I get back, do you know what I wanna do to you?” he asks, voice so deep and husky, it feels like a warm breeze across my sensitive nipples.

I pinch my left one a little and this, coupled with my fingers between my legs, has me arching my back slightly in response.

“No. What?”

“You’ll see,” he warns, and my body breaks out in more goosebumps.

“Wish I could see you right now, naked, touching your sweet little pussy,” he says, sounding breathless. He sounds like he’s running up some stairs while he talks. This must mean he’s close, that he’s working his gorgeous and hard cock fast and hard.

I gulp.

“I wish I could see you, too,” I say. “Can’t wait for you to get home.”

He says nothing for a minute.

“I mean back,” I say. “I guess you’re home now.”

Gah…

“Yeah. Wish you were here with me right now,” he tells me. “Naked in my bed.”

I smile.

The idea of being there in his bed? Whoa.

“Rub faster. I wanna come, Jada. I’m hangin’ on by a thread. I wanna hear you come so I can let go. Just touch yourself and let go so I can hear you.”

I rub faster. I squeeze my left nipple, then reach over with my left hand and toy with my right. I imagine him sitting there in an upholstered chair by a window in the moonlight, I imagine his long legs stretched out, his fly open, and his strong hand working up and down over the length of his hard cock. I imagine his mouth. His sexy, full lips. Those blue eyes blazing a fiery trail over me as he pumps his fist over himself. I circle faster and faster and then I gasp as the climax hits me.

“Yeah baby, keep at it,” Austin says through the phone and his voice is lower, his breathing faster.

I let out a stuttered gasp and then I go limp.

I listen for a few seconds as I hear him breathing harder, louder, and then he lets out a long exhale.

The phone is silent for a second and then shuffling.  And then ice cubes again.

“You good?” he asks.

He sounds like he’s smiling.

“Mm him,” I reply, rolling to my belly so the phone is close to my mouth. “I’m good.” I nuzzle the comforter with my face right beside the phone.

“Good,” he says, “Now listen, Miss Sweetheart – I want you to get up, put one of my shirts on, and get back in that bed and sleep there tonight.”

I smile. “I’d like that. I wish it smelled like you. But I just changed the sheets.”

“What do I smell like?” There’s humor in his voice.

“It’s hard to describe. But you smell good.”

“And you like the idea of sleeping in a bed that smells like me?”

“Yes.”

“And you already know my smell?” he asks.

“Mm hm.”

“You leave those purple panties under that pillow for me. You hear me?”

“Kinky. I approve.”

“Put that shirt on and get some sleep,” he orders. “I want that bed to smell like you when I get back.”

“When are you coming home? Err… I mean back?” I ask.

“A day or two probably.”

“Okay. When you know you’re coming, let me know and I’ll make you something special for dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

I smile.

30

Austin

Sunday afternoon, I’m walking from my place a couple streets over, to Adele’s. I’ve got my laptop bag with me because the plan is to have dinner with her and Dirk, the kids, and Aiden and Carly, then after dinner stop by the hospital once more to visit Dad and then get dropped at the airport. I haven’t messaged Jada yet to tell her I’m coming back tonight. I’ll be in late, but I figure I’ll surprise her when I get there and climb into bed with her. Weird to be thinking about going back there without a sense of dread – instead looking forward to it.

When I get two houses away from Adele’s place, I catch the sight of Sienna, who gets out of her car, obviously spotting me, too.

I freeze. Fuck. This shit again?

As she gets closer I see she doesn’t have her usual armor on. She’s not dripping with jewelry. She’s not even wearing make-up. In fact, she’s in shorts, a tank top and flip-flops without any makeup on and her hair a frizzy disaster.

“Stop,” I instruct. “I have nothing to say to you. From here on in, we talk through lawyers.”

“I’m late,” she says.

“What?”

“My period is late. I have a pregnancy test in the car. Or, well, three of them. To be sure. I’m gonna go home and take them, but I found myself here because Dad said you were in town because of Q and I was gonna ask your sister where your house was and then I saw Aiden’s motorcycle so figured if he was here, maybe you would be too. I was trying to work my nerve up to knock on the door.”

I cross my arms.

She bursts into tears.

I stand there, staring. I hate seeing a woman cry, fucking hate it going back to being seventeen and dealing with my ex Taylor’s bullshit, crying to get her way. I have zero patience for it, and with this bitch… the crying coupled with the words she just said to me? I’m floored.

Despite that she crumples, bawling her eyes out in the middle of the street, I don’t move an inch. I’m standing still like a cold and heartless bastard.

She pulls her hands away from her face. “Do you know what’ll happen if you don’t drop these charges, Austin?”

My lip curls.

She puts her hand on her stomach. “Our baby could be born in prison.”

“Whose baby?” I snap.

“Ours. Mine and yours.”

“And how do I know it’s mine?”

She shakes her head like she can’t believe the words out of my mouth. “It’s yours.”

I roll my eyes.

“I track my cycles and I ovulated when I was in St. Kitts. And I was due yesterday. I’m never late,” she says. “Never. And I’m late.”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Sienna?”

“Drop the charges so our baby won’t be born to a mother on the sex offender’s registry for starters. Stop looking at me like that for a second.”

“How convenient,” I say. “You’re ripe to get pregnant when Aiden’s getting married and you try to track him down so you can ruin his wedding and what… drug him, date rape him, and make him marry you instead? Was that the original plan?”

She sniffles and reaches into her pocket then pulls out a pack of Kleenex.

“So, you figure you’ll stick it to one of the Carmichaels, right? Doesn’t matter which one? Guess it’s a good idea you found me instead of my old man that night.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so cold to me. And you found me. I was sitting in a bar and you walked up to me, not the other way around. Remember? Or do you remember absolutely nothing from that night?”

I scoff. “Yeah. Opportunity knocked, right? So now what? You think your rape baby is gonna save your ass?”

She scoffs. “Rape baby? When did you get so cynical and sour, Austin Carmichael? There was nothing ugly about that night. You’re angry that you don’t remember it and I don’t know who slipped drugs in your drink, but it wasn’t me. Tourists get roofied often at resorts or don’t you watch the news?”

“Ah, so it’s a coincidence that you stirred my drink with your pinky finger on camera  just as I was returning from the bathroom? Then after I drink it, I suddenly need help to walk?”

She backs up. She looks horrified.

“Yeah, all on hotel security cameras, princess.”

“Austin, please. Listen to me…” She puts her hand on her flat stomach.

“No. I’m not listening to you. If you got pregnant that night and put me in that fuckin’ position after all you’ve already done? Bitch, you’re goin’ down. You can rot in jail. I give no fucks.”

“And the baby?” she croaks.

“Get the fuck away from me. Like I said, from now on, through our lawyers.” Bile rises in the back of my throat.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Aiden is approaching and Adele is behind him.

There are people on the street as well, people on their porches, looking out their windows. An audience. Just great.

“This bitch is telling me she’s pregnant.”

Aiden’s eyes snaps to Sienna. “You fucking cunt,” he mutters. “I’m not surprised, though.”

She stares him straight in the eye. “Go to hell, Uncle Aiden.”

“In the house,” Adele snaps. “Aid, Auz? Now. Do not engage with this person. And fuck you, Sienna. Go home.”

“Always said you were the type to drug a guy and steal his sperm, Sienna,” Aiden scoffs, leveling her with a dirty look.

“I am going home. I’m going home and taking this early pregnancy test. I already know it’s going to be positive. My period is late and my boobs are sore. Talk some sense into your brother so his child isn’t born in prison and his child’s mother doesn’t wind up on the sex offender registry because of his stubborn ass. Think about this, Austin. Think about whether this is really what you want for your child.”

“Inside, sweetie, now,” Adele calmly says to me. “Sienna, I’m walking you to your car.”

“C’mon, bro,” Aiden says and claps his hand on my shoulder. He turns to her, too, though, and shoots her a look. “You fucking heartless bitch,” he says.

“Go, Aid. Get him inside,” Adele says.

***

“What did you say to her?” Aiden asks when Adele comes back into the house.

“I said, if this kid is a Carmichael, which, we’re gonna want a paternity test, I hope my brother takes it, raises it, and she never fucking knows it. If Austin doesn’t want to do that, I’ll take it and raise it.” Adele looks to me. “I mean that, Auz. You can be Uncle Auz and that child never needs to know it’s not mine and Dirk’s.”

“I can’t think about this right now, Adele. My head is spinning.”

Dirk is staring at my sister with shock on his face.

She looks him straight in the eyes and it’s obviously she’s laying down the law. He simply turns to me and asks me if I want another beer.

My brother-in-law’s bar is sorely lacking. He has no hard liquor, only brandy, wine, and beer. Beer will have to do.

My phone chimes and I take it out of my pocket.

Jada: How are you? How’s your father?

I can’t answer her right now. I tuck it back in my pocket and stare out the window.

A few minutes later, the kids are dropped off by Dirk’s parents and Braed’s climbing on me, showing me something on his learning tablet, and I feel so numb, I barely acknowledge him.

A minute later, he’s squealing as Aiden is hauling him into the air upside down.

I glance over and Carly has her concerned eyes on me.

“She might be lying, Austin,” Carly says. “The wedding was only two weeks ago.

I look at her and sigh. “How soon would she know?

“If she’s late, it’s possible, but only just. She might be faking it so she gets you to drop the charges.”

“We’ll find out, I guess,” I say and take another pull from my bottle of beer and blow out a long breath.

“Call your lawyer,” Dirk suggests.

“Good idea. I’m sure he’s got nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon than bill me six hundred bucks an hour.”

I pull my phone out.

My lawyer tells me he wants a female lawyer from their firm to take the lead on my case. A woman standing up there speaking for me about what Sienna pulled on me could have more weight, especially if there’s a jury. No doubt her side is going to do their best to make her look innocent.

I don’t wanna play these games of strategy. I want my life back. I don’t have a clue what’s in store for me right now.

I get off that call and cancel my flight back to New York. I need to meet with the lawyers tomorrow.

Dinner is quiet, a very reserved meal. Afterwards, we all go to the hospital to visit with Dad, including the kids so we decide to leave this alone, to say nothing.

After leaving the hospital and getting back to my house, my mother calls me. I managed to avoid her all day Saturday. I’ll be avoiding her today, too.

31

Jada

It’s Monday afternoon and I haven’t heard from Austin since Saturday night. In case he’s back today, I go out of my way to make him a nice dinner. Stuffed pork tenderloin, au gratin potatoes, and a cheesy breaded vegetable dish my vegetarian brother always asked me to make on his birthday. I go out of my way to doll myself up a little bit, too, adding some curl to my otherwise bone-straight hair, putting on more makeup than usual, wearing my best push-up bra with a scoop neck top that I think of as my ‘boobalicious’ shirt. A pair of sixteen-dollar undies I bought today.

Austin doesn’t show up, so I text him again before I go to bed.

I hope everything is okay. Could you please text me when you get a chance?

I’m suddenly worried about his father. I go onto social media and click to Carly’s profile to see if I see anything to ease my mind. Nothing.

A few hours later, I look again. Carly has posted a goofy picture of Aiden and her at a Benihana’s. If Mr. Carmichael was in rough condition, those two wouldn’t be out at a restaurant like that, I’m sure.

A text comes through.

Austin: I got stuck in San Diego for an extra couple days.

Me: Is your dad okay?

Austin: He’s better. Just some stuff I have to deal with.

I stare at the screen and try to think of what to say. I can’t think of anything.

I can’t make myself not answer, so I write back one more time.

Me: Hope everything is ok. Let me know if I can help at all.

He doesn’t reply to that.

And I barely sleep that night.

I hope everything is okay with him. I don’t like how the text conversation makes me feel, though.

I wanted playful Austin. He was playful Saturday, so playful.

Tuesday, I hear nothing from him and I’m feeling … hurt.

***

Wednesday afternoon, I’m at the island, staring at my laptop. I haven’t been able to write any fiction this week. My brain has been too clouded. I’ve been rendered creatively useless.

It’s been sobering, too, because I’m kind of angry about it. Angry that I let the fact that he hasn’t given me the time of day for days get in the way of my life, my plans.

Maybe the things that happened with us were something I took way more seriously than he did.

He comes in and closes the door, hooking his laptop bag over the hook.

My heart races when our eyes meet. And something is definitely wrong between us.

His eyes don’t look angry. They don’t look lustful. They look different.

I feel like I’m about to cry.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi,” I say, a lump forming in my throat.

He swallows. “Uh… how’s it going?”

I blink in surprise at the greeting and close my laptop.

“It’s…um… okay.  How are you?”

He flexes his jaw.

And a rush of cold floods through my body.

He looks at the floor.

“Austin?” I ask.

He shakes his head and flexes his jaw again. “I’m gonna go take a shower, wash the travel dirt off.”

“You… “ I stop. I don’t know how to finish that sentence. He’s not interested in telling me how he is. It’s clear he doesn’t want to even speak to me right now. What happened?

“Okay, I’ll… make dinner.”

“Don’t worry about me tonight. Not hungry.” He heads down the hall and I startle as I hear his door slam.

32

Austin

I have no idea if Sienna did the pregnancy test yet or not. I spent Monday in meetings with lawyers. They’ve heard nothing about this from her legal team so far and nothing’s gonna happen until she claims she’s pregnant.

Monday night and all of Tuesday, I stayed home and finished the audit I was doing. Just threw myself into it and got it done.

Tuesday night, I went to my office and threw myself into more work there. I ran into Ally, who seemed to be hiding out, too, and had a quick exchange of helloes with her where it was obvious that we were both in moods. I’ve never seen her like that. She’s usually a bundle of positive energy.

I’d talked to my father Tuesday in the hospital and told him what Sienna was saying. He stayed calm and told me that we should wait to cross that bridge if it becomes a reality. We should request a DNA test. Dad posed some questions to his nurse who came in during my visit and she told us they can usually do a paternity test when a woman is about nine weeks along. I explained the timing of the possible night of conception and she explained the way the weeks work with the woman’s last period and says if Sienna is claiming that was the day of conception, I won’t know for another six weeks or so if it’s mine. But yes, it’s possible that two weeks after conception, she’s having early pregnancy symptoms and that’s when her period would’ve been due.

The whole thing is fucked. A baby being mine that I barely remember making? A baby being born out of that type of scheming?

I’m really, really fucking angry.

I’ve been thinking about becoming a dad ever since Braeden was born, looking forward to that part of my future. And now all I can do is hope that if she’s pregnant, it’s not mine.

Just before I left for the airport, I sent another of my mother’s incoming calls to voicemail. This time she left a message.

“Austin, this is your mother. We need to speak. Urgently.”

I return her call while I sit in the airport lounge.

“Mother? What is it?”

“Sienna called me, Austin. You need to drop those charges.”

“Not doin’ this right now.”

“Son, listen…”

“Did she take the test?”

“Yes. She says it’s positive.”

“Did you see it?”

“See what?”

“The test.”

“No, I only spoke to her on the phone, but those early tests are accurate. She is appealing to you, Austin. She may have made a bad judgement call, what she did, tricking you into bed, but it’s all different when there’s a baby involved. A baby becomes the priority, not the other stuff..”

I laughed. “Wow. Coming from you, that’s rich.”

She held the phone.

“I’ll deal with her through lawyers. If she’s pregnant and is claiming it’s mine, tell her to have her lawyers talk to my lawyers. I want a paternity test.”

“Or, we just stop with the lawyers and have a family meeting and iron this out. You, Sienna, me, Roger-”

“No. Those people aren’t my family and I’m not a kid. I don’t need my mother involved in my personal shit. I’m not doing this with you. Stay out of it.”

“Austin.”

“I’m hanging up, Mother. I’m heading back to New York, so I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Son?”

I ended the call.

Audra clearly wants to use this situation as a way to smooth things out with her relationship with her future stepdaughter.

I can’t deal with anybody right now.  Even my sister is getting on my nerves and I love my sister. But she’s talking about taking this hypothetical baby and either raising it with me or for me while Sienna rots in jail and I am still working at wrapping my head around this reality. And it all makes me very fucking angry.

At one stage, Adele and I even got into a shouting match because I dared to suggest I should ask my lawyers if I can force Sienna to have an abortion because she essentially stole my sperm to get pregnant.

Adele lost her shit on me about the innocence of this hypothetical child and followed me around my house, not letting up on me about how the minute I meet it I won’t think about anything but how much I love that child.

And I don’t know if she’s right or wrong about that. I don’t know how to fucking feel because I’m still infuriated that this even happened to me and now not only has it affected my life right now, it’s something that could change everything.

It pisses me off that I have no rights at this stage. Adele went on about minding my own uterus, and that shut me up, obviously.

But really, how is it fair if Sienna drugged me and essentially took my sperm and wound up pregnant? This is a moral issue, a legal issue, and my guess, it’d stump a lot of people.

When I talked to the lawyer just before leaving for the airport to go back to New York, they hadn’t heard any updates from Roger’s law firm.

I asked if she could be forced to take a pregnancy test and it sounds like I have no leg to stand on there. It’s also a complicated matter to demand a paternity test before birth.

I hate this shit.

***

And now I’m back in New York and when I walk into the apartment, Jada’s looking at me with hurt slashing across her pretty face. She’s hurt because I haven’t been in touch with her and I greeted her less than warmly.

I should never have started anything with her, because having anyone to answer to right now when I can barely stand to look in the mirror is just too much.

***

I took a long shower and then I crashed early, but I wake abruptly at three o’clock in the morning and I’m starved. I find myself making a sandwich and eating it over the sink. I also find myself annoyed that on the top shelf of the fridge is my lunch packed for tomorrow and I don’t know why that annoys me.

As I’m shoving the last of my sandwich into my mouth, I hear Jada’s door open.

Fuck.

She goes into her bathroom across the hall from her room and like a coward, I make sure I’m back in the other bedroom before she comes out.

33

Jada

I heard Austin in the kitchen last night, and wanted to talk to him, see if he was okay. I couldn’t sleep. I went to the bathroom and when I got out, not only was he not in the kitchen where I’d heard him, there was a mess. He never leaves a mess.

There was the lettuce, a half a tomato, and the deli meat on the counter along with a butter knife stuck in the opened jar of mayo. The bag of bakery buns was wide open, too.

I quickly put everything away, wiped the counter, and then went back to bed.

***

When I wake up at nine o’clock I find the kitchen its usual morning-tidy, his coffee mug in the dishwasher. But he hasn’t taken his lunch bag from the fridge.

I text him.

Hi. You forgot to bring your lunch. Want me to drop it off?

Austin: I’ll just eat it tomorrow. Don’t worry about dinner tonight. I’ll be back late.

Okay, what is going on? Am I getting a loud and clear message that the games are over? We’re over?

I don’t bother answering because it feels like it’d be pitiful of me if I did. Instead, I do my weekly expense report and send it to him. Five minutes later he pays me, a day early, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t bother asking. Instead, I get ready to go to my first writing workshop at the library, hoping to forget about Austin for a little while.

***

It’s really useful to hear about the author’s publishing journey because she’s hybrid – meaning she’s both traditionally published and independent for some of her works, so she gives us views on both publishing methods. She wants us to buy her writing craft book and some don’t, but I do, figuring she’s spending her time doing this free workshop, so the least I can do is buy a book or two. Everyone in the group is friendly. A girl named Raven that’s a year younger than me and is writing dark romance invites me to go for a coffee afterwards. We hit it off and talk at length about writing. I learn quite a bit from her. She’s got books ready to go, she’s just trying to decide which approach to take with publishing.

While we’re both aspiring writers, we’re also very different.  One difference is that she’s from a wealthy family and doesn’t need to work. She has lots of time to write and is spending all her time learning about and working on her craft unlike me who is hoping to write but isn’t convinced I can make a living or even much of a side-hustle at doing it. I’m almost envious of her except that when she digs into it I realize her life isn’t all perfect because she says she’ll have to keep her books a secret. She is almost ready to publish, has written a trilogy, and she’s trying to decide between approaching a traditional publisher and going the indie route to maintain privacy with her identity. Apparently she’s from an affluent family and knows her family and even her friends wouldn’t approve of her proclivities toward dark erotica and captive romances with dubious consent.

We wind up in that coffee shop for nearly three hours. I describe (blushing ridiculously while she talks about capture fantasies and BDSM without flinching) what I’m writing and she informs that what I’m writing is known as domestic discipline erotica. When Raven says this, she squirms in her seat and wiggles her eyebrows.

She gives me a few author suggestions to read so I can study my genre, but I tell her I don’t want to do that because I’m worried I’ll accidentally take too much inspiration from other authors and want my work to be completely fresh and original.

We discuss the pros and cons of my approach versus hers, which is to study her competition at length, and we exchange phone numbers before we part ways.

It’s been a while since I’ve hit it off with anyone. The last few years I’ve drifted away from old friendships entirely, and I’m glad I went today.  I did my best to put aside the Austin stuff, the Shane stuff, and just tried to be present. And being present, taking it all in – I may have made a new friend. A writer friend.

I get to the condo after dark and I’m about to pass a woman in the lobby looking impatient as she talks to Andrew, the new night-time doorman who was hired to replace Shane’s friend Kevin.

Andrew is super-friendly and chats me up whenever I come or go.

“Oh, Hey Jada,” Andrew says, “Do you know when Mr. Carmichael might be back? I buzzed up but there’s no answer. This is his mother and she says it’s urgent that she speaks to him.”

The woman turns and looks at me. And I recognize her immediately. Audra Carmichael was a hot topic on gossip shows a few months ago when she got pulled over for a DUI and slapped the arresting officer in the face. She was the butt of a lot of viral jokes about entitled rich women for quite a while.

“Hello, Mrs. Carmichael.”

“How do you know my son?” she demands.

“I… take care of the apartment, his shopping. I worked for your other son as well.”

She looks me over, “When will Austin get back? I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”

“He might be at work still, he told me he’d be late tonight.”

“He’s not at the office, I already checked,” she says, looking at me like that’s my fault.

“I’m … I’m not sure where he is.”

“I’ll come up and wait.” She heads toward the elevator. I look at Andrew and he looks at me with sympathy. The look on his face has me thinking he’s already gotten the third degree from her.

It’s already after nine thirty at night. I don’t like being in this position, but she’s Austin’s mother, and I’m the hired help. Not knowing what else to do, I get in the elevator and press the button.

I can’t think of a single thing to say to her on the way up. She’s got an expression that doesn’t invite conversation either, so I say nothing.

When we get inside, she looks around and takes in the space as if she’s never seen it before. Aiden had lived here for over a year before he moved to San Diego. Is it possible she’s never been here? Maybe. She lives in California, after all.

Audra Carmichael is attractive, even though she reminds me of the way the actress Christine Baranski looked in the Grinch movie. Pretty, blonde, but her skin looks too tight, her nose too upturned, her cheekbones too pronounced. She has that middle-aged rich woman who gets a lot of cosmetic work done look to her, but I’m used to seeing that working in a city that’s crawling with women of that category.

“Can I get you something to drink?”  I ask.

Audra Carmichael looks at me like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You don’t have to stay and serve me. I’m perfectly capable of being left alone to wait for my son.”

“Oh, okay,” I say and head for my room.

“Excuse me?”  she calls.

I spin to face her.

“You aren’t leaving? You’re a live-in maid?”

“I’m staying here temporarily. I had a housing issue and Aiden and Carly agreed to let me stay. It works well since I’m now working for Austin.”

“In that case, I’d like a martini.”

“I’m not sure if we have the ingredients for that. We have wine. I have a bottle of Zinfandel in the fridge that’s mine and I’ll gladly share, or there are two or three bottles of red wine in the liquor cabinet.”

“And where is this liquor cabinet?” she asks.

I open the cupboard on the side of the island and squat.

“There’s Bourbon or a couple bottles of this pinot noir.”

“Pour me a glass of that pinot.”

“Certainly.”

I lift the bottle and twist the cap off.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Must be one of Carly’s.”

“I’ve bought this one before when Carly’s been here, yes. She likes it.” I smile.

She rolls her eyes. “Not a shock.”

As I’m pouring it for her, Austin comes in.

He freezes, eyes bouncing between me and his mother.

I put the cap back on the wine and present the glass to her.

“What are you doing, Jada? My mother can’t have that. She’s a recovering alcoholic,” he snaps, eyes shooting daggers at me.

My mouth drops open. “Oh…uh…”

“Hello, son,” she says, smiling.

“Mother. Just a minute. That’s all, Jada.”

I stare blankly at him.

“Could you go out for a bit? Take a walk or something?” he asks.

It’s almost ten o’clock at night.

I have no idea where he wants me to go, but he clearly wants privacy.

“Okay,” I say and grab my purse and my jacket. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carmichael,” I say.

Austin’s mother ignores me. Austin’s gaze is fixed on her and he looks angry.

I guess I’m not the only person in the world he gives that look to.

I leave.

I have no idea how long he wants me to be gone.

I go to the lobby and Andrew is sitting there, smiling as I get off the elevator.

“Things go badly with Mrs. Carmichael?” he asks.

“I… I’m not sure,” I say with a nervous laugh.

Andrew has a big smile on his face.

“Did you tell Austin that his mother was upstairs with me?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, the guy gave me a look that’d melt paint.”

I laugh again.

Andrew smiles. “You bein’ sent off on an errand to pick up some Grey Poupon or something?”

“No,” I say, “I was asked to give them privacy. Um… for some reason that didn’t include me just going to my bedroom and putting my headphones on so I couldn’t overhear whatever they’re about to talk about, so I uh… maybe I’ll go to the coffee shop down the road.”

I realize I’ve said too much. Discretion is important in my job and by Andrew’s Grey Poupon statement, I suspect he takes issue with wealthy people.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go to that coffee shop and get us both a coffee and you can hang out here with me until you’re allowed back up.”

“I can do that,” I say. “What’ll you have?”

“It’s on me, too,” he says. “Ham and swiss on rye with no Grey Poupon.” He winks. “And a coffee with double cream, double sugar. And whatever you want to drink. Grab a sandwich, too. Or a donut. Or both. Here.” He passes me a twenty.

“Be right back,” I say.

“Be careful,” he warns. “I’m gonna watch from the door to make sure, actually.” He comes out from behind his desk and opens the door for me.

He looks down and smiles. He’s got a really nice smile. And he’s tall. He has to be about six foot three or even four, I’m guessing. And cute.

“Thanks, Andrew.”

“I’m gonna watch you walk there. Unless the phone rings or someone comes in. Make sure you’re there and back safely.”

“That’s kind of you, thanks.”

“No problem, Jada. You shouldn’t be sent out in the middle of the night like this.” He rolls his eyes. “Some fuckin’ people.”

“It’s only ten o’clock,” I say.

“It’s also New York City,” he returns.

This is true, though this is a pretty safe neighborhood, well-lit and busy with plenty of shops open late that have cameras and doormen lingering in lobbies to look after the rich people that live there, so I usually feel pretty comfortable about coming and going here no matter what time, but I know Andrew just moved here, is doing the night watchman job while he tries to break into acting, and to most men, this hour of the night isn’t the time to send a woman off for a walk. He has a point.

But whatever. I’m starting to get accustomed to this sort of treatment by Austin Carmichael.

34

Austin

“You’re drinking?” I demand.

My mother shrugs, eyeballing the glass of wine. She wants it.

“This situation has me on the verge, Austin, honestly.”

I take the glass and dump it down the sink.

“Have you or haven’t you had a drink?”

She sighs and stares at the wine bottle for a long moment before responding.

“Actually, I had a martini on the plane on the way here.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Or two. I happen to be under some stress at the moment, Austin.” She smooths her hair away from her temple.

“Why are you here, Mother?”

“I need to talk to you about this business with Sienna.”

Of course.

“I have nothing to say. You’re not impartial to this being with Roger. You’re clearly on his side, or should I say your own side – the side that allows you to breathe the easiest.”

“I’m not choosing sides, Austin.”

“Right. Not like you should choose my side: I’m just your son. Your son who was drugged and taken advantage of.”

Taken advantage of – yeah, I hate how that sounds coming out of my mouth. It makes me want to ram my fist through a wall.

“Son, I just want peace.”

“If you want peace with me Mom, stay out of this. If you keep meddling on the Greers’ behalf, you and me’ll have a problem.”

“Drop the charges, Austin. We can settle this privately.”

“Did she send you or did he?”

“I offered to come. She’s very upset; and so is her father. Just as yours would be if this were Adele.”

“Lucky for my father, Adele wouldn’t roofie a guy to get him into bed and have sex with him while he’s half-unconscious with no birth control.”

She takes a deep breath. “I know this isn’t ideal, but this is the situation, Austin. What can I do here? How can I help bring peace to this situation?”

“What does peace look like to you,” I ask.

She eyeballs the wine bottle beside me. I take it and put it in the fridge and close the door so it’s out of her sight, making her eyes bounce back to me.

“Peace is the Carmichaels and the Greers not at war. If I can talk you down, not only will Roger have this weight off him, it’ll go a long way in me making peace with Suzette and frankly, with Sienna. Roger wants us to all get along. He wants to make peace with your father, too.”

“Suzette? What’s that mean?”

Suzette is Sienna’s mother, Roger’s ex, and one of my mother’s former best friends. I’m guessing Suzette isn’t Audra’s biggest fan since finding out Audra’s been sleeping with her husband for years.

“She’s being difficult with the divorce proceedings. She told Roger that getting you to drop the charges against Sienna would be a good faith gesture that she’ll keep in mind as she divorces him. Her attorney is a shark. It’s proving to be a messy divorce. And it’s dragging out. Roger doesn’t want more bad publicity.”

I scoff.

“Austin, my getting involved could create harmony for everyone involved. I’m being pragmatic.”

Roger is a CEO of a publicly traded company. Not long ago he was getting ready to run for office. He changed plans but he still wouldn’t want bad publicity.

“Everyone but me,” I say. “I’m the one who was wronged here, Mother. Well, me and Suzette, I guess. She has a shark lawyer though, so I guess she’ll be all right.”

She sighs. “I want peace for you, for Roger to be able to sleep at night so he’s not worried about his daughter, and yes, it’d be nice to have Suzette back down on some of her demands. The sooner they divorce, the sooner he and I can get on with our lives. And if there’s a child here, Austin -”

“Don’t even go there right now,” I warn.

She clamps her mouth shut but her expression says what I already know. If there is a kid, it’ll be here eventually. Right now, it doesn’t feel real to me.

“So Roger and Suzette are divorcing. Are you planning to start the divorce proceedings against Dad?” I ask.

“I did. He was served with papers the other day.”

“The other day?” I check.

She smooths her hair away again. It’s one of her tells.

“Before this latest heart attack?” My eyes are wide.

She looks away. Wow. No wonder he had a heart attack.

“You caused his heart attack.”

“Oh please. Screwing his secretary and getting walked in on by a staff member caused his heart attack, I didn’t.”

I don’t bother to tell her that I know Dad was already having the heart attack while Ally was coming in, that Ally went in hearing the commotion.

“Stress from getting served papers probably contributed to it, though. Good goin’, Audra, putting him under stress when he’s already spent the last six months losing his marriage and fighting Cancer.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Give me a break. Your father is no wilting violet. And this was inevitable. We’re separated. We’re both involved with other people. Stop making me the villain. I married a workaholic who expected me to be at his beck and call while managing everything in his personal life, the lives of his precious children, and cared nothing for what I wanted in life. Our marriage made me miserable and a person can only tolerate a celibate life of neglect for so long before she tries to reach for a little bit of happiness.”

“This is pointless,” I say.

We’re at a silent staring standoff for a long beat before she sighs.

“Let’s try this again. What can I do? What can I do to make this situation better for you? Just as your mother, how can I help?”

I blink in surprise. If only that were her real intention.

Fuck it. I might as well pretend it is.

“Get her to prove she’s actually pregnant and I want a paternity test as soon as it can be done.”

“If so, will you drop the charges?”

“That sounds more like it’s for her than for me. You’re not very good at this game.”

“Son, if there’s a child involved, it would be the best thing for everyone.”

“I’m not prepared to negotiate right now without the facts.”

“But you’ll consider it?”

“Let’s get answers first,” I say.

“I just want peace between all of us, Austin. If –”

“Go home, Audra.”

“Do not do that to me,” she snaps, “Aiden’s done it for years, but I’ve never had this disrespect from you.”

“You’ve earned it,” I say. “Get yourself to an AA meeting and get back on the wagon or you’re gonna fuck something else up.”

“I’ll need to stay; fly back tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying here tonight. Jada has the guest room and I just got back. I’m not sleepin’ on the sofa tonight.”

“But you’ll sleep on the sofa for Adele when she does a surprise visit,” she mumbles.

“I’m pissed; I need space, Mom. And you’re not here to hang out with me and cheer me up because I’ve been having a shitty time. You’re here to lay on the guilt and strongarm me. It’s not late for you - you’re on San Diego time. No reason you can’t take a cab to the nearest luxury hotel. Just try to stay out of the minibar.”

She looks wounded. She’s good at painting her face with that expression. Her eyes fill with tears.

Here we fucking go. Women turning on the waterworks to make me feel like shit.

“I’m trying to help,” she insists. “I know what it’s like to deal with animosity from my children because of the choices I’ve made, son. Do you want to have to explain to your child in eighteen years or less why you couldn’t find it within yourself to drop charges against their mother, so they didn’t have to have the name of a prison as their place of birth?”

“The doorman will get you a cab.”

She waits a long moment, looking at me. I say nothing.

“I’ll just get on the phone and book something first,” she finally says.

I thrust my hand through my hair and go to the bathroom, slamming the door.

35

Jada

“Nope, I’m sorry, New York pizza is far superior to Buffalo pizza,” I declare. “It’s New York pizza everyone raves about. Buffalo is all about chicken wings, isn’t it?”

Andrew laughs. “Not so. We need to do a taste test. You won’t say that if you actually taste a Buffalo style pizza.”

“My friend is from Buffalo, too,” I remark, lifting my pastrami on rye. “Carly Adler. Well, Carmichael, now. It’s her husband’s apartment I’m working in actually. Austin’s brother.”

He swallows his bite of sandwich and sips his coffee.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I know her. Buffalo is such a small town.” He rolls his eyes.

I laugh. “How big is it?”

“That’s what she said,” he retorts with an exaggerated wink.

But it’s good-natured, so it doesn’t come across as creepy.

I giggle. “No, really.”

“Over a quarter million.”

“Oh, okay. I thought it was smaller.” I shrug.

“Though I’m not from Buffalo, technically. I’m from Cheektowaga. It’s not far, though. Typical New Yorker,” He mutters.

I laugh. “I’m not even a New Yorker. I’m from Jersey. You’re more a New Yorker than me since you’re actually from New York state.”

“You don’t strike me as a Jersey Shore Snooky type.”

“I never said I was. In fact, I might be the anti-Snooky. See… I’m not the only one making assumptions.”

We’re both laughing when the elevator doors open and I, sitting up on Andrew’s desk (because there’s only one chair), turn to see who it is, ready to jump down so I don’t get him in trouble. This building has some older people, some young and hip people, and also some old New York money types of all ages. I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble for being chivalrous enough to make sure I’m not out wandering the streets after dark. Unlike some people.

It turns out it’s Mrs. Carmichael and Austin coming down and she has her luggage with her. Oh good, I guess I’m not going to be told to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I was a little worried about that.

Austin still looks like he could, as Andrew says, “melt paint” with his expression. His mother’s expression isn’t much different.

Austin’s eyes land on me and bounce between me and Andrew and then his eyebrows furrow.

“Good evening again, Mr. Carmichael,” Andrew greets, standing up. I slide my butt off his desk and stand there, wiping my mouth with a napkin before taking a sip of my Coke.

“Could you get a cab for my mother, please?” he asks.

“Sure can.” He heads for the door.

Austin’s eyes land on me and it’s like he takes stock.

I crumple up my sandwich wrapper and throw it in the trash bin under Andrew’s desk, then grab my drink and loop my purse over my shoulder before I round the desk and head for the elevator without making eye contact with him.

Andrew’s head pops back in.  “Mrs. Carmichael, got a car out here for you.”

“I’ll meet you for breakfast,” she says to Austin and tilts her head so he can kiss her cheek.

He kisses her, then he mutters, “Got work in the morning. Can’t.”

She gives him a look of disappointment and then her eyes sweep over me before she takes her wheeled suitcase from Austin’s grip and lets go of it. She points it at with her eyes on Andrew.

Andrew takes over her case for her and winks at me.

“We’ll talk about that taste test. See ya around,” he says.

“Okay. Thanks for the sandwich. And the company.”

“Thanks for helpin’ me out, too, by gettin’ it.”

“Can we go now?” Mrs. Carmichael requests, “I will need my luggage.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Right this way.” Andrew leads her toward the waiting taxi.

“It was nice to meet you,” I call out to her again and she looks at me like I’m a crazy person.

Well. Okay, then.

I press the button for the elevator and watch Andrew load Audra Carmichael’s luggage into the trunk of the car.

The elevator doors open so I get in. Austin’s got his back to me. The door is about to close, but Austin’s arm flies up and the doors stop, then open back up.

“Hold up, Jada,” Austin says.

I put my thumb on the door open button with a sigh.

He shoots me a dirty look.

Oh really?

“Hey, thanks,” he says to the returning Andrew and hands him a folded bill.

“My pleasure,” Andrew tips his hat and then leans so he can see me around Austin’s frame. “I start at six tomorrow. Come hang with me if you can.” He gives me a big smile.

I return the smile. “Thanks. I might.”

Austin gets into the elevator and spears me with a look.

I keep the smile firmly fixed on my face while I let go of the button.

And then I let my smile drop and stab the button for our floor with my thumb.

“That looked cozy,” Austin says with a sneer, his eyes pointed at the lights above the doors.

“Not cool, Carmichael,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Sending me out for a walk at ten o’clock at night? Where was I supposed to go? Andrew took pity on me and let me hang out with him.”

His face changes. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. My head’s all over the fuckin’ place.”

Well… that’s a surprise. An apology. I was expecting him to castigate me for something, like giving his alcoholic of a mother a glass of wine, after that was what she asked me specifically for.

I decide to say that.

“Next time, I’ll go to my room and put my headphones on so you can have privacy. Deal? And your mother asked for wine,” I say.

“I know. Sorry.”

I scoff. “I’m not in the habit of force-feeding guests alcohol. I asked her what she wanted and-”

“I said I’m sorry, Jada, what do you want, blood?”

My mouth snaps shut, and I continue watching the elevator lights move up with our ascent.

The ding signals our arrival, and then he holds his arm across the doors, gesturing for me to cross over the threshold first. I close my eyes and take that step and then I’m at the apartment door before him.

“Did you just hold your breath and close your eyes getting out of the elevator?”

“None of your business.” I cross my arms and then remember I have a key, so I fish through my jacket pocket for it but he’s faster, so he unlocks the door first.

“Afraid of elevators, too? Like spiders and heights?”

We’re both in the apartment now so he closes the door.

“You can see… there’s a small gap getting off and you can see straight down the elevator shaft. We’re high up; I don’t like it. I close my eyes, so I won’t accidentally look and get the spins.”

He smirks. “Fraidy cat.”

“So what? Lots of things to be afraid of in life. Aren’t you afraid of anything?” I demand.

“Yeah. Lots of things,” he admits, his eyes working over my face.

“Well, goodnight,” I say and head to my room.

And I’m disappointed because he says nothing. Not goodnight, not come here and let me explain why I’m being such an alphahole jerk, not nothing.

My chest feels weighty as I close my door. Thankfully, I get behind that door before my chin trembles.

36

Austin

I lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling.

I’ve barely been able to stand being around myself since all this shit started. Walking around wanting to lash out, like I want everything around me crushed to dust so that something else rises as my new reality. And on top of that, dealing with my mother’s visit tonight. Of course Audra wants to end this crap, find herself some ‘peace’.  I still can’t fathom that this bullshit is my life.

Ugliness slithers through me as I stare at the ceiling. Ugliness I don’t want in me.

A kid with Sienna Greer out of that night?

I adjust my pillow to get more comfortable and feel something underneath it. Something foreign. I pull out a scrap of fabric. I turn the bedside lamp on and look at Jada’s purple thong feeling like I’ve been slapped.

Memories sweep over me of that night with her on the phone and what I told her to do. All the shit happening, I’d forgotten I’d told her to leave this here.

All that ugliness from the day of Aiden’s wedding – other than being happy for my brother… the scene with Meryl’s boyfriend and then onwards, except for the brief reprieve – the day here that Jada and I fooled around. And the moments since then when she makes me feel alive because she dishes the attitude straight back at me. Sparring with her has helped. And knowing that she’s not like that with anyone else, that shit in her life made her react differently than the way she’d normally react – that was something, too.

We were able to relate to one another. We were able to unleash our frustrations on one another because we’re both living with unusual circumstances.

Then seeing her tonight on the security guard’s desk smiling at him, goofing off, and knowing it was because I sent her out of the way so she wouldn’t overhear my bullshit with my mother…

Not only do I feel that freshly-slapped feeling, I realize I’ve got only one thing on my mind right now.

Her.

I hated that her smile was pointed at that security guard and then melted off her face when her eyes bounced to me. And the fact that I sent her there to laugh and joke and hang out with him.

How refreshing, though.

Jealousy. Lust. That’s all I’m feeling right now, and I welcome these emotions because they’re markedly different than what I’ve been feeling for almost three weeks.

I get out of bed like a man on a mission and head across the hall to her bedroom. The door is open; she’s not in it, but I see a sliver of light coming from the bottom of the bathroom door.

She comes into the hallway, wearing a short robe, not done up, so I’ve got an eyeful of her in a tight tank top and her underwear.

She freezes when she sees me. Her eyes go round and wide.

I’m in just a pair of boxers.

She looks uncomfortable, likely with her appearance, but she’s looking me over, too as she pulls her robe closed.

“Excuse me,” she says and steps forward to head to her room. I sidestep and block her.

She sidesteps in the other direction to try to go around me, likely thinking it was a mistake, me getting in her way accidentally. It was no accident.

Her hair is loose. I can smell her face cleanser and cinnamon – I’ve seen cinnamon toothpaste in her bathroom.

She looks sexy, she smells clean and fresh.

I move with her to stop her additional attempt to get around me and block her way with my hand against the wall. I’ve got her caged and I’ve got that purple thong dangling from those fingers, so when she backs up and her back touches the wall, her eyes shoot to the scrap of fabric dangling there just above her head.

She winces. And that doesn’t feel good. That feels, to me, like remorse, like she regrets leaving those underwear there, regrets being anyway vulnerable with me.

One of my hands drops so that she doesn’t feel trapped.

She can move that way, get away from me, but she remains frozen.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Miss. Sweetheart?” I ask, glaring into her eyes.

The wince changes to wounded.

I don’t like how her expression feels in my gut.

I lean in and put my lips to her ear. “I can’t explain to you how shit my life is right now, how much fucking crap I’m dealing with and I’m sorry it’s made me be an asshole the last few days. I need a release, Jada. An outlet for this stress.” I feel her body stiffen but she hasn’t made another move to get away from me, so I continue. “So much fuckin’ stress, baby. It’s not your job to help me with that, but take pity on an asshole.”

She bites her lip and she’s not moving away so I continue.

“Do you wanna fight with me or do you want that other outlet we discovered? Because I know which one I want but I’ll settle for the other if I absolutely have to.”

I’m hoping she picks the outlet I want. I need it. It feels like it’s the only thing that’ll feel right to me right now. And if she starts dishing out her shit, I’ll probably just stand here and take it. Because it feels like I have no fight in me right now.

She’s silent. I’m leaned in but her chin is pointed down so I can’t see her expression. I wait, my lips at her earlobe. I listen to her breathe. Her breathing sounds labored. I inhale, fill my lungs with Jada. As I release the breath, I whisper, “You smell good.”

She’s still but I swear her breathing has changed again.

“Want me to go away? Or you want me to take you to bed? How about we go forget all our troubles for a while?”

I back up and assess her face.

She’s staring into space. She’s sucking on her bottom lip. Her palms are planted against the wall on either side of her thighs.

I lean in again and run my nose across the ridge of her ear and inhale her again.

Her eyes meet mine. And in them, I see heat. I see want.

I’m about to find out if I’m right. Either she’ll submit to this or she’ll push me away.

37

Jada

I feel like I’m probably going to hate myself in the morning. He’s certainly not going to respect me once the sun rises. But I can’t make myself do anything but wait. Wait for Austin to make the next move.

He’s searching my face as his mouth gets closer to mine.

He must see something, something that lets him know I’m not going to say no, not going to slap his face, not going to run the other way, because the hand not holding my panties from Saturday night grabs my right hand and then tugs, pulling me into the closest bedroom. My room.

We’re in and the door clicks shut, and immediately, my face is in his hands, those underwear floating to the carpet.

“We have a problem, Miss Sweetheart,” he tells me.

I don’t respond at first, but then a slap rings across my ass. Not only does it sting, jolting me out of a trance, but it sends my pelvis against him. His bulge pokes me in the belly. Yes, pokes me. He’s hard.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, face dropping.

I stare, wondering if he’s changing his mind about this.

“What’s the problem?” I whisper.

“Condoms.”

“Condoms?”

“Forgot them,” he mutters.

“I bought some,” I say.

His expression beams suddenly. He’s looking at me with approval.

“First time I ever bought them in my life. It was an interesting experience,” I inform.

He continues smiling at me but then his expression drops.

And it feels like I’ve done something wrong.

“Where are they?” he asks.

“The bathroom. Under the sink.”

“Be right back. Don’t move.”

He’s gone what feels like a long time, and it’s not like I buried those condoms. I set the box directly inside the cupboard figuring it was the halfway point between his room and mine. The cupboard isn’t one of those overflowing vanity cupboards like I had when I had my own place with limited storage. Being the main bathroom and therefore the guest bathroom, I keep things organized and uncluttered in there.

Finally, he’s back. He’s back with the condoms, which he drops on the table beside my bed, but he’s already pulled one out because I see it land at the edge of the bed. He’s also got a roll of paper towel and a bottle of window cleaner.

I tilt my head a little.

“Streaks on the windows over there,” he says. “See them?”

The blinds are closed.

“When was the last time these windows were cleaned, Miss Sweetheart?”

“I haven’t cleaned them,” I say. “Not since… not since maybe once when I first started working for-”

“No?” he cuts me off; his voice sounds alarmed. “You haven’t cleaned them?”

I shake my head and I do it slowly as my brain works double-duty, albeit slowly, processing that this is a role-playing thing. I feel dense.

Chapter four. He hasn’t even read chapter four; or has he?

“Unacceptable, Miss Sweetheart,” he states, backing me up to the window, grabbing the cord and pulling the blinds wide. “Maybe we should have you do it now while I supervise. Make sure you do it correctly.”

This is another room with a nearly floor-to-ceiling window, a similar view to the one in his bedroom, of the park, but I don’t wanna look at it from right up against the window. It gets me woozy. I know it’s a well-built place, but the fact that nearly the whole wall is just window freaks me out. How much weight plus force can be pressed against glass before it breaks? Austin’s looking at me like he’s planning on exerting a whole lot of force with his pelvis.

There’s enough light coming in now that I’ve got a good view of him. Moonlight and lights from the city make him look almost like an ethereal being to me, his skin glowing, his eyes blazing despite the dimness. He’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.

He reaches for me and his warm, strong fingers grip my hips. I watch him do this as a swallow works down my throat and then I’m being turned by my hips to face the window. He walks us another step forward and my breasts are touching glass. “I’m gonna show you once, the correct method, and then you’re gonna clean these windows while I supervise. Supervise you cleaning them while my cock is inside you.”

I immediately spin my body as my head also spins.

“Hard limit,” I breathe.

He stares.

“The height!”

His eyes flash with regret. He drops the window cleaner and the paper towel to the rug and pulls me close pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Sorry, sweetheart. Overzealous.”

I feel relief. I just spoiled the whole thing with my panic and he took it in stride and reacted gently.

And I’m feeling a bit rattled, and if I’m honest a little ticked at myself, because holy shit – that is a really good idea. And I want to rewrite chapter four with his revisions. I wrote it with him screwing me against the window after watching me clean it. His version of screwing me while I’m cleaning it and demanding no streaks? Better. And thrilling if I’m doing it despite my fear. I mean… thrilling on paper/screen to have myself doing it despite being afraid, while feeling good, but not so thrilling here in the now.

“Can I … uh… call savesies and maybe request that scene later if I… if I feel braver?”

“Absolutely,” he whispers and squeezes me reassuringly. “You wanna try it, I promise to make it good and promise to keep you safe.”

And God, that feels good. And his instant answer makes me think this might not be a one-off. I don’t allow myself to dwell on that.

“I have a scene a little like that in the Austin Smut file. But yours is better.”

“Really?”

“Way better.”

He pulls me onto the bed and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Thank you for not storming off,” I whisper.

“Hm?”

“After I no’d you at the window, I mean.”

“I’d have to be a pretty big dick to do something like that.”

I shrug. “I’m glad you’re not that big of a dick.”

He looks at me with disappointment in his eyes, I think. That I’d think that. And then he smiles with a bit of regret.

He’s definitely been a dick lately, but he’s already apologized for that.

He stares for a long moment, making me feel like I’m under scrutiny. Is he conflicted? Is he about to go?

“Instead of acting out another smut file scene, I think I’d really like to just fuck you, Jada.”

I nod. This is not exactly romantic, but quite hot. And I’m relieved he hasn’t changed his mind.

He tugs my hand and then we tumble onto the bed together. I’m quickly back on my elbows and then my robe is thrown aside and before I fall to my back I’m divested of my remaining clothes. I’m thinking he’s about to get down to business and roll that condom on that I see on the edge of the bed, foil package glinting in the moonlight.

Instead, he traces my nipples softly with his fingertips and watches them bunch up, then his fingers move down my ribcage to my hips and he parts my thighs. He dips his tongue in between my legs and looks up at me.

“Open wider,” he orders, gruffly.

I oblige. I’m feeling wanton. And so sensitive everywhere. My nipples are puckered so tight, my knees are wobbly, and my breathing pace is up. He thrusts two fingers inside and laps at my clit while looking in my eyes.

And I can’t take my gaze away. This feels far more intimate than what I’d define as fucking.

He works at me and works some more, half hanging off the bed. As soon as the orgasm starts flying toward me, about to smash me to smithereens, I hear the crinkle and the shuffling as he gets himself gloved, not missing a beat with his mouth, though I’ve lost his fingers.

As I begin to splinter apart, his fingers are back, thrusting into me hard, fast, and so deep. My body shudders from my toes straight up to my eyelashes and then he’s moving up, lining up.

I’m failing at holding my breath, at holding in the whimpering sounds coming up from my throat.

“Let go, Jada, let me hear how much you like this.”

My first thought is that I don’t know if I can, but our eyes meet and his are commanding and sexy, and without thinking on it further, I let go and cry out. This coincides with him entering me in one hard stroke. He’s bottomed out and I’m clawing the sheets at the fullness, beautiful fullness that I haven’t felt in so, so long.

I’m still coming, and he’s moving inside me while touching me, and then he’s caressing from my hip, up my torso, up the side of my breast, until his palm cups my jaw and his mouth touches down on mine. And then Austin takes while he gives. His tongue absolutely plunders my mouth as I continue making little whimpering sounds while being rocked deeper and deeper into the mattress.

My orgasm is waning, but slowly because of the sensation between my legs as he continues to spear me.

In a fluid motion, he flips and he’s on his back; I’m on top. His hands move to my hips, using them to move me the way he wants me to move, back and forth, up and down. His gaze is pointed at my bouncing, naked breasts. The laser focus of his gaze makes me feel attractive. He’s biting down on his bottom lip as he fucks up into me, as my body slides back and forth. I grab his face with both hands and fuse our mouths together. Austin’s right hand leaves my hip and then grabs my ass cheek as his pace quickens, as his breaths come faster.

Just when I think he’s about to come, he flips me again to my back and he’s now like a jackhammer, fucking me harder, his hips pistoning forward over and over, and over. I then whimper again because he’s skimmed his thumb down between us and some more as he strums my clit while fucking me and this is my new favorite way to get fucked, because OH MY GOD this feels good.

“Tight, wrap tight around my waist,” he orders, “Now baby, now.”

I do what I’m told and grab his back tight, feeling like he’s closer to me physically than anyone has ever been as I come again. His hand leaves my pelvis and has my hair as he holds on and drives forward for three more deep strokes, slow and very purposeful ones, before he lets out a deep and satisfied-sounding moan.

I feel goosebumps rise on his hot, smooth skin under my hands and then his body relaxes as he lets out a sigh.

My mind whirls. That was good. Not just good, the best sex I’ve ever had.

I have limited experience. Very limited. Just one man, one young and now deceased man who cared about me and treated me well, so it’s not fair to compare. But I can’t help it.

This was the most incredible physical experience of my life.

Austin kisses me and I smile at him. But then he slides backwards off the bed and strolls out of my room.

I stare at the door, which closes, and I don’t know if he’s closed it or if it’s swung shut on its own, but I stare, blinking for a minute, feeling like maybe I just made a mistake.

Maybe I just did something really stupid and let him fuck me in a way that felt to me like passionate lovemaking but that to him was just that outlet he wanted. Fucking ‘the help’ to get his frustrations out.

My heart plummets as my expression falls. I feel like I’m about to cry, but I’m too stunned to do anything but stare at my door.

And then that door opens.

Austin is back with two bottles of water. He gets into bed, passing me one then taking the cap off his. He guzzles most of it back.

I’m sort of dumbfounded, but manage to open and get a few sips of mine. I set the bottle down on the table beside me and as soon as I do, I’m moving. He pulls me closer, kissing me while fixing the blankets.

We’re lying on our sides under the blankets and my face is smushed into his chest.

A euphoric feeling washes through me before my eyes drift closed and I immediately descend into a blissful sleep.

38

Austin

I wake up with Jada in my arms.  Snoring. Not loud, but definitely audible. When I attempt to roll away from her to get up, she, in her sleep, grabs on and pouts. I find myself so astonished by this that I stay in bed an extra ten minutes, just experiencing this.

It’s adorable.

She’s nuzzled into my chest, one arm thrown over me, holding onto my bicep the other wrapped under my arm around the back of my shoulder. She’s like a pet monkey, hanging on.

Needing to answer the call of nature and get my ass to the office, I finally pry her off me, though do it carefully trying my best not to wake her. I succeed and head into the other bedroom.

Before I leave, I peek back in. She is crashed still and now she’s on her stomach. She’s naked and the blankets are bunched around her waist, so I’ve got a beautiful view of all sorts of flawless skin. She’s got her arms up and under the pillow her head is on, so I’ve also got an eyeful of side boob.

I sneak in, crouch, and drop a kiss on her cheekbone.

Her eyes pop open.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jada blinks and smiles at me. It’s a shy smile, a smile that for some reason makes my dick twitch.

I lean in once again and kiss her on the mouth. Her fingers reach up and tangle in my hair for a minute.

“Have a good day,” she whispers.

“Sleep some more,” I order. “Sorry I woke you.”

“M-kay.” Her eyes drift closed and I stand there an extra minute, looking at her curves, her skin, at the messy dark blonde hair that’s splayed across the pillow.

Finally, I back out and leave. And I’m smiling all the way to the elevator. While on my way down to the lobby, my phone rings.

My mother. Like a record scratch and brakes my fantastic mood screeches to a halt. I mute the call as the elevator doors open to the lobby.

The security guard from last night stands there with Buster, the daytime concierge, looking over at me as I come out of the elevator.

I’m late this morning; I don’t usually come down during their handoff – the night guy is typically still at the desk.

And now I’ve got a scowl on my face.

The day guy greets me. “Mornin’.”

The night guy gives me an assessing look.

“Mornin’. Thanks for taking care of my girl last night,” I say to the night guy.

His eyebrows rise; he doesn’t know what to make of that.

And frankly, I’m not sure I do either. I didn’t calculate it, don’t know how to feel about it now that I’ve done it, but I do know this is me pissing on my patch.

He’s also not hiding that he’s looking down his nose at me. And I can guess why his expression is both judgmental and assessing. He doesn’t know if she really is my girl or if I’m referring to her as my employee.

Did she tell him I made her leave? If so, he’s also judging me for the fact that she was in the lobby last night, looking for a place to go.

Yeah, buddy, I’m judging myself for that shit, too.

I head out of the building and as I flag down a cab my phone is ringing again.

Audra Carmichael calling.

Again.

I answer the phone and say, “One sec,” to her and then tell the driver the address of the office before I lean back in the seat and blow out a long breath.

“Mother,” I greet.

“You’re on your way to the office? Good, I’ll meet you there.”

“I’ve got a full morning. Just talk to me now. Traffic’s thick so I’ve got at least twenty minutes sittin’ here where you can continue to plead your case if necessary. Though, really, it’s not.”

“Well, Austin, I said what I had to say last night. Did you get a chance to reflect on it?”

I spent my time on much better pursuits last night, for the first time in days not consumed with trying to choke down the shit sandwich I’ve been served.

“I said what I had to say, so you should be talking to Sienna, not me.”

“I’ve done that. Last night. She wants to meet with you. Can you fly home and meet with her tonight?”

“I just got back here after days in San Diego for Dad. I’m here for a reason.”

“I realize this. Maybe you’ll consider flying out for just the weekend.”

I don’t even know what day it is for a second, then it dawns that it’s Friday. But I was in San Diego last weekend.  And this is Sienna Greer expecting me to fly to see her when she’s public enemy number one to me.

“No. Can’t do it. I want proof she’s pregnant and a paternity test proving it’s mine before I talk to her about a thing.”

“So, you’re going to let this carry on, then? Put everyone through this stress?”

Everyone? What about my stress?

“She can start the ball rolling now, Mother. This isn’t me playing games. There’s no reason for me to get on another plane this week. If she’s pregnant, she should go to a doctor and have proof filed with her attorneys who will get in touch with mine. My attorneys have already been briefed on her claim. The ball is in her court, not mine.”

“Fine. I’m going home then. I guess we’ll wait and see what she does,” she announces unhappily.

“Like I said, I’m not the one who did this. She’s responsible for all of it. As far as I’m concerned, her pregnancy doesn’t exist until I see proof and it doesn’t factor in the charges against her unless there’s proof of paternity. If that’s the case, I’m still not promising to drop any charges. Do you have any idea how all this has shit on my life? Do you care about anything other than your precious Roger and how upset he is?”

“That isn’t fair. I’m just trying to facilitate something that will help all of us. You. That unborn baby. Roger. And by extension, me.”

“Right. Or you could stay out of it.”

“I think you know that’s not my style.”

Too true.

“Well, have a safe flight home,” I say.

“I’ll call you once I speak with her again. We had a quick phone call, but I’ll visit her when I get back and appeal to her to visit a doctor and speak with her lawyers if she hasn’t already done that.”

“Bye, Mother.”

I get off the call and resist the urge to call my sister, it’s way too early there, so instead, I stare out the window at the traffic. And it’s irritating.

I’ve done audits, fired the people responsible, and today I’m teleconferencing with a couple people from head office to talk about a reorg. Then I’ll have human resources help me recruit replacements and additional staff so I can get the office ship-shape. So I can go home.

A vision of a sleeping Jada assaults my mind with a stab of regret. She lives here. I live there. And my life is complicated as fuck. What’s she gonna do when I leave? Where’s she gonna live? Work? How will she support herself? I haven’t asked her about her brother either, how things are going with him being in jail.

I feel like a shithead.

I am a shithead. But I’ve justified that to myself. Not feeling so justified right now though.

Last night was good. Damn good. And it was what I needed. I wanted to keep it strictly games, but after her reaction at the window, I decided fuck it. No sex games. Just sex.

But it didn’t feel like just sex.

I have to remember it’s in my best interests to keep this thing with her uncomplicated because of how convoluted my life is right now. I shouldn’t have spent the night in her bed. I shouldn’t have kissed her goodbye this morning. I need to back this up to casual, unemotional, uncomplicated.

39

Jada

My heart is racing, absolutely galloping like the running of the bulls is happening in my chest when I hear keys go into the door.  I make a mad dash for the bathroom.

I’ve already turned the hall light on to draw more attention to what I’m doing. I’m crouched over the tub, my butt up in the air, yellow rubber gloves on with a sponge in my hand.

I hear keys hit the counter, hear what I’m sure is his stuff being hung over the coatrack, and then footsteps approach.

And they stop.

I lean over a little more, grunting with effort as I spray some bathroom cleaner on the tiled wall.

“Well, well, well,” I hear in a deep, husky voice.

My heart skips a beat.

It’s five twenty. He didn’t work late today. So far, he doesn’t seem to work late on Fridays and once came home early, so I’ve been on pins and needles all afternoon waiting for this.

I’m pretending to clean the already clean bathroom (I cleaned it properly this morning), while wearing a skirt.

I don’t have all my clothes here yet; I got a number for my brother’s friend Sedge and texted him. He was out of town but told me there was no rush for me to get my and Shane’s stuff out of the storage unit.  That said, I want my stuff. But I did have a jean skirt here, so that’s what I have on.  A short, frayed jean skirt and an off the shoulder slouchy black top with a black bra. My hair is up in a top knot and I’m wearing makeup.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Groucho, sir,” I say softly, my voice a little shaky. I dare to look over my shoulder.

He’s leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing jeans, sneakers, and a grey Henley style hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows as well as an expression that makes my heart play hopscotch.

Austin Groucho the Third looks totally edible. He didn’t shave today and he had a five o’clock shadow yesterday, so today he’s got sexy scruff. His hair falls into his blue eyes a little. They look extra blue right now. Is that because of the lust? Because he’s definitely looking at me with lust in his eyes.

I moisten my lips with my tongue.

“Would you like me to do something for you, sir, or should I resume cleaning this… very, very dirty tub?”

My eyes bounce to the vanity where I’ve intentionally left a condom. And then I watch as his eyes move there, too.

And then Austin Groucho The Third Carmichael straightens up and grabs for the fly of his jeans and this has the magical effect of further soaking the gusset of my undies.

“Looks like you’re done. Are you done?”

“I… think it might still be a little… dirty.”

“Keep where you are with your belly over the ledge of that tub, Miss. Sweetheart, I need to do an inspection.”

The sponge and cleaner tumble into the tub as my hands grip the ledge. My eyes take him in as his shirt flies up over his head. His fingers then finish undoing his fly and he moves closer.

I pull the gloves off, their rubbery smell turning my stomach a little.

“Eyes forward,” Austin orders.

My gaze snaps forward and I stare at the pretty brushed silver, bronze, and white leaf mosaic tile pattern.

His hands are on my outer thighs. They slide up, taking my skirt up a little. It’s too tight to go up much further, but he finds the side zip and pulls it down, then my skirt comes down and off.

I go down a little with it, my knees landing on the thick bathmat.

“Hold onto that ledge,” he orders gruffly and immediately I grasp it with both hands as the skirt is presumably tossed aside.

He chuckles and snaps the waistband of the purple thong I’m wearing. I squeak in surprise as a smile spreads across my face.

“I approve of these panties,” he tells me.

“I hoped you would, sir,” I whisper. “I wore them for you.”

I fetched these from my bedroom floor where he dropped them. I did my laundry today and put them on just an hour ago. I did this when they were fresh from the dryer and still hot. This was directly after a long shower and painstaking time spent grooming my lady-bits, which the hot undies made me extra aware of.

He makes a rumbling sound that I think means approval and then there’s the tension of him pulling the fabric back against my core. He lets go, making it snap against my skin again, making me jolt. Austin’s finger follows the straight line of the spandex down the crack of my bottom, down some more and I tighten and tense as the finger slides under the elastic and then down my asshole and finds its way to my sopping wet pussy. His finger dips in and out briefly before it stops on my clit.

His warm breath is now in my ear and he makes a vibrating sound of approval at finding me so wet.

“Open your knees wider,” he orders.

I shuffle my legs apart a little bit, feeling a little friction on my knees from the bathmat.

Austin’s finger slides in and out and I feel the loss of the heat at his back and a hand on my left butt cheek, opening me up.

“Inspection time,” he says and I’m ridiculously self-conscious because he’s pushed me forward and up slightly so I’m over the side of the tub and I know he’s looking between my legs from behind. As his fingers prod, I feel my legs go even wider, and then I’m hiked up a little more so I’m balancing on my belly across the side of the tub. I’m dangling over the tub now, but his hands are on me, holding me from doing a face-plant into the porcelain.

“I wonder if the master bathroom is more suitable for this inspection,” he muses. “Have you cleaned in there yet today?”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper.

“Hm. Let’s go see. I’m mostly satisfied with my inspection of this bathroom. Let’s check the other one.”

“Mostly?” I query.

I’m suddenly up in the air, being thrown over his shoulder. I squeak.

I’m naked from the waist down only and being carried down the hall.

He thrusts his fingers into my sopping wet folds as he makes his way into the master bedroom, and then I’m in the same position over the other tub and it’s definitely taller and larger so more suitable for this deliciously dirty scene we’re acting out.

“Stay perfectly still. This is a very important inspection.”

I wait. I hear the foil packet and then I feel something between my legs. This time, though, it’s not his fingers I feel. It’s something with more girth. Much more.

He slides into me.

“That shampoo bottle… it’s filthy,” he reprimands. “Look at it.”

I look at the bottle of shampoo on the shelf and see one drip of blue shampoo just below the cap.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry, sir.”

A clap rings between my legs and I jolt. He’s just slapped my clit. While his cock is inside me.

“Holy fuck,” I breathe.

“Naughty girl.” he tsks and then does it again. “I’m not sure I approve of you cussing.”

I yelp and then my eyes roll back. He’s fully seated and just stays there. His lips are on my neck.

“Are you gonna make me scrub the tub while you do this?” I ask, breathless.

“I should. You’ve done a terrible job cleaning this bathtub, Miss Sweetheart.”

“I’m so s-sorry it’s not to your liking, Mister Groucho.”

Phew. I’m panting.

“You should be sorry,” he growls into my ear, then he slowly pulls almost all the way out of me. It’s so slow it’s like torture, because it feels like he’s pulling away, ending before we fully get started, but just before he’s entirely out, he grabs my hips with both hands and slams in.

“Bad girl,” he grits.

I fly forward, completely dangling over the tub, feeling all the blood rush to my head.

He pulls back out and then he’s slamming in again.

I whimper.

It goes on for three or four more strokes and then Austin whispers, “This can’t be comfortable for you.”

It’s not comfortable on my belly or my hips, they might even be bruising, but it feels pretty amazing in other parts. He pulls out, grabs me, and then pulls me into the separate shower next to the tub.

“Did I pass inspection?” I ask, winded.

“The tub did not, but you? A+, Miss Sweetheart,” he says with a bright white smile that’s contagious. “But I’m not done with you quite yet.”

He strips, then strips my shirt and bra off me, and tosses them out of the shower, kicks his jeans and underwear out, and then the water is turned on as he walks forward, backing me into the silver tiled wall, which is heating up nicely as the water comes down. I’m lifted up by my hips with my back still against the wall and my arms and legs go around him.

“Like a capuchin,” he mutters against my lips before his tongue dips in and he tastes me.

“Capuchin? Are you calling me a monkey?” I ask.

He laughs against my lips and my insides heat up because being in his arms, wrapped around him under a waterfall showerhead with my back against the wall and now with his hard cock sliding back inside me as he continues chuckling - this is a great, great feeling.

“Yeah, I am. You had me in bed this morning the same; I was late for work because you wouldn’t let go.”

Something sharp but then beautiful bursts inside me. I think it’s euphoria. I grabbed onto him like that and he didn’t just leave? He let me? He was late for work because of it?

I look into his eyes and get lost in them as I grab his jaw with both hands and now I’m taking from him. I squeeze my inner walls tight around his cock while I lick at his tongue. He makes a sound of approval and drives up harder into me.

Hard, deep, delicious.

He fucks me against that shower wall like a man possessed, like a man who wants to leave marks. And I think he has.

But I love it.

The elastic slides out of my hair, making it tumble down, getting saturated by the shower before he grabs the length into his right fist. His left hand is under my ass, holding me against the wall while his cock slides in and out of me.

Slow. Deep. Perfect.

He releases my hair to expertly tease a nipple, then his fingers find their way between us. We both look down and watch his fingers play with my clit while his cock slides in and out of me. It feels like I could live in here, live off this. I could thrive under the gaze and touch of this man, this gorgeous man, just here in this glass and silver-tiled alcove.

I’m ready to come apart again. I’m close. So close.

“Yeah, baby.” He reads my reaction and increases the friction between my legs with his fingers but yet slowing the roll of his hips. I hit it and cry into his shoulder. He does not let up as I shudder, crying hard and loud into it, thinking about how I’m impaled on him, how he’s holding me, how he’s making me feel such bliss.

He comes, groaning as I feel his knees wobble for a second, and then he uses my hair to pull my head out of the crook of his neck and plunders my mouth with his before he slides out.

He blows out a breath and sets me on my feet before I watch him pull the condom off. My knees are so weak I have to sit down on the bench, watching him leave the shower to ditch the condom in the trash before he wraps a towel around his waist and grabs two more big, fluffy white towels from the rack. As I reach up and turn the water off, the shower door opens.

“Up,” he orders, so I stand and then I’m wrapped with the towel and then he’s got the other one on my head, gently drying my hair, then my legs and arms. I just stand there smiling, letting him do that, watching him do it with a look of focus on his face. Our eyes meet and he doesn’t smile. My smile slips and I blink a couple times, trying to gauge what his expression means.

He lifts me up into his arms as if I’m a bride, his bride, and carries me to his bed.

I bite my lip when he stops and stares at me intently. I search his face questioningly, but then he releases me and I land on the bed. I actually bounce, losing my towel.

His serious face vanishes as he laughs.

I laugh too.

And then I whack him in the side of the head with a pillow and he totters before he tackles me to the bed and kisses me again.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks after a heavy make-out session.

“I don’t know. What are you cooking for me?” I ask.

He blinks in surprise.

“I forgot to cook dinner,” I admit. “I was so focused on waiting for you to come home after work and being in the perfect position when you did.”

He busts up laughing, but then instantly sobers. “I guess I have a real reason to punish you now.”

I giggle.

His face splits into a smile as I bite my lip looking at him like I really wanna be punished.

“We have a lot of leftovers,” he says, “I’m sure we can find something.”

“Definitely.”

“Or, why don’t we go out?”

I smile. “Okay.”

He snuggles in and we lie there, both of us still sort of damp, lying on soggy towels, but I couldn’t care less. I’m lying here after some amazing shower sex and a fantasy come to life with Austin Carmichael after sleeping in his arms all night last night. And then he dried me off, caring for me in a super-sweet and bossy-hot way, and carried me to his bed. Okay, so he dropped me on it like a goofball, but now we’re going out to dinner.

I like that he’s got his serious side, a playful side, and that he’s kind of kinky, too.

I hear the sound of a phone ringing. It’s not mine.

He groans and gets out of bed. “That’s me. One sec.” He wanders out of the room naked. God, he has a tight, sexy butt.

40

Austin

I know by the long number string on my phone that it’s Meryl’s call I missed. I sent her an email this morning from the office. It’s Friday night here, Saturday morning there, and I want to get this done so I can get back to Jada.

It’d just stopped ringing by the time I got to it, so I head back to the bedroom with my phone and throw on a pair of jeans.

I’m not looking forward to this call, but it’s a necessity and for the greater good.

Jada comes out of the bathroom, still wrapped in a towel, and smiling while eye-fucking me as her eyes travel up and down my body.

“Turns out I need to make an international work call. I won’t be long.”

“You want leftovers? We have-”

“We’ll go out. Know any good pizza places around here?”

“Definitely.”

“Give me ten or fifteen and we’ll go.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go dry my hair.”

“Kiss me,” I demand.

She gets on her tiptoes and drops a kiss on my lips. I grab the back of her head and deepen it.

She sighs and melts into me.

This girl is into me in a big way and I can’t help but dig it.

As she leaves, my mood drops. Am I fucking up here by letting this go on with her? Or should I just let things happen organically and see where they go?

It’s the weekend and I have no plans other than this phone call I have to take care of. Should I spend the weekend with her and see how it goes? Decide if I want to pull back or pursue something bigger with her? Or should I pull back now and make sure this stays casual? My head’s a little fucked up over everything going on and it’s not helping, having to call Meryl back.  I came home planning to play it cool with Jada, thinking I should make sure things didn’t get too carried away after last night, but how could I play it cool coming in to a fantasy on a silver platter?

I sit in the chair by the bed and put my feet up, aiming my eyes at the view while phoning Meryl back.

“Hello?”

“Meryl, it’s Austin Carmichael,” I say, all-business.

“Hi Austin,” she says softly, not a shred of business.

And now there’s weighty silence.

I blow out a breath. “Listen, I’m sorry I was a dick at Aiden’s wedding.”

“I’m sorry Nate was like he was, too. I’m sorry if… if I upset you by coming.”

“Carly invited you, you had every right to be there.”

She doesn’t reply.

“So…” I finally say, “I have a job opportunity to discuss with you.”

“A job?”

“I know you quit because of circumstances, and I just heard that you lost your father. First, please accept my condolences. I had no idea.”

“Thank you,” she replies softly.

“How are you?” I ask.

“I’m… it’s been hard, but I’m okay,” she says, and there’s strength in her voice.

“And you’re happy? With him?”

“Strangely, yes. It was unexpected,” she says. “It really was. It’s not at all why I ran out. When I left, Nathaniel wasn’t even on my mind, I just… I saw things going in a direction that would make it difficult for me and I bailed. I was a coward, and I’m sorry about that, but you don’t understand the expectations on me with my family and I was in real danger of … I…”

“I get it. You didn’t want to get in too deep with me.”

“Right,” she says softly.

One night with her and I was in deep.

I wonder if I’m about to do the same thing with Jada… get too deep too soon. Hurt her. Get hurt. Something. I can’t imagine Jada hurting me, but I didn’t think Meryl would either. I also don’t want to hurt Jada and the position I’m in right now, that could happen whether I want it to or not. But you don’t know what you’re going to feel until you feel it. You don’t always know what you’ll do and then you just do it, and people get hurt - shit happens.

Meryl keeps talking. “But then things went crazy when I got home and so much happened so fast, so it turned out I was where I was supposed to be. Things happen for a reason, Austin, I really believe that.”

“I’m glad you’re happy. Despite everything.”

“I hope you find happiness, too, Austin,” she says.

I hold the phone a second but then launch into the reason for contacting her. “Anyway, I know you quit because of extenuating circumstances. Have you found a new job yet?”

“I… I have a job but it’s only a contract position and it ends in  three weeks. I haven’t yet lined something up for after that. Can I ask why?”

“I’m in our New York office and we’re doing a re-org. We’d like to outsource more of our back-office procedures and it makes sense to expand the team we already built there in Manila. I’d like you to run that team. What do you think? You’re already trained on our systems, you know how we work, and the call center team there in Manila knows you.”

“From here? I could do it from here? All of it?”

“The building you worked in for us, there’s a suite next to that one that’s empty and available for lease. We’re talking to the property manager about knocking down a wall so we can expand into that suite. I’d like to have HR send you an offer letter on Monday. You’ll make one and a half times what you made working for us last time but there will be extra responsibility. I’ve got a rough outline of the job description for you. Can you handle it? Do you want it? You might need to travel once or twice a year but maybe not even every year.”

“I think I can,” she says. “I just want to talk it over with some people. Um -”

“With your fiancé,” I finish for her.

“Yes,” she says softly.

She’s a nice girl, trying to not rub it in with me.

“Do that. I’ll have HR send you the offer Monday morning our time by email and we can discuss after you’ve had a chance to review it.”

“That sounds great.” She sounds relieved. “Thank you for this opportunity, Austin.”

“You were an asset to our team before. You’re the right person to offer this job to. I’ll have the offer and a job description sent. We might have to fine tune the description, but your timing of three weeks works so that’ll be good. You won’t report directly to me, but you’ll report to someone in accounting who does.”

“That might make it an easier sell,” she says softly.

I chuckle. Her guy is possessive.

“I get it,” I say.

“Okay, sounds great so far. I’ll watch for it Monday and get you an answer as soon as I can. It might take me a little time to-”

“It’s fine. Think on it. Take care, Mer.”

“Thanks, Austin. You, too. Thanks again for this opportunity. If it all works out, I won’t randomly quit again.” There’s humor in her voice.

“Glad to hear that. Bye.”

I end the call and stare out the window for a bit.

And I feel pretty good about that. About gaining some closure with her.

41

Jada

Austin and I are being seated in a booth in a restaurant a few blocks from the building. And I feel like I’m floating, because he held my hand all the way here.

It happened as soon as we got to the elevator and I greeted Andrew.

“Hey,” Andrew smiled brightly at me as I got out of the elevator first.

Austin then came out and said, “Hey” and grabbed my hand and steered me toward the door.

It felt… proprietary. And I kinda wanted to laugh about it because I don’t think Andrew is into me or anything, but I also thought it was sexy the way Austin did it.

It turns out Austin and I are compatible with our pizza taste, which is probably a good thing in a relationship – if this is going to be a relationship. And I don’t know if it is. I don’t want to push for any sort of clarification yet, either, because what if it scares him off?

We’ve ordered a pizza with the works on it and are halfway through our second slices when his expression changes.

“Tell me about yourself,” he invites. “What don’t I know yet about you?”

I dab my mouth with my napkin. “Not sure what there is to tell. I’m a typical 20-something living in a city I can’t afford to live in with a dream job that probably won’t pay the bills because it’s so competitive and hard to break into. So, I’m doing what I need to do right now to survive and hoping I don’t have to settle too much in the career department. You like your career?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m a numbers guy so VP of finance suits me well. The stuff I’m here doin’ isn’t my usual thing as such, but I just had to do a big audit and fire some people because of scandal, thievery, and fraud.”

“Oh wow.”

“Not fun to deal with that shit.”

“That explains some of the moods,” I throw in.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. But I’m the only one able to do it with Dad’s health and Aiden just getting married, so yeah… don’t have many mood swings about work back home because I’m doing stuff in my wheelhouse.”

“You like being immersed in spreadsheets?” I ask.

“Something like that.” He smirks. “Does that make me boring?”

“You are definitely not boring,” I say.

His smirk widens to a smile. “It’s not just about number crunching, it’s about finding ways to save money, make more money, figure out where the growth is happening and work on ways to maximize it. I like what I do.” He shrugs. “And I have a great team. And doing what I do I rarely have to bring it home. Job stress – where there is any - it stays at work most of the time.”

“So you’d have gone into finance even if you weren’t born into your family?”

“Maybe. That or I’d have been a math teacher, maybe. I get numbers, they make sense to me, and I can see myself helping kids make sense of them.”

I smile. “A teacher is an honorable profession.”

“Definitely,” he replies with a bright smile. “But I do my best to keep corporate finance above-board, too.”

“What do you like to do for fun?” I ask.

“Video games. I have a boat. Like to sail. Go hiking. Camp. Fish.”

“A boat? That’s great.”

“Yeah. It is. I’m out on it every chance I get.”

“Surfing, Mr. California?”

“A little bit. Not that much of a wave chaser. Love the beach, the water, though. How about you? Tell me about your hobbies, your family,” he invites.

“I haven’t had a whole lot of time to explore my hobbies,” I say.  “But I love antiques and going treasure hunting in thrift shops, used bookstores… I love books and writing, love museums, old movies. Cooking. Gardening.”

“And your family?” he asks, lifting a third piece of pizza onto his plate.

“It’s me and Shane. He’s four years older. Our mom walked out when I was a kid and Shane’s got mental health issues that have spiraled into addiction.” I shrug. “Deep down, he’s a good guy, but he’s in a lot of pain.”

“What about your father?”

“Dad thinks kids should be seen and not heard and never really had much time for us. Figured his life consisted of his job, the bar for drinks after work, dinner on the table when he got home, and sitting in front of the TV until bedtime. I grew up too fast trying to replace my mom by taking care of everyone. Cooking, cleaning. Dad lost patience with Shane’s issues but gave him a shot to get his life together a couple years ago, so Shane moved home to try to go back to school, but he screwed up and Dad kicked him out. I’d already moved out, so I took Shane in while I was still working for Aiden but then the job ended and I had trouble making ends meet. Shane wasn’t helping matters, not in a place to do much to help himself never mind help me. My coffee cart job ended abruptly with two weeks’ pay owing to me that I didn’t get, and you know how there’s that saying about most average people being two pays away from bankruptcy? Well, I was below average and just one pay away from it and losing that job and not getting my final paycheck was enough to mean eviction.”

“Shit,” he says, eyes looking remorseful.

I wave my hand. “You didn’t know me, not a thing about me then so I understand your reaction the night we met. But nobody I knew would take me in unless I abandoned Shane because of his history of extreme mood swings, his destructive behavior, and I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that. That’s how I ended up in your brother’s apartment. Desperation. My father said, ‘I told you so’ and my cousin said I could only come if Shane didn’t because she has a kid and Shane can get dark sometimes and she didn’t want her child around that, which I respect, but our only offer was a dirty warehouse where I suspect Gramma the spider lives because I already know a giant snake lives there and I’m terrified of snakes, too. So, that’s where the rest of my stuff is stored, and you met me at my breaking point.”

Austin winces.

“I’d never just take from someone, do something to make somebody think I was a thief or anything, but I was desperate and from what I knew of Carly, I figured it’d be okay, that she’d tell me it was fine. I probably wouldn’t have even gone there if it was just Aiden. He wasn’t exactly the warmest boss I’ve ever had.”

Austin laughs.

“Though, he’s not exactly the coldest, either,” I say under my breath and only half hold back a smirk as I fiddle with my napkin.

Austin’s laugh goes even louder.

A pretty young blonde woman approaches the table. “I thought it was you,” she says. “But hearing that laugh, I knew it was.”

Her eyes are on Austin and his smile vanishes.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey Auz,” she says, and something about the way she says that has me sitting up straighter.

“Taylor,” he returns, looking like it physically pains him to say her name.

“What are you doing in New York?” she asks.

“I’m here for work,” he responds and sips his drink.

“You don’t live here again, do you?”

“No,” he says and sips his drink again. He offers nothing further and he’s being very cold with her. He obviously wants no part of this conversation.

“I heard a rumor about you, actually,” she says, after an awkward silence.

His eyes meet hers and his are now blazing with anger. “Of course you did.”

“So odd,” she continues, “You haven’t even crossed my mind in… well… years, and then I heard a rumor just the other day and now today – here you are. I heard you’re having a baby with your brother’s ex. Tell me that’s not true. You and Sienna?”

“Fuck off, Taylor.”

She rears back. “Whoa. Venomous.”

“You’re the one that’s poison, bitch. Back off.”

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date?” she asks and laughs. She laughs in a way that has my face going red, because why is this so funny that I’m his date?

“You’re not worth her time,” is Austin’s reply.

“See you’ve got a type, huh?” she laughs and bends toward me. “Good luck measuring up.”

I’ve watched this exchange like a spectator and now I’ve just gone numb.

She looks like me. Or I look like her, I guess. If I were more polished and wore designer clothes. She looks a couple years older than me.

“Have a good night,” she says with a snicker and then she eyes me again, her eyes are dancing with laughter as she flips her hair and struts back to her table.

I stare at Austin who has wiped his mouth and thrown his napkin on his third slice of pizza that only has one bite out of it. She’s ruined his appetite.

“Do you wanna go?” I ask.

His eyes travel my face and they look just as irritated as they did a minute ago.

“Yeah,” he says and shoots a look over his shoulder where his eyes find Taylor’s table. She’s sitting there whispering with two other women who are looking at us.

I signal to our server for the check.

When she comes over with a box and the bill and helps me wrap up the rest of our extra-large pizza, Austin drops money on the table, gets up and takes the pizza box from her and heads out the door.  He’s outside before I’ve got my purse over my shoulder.

I look back before leaving and see those three girls watching me, laughing.

Austin is standing outside with the pizza box when I get out and I’m almost surprised he didn’t just leave – he looked that angry.

His eyes hit mine and my heart skips a beat.

“Ex. College girlfriend. She’s one of the many reasons I fuckin’ hate New York.”

“You went to school here?” I ask as we head down the street.

He doesn’t take my hand this time.

“Yeah. For a semester. For her.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head. “I graduated high school a year early and had my pick of colleges. Came here to follow her, she’s two years older than me. Friends with my brother’s crowd and I had a crush. Had me wrapped around her finger. Caught her with another guy while I was doin’ her homework.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. She has no place in my headspace. Said more than I wanted to say. Sorry she was a bitch to you.”

“Okay,” I say and do my best to keep up with him. He’s walking really fast.

“You didn’t ask me about what she said,” he says just before we get to the building.

“Yeah, well, I mean… um…”

“My life is really fucking complicated right now, like I told you.”

“Oh,” I whisper and my brain feels like I’d imagine it’d feel if I’d been hit in the face with a brick. Austin holds the door for me and I go inside.

“Hey guys,” Andrew greets and then his smile falls and he’s looking at me with concern. Austin’s face is still in melt-paint mode.

“Hey again,” I greet.

Austin pushes the button for the elevator. He doesn’t greet Andrew, just gives him a chin lift.

“How was the pizza?” Andrew calls out.

“It was great. Definitely New York style,” I add, but my voice sounds shaky.

“Sad,” Andrew says, shaking his head, totally ignoring Austin’s mood.

I force a smile. “Have a good night,” I say as the ding signals the elevator’s arrival.

***

“Thanks for dinner,” I say when we get to the apartment.

“Sorry it got fucked up,” he says as he shuts the door and locks it behind me.

I take my jacket off and put it on the coat rack. He sets the pizza on the kitchen island and then takes his coat off.

I’m feeling a little lost here, not knowing if our evening is over, if he wants to talk about it – if I should even ask questions.

I hover by the island while he hangs his coat up. I watch him flop onto the couch, running his fingers through his hair with frustration.

“Um, Austin?” I say finally.

He looks at me, but his nostrils are flaring.

“Do you want um… anything to drink?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll just…” I signal toward my room.

“Told you my life is really complicated right now,” he says. “The last thing I should be doing is fooling around with you. But it’s the only thing right now in my life that doesn’t suck.”

I take that in and try to process it.

He’s still looking at me, so I’ve got to say something.

“I don’t know if you want to talk about it or not so I’m not sure if I should ask questions or leave you alone, or… if she hadn’t come over if you’d have talked about the thing she mentioned, or…” I let that hang.

He stares at me for a long minute. A very long one.

“You wanna watch TV with me?” he finally asks.

That’s a surprise.

“All right.”

He looks relieved.

“Just gonna change,” he says and heads down the hall.

I don’t know if I should do this or not, but the fact that he looks so relieved hits me square in the feels.

He comes back in Adidas sweatpants and a black muscle shirt. Bare feet.

I sit beside him and he puts his arm around me, kissing my temple and then he squeezes me tighter.

I sit there stiffly for a second, until he tips my chin to get me to look at him. The intensity in his gaze is so disarming. His head tilts and his lips come to mine. Softly.

“Are you in a relationship with Aiden’s ex?” I ask, the second his lips move away.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Is she pregnant with your child?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and his eyes are so filled with pain that it startles me.

I put my hand to his jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “No. I wanna just watch TV and snuggle with you. Is that all right?”

I can’t say no, not with that look in his eyes. So I don’t.

I snuggle in. “I happen to be an excellent snuggler.”

“Yes you are. Capuchin monkeys tend to have that quality.”

“What are we watching?”

His body relaxes and it relaxes so much that I push all my million questions out of my head. Or I try to.

A few minutes later, he pulls me on top of him and I’m thinking it’s about to get physical, sexual, but it doesn’t.

I put my cheek to his chest on the couch while we watch a couple episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Just into the third episode, I have to go to the bathroom, so I climb off of him and when I’m back, I see he’s dosing, so I put the pizza box into the fridge and I’m about to turn the TV off and go to bed, but as I lean over to grab the remote from the coffee table, he grabs my wrist.

“What’re ya doin?”

“I was gonna turn it off since you’re sleeping.”

“You done watching or you wanna watch some more?” he asks.

“I could watch some more.”

“Then come here,” he tugs and I’m back on top of him, both his arms wrapped around me.

“Who’s the Capuchin now?” I ask.

He squeezes in response.

We fall asleep like that and I don’t wake up until Saturday morning when he’s carefully trying to twirl me toward the back of the couch so he can get up.

I open my eyes as I’m put on my side, my back against the back of the sofa and he leans over and kisses my forehead before he disappears down the hall and I hear the bathroom door close.

I sit up, feeling well-rested. Strangely.

I slept on top of him all night.

He comes back a few minutes later and he’s making coffee, still in those trackpants, his hair now tamed, his face still scruffy, and I’m in last night’s clothes, which shouldn’t have been comfortable to sleep in (jeans and a button-down shirt), so I go straight to the bathroom, do what I need to do, and then I get into the shower.

A moment later, I’m no longer alone. Austin’s climbing in.

I turn to face him, surprised. Shy.

“Is it okay I’m in here with you?” he asks, looking into my eyes.

I nod, biting my lip as I reach for my shampoo.

It’s a tight fit in here, being a regular bathtub/shower combination, not like the massive standalone shower in the master bathroom.

He spins my body wash on the shelf and glances at the label.

“Guess I’m gonna smell like pink lemon and mandarin oranges today.”

I grin as I lather my hair up and then I rise up on the balls of my feet with my shampoo up high. I pour a glug onto his head. “And strawberries and cream.”

He steps forward, dips his hair under the shower stream, then steps back and quickly lathers it up before he reaches for my exfoliating bodywash, squirts some on his hand and lathers up his chest while watching me. I’m watching him while I work my hair into a lather.

“Can I have some of that?” I ask.

Instead of passing me the bodywash, he squirts more on his hand and then those hands are reaching for my boobs.

My back goes against the wall as I succumb to the way that feels, so he moves under the stream. I push the shampoo back so it doesn’t go in my eyes and watch as he rubs my boobs, getting them all bubbly before his hands move down my ribcage all the way to my hips. They travel back up to my armpits and then slide up over my shoulders leaving a trail of slippery and gritty bubbles everywhere. He finishes soaping me up from shoulders to wrists before spinning me around so that I’m facing the wall. My head rolls back as he lathers my back, my rear end, then I hear another glug as he gets more bodywash and then does down to my ankles. I squeeze excess shampoo bubbles backwards again and then I’m pulled against his soapy body, putting me under the shower stream, too, so I work at rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. I’m focused on that when I feel Austin’s hand slide across my hip and then he’s cupping me between the legs.

“Can’t forget this spot,” he huskily says with his mouth behind my ear.

I feel his erection bounce against my lower back as I continue to squeeze my shampoo out. His fingers work over my clit and slide inside me. They glide in and out slowly, over the clit, inside, then press inside on my g-spot, and then reverse up to my clit again. He does this over and over until my knees buckle and I gasp out a climax before I twist around to sink into him, putting my cheek against his chest and sighing, holding on so I don’t fall down.

“Let’s go,” he whispers and then kisses the top of my head and a minute later, we’re in my bed, wet, and all over one another.

The box of condoms sits on my nightstand, so he reaches for one, gloves up, and then he’s lifting my legs up over his shoulders as he slides inside.

Holy shit. I’ve never done this position before. I like it. This might be my new favorite.

But wait… it’s also broad daylight and my blinds are half open. I’m self-conscious about being so visible, but he looks at me like he loves what he sees.

Or likes. Not love.

Likes.

He said his life is complicated right now. I can’t think with the L-word unless it’s just the like word.

“You okay?” he asks, looking concerned.

“Mm hm, why?”

“You look upset.”

He’s still inside me, though now he’s still.

“I’m good,” I fib, opening my legs so I can pull them down and wrap them around his waist. I pull him closer so he’s not so closely scrutinizing my expression.

The distraction works and now he’s kissing me, touching my breasts, making sexy sounds as he fucks me with long, deep strokes.

It feels good, great actually, so I close my eyes and try to get lost in this.

“Want to make you come again, Jada,” he whispers, “Be my good girl - let go.”

He’s pretty intuitive. But I’m not sure I can let go again right now after having a big orgasm a minute ago.

His good girl, though? I can at least try.

“Okay,” I whisper and keep my eyes closed as I do my best to  blank my mind and just absorb the sensations.

A minute later, I’m flipped to my belly and he lifts my hips so that I’m on my knees. He slams back in and I cry out.

“Holy shit.”

His hand goes between my legs and he’s working his fingers between my legs while going at me doggie style. So… I think this is my new favorite position.

The sound of skin slapping skin, the feel of his cock slamming inside over and over, the sounds of Austin’s breathing as he covers my back with his body plus the feel of his hand toying with my clit while I stare at his other hand bracing himself on the headboard - I explode around him and fall to my belly, whimpering shamelessly into the pillow.

He groans into the back of my neck at the same time as he finishes, too.

He slaps my ass then. “I’m making breakfast,” he tells me. “Any requests?”

This is a surprise.

“Anything,” I whisper. “Everything. I’m starved.”

“Everything breakfast coming up.” He kisses the back of my shoulder and crawls backwards off me.

I stay on my stomach and just process for a few minutes until I smell bacon cooking.

I get up, get dressed in a pretty pink top with a pair of black skinny jeans, and then brush my hair before I join him.

He’s wearing basketball shorts and nothing else. And they sit low on his sexy hips. He’s got tongs in his hand and there’s bacon frying. He smiles then starts twirling a whisk in a glass bowl of batter. He’s whipping up some batter.

“Pancakes?” I ask.

“Bacon pancakes,” he says.

“Spider pancakes? Bleck.”

He shakes his head with confusion. “Spider pancakes?”

“Gramma was in that.” I screw up my face.

“It’s been washed,” he rolls his eyes.  “Not spider pancakes. Bacon pancakes.”

“Bacon and pancakes? Yum.”

“Nope. Not bacon and pancakes, bacon pancakes. You’ll see. Trust me. I’m gonna rock your breakfast world in a few minutes.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Man, he’s gorgeous. And I love how playful and happy he seems right now.

He says his life is complicated, but he’s not pulling away from me. In fact, it’s like he’s doing the opposite and maybe it’s because I’m not complicating it further right now by asking him a million questions. I decide not to worry about anything right now, just to enjoy breakfast with Austin.

***

“These are incredible,” I say, moaning. “This everything breakfast is everything. Every. Thing.”

Austin’s bacon pancakes are literally bacon pancakes. He cooked bacon and then dipped it in pancake batter before frying again and the result is a long, skinny pancake with bacon in the middle.

“This is the best invention, ever,” I say before I dunk a bacon pancake in the puddle of maple syrup on my plate and take another bite.

He beams a smile at me.

He’s also made us some scrambled eggs and they’re fluffy and delicious. And there’s even toast.

“So, you can cook,” I say.

“I can make breakfast, blend a bad-ass smoothie, and I can grill. Anything else it’ll be hit or miss.”

I chuckle and sip my coffee.

He takes a bite of toast and my face burns with embarrassment as I remember the second chapter and the burnt toast scene. I couldn’t believe I wrote it when I first read it back to myself and now I can’t believe that he’s actually read it, too.

“What’s on your schedule today?” he asks.

“I’m supposed to visit my brother this afternoon, but after that, not a thing.”

“You wanna go to a movie tonight?”

“Yeah. Sure,” I say, smiling.

He returns the smile before he takes a bite of scrambled eggs, but then his phone rings from the other side of the counter.

As he slides it over I catch sight of the screen.

Sienna Greer Calling

Eeks.

The mystery redheaded woman from Austin’s office and that used to be in Aiden’s photo albums. After what that Taylor woman said at the restaurant last night, now she has a name. And maybe a baby Austin in her belly?

“What?” he answers angrily, heading down. I hear his door close.

I stuff one more bacon pancake in my mouth before I tackle the dishes, but then there’s shouting coming from down the hall.

When I turn the tap off, I hear “…and your fucking head games!”

I don’t want to eavesdrop, so I turn the water back on.

If he wants to talk to me, he’ll talk to me.

A few minutes later, he’s back with me.

“Sorry to leave you with the mess,” he says.

“That’s okay, I’m paid to clean up your mess and you’re thankfully not a messy person.”

“It’s the weekend, you don’t have to work on the weekend,” he clips with impatience.

“It doesn’t feel like work. It feels like just helping - cleaning up after a delicious breakfast I didn’t have to cook,” I say with a smile.

He thrusts his hand through the flop of hair falling into his eyes and shakes his head.

“You okay?” I ask.

He comes up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist, burying his nose in my hair.

“Wanna talk?” I ask. “I saw the name on the screen and I’m guessing I know who she is now after what happened last night.”

“No,” he whispers, “Is that okay?”

I nod, but my chest hurts a little.

My reward is him squeezing me tighter.

“What movie do you wanna see tonight?” I ask, turning the tap off and drying my hands on a tea towel. He’s still holding me from behind.

“Something with blood. And murder,” he grumbles into the top of my head.

I laugh.

He turns me to face him,  then takes my face into his hands. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Jada Sweetheart.”

I smile. And the pain in my chest evaporates, because as long as he looks at me like this, like I send his troubles away, I’m going to do my best to be okay with not talking about whatever had him shouting on the phone with her. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sir Groucho.”

“What time are you going to see your brother?” he asks.

“I should go soon.”

“All right. I’m gonna go for a run.  And I’ll see you back here later. We’ll catch a movie, go for burgers, maybe?”

I nod. “That sounds great.”

He kisses me again and then he disappears into his bedroom.

By the time I’m ready to go, he’s already gone.

***

Shane is despondent. He holds the phone, but he says very little, answers me with shrugs or one-word answers. When I tried to talk positively about the fact that he might spend time in a hospital instead of a jail, getting better, he stares at the table.

“Are you not feeling well?” I try.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly.

After ten minutes, he tells me I should get going and then he kisses his fingertips and touches the glass.

He didn’t ask about me. He didn’t ask anything. He looked like he had trouble staying awake. He’s pale and he’s lost more weight.

I speak to the guard before I go, saying I’m concerned about him. He can’t help me but says he’ll have someone phone me.

I leave with a heavy heart and get back to an empty condo at five o’clock.

I call Shane’s lawyer to express concerns, but there’s no answer, not surprising for a Saturday. I look him up online and write an email with a list of my concerns about Shane, asking for an urgent callback.

And then I sit at the kitchen island and fiddle with another new story, a romantic comedy with lots of sex, while I wait. And wait some more.

***

I text Austin at seven thirty.

Are we still on for dinner and the movies?

He doesn’t answer.

I hear him come in after midnight. I’m in bed, though not sleeping. I don’t come out. Instead I wait. He doesn’t come to my room. I go to the bathroom and then linger in the kitchen making a little bit of noise so he’ll know I’m awake.

He doesn’t come out of his room.

And I’m not sure why.

42

Austin

I’m on my way out the door for a run at seven o’clock Sunday morning and I run into Jada in the hall.

She looks startled. And she stops and stares, those big eyes on me wanting an explanation.

“Sorry about last night,” I say quickly. “I ran into an old friend and went for a drink and lost track of time.”

“I texted.”

“My phone died.” I shrug. “Goin’ for a run. See ya later.” I put my earbuds in and head out.

Like an asshole.

Because that’s what I feel like. And that’s what I’m gonna have to be. Because I’m not capable of anything right now but hurting her and might as well sabotage myself and get it over with now before I’m tempted to get any deeper.

I head past the asshole at the desk who wants Jada, not looking at him or saying anything. Why is he always here? Does this guy ever take time off?

I head to the park.

I didn’t run into an old friend. I was out for my run, thinking too much, and I wound up renting a car. I visited Suki, the woman who raised me and my siblings.

Suki lives a few hours from here with her sister. She moved here when she retired, the same year I came here for college. She’s a seventy-year-old woman with no children of her own, but plenty of nieces and nephews as well as a long resume of raising rich brats. She raised me and my siblings and then she moved here when she retired, which happened the year I moved here, starting college. I know she wanted to visit her sister, she said she’d stay for a few months and test it out, but she wound up staying permanently.

I know it didn’t hurt being closer to me thinking of me as her final ‘baby’ before retirement. That year I was here, just sixteen-seventeen years old, I made the three hour drive every other weekend. She didn’t like Taylor, who came twice and then stopped coming because she told me Suki didn’t like her and tried to stop me from going.

Suki happens to be an excellent judge of character.

I visited her yesterday, feeling like I didn’t get enough time with her at Aiden’s wedding. And spending time with her put a lot into perspective for me.

“Austin, love of my life, it’s not like you to be so sour, so angry.”

I had just told her everything that’d happened with Sienna.

I also told her I was getting in deep with another girl, but that I wasn’t sure it was the right move.

“You shouldn’t tug someone along by their heart if you’ve got too much baggage to give them what they deserve, Austin. You don’t need me telling you this.”

“You’re right. I don’t think I have the capacity for a relationship right now. Anything with her is just gonna be me taking and not giving back. I don’t want to talk about my problems, don’t want to lay them on her, and I’m just gonna wind up hurting her.”

“I can’t see you being like that!” She frowned at me. “Have you talked to her? It might help.”

“You wouldn’t have recognized me how I was with her when I first got to New York. Like my mother, but male.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense!”

“It’s true.” I put my hand to my heart.

“Austin Mitchell Carmichael! Don’t make me box those ears!”

“I know. I was an ass … a jerk.” Suki would box my ears for cussing even.

She kissed her teeth and poured me more tea. “Don’t get into anything serious until you know what you’re doing about that Greer girl. I don’t like to talk bad about people, Austin, but that Sienna was not so sweet when people would turn their backs. I saw plenty that made me grind my teeth when that girl was hangin’ round the house with Aiden.”

“What do you think of Carly?” I asked.

She smiled. “You know I love you three like I birthed you, and would always take your sides.”

I know this.

She continues. “And sayin’ that, Carly is too good for our Aiden, that’s the first thing. But she’s good for him all the same. You see how he looks at her? Like he can’t believe his luck. And that’s a privileged man looking like that at her. That’s how everyone should look at the one they say they love. If I were Carly’s family instead of your family, I’d be worried. But I know Aiden’s good deep down, so I think it’s a good match.”

I smile.

“So, give Suki the gossip about your father and Alice Roberts. Adele told me something and it was completely scandalous.” Her eyes are lit up the way they go when she reads gossip magazines.

“If Adele told you, you do not need me repeating it,” I made a face of disgust.

She slapped me on the head. Not hard but teasing. “I’m an old woman with nothing to do but live through others’ excitement. Tell me anyway, even though I already know.” Her dark eyes were alight with amusement so even though I knew she knew the story and even though she knew I didn’t want to recount it, I did, and she slapped her knee uproariously and reveled in it.

Suki loves my dad. She even holds affection for my mother and as shitty as my mother is with most people she deems beneath her, she is never shitty with Suki – she probably feared losing her too much.

Suki told me many times that people often get in the way of their own happiness and that my parents did that with one another.

She recounted the fact that it makes her sad, said they were very in love when she first started working for them, but that Dad went out of his way to be successful, to give my mother everything, and tried so hard to do that it meant he neglected to see that what my mother needed most was his attention. She wanted that more than she wanted oxygen and when she didn’t get enough of it she found ways to get attention elsewhere.

After the gossip-fest about Dad and Alice ended, we talked more about Aiden and Carly, how happy they were and then she complained about spending a few extra days in St. Kitts with Adele and Dirk. Her complaint was about their nanny being too lazy and looking at her phone too much. Suki then went on for a while about how great of a mother Adele is. And I told her it’s because Suki was a great mother to all of us and she gave me shit for saying such a thing, insulting our own mother, but she got a little teary-eyed, though she tried to hide it.

I offered to take her for dinner, but she told me that as soon as I’d called and told her I was on my way, she’d started cooking for me.

She took me to the little kitchen in the back of that small house and lifted the lid off the pot. That’s when the smell hit me. It was a curry fish stew that she often made, but only did it when my parents were out of town because my mother didn’t like the smell of fish in the house. Or curry.

I sat and ate two bowls and we talked for hours before her sister came home from a church event that meant I had to stay for another coffee and dessert and catch up with her sister before I headed back to the city.

I did a lot of thinking on the way back and decided I should pull back with Jada. For her sake.

I was planning on a conversation with her about it when I got in. My phone really did die on the way to Suki’s and she didn’t have a charging cord that fit my phone.

When I came in, I stood at Jada’s door for a minute and decided not to wake her up. It was after midnight. I decided maybe the way to do it was to be too much of a dismissive asshole to inspire sexual fantasies.  Then she’ll stop looking at me with lust and I’d know I had no options to fuck her.

I heard her in the kitchen and didn’t go out, stewed in regrets instead.

And this morning, seeing her as I was about to make my escape to go for a run and think some more, I felt like a dick. And I didn’t do a thing about it, nothing to explain.

I shouldn’t have been such a shithead this morning. I should’ve sat her down and told her I’m in no shape to be a decent human being right now and she deserves that at the very least.

I should’ve.

But I didn’t.

That girl doesn’t know the baggage I’ve got, and I don’t know when all that is gonna be over, if it ever will be. Who wants to start up some long-distance thing with a guy in the middle of a legal fight with the potential mother of his child? A child conceived out of something so ugly.

Yesterday, Sienna called and told me that the stress of my not dropping the charges was making her physically ill. No suggestion from her it might be morning sickness – nope, it was my fault she was sick because she was dreading the court stuff, which was still months away.

I asked her why she wasn’t putting the so-called pregnancy on the table legally, asked her if she’d gone to the doctor yet. She insisted pregnancy tests were reliable enough and she wouldn’t need to go to a doctor until she was at twelve weeks. And then she dared to accuse me of hoping she miscarried.

And I saw red. I saw red and told her to get her shit together and get to the doctor’s to get the ball rolling for a paternity test. I also told her I knew her game – knew she was passing the information around to make sure it’d get to me that people know about her pregnancy, that she was using this as a tool to try to get me to drop the charges without any paternity proof because she figures I’ll worry about the fact that people are talking.

After that call, I immediately went to her social media and saw nothing new, nothing announcing a pregnancy, but I did check her followers list and Taylor Graham was on it under the ‘recently added’ tab. I met Taylor when I was a teenager as she’d been part of Sienna’s crew.  Bitch. Bitches, both of them. Clearly they’ve recently reconnected, probably because Sienna knows Taylor lives in New York and wanted to try to get to me any way she could.

So yeah, I’m an asshole. An asshole who doesn’t have the balls to tell Jada that I’m in no way emotionally equipped to be in a relationship. So I let her think I blew off our date last night to have drinks with a friend.

If she’s smart, she’ll write me off, stop looking at me with those big please-fuck-me eyes.

43

Jada

After Austin leaves to go for his run, I decide that I need out of these walls. I do not want to be sitting here like a loser when he gets back.

When I rush into the lobby, I see Andrew’s still here. He’s not in his security uniform, though, and he’s on his way out the door.

He spots me and waits for me outside.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask.

“Day guy called in sick. Took them a few hours to get someone else in. “I offered to do a double, but they frown on paying overtime.” He shrugs. “Where are you off to?”

I thrust my fingers into my hair. “I don’t know.”

He frowns. “Did he ask you to take a walk again? Wait. No, I saw him leave thirty minutes ago.”

I shake my head. “No. He didn’t. I just… I just need some air.”

“I like air. Wanna walk? I know a great coffee spot a few blocks away from here.”

“Yeah, okay. Not sure if I’ll be great company though. I’m in a crummy mood.”

“That’s okay, I’ll cheer you up.”

I walk with him and he jokes around and tries to keep things light, but I’m having trouble focusing on the conversation and he notices and stops.

“That’s not funny?”

“Huh?” I didn’t even hear the joke, was only half paying attention.

“What’s wrong, Jada? Talk to me. Is it that rich prick you work for?”

“Huh?”

“Every time you’re around that guy you’re sad. First time I saw you, bringing his sister and her kids’ stuff to the door you were sitting there like you were hurting. Last night, too, you come back with him and you look upset. Is he an asshole being a dick to you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that. I’m worried about my brother,” I say, waving my hand.

And it’s not all lies.

Andrew listens while I explain a condensed version that summarizes Shane’s problems.

“Maybe it’s the new medication they gave him. I had a buddy in high school that was a total fuck up. Tried a bunch of cocktails and finally found the right meds and now he’s successful and just made his first million. It’s amazing what the right mix of pharmaceuticals and a good shrink can do.”

“His lawyer said they were trying something else. Maybe it’s making him worse,” I say. “Or he’s just super-depressed. But I feel pretty helpless and no one’s taking me seriously.”

“Cross. Over here.” Andrew steers me off the sidewalk with his arm around my neck for a second and we head toward a coffee cart.  A very familiar coffee cart.

While I’m still processing that he’s got his arm around me, I jolt.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I grumble and storm ahead of him. I stomp directly to the front of the line, actually, which is four people deep.

“Mr. Bolliano?” I accuse.

My old boss looks up from the coffee machine and winces.

“Hey, wait your turn. There’s a line and we all want coffee,” the old lady with the heavy New York accent in front of the cart says.

“Sorry,” I say to her and shoot Mr. Bolliano a questioning look. “I’m not budding to get coffee first; I have a bone to pick with this man.”

He winces again and gives me the index finger for ‘one minute’ and resumes making coffee.

I get in line beside Andrew and fold my arms over my chest.

“What the fuck, Jada?” Andrew whispers. “You wanna start a riot jumpin’ the line like that?”

“This is the coffee cart I worked at,” I tell him.

“Huh? This one?”

“I worked for that guy on the other side of the park and he took off and didn’t pay me two weeks’ pay and I was evicted because of it.”

“Uh oh,” Andrew says. “Shit.”

A tall black man in front of us looks over his shoulder. “This guy’s only been here a couple weeks. Took the spot from another guy that had it. People think he got the spot out of somethin’ shady. This is a busy spot. He makes good cake here and should pay you your money.”

“Damn straight,” Andrew says.

A woman in front of the tall black man looks back, obviously overhearing as well. She’s got a baby carrier on with a newborn in it.

“You’re gonna pay her, aren’t you, man?” she calls out.

Mr. Bolliano squints at me. “What’s this? This is a misunderstanding, Jada.”

“You owe me thirteen hundred dollars, Mr. Bolliano. You just disappeared. I got evicted because I couldn’t pay my rent!”

“It’s a misunderstanding!” he says.

The lady at the front of the line takes her coffee and drops money down. “Make sure you pay that girl!” she says before she walks off, nodding at me. “No tip for you today!”

I offer her a smile and she nods again.

The next guy gets in line. He’s my age or a little younger, has earbuds in, and pulls one out to give his order, then plunks the earbud back in. He clearly hasn’t heard the commotion, or finds it uninteresting.

“Unbelievable,” the mother with the newborn shakes her head at me. “You should sue.”

“I just want what I’m owed,” I say. “I thought something bad happened. The cart was just gone and he told me he’d had problems and would take care of me when he got on his feet.

“This cart always has a lineup,” the guy between me and the mom says. “He’s on his feet. Believe you, me.”

By the time I get to the front, a red-faced and stuttering Mr. Bolliano writes me a check and apologizes. “Things went crazy, Jada. I broke my phone, so I lost your number. It’s just a misunderstanding. You don’t know the stress I’m under. I’m so sorry.”

“That check bounces we know where to find you,” Andrew warns, leaning in.

Mr. Bolliano leans back, holding his hands up like it’s a stick-up.

Andrew’s a big guy and he looks intimidating, scowling now at Mr. Bolliano.

The man who was in front of us is still standing off to the side, watching this while he drinks his coffee, and he pipes up.

“I’m here every day of the week at this time. Your check bounces, you come here and say so, and I’ll make sure I get my coffee at Starbucks and stand here and tell everyone who lines up that this dude doesn’t pay his staff.”

“Okay, okay,” Mr. Bolliano holds his hands up. “The check’s not gonna bounce. I told her, it’s a misunderstanding!”

I pocket my check and Andrew pays for the coffees.

“Doesn’t even give her a free cup of coffee after gettin’ that poor girl evicted?” The man calls over.

“You wanna buy your coffee at Starbucks, go for it. I give no fucks,” Mr. Bolliano snaps and spits on the ground and then waves his arms.

We leave.

I’m flabbergasted.

We pass an ATM for my bank and I deposit the check and hope it clears.

It’d sure be nice to be this far ahead of the game.

Living with Austin, I haven’t had to spend money on food, that’s part of what Carly said was arranged so I haven’t felt bad about eating while I’m there. I’ve been paid twice and have hardly spent anything so if this check clears, I’ll have almost three grand in my bank account. Well, I’ll pay Carly the thousand dollars she sent me, but still, I’m ahead of the game.

Immense relief floods me and I feel a little lighter in my step.

If Austin is here for three months and I live lean, I should be totally fine to have first and last month’s rent and a little left to help me have some options.

The idea of Austin going back to California? The idea of this – whatever it is or isn’t ending? My stomach pitches and my chest hurts.

“Pretty damn good coffee, though,” Andrew remarks.

“Yep,” I agree and take a mouthful. “Truth.”

We find ourselves in the park on a bench and my heart skips a beat when Austin passes us, running, his earbuds in, his body drenched in sweat. Austin’s eyes graze me, but he flexes his jaw as they land on Andrew, and he jerks his chin and keeps on running.

My heart hurts.

“You two dating?” Andrew asks. “Or is he just always so…possessive?”

“It’s complicated,” I say softly.

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks. I’d rather you didn’t,” I say and sip my coffee.

“Whether you are or you aren’t, that expression doesn’t say good things.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” I mutter.

“Not a problem. Just wanna make sure you’re not feeling cornered since he’s your boss. You know… if he’s harassing you…”

“He’s not,” I say with strength in my voice. I don’t want Andrew thinking that.

“He seems like a snobby prick and you don’t deserve to be treated like shit.”

“Carrying on…” I shift uneasily.

“So, I have an audition this Friday for a play,” Andrew says, taking my hint.

“You do?” I perk up. “That’s great!” I bump his shoulder with mine. “Good goin’!”

“Yep. I’d love it if I could run through lines with someone. You get bored at all this week, come down at night and sit with me and run lines. I’ll even buy you treats.”

“I’m so excited for you,” I say. “Tell me about the play.”

***

I get into the condo late in the afternoon. I parted ways with Andrew at around noon so he could go home and sleep and then I spent the afternoon wandering shops and spent an hour in a bookstore examining the covers in the erotic romance section. A guy, I’m guessing his late forties, tried to chat me up and I realized he was lingering in that section and likely looking to meet someone likeminded by the fact that he made recommendations to me, so that was the end of that. I wanted to go home and write after looking over all those books with sexy covers, so feeling inspired - I decided I’d do that.

I’d go back to my room and get lost writing an erotic fantasy about a girl that meets a guy in an erotic bookstore (but in my story the guy would be hot and there’d be awesome chemistry) while she’s looking for a book to teach her a foreign language and he then helps her discover all her inner fantasies while they learn the language together and then travel there.

I didn’t name this hero and heroine after me and Austin but that’s who I was undoubtedly going to picture.

I can’t seem to help it.

Not that I think Austin is a bad guy or anything. During my time alone this afternoon I thought on things and the signs are all there. Not just signs, words from his mouth. He has a lot going on and I’m probably expecting too much.

Well, common courtesy of canceling plans if you can’t make it and then being civil about it doesn’t seem like an excessive expectation, but I’m not in his shoes and don’t have a clue what all is going on with him other than what was hinted – him hating being here and doing a job he’s not enjoying plus whatever drama is happening with his brother’s ex and not knowing if that girl is pregnant or not.

Maybe she is and he got that news and that’s why he’s upset. And pulling back.

I have no idea, but I don’t like how it feels.

44

Austin

It’s Monday night. I’m coming in extra-late after a ridiculously unnecessary video conference call that my father set up weeks ago with multiple clients in several time zones.   It wasn’t just needless it was endless, and I’m exhausted.

I haven’t seen Jada since Sunday in the park with the security guard asshole. And it pissed me off that he looked at me in a way that made me grind my teeth and make myself keep running so I wouldn’t tackle him to the ground for even sitting with her.

But it’s better this way.

It’s good that I’m not back until after eleven, too, because I don’t see her. She’s in her room and there’s no light coming from under her door.

Definitely better this way.

I shouldn’t have spent Thursday night in her bed, taken her to dinner Friday and then spent Friday night sleeping with her on the couch. On top of me. Clinging to me like I was her favorite blanket. Fuck sakes.

I definitely shouldn’t have offered to take her out Saturday. I should’ve kept my distance from the start. I should’ve slammed that laptop shut when I read that story she was writing and never mentioned it again. Or fired her immediately.

Something.

What did I do instead? The opposite of what I should’ve done.

I open the fridge and there’s my dinner. And tomorrow’s lunch.

She made my lunch today, too, I was sort of surprised to find it and when I opened it at my desk today, I felt like shit. Because it was fajitas. She knows I love her fajitas. I don’t fucking deserve fajitas. I deserve some stale bread with dry meat and no cheese or mayo.

I definitely didn’t deserve the sweet little note she tucked in.

Austin,

I hope everything is okay with you. I’m here if you want to talk. No pressure.

-Jada

She made me barbeque sauce slathered spareribs, baked beans, and roasted potato wedges for tonight. My stomach growls. It smells fucking delicious. I warm it up and take it to the bedroom to eat it so I don’t chance running into her.

It tastes even better than it smells, and I eat every bite.

My phone rings as I’m putting my dinner plate into the dishwasher and it’s a long string of numbers, like when I got the call from Meryl.

“Hello?”

“Austin Carmichael?” a male voice asks.

“Yes?”

“This is Nathaniel Valerio. I’m engaged to Meryl Salinas.”

Fuck.

“I wanna ask you about this job you offered her.”

“Ask away, man. It’s all above-board.”

“You doin’ this to try to get her back?”

I roll my eyes.

“She was never mine, man.”

He says nothing.

“I’m not tryin’ to cause problems with you and your girl, Nathaniel. When we met, she was single. What happened with us was between me and her and right after that, she quit her job and flew home. She left and we didn’t see each other again until my brother’s wedding and barely made eye contact until you were there throwin’ punches. I offered her another job because she worked for me before, she did a good job, she’s already trained, and the company can use her skills. She won’t report directly to me and if she ever needs to come to San Diego or anywhere else for her job, I will gladly let her expense you coming along if it makes you feel better. If there ever comes a time where I need to see her face to face, unless it’s a company function with other people, you can be there.”

“I trust her,” he says.

“Good for you.” I don’t mean to come across condescending, but I’m sure I do.

“I just don’t know you, and I know what I read about you in her journal, man. I’m sorry for how I came across when I met you. I went into a jealous rage.”

“No you’re not sorry for how you came across. Don’t blow smoke, Nathaniel, bud. You’re just sayin’ that because I’m about to become the boss of your future wife.”

He laughs a little nervously.

“I didn’t handle things right that day, either,” I admit. “I wasn’t  even nice to her and I regret that. I guess I had a bruised ego that she took off. Hey, it’s your ring on her finger, not mine, so she’s obviously where she wants to be.”

“She says I acted like an ape. Gave me the ice queen treatment the rest of the trip and fuck, it would’ve been nice to enjoy that place with her.”

“Maybe I’d be the same. No hard feelings, man.”

“Thanks. She said you’re a good guy. I started listening to her and wanted to talk to you myself. See how I feel.”

“I’m not after your girl, Nathaniel.”

“Thanks. Not that I think you’d win or anything…”

There’s humor in his voice right now.

I snicker.  “Have a good night.”

“You too, man,” he says and hangs up.

Ten minutes later I get an email from Meryl.

Thank you, Austin. I’ll take the job. Sorry for the delay. I’m signing my offer letter now and sending it to HR at head office. I look forward to working for Carmichael Consulting again. Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t disappoint you.

Best Wishes,

Meryl.

P.S. Sorry Nate called so late. And thank you for giving him your time.

I reply with a simple welcome aboard again.

***

Tuesday

I come back early because my schedule yesterday was brutal and I was back in the office early this morning, so I’ve had enough for the day.

I know, coming in that I’ll probably run into her, but I’ve already decided to play it cool, say hello, and go straight to the bedroom to catch a few hours’ sleep. Then I’ll go to the gym and kill time, not coming back until she’s in bed. Yeah, my life has devolved to this – hiding from the girl I was forced to hire to clean the apartment and cook for me.

When I walk in, she’s mopping the kitchen floor.

Mopping the fucking floor.

Like in her Austin Smut story.

She’s wearing lose but short black jersey gym shorts and a white tank top. She’s got dance music playing, her hair up in a bun. She freezes, mop in her hand.

I stare at her. Instead of hanging my stuff on the coat rack like I usually do, I drop it on the floor and I’m immediately cutting up the space between us until I’ve got her face in my hands and then my tongue in her mouth. She drops the mop.

“Pick it up,” I order, gruffly.

This is a bad idea. A bad, bad fucking idea.

She stares wide-eyed at me. Her nipples are erect, poking through her white tank top. Her eyes are on me. Huge.

“I said pick it up,” I repeat.

Is she about to tell me to fuck off? She should.

She bends over to fetch it and I grab her hips with both hands and pull her ass to my crotch. She squeaks in surprise.

“Mop the floor, Jada,” I demand.

She’s frozen for a minute and it dawns that no, she’s not down to play any games with me. Of course she’s not. I’m an asshole.

I’m about to let go and apologize when the mop starts to move. She’s doing what she’s told.

My head rolls back as euphoria sweeps through me.

She’s not pushing me away. I grind against her ass while she does it.

She lifts the mop and pushes the lever to release water into the mop bucket, then dips it and presses the release again before she starts on the next row of tiles.

She’s trembling. And I fuckin’ like it.

I slip my hand up the side of her pantleg and push my finger under the elastic to get to her silky, hot pussy. I glide my finger back and forth a few times.

But the mop has stilled.

“Keep going,” I order, “Otherwise I’ll stop.”

She pushes it again and I reward her by cupping her left breast.

She leans back into me and squeezes her ass cheeks around my erection.

My eyes drift shut and then driven by need, I push her front up against the fridge and yank those shorts down past her hips and let them drop to her ankles. The mop crashes to the floor and stuff inside the fridge rattles.

“Stay there,” I demand. “If you move an inch, I’ll make you edge for a fucking hour.”

She shivers.

I smile as I rush to her room. There’s no box of condoms on her nightstand. I go to the bathroom. Not in the cabinet. I’m back in her room, opening the drawer to the bedside table and there they are, directly beside a pink rabbit vibrator.

Well, well, well.

I grab a condom and the vibrator and practically fly back to the kitchen where she still stands, looking so perfect, facing the fridge, her shorts around her ankles, her little black underwear askew so that one apple-bottom ass cheek is exposed. Her palms are against the fridge and the mop is still on the floor beside her.

I undo my suit pants, then roll up my sleeves, taking my time doing it, watching her, knowing she wants to squirm, turn around, something.

But she doesn’t.

She’s a perfectly good girl, standing there, waiting.

And she’s got no idea there’s a vibrator on the counter beside me.

I roll the condom on and then I’ve got her panties in my grip.

“Can I take these off?” I ask.

“Now you’re asking?” she retorts breathlessly.

Ooh. She’s feeling a little sassy.

I yank them down roughly and she jolts in surprise.

“Sassy sweetheart,” I chide and then I playfully nip her throat with my teeth.

She squeaks and then she tries to turn.

“Nope. You dropped the mop; don’t you know how to behave?”

“I do,” she whispers, stilling. “I can behave very well.”

Fuck yeah.

“Sir,” she adds after a swallow.

“Show me,” I whisper. “Stand there like a good girl and let me do what I wanna do to you.”

“Okay.”

“You understand this is all I’m capable of right now, Jada?” I ask.

She nods, saying nothing.

“I need to know that you do,” I say softly.

“I do,” she replies, her voice loud, clear, letting me know she gets it.

“Good,” I breathe, relieved.

I’ve lost half my hard-on with this moment of truth, so I decide to work her up so that it’ll work me up again.

I grab the vibrator from the counter and examine it.

Little minx. In there pleasuring herself when I’m across the hall? Fuck.

I flick it on and then I’ve got it between her legs.

Her knees buckle briefly and then I’m holding her up with my free hand banded across her ribcage, directly under her breasts.

She’s against me and my cock is immediately going from half-mast to fully reaching for the sky, so I grab it clumsily with my left hand while my right holds that vibrator against her clit. I position my cock at her entrance and slam up into her.

She whimpers. I press the pink silicone harder against her clit and push the button again to see if this thing will go any higher. It does.

I feel Jada jerk in reaction, so I do it again and then twice more until it sounds like we’re in a machine shop.

She whimpers and this has the effect of making her pussy clench around my shaft.  No way has she used this at this level with me across the hall or I’d have heard it.

It feels too good, feeling her tremble around me while I’m inside her, and I take advantage of the access I’ve got and pull back a little so I can get my free hand to her breast, which was squished into the fridge. I scoot us over a few feet so that she’s leaned over the open counter instead, giving me more ability to grind into her, giving her room to bend forward and even brace on the counter ledge.

She does just that and I twist her nipple between my thumb, index, and middle finger, making her cry out a string of vowels. The mop bucket is in my way, directly against my ankle, so I shove it. Water sloshes over the edge, getting my pantleg wet.

“Shit.”

Jada lifts a foot out of the way, obviously now covered in sudsy water too, but we don’t stop. I continue pistoning into her, playing with her nipple, and holding that hot pink thing between her legs. My knuckles are mashed into the counter because I’m pushing into her so hard from behind, but the pleasure receptors are stronger than the pain ones, so I keep going.

She starts coming on my cock and I have a brief moment of wishing I wasn’t wearing a condom, because if this feels this good gloved, I can’t imagine what sort of heaven it’d be to feel her spasms around me without the millimeter of Latex between us.

She whimpers my name and I blow inside her, wishing my come was filling her body instead of this condom with a vivid ferocity that threatens to rip a hole in me.

The volume of want has just blown the speakers. It struck that hard.

I spin her and devour her mouth. She melts for me, opens for me, and I’m filled with the scent and taste of her.

Abruptly, she pulls back.

She pulls back and looks at me with horror in her eyes.

I flinch at the intensity of it and it immediately clears from her eyes.

She suddenly looks almost detached.

I take a step back and put the vibrator on the counter before I pull the condom off and drop it in the garbage can.

She squats, picks up her clothes from the floor, grabs the pink thing and then turns and goes. I hear a door close.

I look down at the half-mopped floor, at the puddle, and I drop a couple kitchen towels on it.

I sop up the water, then take the mop and bucket to the utility room and leave them there.

Jada’s in the bathroom.

She’s crying.

Fuck.

I put my forehead against the door, lift my fist to knock, but then the shower turns on and I no longer hear her.

I stand there a minute before I go to my bedroom, change my clothes, and then leave the apartment.

***

It’s now Thursday and I’ve successfully avoided her, except briefly Wednesday when she was going into the bathroom while I was leaving for work, late, because I’d been in a late-night conference call the night before. Our eyes met and she looked surprised to see me, then nothing else happened because I slid out the door without saying a word.

Today’s lunch is an egg salad sandwich on a croissant.

It makes my office stink and I’ve heard comments from someone nearby asking who the fuck brought egg salad for lunch.

Yep, egg salad at work is a crime, but I give no fucks. Someone else, I think it was Blake who used to work at our office in San Diego muttered it was ‘the boss’ and the noise hushed. I laughed as I ate it and loved every single bite of it. She’s put salt, pepper, and paprika on it and it tastes so good I wish she’d made me two.

There’s another note under the double-size pudding cup.

Pudding cup.

I laugh. Usually she puts fruit in my lunch. Or protein bars. Today I’ve got a pudding cup and a homemade Rice Krispie square treat. What’s with the pudding cup?

I’ve seen a whack of empty ones in the recycling bin, too. Clearly she’s eating pudding herself.

Another note.

Austin,

I hope you like egg salad. If not, let me know and I won’t make it for you again.

I have plans today that might make me get back late. I hope it’s okay if you can fend for yourself for dinner. I wasn’t organized enough to plan ahead. I’m sorry. If it’s not, message me before two o’clock if possible and I’ll make sure I get something ordered or picked up for you.

Thanks,

Jada

This girl.

I’m missing her.

But this is better. Better for both of us. Especially her.

Can I get away with fucking her again next time I see her? I don’t know. The way she switched into detached with me the other day – it has me thinking this is too much. That I should leave her be.

My cell phone rings at four o’clock.

“Hey, favorite sister-in-law!” I greet.

“Yo, what the fuck, buddy?” Carly asks and it takes a second to realize she’s not joking.

“Huh?”

“What the hell did you do to Jada?”

“Do to Jada?” I parrot.

“You broke her!”

I blink in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, but I don’t need to ask. I already feel it. Reality lashing across me like a whip covered in razor blades.

“I asked her what was going on with you and she started crying on the phone and was pretending she wasn’t, but I know she was. She’s having a shit time with her brother, too, and right now she’s at the hospital because of her father’s stroke, but the reason she’s crying is you and we both know it.”

“Huh?”

“Did you break her heart?”

“Maybe she’s crying about her dad,” I say. “A stroke? Is he okay?”

I loosen my tie.

Her father had a stroke? And she’s asking me if I can fend for myself because she wasn’t organized enough?

“He seems okay, but she is not! Clearly you’re not paying attention. Did you fuck her over?”

I swallow.

“Austin!”

“Kind of. Maybe.”

“You fucking alphahole!” Carly shouts.

Fuck.

“I’m doing it to protect her, Carly. I just backed off, that’s all. Reset the parameters and she got it.”

“She got it?”

“Yeah.”

“She. Got. It? You think so, huh?”

I hold the phone. Clearly yes is the wrong answer here so I’m not about to say it again and court the wrath of my sister-in-law, who my brother describes as a Pitbull puppy with her toys taken away when she’s angry.

“Do you care about her?” Carly demands.

I hold the phone.

“Don’t be an asshole to her, Austin. If you aren’t in love with her, fine, whatever, but don’t treat her bad. She’s going through a really rough time right now and if she’s pretending she’s okay with whatever this is you’re doing, she’s not okay. She’s not.”

“I’m having a shit time too, if you didn’t hear,” I snap. “And is it my fault if she’s not fine but she’s pretending she is? Am I supposed to be a mind reader?”

“Yeah, but see… no, your argument is bullshit. You’ve got a whole pile of people who have your back, people who are here to support you even if it’s just over the phone and you know for a fact that any of us would drop everything and come to you if you said you needed us. Jada has nobody but her brother and her brother is in the mental ward for trying to hurt himself on Monday and her father is now in the hospital after having a stroke Wednesday, and Jada has nobody! Except me. Don’t make me come down there, Austin… Up there, I mean. I will come up there and kick your ass.”

I’m thrown.

“I didn’t know that stuff, Carly.”

Monday? Her brother tried to hurt himself Monday?

We fucked in the kitchen on Tuesday and she didn’t say anything.

There wasn’t time for her to say anything, though.

“Because you’re avoiding her after you … what … had sex with her?”

“She hasn’t given you any details?” I ask.

“Of course she hasn’t. She’s not like that! The only reason I even know anything is going on is because I called her about sending me back the money. And of course I haven’t said a word to her about anything you’re going through, but maybe if you told her what you’re dealing with-”

“What money?”

“I gave her money when the shit hit the fan, when you got there from St. Kitts and she sent it back to me. I told her to keep it and I’ve sent it back to her and then she sent it back to me again so we’re having this argument over text where the money flies back and forth between us like four times and finally I call her, and I know immediately something’s not right. And the thing that’s most not right is you, you big alphahole jerk.”

“I thought we were avoiding each other,” I defend. “Trying to keep things simple.”

Yeah, avoid her unless I can’t keep my hands off her.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Do about what?”

“God, you really are being dense, you know that?”

“I don’t know, Carly. Since I’m so dense, how about you spell it out for me?”

Fuck sakes.

“Think about it. And think hard because if you’re not interested, don’t go screwing around with her heart. And if you’re fucking her, believe me, her heart has gotten involved by default. Aiden and I will call in favors and get her another job and we’ll rent her an apartment if we need to so we can get her away from you.”

“No, don’t do that. I want her to stay.”

“I bet you do.”

“I’m not using her. Well… I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, you’ve failed miserably.”

“Shit.”

“So, don’t treat her bad or I will get her a new apartment and you’ll probably never see her again until one day when I get to be her bridesmaid and then I’ll torture you by showing you pictures of her with her happily-ever-after!”

“Ouch. Fuckin’ direct hit, Carly Adler. Err… Carmichael.”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to tell her what’s going on in your life, too, you know?”

“Carly, back off. I’m not sure I want to talk about that with anyone.”

“That’s your call. I’m just sayin’, she’d be sympathetic.”

Like I want anybody else’s fuckin’ sympathy.

“Anyway…” I try to push the conversation forward.

“So, anyway, good. Now…” she huffs. “How are you?”

I give my head a shake.

“How am I?”

“Yeah. I know you’re not having a great time right now, Austin. We’re here for you, you know. Want me and Aiden to come for the weekend? We’ll stay in a hotel and we can all do something together. Have some fun.”

My new sister-in-law is whacked. Ready to punch me out one minute, offering to come be my support system the next.

“No, that’s all right. Not this weekend. I mean, if you guys wanna come to New York and stay at your apartment, I’ll go out and-”

“No. No no, we’re not looking to come there unless we’re coming for you. I’d love to come for just Jada, but she’s probably gonna be with her father and we have stuff going on here. We’ll think about it in a couple weeks maybe. If you need us, call us.  Any word from the BFC?”

“The B-F-C?”

“Bitch-faced cunt.”

“Ha! Sienna? Not a thing.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah.” I agree. It is weird. But I’m sure it’s temporary.

“I wonder what her next move is. That girl is definitely playing chess, Austin.”

“She’s not smart enough for that, Carly.”

“That’s what Aiden says.”

“He would know. She’s barely smart enough for Checkers.”

“Hm. Grr.”

“Stay out of it,” I warn, not liking the sound of her ‘hm’. “You and Adele are staying out of it, right?”

“Of course we are. We wouldn’t want to put your court case in jeopardy. If she is pregnant with your baby, you’re dropping the charges, right?”

“Do you think I should?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I know. You said that at the hospital but what do you think? Really?”

“Adele doesn’t think you should, but she’s letting her anger at Sienna cloud her judgement. I do kind of think maybe you should consider it because I’m thinking of the baby. Though, that said, I’d fight for sole custody because she’s clearly not mentally stable. I’d fight for custody and make her see a therapist as a condition of her seeing that baby.”

That baby.

I grind my teeth.

“Anyway, if you need us we’re there. In a heartbeat. And Austin?”

“Hm?”

“You’re human, you’re under a lot of stress so you’re not thinking totally straight, but if you intentionally keep hurting Jada, I will know I’m wrong about you and that you’re not a decent person. Don’t make me be wrong about you, Austin, please.”

I sigh.

Two minutes after I end the call, I get a text from Carly. The message is the name of a hospital and it says Rahway, New Jersey.

Another text comes in a split second later.

Carly: In case you want to send flowers. Or something.

45

Jada

My father is being released against medical advice and he’s being a terrible patient.

Since he refuses to stay admitted, I’ve insisted that I go to the house with him and look after him, figuring what I’ll do is run back and forth between Austin and him. I’ll sleep there and during the day commute back and forth over to the condo and do any cooking, cleaning, and shopping that needs to be done. There’s no reason why I can’t do my job while I take care of my father.

I think Dad has only agreed in front of the doctors that I’ll be there because he thinks he’ll get a hard time if he doesn’t.  He’ll probably try to make me leave once he gets into that stupid recliner of his.

He’s had a mild stroke, but his test results revealed all sorts of warning signs and the doctors here have told him if he doesn’t make major lifestyle changes, he’s in big trouble. Beyond the mild stroke, he had a fender bender in his car when it happened because he lost control of his faculties for a minute and ran over a paper box, garbage can, and wound up with his fender wedged into the corner of a brick warehouse.

He’s only relieved it was his old pickup and not his Mustang.

He seems okay, physically, other than some stitches on his forehead from hitting his head, and it seems like he’s communicating slower. Despite that, he’s also making it known he doesn’t want my help.

“My sister died of a stroke,  my grandfather did, too. Might just be my fate, kid.”

“Not if I can help it. This was a big warning sign with flashing lights, Dad. And if you improve your lifestyle, you’re young enough that-”

“Bah!” He waves his hand.

I dig my heels in. “Dad, I’m coming with you, I said, now let’s go. I’m not gonna stay forever and drive you up the wall if you don’t want me to, but I’m staying for at least a week to make sure you’re all right. The first week after a mild stroke has the biggest chance for another more serious one.”

“When did you get so… mouthy?”

I roll my eyes.

When I get outside and am about to flag down a cab, I see Austin getting out of a NYC yellow taxi, heading toward me.

I’m shocked. I wait until he’s close enough to hear me ask, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Here. In New Jersey.

“I’m here to find out what’s happening, to see you.” He looks between me and my father, who’s sitting in a wheelchair, eyeing Austin with interest.

“My father had a car accident and a stroke, and I’ve got to stay with him for a couple days. I’m waiting on a taxi to get him home and then I’ll be over tomorrow to make dinner and drop off food, and then – shit, your lunch. Fuck, what if I make it while I’m at my dad’s and then I’ll bring it to you at work in the morning. I’ll do that. I’ll…”

“Jada. Fuck lunch. Here.” He waves at the car that dropped him off to come back. It pulls a U-turn to get to us.

“Do what you have to do. Text me when you get your dad settled. Hello, Sir. I’m Austin. Austin Carmichael.”

Dad looks at Austin like he’s grown horns or something.

“Rich Miller,” Dad says belatedly, extending his hand.

Austin shakes it. “Sorry you had a health scare, Mr. Miller. I’ll let you and Jada get going. Jada, text me, please?”

“Uh, yeah, all right,” I say and then I watch Austin spot my father as he carefully gets into the front seat of the taxi.

Dad allows this. Which is weird. Austin moves the wheelchair out of the way and closes Dad’s door.

I’m thrown.

“Text me,” Austin repeats and opens the back door.

I nod and get into the back seat and then Austin closes the door and taps the hood.

***

Two hours later, my phone signals an incoming text.

Austin: Is everything ok?

I stare at the phone for a few minutes before I make myself reply.

Me: Yes, thx. I’ll be there tomorrow to do what I need to do and grab some of my clothes and my computer. I’ll be staying here at night, but I’ll still do my job during the day, not to worry.

Austin: Why didn’t you tell me?

Ouch. Like you’d really want to know, Austin Groucho the Third. I sneer at my phone and put it down.

***

I’m sitting on the couch, watching the eleven o’clock news with my father, who’s sitting in his recliner, staring at the television with a miserable look on his face. Dad has been nodding for the past hour but refuses to go to bed until after the news.

“Want anything else to drink? More tea, Dad?”

“I want a beer, Jada.”

“You can’t have another beer, Dad.”

Dad mumbles something under his breath and lights a cigarette, staring at the TV.

He’s ignoring doctor’s orders to stop smoking, and he’s already told me to ‘lay off’ about it.

Then he looks at me and says, “Fuck this. This is my house and I’m havin’ a beer.”

He goes to the kitchen, moving slowly like he’s sore, likely from the whiplash of the car accident or maybe because his brain isn’t totally working properly, and gets himself a beer.

I roll my eyes as he sits back down in his creaky, old, smelly recliner.

Dad also wanted steak and eggs and home fries for dinner, but I made him skinless chicken and steamed vegetables. Dad isn’t real thrilled with me being his caregiver right now but that’s just too bad.

I haven’t talked to Dad about Shane yet. I don’t want him more upset. I also don’t want to get upset if he’s not upset. He hasn’t asked about him.

Apparently, Shane got his hands on a homemade shiv in jail and stuck his own throat, his leg, and his belly with it. A guard wrestled it off him before he could do more damage so now Shane is heavily medicated and in a psych ward while also being treated for his injuries. He’s got stitches but didn’t hit anything vital, thankfully.

I wasn’t allowed to see him, spent hours trying to get his lawyer to do something after being ignored when I raised concerns on the weekend and given a shitty excuse about the lawyer being ‘slammed with a heavy case load.’

I’ve written angry emails, sat on hold trying to talk to the guy’s superiors, and I’ve even done a phone consultation with two different lawyers to find out if I can somehow remotely afford some sort of defense lawyer.  And I can’t afford one.

It’s been a frustrating few days. I do not need to deal with Austin on top of it. I can’t process anything Austin-related right now including the fact that I had sex with him in the kitchen the other day while I was stress-cleaning.

I’m tucking all that deep into an off-limits compartment for now. To be reviewed and dissected later. Or never. Yeah, never sounds good.

I look around at the house I grew up in.

The house itself is covered in dust, filled with old newspapers, and only the bare minimum is being done. Dad doesn’t dirty a lot of dishes because he usually eats frozen dinners with disposable plates or has dinner at the bar a few blocks away. I have no idea when he last vacuumed the rugs in the living room or on the stairs, never mind mopped the floors.

Mopped. Yeah. That gives me a belly dip.

I’ve already decided there won’t be any more Miss Sweetheart and Mr. Groucho games. I can’t. I did it in the kitchen because I was weak and it felt good to give in, to let him take over and tell me what to do. Feeling him, and hearing his sounds, smelling his scent. I just gave myself over to experience what he could do to my body and let myself indulge in the beauty of making him come. Yes, for those few minutes, I forgot my worries about Shane and my heartbreak about Austin, but once I was lucid again I felt worse than ever. My heart can’t take it, so I can’t do it anymore. I have to be strong and say no.

I have to stop kidding myself that I can do this sex only thing with him.

I don’t want to be the girl that cries in the bathroom after sex, feeling ashamed. I don’t want this to continue to stifle my creativity – meaning all I can write about is him and what I want from him and can’t have.

Dad goes to bed at 11:31 after a loud beer belch without saying goodnight to me and I make sure the house is locked and head to my old room to crash. It’s empty, mostly, just my old bed and dresser in there but none of my personal effects.

When I’m ready for bed, I stare at the ceiling that’s covered with glow-in-the-dark star stickers and just one lonely tear rolls down my cheek before I fall asleep.

46

Austin

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be sitting in Jada’s room on her bed with her laptop open reading from the Austin Smut document.

But that’s what I’m about to be doing. She’ll pick this laptop up tomorrow, so I figure it’s my opportunity.

I should put it down. I should walk away.

God knows I have other things I could be doing, particularly if I really mean to not get in any deeper with this girl.

Instead of shutting the lid, I scroll to chapter four, and start reading, thinking that she should’ve learned her lesson and added a password to her computer. But I’m glad she didn’t.

My gut churns as I read the scene and it begins just like that night in her room with me showing up with the squeegee and the Windex. Only she didn’t call out ‘hard limit’ with me. Instead, she told me she was scared, and I looked into her eyes and asked her to trust me as I kissed her hand, and then she did. She trusted me while I fucked her against the glass and described it as the best orgasm she’d experienced with me so far because she knew she could trust me to keep her safe. And she described her fear. She described it in a way that I felt my stomach dip, feeling like I was dangling off a ledge staring down at traffic. The girl can write.

I almost made myself stop at that scene. Because the story has taken on a different quality. Still erotic, but…more than that.

I read and read, and read some more, sometimes with my pants getting tighter but toward the end with my jaw getting first tighter, then slack. When I get to the end of chapter nine, I have to pace the room for a while to calm myself.

Because the Austin Smut file has turned into a love story. And it’s sitting there unfinished.

And I’m sitting here without her.

I text message her.

Don’t worry about coming tomorrow for work. Take care of your father. I can manage here for the weekend. But I want to see you. Give me your father’s address and tell me when it’s a good time to come over. If you need anything, I’ll pick it up on my way.

It’s late, after midnight, but I give no fucks. After reading all I’ve just read, I need to see Jada. It’s taking everything in me – only because she’s taking care of her ill father - to not track her down and go to her right fucking now.

She writes back ten minutes later, and I realize the error of my play.

Jada: That’s really not a good idea. If you need to see me, I’ll come there. Unless you can just tell me in a text what this is about.

Me:  What time tomorrow, Jada? What’s the address?

My phone rings.

Jada calling.

“Hey.”

“You don’t need to come here, Austin. I’ll just make sure I’m there at five thirty or six or whenever you’ll be back and then you can talk to me then. Unless you just wanna say whatever it is now.”

“You don’t need to come here tomorrow, Jada. I’ll come see you.”

“Are you firing me?”

“No,” I say. “Absolutely not. You think I’m that much of a dick I’d fire you because you’ve got shit happening in your life?”

She doesn’t answer.

I lean back against her headboard and feel that for a second.

“I’m not that much of a dick, sweetheart.”

“I can’t play any more games with you,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I can’t… I can’t see you to play one of the games…the Groucho Sweetheart games, Austin. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Why?” I ask, like a jerk instead of telling her the truth – that the games we play aren’t why I want to see her.

“Let’s just say it’s not a great idea.”

“Let’s just say it’s not a great idea? How about you explain why? Why isn’t it a great idea?”

“Don’t make me answer that. I can’t…”

I hear her swallow hard, “I have too much going on right now, Austin, and I can’t pretend. It’s just not in me.”

“What if I don’t want you to pretend about anything?” I ask, feeling my heartrate pick up.

She holds the phone.

“Can’t do this on the phone, Jada. I wanna see you.”

“Austin, my father’s here at risk of killing himself because he’s not looking after himself and doesn’t want me here and my brother’s in a hospital because he’s trying to actually kill himself, and I’m not allowed to be there, and I just can’t do this right now. Or at all. You told me your life was complicated but won’t talk about it and well, mine is too but I’ve just spelled it all out to you, so now… the best thing I can do for my own sanity is to just do what I need to do to get through each day until you go home to California. Keep our distance. Keep things professional. Okay?”

“No.”

“Austin, I can’t pretend and I don’t want you to pretend just because you feel bad for me, so I have to go. Thanks for saying I don’t have to come over tomorrow, I could really use a day here to clean this pigsty. Please don’t fire me. I’ll be there Monday, doing whatever needs to be done.”

“Listen to me for a second…”

She keeps talking, “I really need this job and I’ll do it; I’ll keep your brother’s condo clean and stocked with food and dealing with your dry cleaning and whatever other errands you have and I’ll be there Monday, okay?”

“Jada, what’s the address? I’m coming there now. I need to-”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go. It’s just the job now, Austin. That’s all I can do. Bye.”

She hangs up before I can say anything else.

***

Monday

She’s been here today. The fridge is stocked with food and there are labeled containers in the freezer. She’s done a whack of cooking, probably at her father’s house, and dropped it all off, with six containers covering me for the next three days with lunch and dinner plus added milk, juice, and some smoothie stuff to the fridge. Every container has a sticker with purple marker and neat handwriting describing the contents, with today’s date in the corner. There are also four packs of pudding in the fridge.

I haven’t asked her to get me smoothie stuff, but I mentioned smoothies the other day and she obviously took note.

I kept the place clean so she wouldn’t have to worry about that and I would’ve told her she didn’t need to bring food, but I wanted to see her.

I got back from work early, four o’clock, since I had nothing to do but work all weekend so found myself ahead of schedule and hoped coming back early would mean she’d be here.

But she’s already been and gone, leaving a dish of curly pasta with tomato and cream sauce, Italian sausage and peppers for dinner in the fridge with a fresh baguette sitting on top of the microwave.

I eat the pasta, every single bite – like I haven’t eaten in a week,  staring out the window, even polish off almost a third of the loaf of bread, and then I get on my phone and do a search for Richard Miller. There are too many of them in that area of New Jersey.

I call Jude.

“Austin,” he answers. “What’s good?”

“Hey, man. Not much. How’s things?”

He chuckles. “Interesting.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirms. “But I can’t talk about it at the moment since I’m over here hunting.”

There’s laughter in his voice so I ask, “Hunting?”

“Yeah, hunting a blue-haired vixen.”

“Blue-eyed?”

“Yep. That, too. Blue haired and blue-eyed. Color of the week, evidently. You need something?” he asks, more laughter in his voice. This guy is obviously happy about the hunting.

“I wanted to see if you could track someone down for me.”

“Text the details.”

“You sure? You’re busy and I want the details fast.”

“I’ll have some dead time comin’ up soon before I start a surveillance gig tonight. If you can wait three or four hours, send me the details. I’ll see what I can do. If you need it now, you’re on your own.”

“All right man. A couple hours works. Happy hunting.”

He chuckles. “Oh yeah, there’s gonna be a happy ending.”

I end the call with a shake of my head.

I don’t wanna know.

Or I’m kinda curious, but I’m sure I’ll find out more later.

I text him:

Jada Miller, NJ. Prob 23-26 years old. Possibly Rahway NJ area. Father Richard Miller – late fifties or early sixties, I’m guessing. Brother Shane Miller (currently incarcerated). If you can get me Jada’s father’s address ASAP that’d be great.

And then I have a eureka and login to the HR server for work and pull up her employee file. I send Jude her social security number and her date of birth.

Three hours later he replies with an address.

I write back.

Me: Thanks man. Appreciated. Send me a bill.

Jude: I know who that girl is from overhearing Ally and Carly talk about her. The girls were planning to get involved to match you two up but said nature took its course fast once Carly insisted you two cohabitate. She was bragging to Ally and your sister. It’s a freebie. Took me two minutes. Good luck. You want a full investigation on her? I’ll take 50% off – F&F rate for you, bro.

Me: Not right now but thanks.

Good to know I get the friends and family rate if I find myself in need of Jude’s services.

47

Jada

Today, I got ahold of my brother’s friend Sedgewick, finally, and we moved my things to a storage locker. I shuddered when I saw that indeed, I’d have been living with not only that six-foot python, but also with Gramma the tarantula if I’d stayed there. And a giant seventy-odd year-old free-range tortoise named Koopa who was known for biting exposed toes, so people were advised not to walk around with open-toed footwear.

People had been sitting on my couch and using some of my boxes to sit on. A box of mine marked dishes/fragile had been rifled through and three of my white coffee mugs were sitting on the overflowing coffee table with the dregs of drinks and some cigarette butts in one of them. I was glad to get my things out of there.

Sedge wouldn’t take money for gas or let me buy a case of beer, but he told me he would definitely be calling me soon, asking to take me out or to come to a party at the warehouse.

I told him I wasn’t in the headspace for dating and he laughed it off and told me not to worry about it too much and that he’d give me a bit of time.

No thank you.

I’m still numb from my phone call with Austin where I spewed too much.

The truth? The idea of him coming to see me and saying all the right things would be incredible. But I already know Carly yelled at him; she admitted that to me. And I’m embarrassed about that, though I didn’t even give Carly crap because it’s obvious she just cares. I suspect Austin’s feeling pity for me right now, suspecting I caught feelings and maybe he’s just figuring he’ll try and see if he has any.

But truthfully, that’s not what I want, because I don’t want him making room for me and my feelings when that’s not what he wants. I don’t want him acting like boyfriend material when he really prefers to keep things casual. That wouldn’t be organic and it’s going to mean eventual resentment. He told me he couldn’t handle things because of his complicated life and I agreed to it. I’m not going to force it now - that would undoubtedly end in heartache.

Maybe not now, but eventually he’d be ready for something real. The problem is that he’s only here another month or two anyway before he goes back to California and his boat and his pool and whatever waits for him back there. Maybe that girl having his baby.

I haven’t asked Carly about that and I won’t.

She’s been calling or texting daily, being a good friend, though being really bossy and refusing to take the money I paid back, first telling me to make sure I’m on my feet and then trying to say it’s a gift.

Honestly, I didn’t mean for her to catch wind that things with me and Austin were fucked up. She just caught me in a moment. She asked if he and I were getting along, said she got the impression from him the other week that something might be blossoming, and I burst into tears.

Last night was a shit night. I had three of dad’s bar buddies here getting drunk with him, smoking cigars and cigarettes in the house. They’d taken him to the bar when I was in the kitchen making more Rice Krispie squares for my father to bribe him into eating some broccoli. It worked the other day. Those treats always seemed to cheer him up, ever since I was ten and made my first batch by following the recipe on the cereal box. While I was melting marshmallows, they just snuck him out like it was a jailbreak and then brought the party back here a couple hours later.

I waded through a cloud of stink and kicked them all out and my father tried to kick me out again. It’s the third time since I’ve been here that he’s looked me in the eye and told me to leave. It’s also the third time I’ve told him no. It’s weird saying no to a man I was raised to never disagree with. He doesn’t like it, but that’s too bad.

He still thinks of me as this little kid, this thorn in his side, only instead of being another mouth to feed and someone who he occasionally had to sign forms for, show up to the occasional teacher interview or shell out for shoes and clothes and the occasional dose of antibiotics or some vaccination or another.

I’m now the Fun Police, trying to make him eat vegetables that aren’t breaded and deep fried, trying to get him to stop smoking and boozing, and not letting him eat ten pudding cups a day. Instead, I’m eating them. Because a) I’m sad and b) he’s a fusspot who won’t eat half the ones I bought him because they’re not the right brand.

He’s not listening to me and I’m ready to throw in the towel and leave. But I’m afraid that if I do, he’ll be dead in a year or less.

I’ve spent hours cleaning this place that’s covered in a thick film of dust, grime, and tobacco smoke. It needs to be gutted and built back up from the studs.

The yard has nothing growing, the driveway is covered in oil stains and potholes. There are shingles falling off the roof, mold on the ceiling of Shane’s old room, and the front porch is ready to cave in.

And he doesn’t care. All his cares revolve around getting drunk, eating trashy bar food when he’s out or TV dinners and drinking and smoking when he’s home in front of the TV.

I’ve thrown out newspapers from two years ago.

I’m exhausted. And emotional.

The only thing I’ve done just for myself is go out once for coffee the other morning with Andrew and that wasn’t even entirely for myself because he asked me to run through his lines. Other than that, I went to my writer’s workshop and afterwards I had a quick coffee with Raven.

Otherwise, every free moment is looking after Dad, looking after Austin’s stuff (which hasn’t been that bad, but the commute has been a pain and a half), and trying to chase down lawyers and doctors and news about Shane in between.

My brother’s lawyer is either insanely overworked or extremely lazy and the doctor currently looking after him doesn’t seem any better.

“I don’t need you babysitting me, girl,” Dad shouts as I lock the door after his friends go. “I’m a grown man and if I wanna eat fries ‘n wings for dinner and chase ‘em down with Jack ‘n Coke then that’s what I’m gonna do. I paid for this house and everything in it with my own blood ‘n sweat and if I wanna put salt on my meat and eat three puddin’ cups, I have that right. You wanna stay here, this is my house and my fuckin’ rules and that includes me havin’ whoever I want over and me decidin’ what they get to do while they’re here.”

“For the tenth time, Dad, it’s not that I want to stay here, it’s that I’m trying to help you. This place is a health hazard and if you keep eating that garbage seven days a week, you’re gonna kill yourself.”

“That’s my choice, kid.” He jerks his thumb at himself.

“I’ll stay a few more days, Dad, finish getting the inside as ship-shape as I can and then I’ll come by once a week and do some cooking and cleaning. How’s that?”

“Why the hell for?” he snaps.

“Because you’re my dad.”

He rolls his eyes. “You need to get out there ‘n live your own life. You should be shacked up, having brats of your own by now.”

“If I had a husband and kids I’d still be here right now, because you’re my father.”

“What’s that guy that came to the hospital to you? That your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“He already married? Treatin’ you like a side-piece?”

“No, Dad. That’s the guy I work for. It’s a temporary job and it comes with room and board. I told you about this. I’m gonna probably need another job in two more months; maybe I’ll get something half way between here and there so that I can-”

“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

My father is stubborn. So stubborn.

“Should give him your doe eyes. He seems like a good guy.”

I jolt. Doe eyes? I have doe eyes?

“And where’s yer brother, anyway? He still in jail? He go to court yet?”

“He’s in the hospital. He tried to hurt himself just before you had that stroke, so he’s being carefully watched while treated. I’m trying to get his doctor changed to someone who’s willing to try to find him a better medication regimen. He still has court coming.” I lean against the wall in the doorway.

“Medication,” he scoffs.

“Don’t start, Dad.” I cross my arms.

“Hurtin’ himself. He’s just like his mother was. All fuckin’ mushy. Candy ass.”

I stare at him.

“Was?”

Dad looks at me for a second longer than he usually does, and then rolls his eyes.

“Was? What happened to her? Is she still alive?”

“Is, was, who knows what happened to her? I sure as fuck couldn’t care less. She left because she had her head in the clouds and I had two feet firmly here on planet earth.” He shrugs and changes the channel to sports.

I sigh.

“You look just like her,” he mumbles. “Thank God you’ve got better sense.”

I blink in surprise.

A backhanded compliment?  That’s the closest thing to a compliment I can ever remember getting from him.

And the comment explains a lot.  A lot of why he rarely looks at me when he’s talking to me. The way he just looked at me was the longest amount of eye contact I think he’s made in years.

What made them even get together? Was it her doe eyes that hypnotized him? Did they have anything in common? Was there a time when they were happy? When he was more than this miserable, neglectful, negative person? Shane and I are four years apart in age, so was there a period of bliss for them before it went bad?

I feel like I need therapy, suddenly.

I give my head a shake at the sound of the doorbell ringing to bring myself back to reality. It’s after ten o’clock. If Dad’s friends are back, I’m going to lose it.

I go to the front door and open it.

“Andrew. Oh…hey.”

He’s smiling, holding up two cups of take-out coffee.

“I got the part!” he exclaims.

“Oh my gosh! Congrats!”

He hugs me awkwardly, coffees in each hand, and then he backs up with coffee sloshing down one of his hands.

“Ouch,” he groans.

“Omigod, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He shakes his hand and backs up as I come outside. “I’m off tonight and figured you could probably use a decent coffee, and I was excited and had to share my news, so… I got this for you.” He passes me one.

“Oh. Um… thanks. I don’t think I can drink this, though. I’ll be up all night.”

“Shoot.” He flashes a grin. “Us night people are really societal outcasts. Sorry.”

I snicker. “I’ll heat it up in the morning. I’m sure it’ll be way better than the instant dishwater coffee my father insists is perfectly acceptable. Coffee is not coffee. Am I right?”

“So right. He doing any better?” he asks.

I shake my head. “He’s so cantankerous.” I sit down on the step and Andrew sits beside me.

It’s kind of a tight fit for us to sit side by side. Too close for comfort for me, anyway.

The other day he flagged a taxi for me after I dropped stuff off for Austin and picked up some clothes and my laptop. I guess he paid attention to the address I gave the cab driver before the car pulled away.

I’m not sure how to feel about him being here, and I’m about to stand back up to get a little bit of personal space when a car stops at the curb.

I tilt my head curiously.

Austin gets out of the back seat.

Austin? What? What on earth?

His eyes flash with anger as they bounce between me and Andrew, sitting side-by-side on my front step.

He licks his teeth behind his upper lip as he strides toward me.

I stand up.

“Hi. Um, what’s up?” I ask.

“Austin,” Andrew greets.

Austin shoots Andrew a look of annoyance. “Hey, man. Jada, can I talk to you?”

I look between the two of them.

Andrew smiles at me.

Austin’s face is on the verge of melting not just paint – concrete.

“Um, to be completely honest, you’ve both shown up here after ten o’clock at night unannounced and my father’s sitting in there in a snit, and… uh, I have stuff to do before I crash, so I’m sorry, but…gotta say goodnight to you both.”

“Come see me tomorrow,” Austin says, eyes blazing at me and his voice in that commanding Austin Groucho the Third tone. I have to fight to stand tall and not just fall to my knees at his feet. Crumbling? Submitting? No idea which it’d be. Why does looking at him hurt right now?

“I have stuff on the go tomorrow. I…”

“You need to come to the apartment and see me. It’s important,” he states. “Doesn’t matter what time. Whenever you can come. Just text when you’re on the way.”

“Let’s just do this now then.”

“No,” his eyes flash with annoyance, “You’re right. It’s late. Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I reply. “Maybe you guys can share a cab back.”

“I don’t live in Central Park West, Jada,” Andrew says, smiling big, like it’s the biggest joke going. “I share a small basement apartment with one tiny window with two other guys. Oh hey… I wanted to ask if that check cleared for that deadbeat boss. I mean, the other one. Other boss, I mean.” He shoots Austin an apologetic look.

“Yeah. No problems,” I say.

“What?” Austin asks, shooting Andrew a death-glare.

I wave my hand. “My old boss from the coffee cart paid me. It’s a long story. Guys, I’m goin’ in. Thanks for checking in but my hands are full here, so…” I let that hang and grab the door handle.

“Goodnight, Jada,” Andrew says. “I got the Starbucks girl to write my number on your cup. Call me if you need anything.”

“Oh…” I examine the cup. It’s darkish out here but yep, there’s a phone number written in black marker down the side.

Austin’s doing something on his phone. “I got a rideshare coming for us. I’ll drop you off, Andrew.”

“That’s all right, buddy, like I said, I don’t live near you.”

“It’s all right. I’ll go out of my way,” Austin tells him, and Austin’s voice has taken on a slightly dangerous tone.

I think Austin has the wrong idea about Andrew and me and he wants Andrew leaving no later than he does.

“No need. I’ll just head out on foot now. Good night, guys.”

“Congrats on the part. Good night,” I say and without giving Austin time alone with me, I go inside and immediately lock the door.

A minute later, I’m peeking out from behind the broken set of blinds on the window beside the door.

He’s getting into a white car. He looks back and sees me standing there as he pulls away.

Why did he come here?

What would’ve happened if Andrew hadn’t been here?

I go into the living room and my father is sleeping in his chair.

I jiggle his shoulder.

“Dad?”

“Lindsay?” Dad grumbles and his face goes pained.

The look on his face is physically painful for me to witness.

Lindsay is my mother’s name.

“Dad?” I urge, jiggling him again.

Dad sits up straighter. “What?”

“You were sleeping. You wanna go to bed and get more comfortable?”

“I gotta catch my news.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed. Night.”

“Yep.”

I sigh and head up the stairs.

My phone dings in my pocket so I slide it out when I get into my old room.

Austin: What the fuck was the security guard doing there?

I blink in surprise.

Me: He’s my friend. He was checking to see if I’m ok and he came to share some good news.

Austin: Your friend?

Me: Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.

Austin: He wants into your pants.

“What and you don’t” I ask the screen instead of texting it.

I roll my eyes and flop onto the creaky old bed. I’m sleeping like garbage here. Not only because of the crap-tastic shit-storm that’s my life right now, but also because this bed has been in this room since I was twelve years old when Dad bought it for me because my old bed had a spring coming through. Dad bitched and complained about paying for this mattress, too, like it cost him the last two dimes he’d ever make.

It was a white-on-white silky floral pattern and I’d thought it was so beautiful when I first got it. Now it’s kind of a beigey color. And uncomfortable.

I lay down for a minute and Groucho texts again, giving me both dread and a thrill altogether.

I want you at the apartment at six tomorrow. Be there.

I roll my eyes.

Me: Why?

Austin: Because I said so.

Me: That’s not fair.

Austin: 6:00, Jada. I mean it.

48

Austin

What am I doing today at six o’clock? I’m making her dinner. That’s all I’ve got so far.

I went into the office at seven this morning to make sure I got all my shit done. I’ve interviewed three candidates to run the New York operation. And I’ve promoted Blake, a guy who interned at our San Diego office to general manager. It’s ruffling a few feathers, he’s just over a year out of college and just four or five months ago was an intern, but the guy is organized, numbers-oriented, and I trust him.

The way I’ve been working my ass off and lining up the reorg, I might even be able to get out of here after two months instead of three.

Though that presents other problems if that happens, so I’m not thinking too much about that yet. For a switch, I’m not dying to get out of New York and that’s because of Jada.

What I am thinking about is that I don’t know what happens beyond dinner tonight. Don’t know what I’m gonna say to her. I know I have to do something to stop the bleeding on this thing with her though, settle it, and I figure I’ll know when she’s here with me what that’s gonna take.

She walks in on time and her eyes land on me with surprise.

“Good timing. Dinner’s gonna be ready in twenty. Wine?” I ask.

She hangs her jacket and her purse up and takes in the space with surprise.

“Dinner?”

“I’m making you dinner. Take a load off.”

Frankly, Jada looks like something the cat dragged in. And I suspect that’s by design… that she doesn’t want me looking at her sexually. She’s in baggy sweats with a bleach stain on the knee and her hair is in a sloppy ponytail. Still, I know I’m heading in the right direction with this effort I’m making because I still want to fuck her. And do more than fuck her. I want her. Period.

“You don’t need to make me dinner, Austin.”

“Too bad because that’s what I’m doing.”

I’ve got Fleetwood Mac on the stereo, candles on the island, and flowers in a vase as well as placemats set with our dinner plates and cutlery out.

I pour her a glass of wine.

“Why’d you do this?” She looks around with suspicious eyes.

“You’ve been busy taking care of your father, taking care of me. Trying to take care of your brother. Tonight, I’m taking care of you.”

“I look like shit,” she whispers.

Her eyes are filling with tears.

And I’m having a different reaction than I usually do to a woman’s tears. Usually, they irritate me or make me wanna run the other way. The idea of Jada crying has me wanting to find a way to make her laugh, make her smile, make her feel the opposite of what she’s feeling.

“It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. Sit down and let me look after you.”

Panic spreads across her face. “I’ll change,” she says and then she disappears down the hall, grabbing for her purse and nearly knocking the hall tree down.

Looking frazzled, she rights it and takes off into her room.

I’m relieved she hasn’t taken all her clothes to her father’s. I looked the other day to make sure when she took her computer she didn’t take everything else.

I’ve got the food served when she comes out, wearing jeans and a nice sweater. She’s got makeup on and her hair is tamed into a tidier ponytail. She looks like she made a bit of effort, put in a pair of earrings, but she’s playing it off as casual.

The next thing she says proves this point.

“I didn’t want to look like a slob since you went to some effort, but you should know I don’t wanna be here. I’m here because you told me to come and it felt like a boss-style order crossed with a Mr. Groucho the Third order and I’m telling you I’m here as your employee, not as your-”

“As my sweetheart?”

“Right.” Her face turns red and she grabs her wine and takes a healthy mouthful as she climbs up on the stool. Then she does a double take. “Um, wow.”

“Wow?”

“This food… did you make all this?”

“Yeah. I hope it tastes okay. I probably should’ve done a test run, first.”

“You’ve never made this before?” She’s blinking at her plate.

“Nope. I watched a video and followed a recipe. Dig in.”

I sit beside her and dig into mine. I made beef wellington, asparagus, and roasted Parisienne potatoes with fresh herbs. I’ve been at it since three o’clock getting it all prepped.

“I made dessert, too,” I tell her.

“You did?”

“Well, I mean, I’m gonna put pudding cups into fancy bowls and spray whipped cream on them and blend up some M & M candies for on top. Fancy, right?”

“Very fancy,” she smiles and looks like she’s fighting laughter, “but please don’t say the word pudding to me.” She raises her hand.

“Why?”

“You found all that pudding I put in the fridge obviously.”

“Obviously. Not to mention you’ve been putting them in my lunch, too.”

“Well, my father is a pudding junkie. He demands four varieties in the fridge at all times, goes through them like a crackhead probably goes through crack but he has brand preferences depending on the flavor.  All the wrong ones are the ones in this apartment because I bought,” she holds up her fingers in air quotes, “shit brands.”

“I like shit-brand pudding,” I shrug. “And that’s what we’re having for dessert.”

She laughs.

And I want to make her laugh and smile some more. A lot more.

“Sooo… did you really make this? Or did you order it in and put it on plates and sprinkle this fancy parsley on it so you can pretend you made it?”

“I made it,” I say, fake-insulted. “Look at the mess of the oven and check the trash for raw ingredient refuse.” I slice into the pastry covered steak.

I’m impressed with how it looks. Let’s see how it tastes.

She slices into hers and pops a bite into her mouth.

She slumps in her stool and moans.

And the sound goes straight to my dick.

“Oh, wow, that’s good,” Jada says and then forks up an asparagus spear.

She’s right. It’s good. I did all right.

“Like I said, it’s hit or miss when I cook. Today’s a hit.”

“Yay,” she says with a smile.

“How’s your father?” I ask her. “Other than fascinated with pudding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Worst patient ever.”

“Really? Vent away.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.” She waves her hand.

“No, seriously. Talk to me.”

She eats a bite of asparagus and looks down at her plate.

I take a bite of potato and wait.

Damn good potatoes, too.

She immediately forks into her potato and takes a bite instead of talking to me. She stares at the remaining potato on her fork to avoid eye contact.

I try again. “And how’s your brother? What’s happening there?”

She looks at me with suspicion.

“He doing okay?” I ask. “Carly said he was in the hospital.”

“No. He’s not okay. He’s suicidal. And his doctor is useless. His lawyer is lazy.”

“Lazy lawyer? Fire him.”

“It’s the public defender. Not like we have a choice in that matter. I’ve tried to get a new one.”

I frown.

“Everybody’s too busy to give a shit,” she continues, “And I’m so frustrated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Damn.”

She saws off another bite of wellington and chews and swallows it quickly, like she’s rushing so she can talk again.

“It’s just… he’s gonna fall through the cracks, you know? He’s not gonna get the medicine he needs and if he doesn’t get the right care he’s never gonna get better. If his lawyer doesn’t do the right things, he will end up in jail for a long time and he’s going to wilt and die like a neglected houseplant in there. My brother needs sunshine and encouragement and professional help and the right doctor who will take time to find him the right medication mix, not just throw something at him that turns him into a zombie to be ignored. His doctor prescribed a new set of meds and they made Shane feel worse and no one was on top of it or gauging his moods, so he tried to hurt himself. And they’re still not listening. He doesn’t need to be strapped to a bed and just left there so that he won’t hurt himself, he needs someone to listen to him, to help him find the right medicine, to put him on a path to health and emotional wellness. He had this one doctor at the clinic he used to go to that was using a great approach that seemed like it might be helping but he went off it too soon and… anyway, it’s frustrating. No one’s taking it seriously enough because they think he’s just looking for attention, I think. But I know he’s deeply depressed. I know it, and I worry he’s really going to hurt himself in a way that can’t be undone. My father thinks it’s bull-puckey, like he just takes after our mom.”

She gives her head a shake and then takes another big sip of her wine.

“What’s the deal with your mom?”

My phone rings.

I don’t even look at it.

“You can get that if you need to,” she says.

“No. I’m spending time here with you. What’s the deal with your mom?”

Nothing feels more important than this right now. She’s saying she doesn’t want to talk, but she keeps talking. Maybe if she does, she’ll feel better. And maybe I’ll find words to say some things to her that need to be said.

“I don’t know,” she says. “She walked out the door when I was nine and that’s the last I saw of her. I think that really fucked Shane up, too – growing up without a mom. Especially when our father was such a… an unemotional old-fashioned man who thought his job was to go to work and leave the family stuff to the woman he married. Spare the rod and spoil the child attitude. You know? Not that Mom was super-nurturing, but at least she was around.”

There’s a knock on the apartment door. We both look that way. Weird, there was no buzzer from the front desk.

I get up and go answer it. Sienna is standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.

“We have to talk.” She walks past me into the apartment before I get a chance to stop her.

“Isn’t this cozy?” she snaps. “A date? Really?” She looks at Jada in a way that has my teeth on edge.

“It’s not a-” Jada starts.

“Yes, it fucking is,” I correct.

Jada jerks back, wide-eyed.

“You need to go. Now,” I tell Sienna and open the door wider, signaling for her to leave.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Then phone me.”

“I’ve been phoning. You don’t answer.”

“Wait, better yet, do it through lawyers,” I grit out.

“You don’t want to play it this way, Austin.”

She puts her hand on her flat stomach.

I roll my eyes.

“I have to go,” Jada hops down off her stool.

“Don’t move a muscle,” I warn, pointing at her. “Sienna, leave.”

“We need to sit down and talk stuff over, Austin. You know this.”

“Not right now we don’t. You don’t get to come here and demand I drop what I’m doing.”

Jada grabs her coat and shrugs it on, looping her backpack bag over both her shoulders. “I’m going. Talk to you later.” She tries to pass me, so I grab her hand and hold on.

“No. She’s leaving; you’re not.”

“Austin, for real.” Jada jerks her chin at Sienna. “It’s fine. You can talk to me whenever.” She waves her free hand.

I squat, put my shoulder to Jada’s belly, and haul her up over my shoulder. She gasps and calls out my name, but I ignore it. I turn around and storm to the end of the hall, shove the door to the master bedroom open, and deposit Jada on the bed. “Stay here. Don’t move,” I point.

“Aust-”

“I mean it. Stay here.” I turn around and close the door.

Sienna stands in the same place, arms folded across her chest.

“Just wanna say, that caveman shit is hot.” She smirks. “Feel free to carry me to your bed any time. Or, I mean, soon because in a couple months, that might prove a little tricky as I start to get fat.”

“You need to go. Shouldn’t you be in the state of California? Or… you want the state of California to revoke?”

“I took my father’s plane. It’s fine; no one has to know. It’s your fault for not coming to see me. You can make all this go away, too, and then I don’t have to worry about it. Here.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a zippered bag and hands it to me. “See?”

It’s a pregnancy test inside and there’s a plus sign on the side.

I hand it back to her.

“This is the truth, Austin. I’m telling you. I’m showing you. Please, let’s just make this end.” She puts the test down on the island.

“How do I know it’s yours?”

She rolls her eyes. “Go get another test and I’ll pee on it.”

“How do I know it’s mine?”

“Actually, you don’t. But I told you I know my cycles, and…”

“In another month, we can do a paternity test,” I say. “Until then…” I let that hang. I fold my arms over my chest and jerk my chin toward the door.

“I want this dealt with, Austin. Can you understand that? We don’t need to go to court for this. That court date looming won’t be good for me or the baby. All that stress…”

“Of course you don’t want to face consequences for your actions, Sienna. You’re a spoiled little rich bitch used to getting her own way. Imagine having that go sideways? You can’t.”

“Austin, I’m sorry for what I did to you,” she says, looking me dead in the eye. “I was fucked up over your brother and all kinds of other crap going on in my life and I was drunk and pissed off, and made a kneejerk decision. A bad one. What I did was stupid and wrong. And I’m sorry that you’re so mad. I never expected this reaction from you. Never in a million years.”

“You expected me to let it go?”

“Yes, frankly. Because you’re a great guy. I might be a spoiled rich bitch and I was in love with your rich prick of a brother, but you’re different. And you might not remember that night, but I do, and even though I was drunk, I remember how great it felt to wake up next to you. And I’ve always liked you, Auz. You grew up good. I don’t see Aiden’s little brother when I look at you now. I see you. And maybe if your mother and brother hadn’t come in, we’d have woken up and talked about what happened and we could’ve started something.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m naïve enough to believe that. Or remotely interested in you. And if you’d gotten my brother instead I’m sure you wouldn’t be giving him the same apology. You’d be gloating that you cost him Carly and you’d be trying to plan out your shotgun wedding of convenience with him even if he hates your guts because you’re the type who has to win.”

She’s a lot like my mother, sadly.

She waves her arms. “Well, none of those things happened. You and me happened. And I don’t know what to say, Austin, except that I fucked up and I’m sorry, and besides that - there’s a baby involved. My mother won’t get out of bed; she’s that worried about me, my dad’s burning a hole in his stomach lining with worry and that’s my fault, so I’m here trying to make it right.”

“You need to go. You came here uninvited, got in the middle of an important conversation, and this conversation is over.”

“You’re rushing me out to get back to low budget Taylor? Please.” She rolls her eyes.

And I want to tell her to shut up. Because not once have I looked at Jada and thought about Taylor. Not even once. And there’s nothing low-class about Jada whatsoever.

“She looks like she came from the bargain bin instead of the top shelf.”

“You’re not real good at groveling, are you, Sienna? Say another bad word about Jada and you’ll regret it.”

She covers her eyes and sighs dramatically.

“You need to leave,” I tell her.

“Will you think about what I’ve said? Even if you stay mad, I know you’re not the kind of guy to make me give birth in prison. Whether it’s your baby or not, and believe me Austin, I’m sure that it is, I know you’re a better person than me and if you do this, your child will be born to parents who are no better than one another. Be better than me.”

“Go.”

“Will you think about it?”

“If I say yeah, will you go?”

“If you mean it.”

“I mean go.”

“If you mean you’ll think about it.”

“Fine. Bye.” I wave toward the hallway.

She grabs her bag and coat and then leans in.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up. And I really, really like you. I think it’d be awesome to raise a kid with you. If you’re not down with that, fine, but I’ve always sworn I’m gonna be a way better mom than mine was, than yours is, and I can only do that if I’m not in prison for making a stupid decision because I was drunk and heartbroken.”

She turns and leaves.

Fuck, I do not want to raise a kid with her. Not at fucking all.

I stand there a minute thinking about the possibility of it with sickness brewing in my gut.

And then I head down the hall and find Jada sitting in my bed, cross-legged, looking at her phone.

I close the door behind myself.

“I’m sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Did you hear any of that?”

She shakes her head. “No. I probably would’ve if you’d put me in my bed instead of yours, but no. I didn’t put my ear to the door, either.”

Maybe it would make things easier if she had heard.

She sighs. “No. You’re right, it’s actually not fine for you to act like you’re Tarzan and I’m Jane, but it’s fine that you needed to talk to her. I want to go now. I’m not sure why you asked me to come here, and dinner was a nice gesture, but Austin, we need to keep things strictly professional.”

“No,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Uh, yeah, we do. I’m not built for sexy role-playing games with my unattainable boss.”

“Why am I unattainable? I’m right here, wanting to have dinner with you and it’s you that’s trying to leave.”

“Emotionally unattainable,” she says.

“I don’t want to be,” I tell her with a hundred per cent honesty.

“Well, it’s too bad that you are. Because you are. And I have to go.”

She gets up and I block her.

“Austin, for real. You’ve got that full plate, so have I. We’re not simpatico.”

“No? What makes you say that?” I ask.

“Ugh. I’m leaving.”

“Why won’t you answer me?” I push.

“Why is it up to me?” she demands.

I swallow as she waits, as her eyes bore into me, searching my face. What’s she searching for? Truth? Authenticity?

Her mouth twists with disappointment and she throws her hands up in the air. “You’re completely closed off. You invited me here and want me to do all the talking. You might not be doing it just to keep playing this game with us, but I’m of the belief that someone backed into a corner feeling an ultimatum is either going to pick the easier road for themselves or they’re going to resent the person giving them the ultimatum eventually because they were forced to take a harder road. I’m not built for what you want me for but for some reason you want to pretend you’re flexible, but you’re just going to eventually get tired of this and then I’m the one getting hurt, so no. I’m saving us both a lot of trouble here. There’s no ultimatum, no nothing. We’re just – we have to keep it professional.”

“That’s whacked. You don’t know any of that’ll happen. What if-”

“I’m going.” She pushes past me and leaves. I follow her to the front door.

“When are you moving back in here?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” She eyes the pregnancy test now sitting beside my dinner plate and the sadness on her face – I feel it in my gut.

“It might be better to stay with my dad.” Her mouth contorts sourly but she tries to hide it. She doesn’t want to live with her father.

“I want us to talk about this,” I try.

“No, No!” She’s lost her temper now. She points at me and raises her voice. “You haven’t had any sort of come-to-Jesus moment. You’re not explaining yourself, talking to me about your life and your thoughts, explaining anything about your life to me - you’re just standing there talking in circles with me so that I give in and you still give me nothing. I’ll see you when I see you. If you need anything related to my job, please text and I’ll take care of it. I’ll be back tomorrow to clean.”

“The place is spotless. Are you saying I didn’t clean it well?” I try for a joke.

She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even smile. Her face falls further.

I’m fucking this up and I can’t make myself fix it.

“I’m saying it’s my job to clean it. And that’s what I’m gonna do. Again, please don’t fire me. Goodnight.”

She storms out and I’m furious with myself. I choked. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what I want to say. Because I have no fucking idea what I want to say.

I’m broken. I’m fucked up. I’m so fucking into you that I can’t find the words to convey it.

I am so into her.

I have to get my fuckin’ foot out of my mouth and find a way to talk to her. Tell her I read more from the smut file that’s not only smut, but that I want the ending. And I have to tell her the shit that’s been eating me up, so she’ll know that’s why I’m fucked up right now.

I decide to follow her. I jog down the hall to catch up.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I stop the closing elevator door with my hand and get in.

“I’m making sure I get you into a cab.”

“Andrew can do that.”

I growl. “Fuckin’ Andrew. I’ll get you a goddamn cab.”

“Why are you rippin’ on Andrew?” she demands.

“You know why,” I lean in.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so off base.”

The doors open and we’re looking at him sitting there at his desk eyeballing us.

I want to rip his face off.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey,” I say and follow her out, crowding her with my arm around her.

She shrugs me off and it has me steaming.

“Everything okay?” Andrew rounds his desk and follows.

“Yeah, I’m just going home. Austin’s apparently getting me a taxi.”

Andrew looks at me skeptically.

“I’m not sure this body language he’s got right now makes me feel comfortable,” Andrew says to her like I’m not even here.

“Are you fucking kidding me here?” I snap.

“You’re acting awfully aggressive right now, Austin,” Andrew says condescendingly.

“Listen asshole,” I shove him. “Back off.”

“Whoa, stop it.” Jada gets between us.

“One phone call and you lose your job,” I warn. “You’re outta line.”

“I’m out of line for asking a question when I see someone acting aggressive toward someone I’m concerned about? Not sure how that’s out of line. Certainly not like shoving someone for making an observation.”

“Why did you let that redhead up without buzzing me?”

“What redhead? The one who just left in the stilettos? I don’t know when she got here.”

He’s full of shit.

I point at him. “You’re full of shit. You let her up hoping she causes shit with Jada and me.”

I turn to follow Jada, but she’s gone. I see a cab pulling away from the curb.

Fuck.

“Fuck you, Andrew,” I growl and storm back to the elevator, which is still sitting there so it takes me back upstairs.

He says nothing. I glare at him as the doors close.

Yeah, he’s saying nothing because Jada isn’t here to hear it.

49

Jada

It’s been a week since I walked out on Austin’s beef Wellington. I haven’t seen or talked to him, but I have been to the apartment twice to do my job. He even left me a note asking me to buy a new vacuum for the apartment. Apparently he broke the other one.

He shouldn’t be cleaning the apartment, doing my job, but I said nothing, just ordered the new one with the company credit card and put a checkmark in the margin of his note.

Right now I’m at the kitchen table at my father’s house and I’m still in shock over how today went.

I got a call a few days ago from a lawyer who told me my employer, Carmichael Consulting, referred me as part of their EAP, their Employee Assistance Program. I’m entitled to legal services up to an amount approved by my employer, so he’s given me a phone consultation to get things started, saying they’d send a quote to my human resources department and let me know what’s covered.

I called Carly to thank her, and she said it wasn’t her that referred that law firm. She said she’d ask Aiden, said she hadn’t even thought of it like that but that technically I am employed by Carmichael Consulting and not just Austin Carmichael as I had been when I worked for just Aiden, so it made sense that I got access to legal resources.

She texted me a half an hour later to tell me it wasn’t Aiden that did it.

That leaves Austin.

I had a lengthy argument with myself about whether or not I should say something to him.

I decided not to.

The same day, I also got a strange call from a Dr. Lexington telling me she’d gotten a referral to Shane’s case from a lawyer. She said if her application to the courts is successful, Shane could be moved to the facility she’s at and put under a program she helps run.

This doctor spent over half an hour on the phone asking questions about him and explaining that this pilot project is at a mental health center and the application’s success could mean customized help for Shane in a hospital instead of a prison. She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about and actually gives a damn. I gave her the name of the doctor and clinic Shane was working with and having okay results with so that she can confer.

It’s like a weight is off my shoulders. Not the entire weight, but some of it.

Then the lawyer sent me an email today to tell me I qualify for ten thousand dollars’ worth of hours with his firm and that he will do everything he can to try to help me within that amount of money so that it doesn’t cost me anything over that. I told him I won’t have anything over that to spend and he says that if I want to go back to legal aid at that point, most of the work will be done. I should sign up immediately.

He sent me an email with the ten-thousand-dollar voucher. Reading the fine print; I had concerns, so I called him back.

“I’m a temporary employee. I’ll only be working for them for three months and I’m worried you won’t get paid because-”

“They’ve approved it.”

“I should make sure it’s not an oversight.”

“Feel free to do that.”

Against my better judgement, I text Austin.

Me: Hi. I got contacted about the EAP for legal advice for Carmichael Consulting employees. Do I qualify for that?

Austin: Yes, you do.

Me: They’re trying to tell me I get 10K worth of legal services that I can use for my brother. I’m a temp employee. Surely that’s wrong.

Austin: It’s not. I approved it. Don’t worry about it. Those lawyers are on retainer. Use them. Get your brother the help he needs.

Me: Why are you doing this?

Austin: Can’t chat right now. Headed into a meeting.

I bite my lip in contemplation and then I respond to the email from the lawyer and tell them I’ll happily use their services. The lawyer calls promptly to tell he’ll get in to see Shane as soon as possible. I tell him about the call from Dr. Lexington and he says he’ll liaise with her and do what he can to expedite Shane being moved to her facility.

An hour later, the lawyer emails and tells me not to get my hopes up but there’s a possibility that Shane will get a plea deal and be able to serve that deal at Dr. Lexington’s hospital instead of in prison.

I tell myself not to hope but I break down in tears of relief anyway.

***

The Next Evening

I come back from my writing workshop after coffee with Raven and Andrew. I walk into my father’s house and find him face down on the living room floor. Shakily, I call 9-1-1.

But it’s too late. My father is gone.

50

Austin

My phone rings while I’m getting ready for work.

Jada calling.

She’s up early.

I answer it.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t work today.”

“Okay,” I say.

The kitchen is full of food and the apartment is clean, so I’m perplexed with why she’s calling to say this, especially this early.

She holds the phone, not saying anything.

Something’s not right.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Jada?” I prod after a long beat.

It takes almost a full minute for her to speak.

“My father had what they think was a massive stroke last night. He’s… gone.”

Fuck.

“Where are you?”

“In his house. I have to… I have to make arrangements, and I don’t know how long it’ll all take for everything, so-”

“I’m coming over.”

“Oh. Uh, no, don’t. It’s okay, I…”

“I’m on my way.” I hang up.

***

When I pull into the driveway with the rental car, she appears on the porch looking confused.

“I rented it. You’re gonna need to do a bunch of running around,” I say, answering her unspoken question.

She doesn’t just look confused, she looks wrecked.

She rubs her eyes with her fingertips.

I climb the steps onto the porch and pull her into a hug. She’s stiff though. She doesn’t lean into me, she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t do anything. She just stands there.

“C’mon.” I pull the screen door wide and usher her inside.

The place is small, cramped, old, a little musty smelling.

We’re in a small foyer and straight ahead to the left is a family room and dining room combination. To the right is an eat-in kitchen. In the middle is a narrow stairway going straight up.

I follow her into the kitchen where the kettle is whistling on the avocado-colored stove.

“You want some coffee? Instant. My father doesn’t have a coffee maker. Didn’t. Didn’t have…”

“Hey, why don’t you sit. I’ll make you one. Talk to me.”

“I’ve had enough coffee. More than enough.” She says this bitterly.

I turn the dial on the stove to off and move the screaming kettle to the next burner.

She sits at the little table, sticking her palms between her knees, shoulders slumping.

“Talk to me. What happened?”

She blinks a couple times.

I wait, seeing she needs patience here. The look on her face hurts. It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut.

“I came back last night,” she says softly, like she doesn’t want anyone to hear, “and he was face-down on the rug in front of his chair. My mom used to say he’d probably die in that chair. And it looks like he did. But he f-fell out.” She makes a choking sound that I think might turn into tears, but it doesn’t happen.

She stares into the void like she can still see him the way she found him. I move closer and squat, putting my hands on her shoulders. She looks up at me and her pretty eyes are bloodshot.

“You’ve been up all night.”

She nods slowly. “It took time for them to come get him and take him to the… the…” she lets that hang. “I called you after they left.”

I pull her up into my arms and tip her chin up.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

No tears, just a vacant expression. She’s been through trauma. It hasn’t hit her fully yet. She stares at my face blankly, blinking slowly for a minute before she shrugs.

“They took so long to come and I just… I just sat here at this table drinking cup after cup of crappy coffee.”

“You should’ve called me,” I say, cupping her jaw.

She frowns and backs away from me, staring at me like she can’t figure something out.

She shivers. Her teeth chatter.

“You need sleep,” I say, taking a step closer and touching her face. She’s cold.

She shakes her head, but doesn’t back away this time.

“Try.”

“I have so much to do. I have to talk to the doctor and see about telling Shane. I called and I’m waiting for the doctor to call me back. I don’t even know if I should tell him…until he’s stronger.  I told him – Dad, I mean – I told him I had to be here because the first week there’s a big chance of another stroke. And we got past that week. I asked him to tell me how he was feeling and he just kept saying he was fine and bitching me out when I tried to stop him from doing things his doctor told him not to do. But I knew he wasn’t fine. He kept holding his head, like he had headaches. He kept lying when I would ask. I could tell he wasn’t feeling good, that he was ignoring that.   He tried to kick me out like… four times while I was here and I refused to leave. I even yelled at him a couple times. I’ve never yelled at him.”

“Baby…”

“Except… then I went out again yesterday, because he was being crabby and I wanted to go to my writing workshop and it was only a couple hours, then Raven wanted to go for coffee and Andrew showed and… I only stayed for half an hour but what if I was here instead of out for coffee with people?”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I sat here day after day with him and he barely spoke to me. He’d just stare at that TV. Or tell me to leave. And it’s been over a week, so I thought… I thought that… I didn’t think going out for a few hours that he’d be gone when I came back. He even insisted he was going back to work Monday. He just… he had no intentions of changing a single thing about his lifestyle to make sure he didn’t kill himself. He kept smoking, kept drinking, kept eating garbage food just coated in salt, and…”

“It’s okay. Come on. Let’s sit down.”

“I can’t. I have to call his job.”

“I’ll do that. What’s the number?”

“And I have to make funeral arrangements.  I have to go get clothes for him for the … I don’t know what arrangements he wants. I don’t know what his wishes are, I don’t know any of that. And my brother… I can’t… will my brother even be able to come to his father’s funeral? He’s being moved to a new hospital today, a place where he can finally get some help.”

She heads out of the kitchen and I follow her up the stairs.

We get to the top of the stairs and go left to a bedroom. There’s a banister all the way around with two bedrooms on one side of the staircase, one bedroom and a bathroom on the other. A window straight ahead looking out at the street.

We walk into the dark room. She flicks the light on. The room is dusty. Smells like an ashtray. There’s an almost overflowing ashtray on the table beside the bed with a package of cigarettes and a blue Bic lighter.

Smoking in bed. I shake my head at that.

The king-size bed takes up most of the room other than a dresser.  She puts her hand on the closet doorknob and holds it.

“I never go in here. It’s always been the rule. I haven’t opened it since I was a kid and got yelled at for it. But I’ll need to take clothes to them for the funeral … he’s in his pajamas. I need to get out his suit.”

She stands there just holding the knob. Clearly she doesn’t want to open that door.

“Sit down. I’ll get it.”

“Why are you here, Austin?” she asks.

“Jada.” My voice and my face must betray my emotions. I feel like they do, but she stares at me blankly.

“I have to do it.” She turns away and twists the doorknob, but it takes a good minute before she finally pulls, like she’s mentally preparing to do something that’s expressly forbidden.

“Sweetheart, I can do it for you.”

“I have to do it,” she whispers and pulls it the rest of the way open.

It’s a stuffed to the brim standard clothing closet with boxes on the floor and on the shelf above the hanging rod.

Jada stares blankly and then starts flicking through the hanging clothes.

“He kept everything,” she whispers, flipping through women’s clothes. “My mom has been gone since I was a kid. She took a suitcase and that was it. I watched out the front window up here and saw her cross the street with that floral carpet suitcase. The rest of it’s still here.” She holds onto an orange and green floral sleeve and examines it for a long beat before she lets go of it and pulls out a dark suit under clear dry-cleaning wrap, a yellowed receipt on it making it obvious it was dry-cleaned and stored a long time ago.

She lays it across the bed and then pulls out a white shirt and a dark tie and puts them on the bed as well.

She pulls open a dresser drawer and hauls out a white t-shirt. Another drawer. Men’s briefs. Another: dark socks.

“I’ll have to look for his good shoes. You know, even doing his laundry I could put everything away except what needed to go in there. He never wanted me in there. I had to lay the stuff to be hung on the bed.”

She’s then flipping through papers in an off-white file folder that she’s pulled out of the sock drawer.

“Last will and testament of Richard Miller. He did one of those will kits. At least there’s that.”

She takes the stack of paper and sits on the foot of the bed beside the clothing and starts leafing through it.

I sit beside her.

“He had a life insurance policy. A little more than enough to cover the funeral, I guess.” She flips the page over. “I’m beneficiary.”

She’s flicking through more papers, confusion etched between her eyes, then she stops.

“What?” she whispers, then a horrible sound comes from her mouth, like it’s been yanked out of her. Papers flutter to the carpet in front of us.

I lean over and lift them, seeing an old newspaper clipping from the Connecticut Post stapled to other newspaper clippings.

The headline reads,

Jane Doe hit by car. Do you know this woman?

Underneath the stack of paper clippings, there’s a death certificate.

“Lindsay Ann Miller?” I say.

She takes it from me. Her fingers are trembling. She shakes her head while she reads.

I put my hand on the back of her neck and squeeze gently.

“Baby,” I whisper.

“Two years later. Two years? Why didn’t he tell us?”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” I squat in front of her.

She folds over and rocks a little, headbutting my chin, but she doesn’t even realize it. She’s suddenly sobbing.

“I thought she left and didn’t care. He let us think she just left and never gave us another thought.” She looks up at me, tears streaming. “Why?”

I stare at her, how broken she is, watching tears fall from her eyes and a fist clenches inside my chest.

“Why?” she pleads, staring at the mess of papers on the floor. She covers her face and sobs.

I scoop her up into my arms and carry her out of there. I come to the door of the next room, open it, and it’s a room filled with stuff, including boxes piled on a bed, so I move along, past the front window, around to the other side of the upper floor and find the next door open. I carry her in there. Her face is buried in my shirt and she’s shaking, crying, clutching her biceps, trying to fold into herself.

It’s obviously her room. Pink and purple floral wallpaper on one wall, the other walls painted lavender. A single bed with a purple comforter. An empty doll cradle in the corner. I sit on the bed and continue to cradle her close. She sobs into my chest some more, eyes shut tight, like she can’t bear anything as she holds onto my shirt. I kick my shoes off and lay down with her, holding her close to me.

Jada cries for a good ten minutes while I stroke her hair. She’s still clutching my shirt and it’s soaked with tears.  After a while, the sobbing slows to broken breaths. That goes on for a while and then her breathing evens out. She’s cried herself to sleep against me.

I shake my head with dismay, sadness. Seeing her cry, I felt the pain coming at me with a ferocity I’ll never forget. I’ve never felt such suffering looking at someone else suffer before and I hated how powerless I felt to do anything to take it away. Fuck, I want to take this away so much.

I lie with her for at least half an hour holding her, ruminating, before I slide out carefully and cover her up.

I head across the hallway and lift all the papers from the floor and bed, try to organize them for her. There’s a sealed envelope with “Jada” printed on it in blue capital letters.

I take the file folder downstairs and set it on the kitchen table, looking around at the place she grew up.

It hasn’t seen a coat of paint in decades. The furniture is old. Out back there’s a rusted swing set and some old trash bins. The place is surrounded by a rusted old chain link fence. There’s a covered car in the driveway behind an at least fifteen-year-old Ford Ranger pickup. The front bumper is hanging off.

The neighborhood is filled with similar houses, but this house has zero curb appeal compared to what’s on either side and across the street. Some little houses, some bigger ones, but all but this one with landscaping, character, care.

The place has no personality, no character. Jada Miller was not raised in a house filled with love. This place… it makes me fucking sad to imagine her being a child in a place like this.

Even if my childhood was less than perfect, it was a metric fuck-ton better than this. And I’m not talking about the fact that it’s an old, run-down house. Suki’s sister’s house isn’t much different, even smaller and older than this, but it’s filled with love. Everything about it when you walk in lets you know that.

This place isn’t like that.

And yet this girl is warm, giving, caring.

I think about her taking care of the father who wouldn’t let her move in when she was evicted because he was pissed off at his son. He left his kids’ bedrooms empty when he could’ve given them shelter. I think about her trying to look after her brother because nobody else would and the guy was incapable of taking care of himself. It put her life and her dreams on hold. She talked to me about how her father didn’t believe in mental illness or getting treatment. I think about Jada growing up without the warmth of a mother but yet still being sweet with my niece and nephew.

I think about her up there sleeping now after sitting here all fucking night alone with her father’s body waiting for him to get picked up and not calling anybody to come be here with her, for her.

And that especially - it pisses me the fuck off.

I think about her being at my brother’s condo because she had nowhere to go and there I was treating her like she was worthless, making her practically beg to stay and cook and clean up after my privileged ass.

And then I fucked with her feelings by being a selfish asshole who couldn’t give her anything besides sex games. And even that I fucked up with vacillating between hot and cold with her.

I look at the notepad on the table at notes she’s made about her brother. Legal resources. Doctors. Names that look like medications.  I slide my finger across the touchpad on her laptop and a browser window comes to life. A local funeral home’s website, their ‘contact us’ page.

I grind my teeth thinking about the burden she has right now and my behavior for the past month.

I guess this is that come-to-Jesus moment she talked about.

Her cell phone rings and it says it’s Dr. T Lexington calling. I answer.

I fill her in about Jada’s parents and her concerns about talking to her brother.

And then I call the funeral home page she has on the screen and make an appointment for her for Monday morning.

After that, I phone my sister who says she’ll also phone our sister-in-law to be on standby for Jada.

“Austin, are you and Jada a couple?” Adele asks.

“Yes,” I say. “As soon as I tell her that we are.”

“Explain,” Adele demands.

“I’ve been a dick. I’m finished being a dick and now I’m gonna be here for her through this trauma and when I get the opportunity, I’ll be telling her we’re a couple.”

“What’s that gonna mean for-”

“I don’t know anything about what it’ll mean for anything right now. Right now, Jada is the priority. She’s all that matters right now. I’ll figure everything else out later.”

“Good enough. Call me when you have the details for the funeral.”

51

Jada

I wake up disoriented. Was that a dream?
No. No, it wasn’t.

My dad died. My dad died and my mom died. My mom died a long time ago, but it feels like it just happened.

And I’m so numb about it, and so close to being on the verge of angry at Dad, but more than angry, I’m really, really sad.

I haven’t been able to remember much about her for a long time, it’s all felt so foggy – any memories I have of her, but right now I feel like I remember a little more.

I remember her in that floral dress I saw today. I remember her smiling while wearing it, her face under a floppy hat with sunglasses and lipstick on and we were laughing, sitting under a tree on a picnic blanket. And Dad was playing catch with Shane.

Mom had on big hoop earrings. She took me the next day to get my ears pierced and my dad lost it when I came home teary eyed with pink lobes. He was so angry with her for doing that to my ears without talking to him first.

And then she left. She left just days later and no one noticed I got an ear infection because they were still healing and Mom wasn’t there to put the rubbing alcohol on them.

Dad noticed when I started crying about it in bed and he had to dig the earring out of my swollen earlobe while I bawled my eyes out.

He was so angry about that, about my mother piercing my ears and then leaving him, leaving me so I’d get an infection and him having to deal with it.

Pain assaults me. Not physical pain. A pain I can’t describe. A hollowness in my chest, in my fingers. Numbness, maybe. I don’t know.

Why didn’t he tell us?

I’m reeling.

And still… she didn’t die days or even weeks after she left.

What was she doing that two years without us? She didn’t come home for two years. Would she have done it eventually if she’d never been hit by a car and killed?

I’ll never know.

Other memories assault my brain rapid-fire and most of them are of her being sad. Out of order, some when I’m really small, some just before she left. Memories of her sometimes crying. Memories of me trying to talk to her while she was in bed and she wouldn’t answer. Sometimes staring into space when I was trying to talk to her in the kitchen, like I was invisible and she couldn’t hear me. Sometimes she was shouting at Dad and him just staring at the TV and ignoring her. Him ignoring her, her ignoring me. Shane upstairs drawing on his walls or drawing on his skin with sewing needle punctures done in shapes, sometimes words, even though he’d get the belt for it later. Memories of Shane’s arm bleeding because he wrote the word DAM on it with a razor. And when it was angled the other way I knew he didn’t just put a bad word, he put MAD. Because he was angry.

Dad screaming that if she wanted to go, she wasn’t taking us with her off into LaLa land. And him saying something about her taking too many of those ‘damn pills’. Her laughing and saying without the pills she wasn’t happy.

She didn’t say goodbye.

She just left.

And I wanted to go live in LaLa Land, too.

And another memory. Coming home alone after Shane got suspended and I walked in and found Dad sitting at the table drinking booze out of the big bottle and his eyes were red. Like he’d been crying. But I’d never seen him cry and he didn’t say anything, so I thought maybe he wasn’t crying, just feeling sick.

Shane was in his room, sent to bed without dinner, and I snuck him a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich after I made one for me.  He told me Dad didn’t even hit him for getting in trouble. Dad always walloped him when he was out of line, either across the butt with the belt or as he got older, across the back of the head with an open-handed slap.

He didn’t get punished for getting suspended for cussing out a teacher after getting a bad grade. Just got picked up from school and told to go to his room. And then Dad started drinking.

Maybe that was the day he found out about Mom.

I don’t know.

I need answers. I deserve answers.

But I won’t get them, will I?

Did he bury her? Does my mom have a grave? Does Dad visit it and put flowers on it on her birthday?

When was her birthday? I can’t remember. March 12? Maybe?

All we had besides Dad was my Aunt Jade, Dad’s much older sister. Mom was estranged from her family; we’d never met them. I wish Aunt Jade were here so I could ask her more questions. Did she know about what happened to my mom? I need to talk to my cousin, Darlene.

Darlene’s dad was Dad’s brother, and he died of leukemia when she was little. Dar spent time with Aunt Jade, too.

I go to the bathroom and take a shower. After I’m dressed, I’m back in my father’s room, looking through the closet at my mother’s clothes with memories assaulting me with almost every article of fabric I touch. Memories of her that I’d forgotten. Most of them are sad memories. Memories where she was there but I felt like I wasn’t because she was in her own world and it was like I wasn’t there.

I find a photo album.

I sit on the floor with it and open it.

My parents’ wedding pictures. I’ve never seen these.

On the front is the two of them, smiling, looking at each other, all dressed up.

They look happy. They barely even look like Mom and Dad.

“Hey.”

I look over my shoulder. Austin’s leaned against the doorway.

I haven’t even been able to give any headspace to him being here, to how he held me when I fell apart.

Why is he here?

Feelings overwhelm me right now and I don’t seem to have the capacity to sift through them all.

No, I can’t look at this album right now. I’m not ready.

“I heard you in the shower, so I made you some food. Come down and eat.”

I slowly rise, leaving the album on the floor. Austin then takes me into his arms and holds me close.

And this is strange. That he’s here, like this.

I look up at him and he smooths my wet hair behind my ear with his fingertips.

“Let me know how I can help. Whatever I can do.”

I don’t know what to say, how to even talk over the feelings that crush my chest, so I don’t say a thing. He takes my hand and leads me downstairs.

I pause at the bottom of the stairs, seeing to my right Dad’s empty chair. I can’t go in there right now. I can’t face it. Austin’s set up soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for us on the kitchen table. He’s poured me some orange juice, too.

We sit.

I stare at the food. The file folder from Dad’s room is on top of my closed laptop. Austin must have brought it down.

“Try, sweetheart. Please?”

I blink. Tears are coming again.

I choke on a sob.

His chair squeaks as he pushes back from the opposite end of the table and then I’m standing up, engulfed in his embrace.

“It’s okay,” he says into the top of my hair as he presses soft kisses on my skin.

“It’s not.”

“I know, baby. I know it’s not. I mean it’s okay to cry.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay. Can you try to eat a little?”

I sit back down and stare into the bowl of tomato soup.

I love tomato soup. And it looks like he made it with milk instead of water. That’s how I make it. I look at him.

“You make this with milk?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought we were out.”

“I ran to the corner store quick and got some.”

I blink hard.

I pick up the bowl with both hands and take a sip. And then another.

Nobody has made me soup for a really, really long time.

He’s got a sad little smile.

“Sorry about my table manners,” I mumble.

I always liked my tomato soup in a mug. A mug that belonged to my mom. With lots of black pepper on top.

I set the bowl down, go to the cupboard and reach in to the very back. I lift up a big mug with the Coca Cola polar bear on it. He’s wearing sunglasses and holding a Coke. It’s dusty.

I hand-wash it and then dry it before I take it to the table and pour the rest of my soup in and shake some pepper over it.

“You want some crackers?” Austin holds up the box.

I shake my head and take another sip.

And then I set the mug down and take one half of my grilled cheese and dunk it into my soup and take a bite.

***

“I think that’s all I can manage,” I tell him after I swallow my third bite of grilled cheese and drink most of my soup.

“It’s something at least.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a knock at the door. I’m about to stand, but Austin passes me, putting his hand on my shoulder briefly, gesturing for me to stay where I am. I’m relieved to not have to answer the door.

But when I hear him talking to someone, I peer around the corner and see he’s talking to Andrew.

I hear him telling Austin he already knows, that I texted him this morning.

Austin looks over his shoulder at me.

“Hi Andrew,” I whisper. “Thanks for coming by, but I’m just… I’m not feeling very sociable.”

“I brought you coffee and donuts and to find out if I can do anything to help.” Andrew’s face is sad.

“That’s very kind.” I try to squeeze over, but it’s like Austin is blocking me from Andrew.

“Excuse me, Austin.”

I step around him and go out onto the porch. Andrew backs up, sets the things he brought down on the side of the porch banister, and reaches around and pulls me into a hug.

It immediately feels awkward.

Austin stands there with us.

“I’m so sorry about your loss, Jada. Can I come in?”

“Um… okay. But only for a couple minutes. I’m… I have-”

“I get it. You have arrangements to make, calls… but if there’s anything I can do, let me know.” He keeps one arm around me as he opens the door and this means Austin backs up so that we don’t collide.

This feels like a pissing contest, suddenly, like Austin and Andrew are facing off and thinking I’m not noticing.

We’re in the kitchen.

Austin comes in, carrying the items Andrew left on the porch. He sets them in the center of the table.

“Do you need help with anything?” Andrew asks and rubs my shoulder.

Austin moves in closer. “Come sit down, sweetheart.” He steers me into the chair on the back of the table and gets between me and Andrew.  They’re looking at one another.

“Guys, come on,” I breathe out.

“Sorry, Jada, I’m not tryin’ to behave like an ape here,” Andrew remarks, emphasis on the ‘I’m’.

Austin glares at him. “He’s here right now for the same reason I am. To be here for you, Jada. But, see, he doesn’t get that I’m here. With you.” Austin’s emphasis is obviously to make Andrew think we’re in a relationship. And I’m not sure what we’re in.

“This has to stop. It’s silly,” I grumble.

“He wants to fuck you, Jada,” Austin says. “He needs to get that it isn’t gonna happen and he’s in the friend zone whether he likes that or not.”

“He knows he’s my friend,” I exclaim.

I glance Andrew’s way, about to say, ‘tell him’ but the look on Andrew’s face tells me that he does, in fact want to fuck me, does not want to be in that friend zone.

I jerk back in surprise.

“I’m not gonna rush you. I like you,” he says. “But yeah, I like you a lot. I get that this is a fucked up time for you, and that’s why I wouldn’t have played it like that. Last thing you need is to worry about two guys fighting over you.” He shoots Austin a dirty look.

Austin is trying to melt Andrew’s face.

I shake my head with exasperation.

“Not here to put pressure on you, Jada. You want me to stay or go?” Andrew asks.

“I’m okay, Andrew. Thanks anyway,” I say.

“I’ll call you later.” He leans over and kisses my cheek softly. “I’m here if you need anything. Day or night. Okay?”

I blink, saying nothing.

Andrew gives Austin a once-over and then he leaves.

“What the fuck,” I whisper.

I go from having nobody to having two men who want to fight over me? This is crazy.

I can’t even think about this right now.

Austin’s watching me process this.

“Okay, well, you should get going, too,” I say.

“I’m staying,” Austin states.

“I can’t…”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Austin declares. “I’m not making you do anything, not making you talk about anything. I’m just here.”

I don’t know how to decode this.

“I’m just here,” he repeats.

I take my dishes to the counter.

“I’ll deal with that,” he says, and moves up to the sink.

The milk is sitting out, so I lift it and open the fridge door. My eyes land on the six beers, the six chocolate pudding cups, two vanilla, and three banana that belong to my father. We ran out of butterscotch.

And my chest feels like it’s about to cave in again.

I stare into the fridge long enough that it beeps, jolting me.

“What can I do?” Austin asks.

I look at the clock on the wall. “Nothing. I’m gonna call Darlene. My cousin. Tell her…”

“I called the funeral home on your laptop. Got you an appointment for Monday, eleven o’clock. Is that okay or did you have another one you wanted to call?”

I’m shocked. I nod. “Thank you.”

“Want me to call your father’s work?”

“You’d do that?” I ask.

“Where did he work? I’ll look up the number.”

“The calendar on the side of the fridge is from his job. He’s a foreman in a factory. The number’s on the bottom.”

Austin moves to the fridge and taps the number from the calendar into his phone. “Your brother’s doctor called. I answered and told her what was going on. She thinks you should visit your brother and tell him. She’s putting you on the visitor’s list. She wants to talk to you first. She said to come Monday or Tuesday.”

“You tell her about my mom, too?”

He nods. “I hope that’s okay. I was just trying to save you a call. I’ll take you to the funeral home Monday and then I’ll drive you to your brother.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“I’m doing it,” he says firmly, but his eyes are gentle.

I nod. I don’t have the energy right now for much else, especially arguing.

I hear the phone ringing as he steps out, going outside to make that call. I’m glad I don’t have to listen to it.

I sit down and put my hands in my hair. I listen to the ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s loud right now. The house is so quiet.

I hear a horn honking in the distance, and then the screen door opens as Austin returns.

“Done. I’ll call them when the arrangements are made so they can send flowers and let any coworkers that want to know come. Now, what’s next?” he asks.

“Darlene.”

“Okay,” he says. “Is this cousin you’re calling gonna come over?”

“Not likely. She has a child. And she’s… I mean… we’re not extremely close.”

“Yeah, I figured that when you spent the night here last night alone and didn’t call her,” he says, and I think I detect anger.

I have no response to that.

“When I picked those papers up, there’s an envelope in there with your name on it.”

I reach for the folder on the table and open it. That letter-sized envelope is on top of the papers inside. My dad’s penmanship.

“I don’t know if I can do this right now,” I say.

“Then do it later,” Austin suggests.

“After I call Dar… can I go back to the condo? I don’t want to sleep here tonight. And I’m so tired.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow and… go through some stuff.”

“Sure. We’ll come back tomorrow. Or Monday after the funeral home. Whatever you want.”

“You don’t need to come with me; I can do it.”

“I’ll meet you in the car. But don’t feel rushed.  Just giving you privacy to make your phone call. Unless you want me here while you do it.”

“It’s okay. You can even just go, and I’ll head over when I’m done. I-”

“I’m waiting,” he states, angrily. And then the anger clears from his face. “Take your time.”

I lift my phone, and go to Darlene’s contact details.
She has family on her mom’s side. She has support, at least. But really, she didn’t have much of a relationship with my father. She won’t shed tears over the loss of her Uncle Rich. This is a courtesy call.

She answers, so I tell her the news. She asks some questions and tells me she’s sorry. I ask her if she heard anything about my mother over the years and explain the newspaper clippings I found.

Darlene gets upset at that, on my behalf. She’s very sweet about it. She tells me she’ll ask her mom if she knows anything.

She tells me she’ll ask her mom to call me, let me know what she knows about after Mom left, but says it might take time to get ahold of her as her mother is away at a women’s retreat for the weekend.

Darlene wants me to call her if I need anything and I promise to tell her the funeral arrangements once they’re made.

I pack up the things I have here, including my laptop, and find Austin in his rental car talking on the phone. He ends his call, relieves me of my bags, and opens the passenger door for me.

52

Austin

She says nothing during the drive and I leave her to her thoughts, though I wish I could do something to make them go away. My heart has never felt heavier for another person’s pain before.

When we get back to the apartment, she goes straight to her room, telling me she’s going to sleep.

And she does. For a long fucking time. In fact, at eleven at night, I climb in with her in her bed because I’m tired, but I wanna be close in case she needs something.

I fit myself behind her and spoon her.

Fuck, this feels right.

It also feels shit, because it feels like I feel her hurt seeping out of her pores.

She turns and faces me.

“What are you doing?” she asks, groggily.

“I wanted to be close, in case you need anything,” I say, cupping her jaw. I kiss her forehead. “I’m here for you, okay? You need anything?”

She smushes her face into my chest and squirms in closer and I guess that’s my answer, so I wrap my arms around her and put my lips to the top of her head.

I start to drift, feeling like this is right. My capuchin monkey, clinging to me. Despite how sad, hurt, upset she is, this feels right – being here for her.

***

I jolt awake, realizing she’s crying. She’s crying into my chest, audibly, her sobs making her entire body buck.

I hold on tighter and keep her close.

It goes on for a long time, her clinging to me, me rubbing her back and dotting kisses all over her face.

Finally, she chokes out some broken words.

“I la-lost my mom and I couldn’t … I couldn’t mourn. I didn’t know if she’d be back, but I couldn’t because Dad would get angry if he saw me sad, so I kept it to myself. I lost Josh and I couldn’t properly mourn. Dad found out I was dating him and he got so mad because Josh was a black guy. So stupid. Dad swore he wasn’t racist, but he was – Dad hit Shane for letting it happen. Shane’s best friend died and I was mourning my first love and Dad was throwing his fists around.”

“Fuck, baby.”

“And it was like I had to hide mourning him, so I moved out. I moved out and struggled so much. I wanted to do so many things, but I couldn’t alone yet keep going to school, so I h-had to drop out of college and take shit jobs to support myself. And now… now I’m supposed to mourn Dad, and he’s not here to stop me, but how can I mourn him when I’m so angry with him for not telling us about Mom? And Shane’s in a mental hospital after being in jail and trying to kill himself, too.”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know how you get through all that loss.”

“Some people have nothing but loss in their lives, Austin. Some people have to just deal because that’s all there is to do. Deal.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s hard to deal.”

“I’m sure it is, sweetheart.”

She looks up at me. It’s dark, but my eyes have adjusted and I can see her blinking at me.

“I’m so alone.”

Fuck, that hurts.

“I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m here for you, Jada. Right here. Anything you need.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she whispers.

“Yeah, I should.”

She stares, waiting, I guess, for me to explain.

“I’m here, baby. And I’m gonna be with you every step of the way here. And when you get through the next few days or weeks or whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I wanna talk about you and me and where this is going with us. I’m not putting it on you now. I’m just gonna tell you that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I had my head up my ass for a bit, but it’s out.”

“But you are going somewhere. You’re going back to California soon.”

I flick the lamp on.

“Jada…”

She rolls away from me abruptly, hiding her red face, her swollen eyes. “I have to tinkle.”

She sounds panicked.

53

Jada

I walk back into the bedroom after washing my face and blowing my nose. He’s lying there on his back, palms laced behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.

His eyes hit mine as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“You can go back to your bed. I’m just gonna watch some TV. I don’t wanna keep you up.”

I know how awful I look right now. Face swollen from so much crying; I don’t want him looking at me.

“We were just in the middle of a conversation, sweetheart,” he informs. “You tell me I give you nothing, but I try to talk and you don’t want to.”

“I can’t,” I say. “You would pick now to try to talk.” I roll my eyes.

He sighs. “When you’re ready, then. I’m not tryin’ to overload you.”

“Why don’t you go to your room so you can sleep properly. My tossing and turning is just gonna keep you up all night.”

“Come here.” He tugs my hand and pulls me close. “I like you sleeping on my chest.”

I can’t get used to this. I could and I won’t, because it’ll hurt too much when I no longer have it.

“It’s okay.” I try to pull away.

“You’ve had a hard day, the hardest. I can’t pretend to know what that’s like and I’m gonna try to be as gentle as I can right now in saying this, but I think I just need to say a couple things. Okay?”

“No. Don’t.”

“I have to, sweetheart.”

Why does he keep calling me that? It feels too good.

I bite my lip and stare at the bedspread.

“Your upbringing was fucked from what I can tell, and you’re used to dealing with things alone. But you’re not alone. I’m here. I know I haven’t given you the impression that I wanna be, but I’m telling you here and now that I do. And you don’t need to pull back, hold back in any way with me. I want to be here for you. Let me be.”

I shake my head. “I can’t get used to that. I could easily get addicted and addiction is a bad thing, Austin.”

“Get used to it. Because you and me? This isn’t casual for me. Not anymore, and maybe not ever. I just had shit fucking with my head and I played it wrong. I played it wrong and that hurt you. I’m sorry about that, Jada, but I’m here right now, I’m here for you, and I’m not abandoning you again.”

“Austin…”

“I read the rest of the Smut File, baby.”

I jolt in surprise.

“The first night I knew you were staying at your father’s, before you came back and got your stuff. I sat right here and read all of it.”

“All of it?” I’m horror-stricken.

“All of it from chapter four on. I don’t know if you changed anything in one to three but yeah, four onwards. And-”

“Oh please stop.” I cover my ears and close my eyes. I can’t listen to this right now. I can’t believe he read that. After everything that happened, I can’t believe he went back and read it.

“Jada, listen.” He gently takes my hands from my ears.

“How dare you invade my privacy like that again!” Tears are flowing again. “And tell me now when I’m so… so broken… You’re such an asshole.”

He leans over and kisses my cheekbone. “I’m glad I read it. I’m glad, because it woke my shit up.”

“What does that mean? No, don’t tell me. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“It means, I’m here, I’m here for you, and I’m here for us.”

“Us?”

“Us. Yes, there’s an us. My head is outta my ass, baby.”

I shake my head. “You’re right, I can’t handle this right now. You have to stop, Austin. You have to. My dad died. And my mom died and my brother is in a mental hospital and I c-can’t do this.”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll talk about it later. Here.” He hands me the remote, leans over, and turns out the lamp.

When I don’t immediately turn the TV on, he speaks.

“Turn it on. It’s fine. I’m right here if you need me. Wake me up if you need me for anything, even just to talk, to hold you, whatever. Okay? Sleep on me or beside me, whatever you want.”

What?

To hold me? Whatever? Not okay. I’m so not okay, okay isn’t even in the same county as I am. It’s way beyond reach.

“Austin, I think you should go back to your bed.”

Or he should stick his head back up his ass because this is going to hurt like hell if it’s just a case of him feeling bad for me and realizing after I’ve gotten addicted that he doesn’t want me.

“Only if you come with me. That’s a bigger bed. Better pillows. Bigger TV in there, too. C’mon.”

“No. You go.”

“Yeah. C’mon.” He scoops me up in his arms and carries me.

I just stay there, in his arms, I don’t fight about it. Because I can’t help but love when he carries me. Instead, I decide I’ll pretend for tonight. I’ll let him sleep beside me. I’ll feel comforted that I’m not alone. For now.

Maybe I’ll even snuggle a little bit. Like a capuchin.

Because everything hurts, it hurts so bad. But it hurts a tiny bit less when he’s holding me.

Even if this isn’t going to last long, should I just let myself have this little bit of comfort while it’s on offer?

***

Three times I wake up startled, having dreams, feeling disoriented, and each time he’s here, reaching out to touch me, assure me he’s here, asking me if I’m okay, offering me a drink.

And each moment I think about losing my parents, I also think about the fact that it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when I lose this, lose him.

***

Sunday, he makes me bacon pancakes. I only eat two, but then he’s run me a bubble bath in Aiden’s big soaker tub with one of Carly’s bath bombs. I wonder if she told him to do it.

I take it a long bath, my skin feels like silk afterwards, and then get back into bed. I sleep a lot. A whole lot.

Each time I wake up to pee, watch TV for a bit, or to have some sips of water. He’s here. Sometimes he’s watching TV. Once, he was dozing with me. Another time, he was tapping away on his laptop.

“Too loud?” he asked that time when he caught me lying there staring at him from the pillow beside him.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

We spent all of Sunday in bed, me drifting in and out, until he wakes me at seven at night to ask me to eat something.

He wakes me by kissing my eyelids.

“I don’t want food.”

“What about dessert?”

Hm.

“Okay. What?’

“I’ll see what we’ve got.”

“Pudding. Fancy pudding.”

He leans over and drops a kiss on my lips.

“You want some fancy shit-brand pudding?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later, he’s back.

“Fancy shit-brand pudding sundaes.”

I sit up.

He’s layered pudding, bananas, whipped cream, and M&M candies. And he’s topped it off with an Oreo cookie instead of a cherry.

It’s the best shit-brand pudding sundae I’ve ever eaten.

When I’m done, he pulls me close and I watch four or five hours of renovation TV shows until I fall asleep again.

Before I fall asleep, I finally let my brain wander to the fact that he read the whole smut file. I wrote about us moving to California. About him taking me on his boat. I wrote about not just erotic sex games and him being bossy and me doing whatever he wanted me to do, I got to a point in the story where I mulled over a special dinner we were about to have and in the story, I’d pondered whether or not he was about to propose. And that’s where I stopped writing.

My face heats in memory.

He read all that and he’s not running. He’s doing the opposite of running.

The way he behaved just days ago had me thinking he’d be the type to go running at the first sign of a crisis that I couldn’t handle on my own. That he wanted nothing but uncomplicated sex games.

Instead, he’s here for me, being everything I’d want if I picked someone to be my person in a crisis.

But, I don’t think I’m going to be happy-go-lucky overnight. I can’t even begin to know how it’s going to feel to go tomorrow and make funeral arrangements and then break it to Shane that our father is gone, that our mother is also gone and has been gone for so long. And that Dad kept it from us.

How long before he gets tired of this crisis? And is he only here because he feels guilty about what I’m going through?

***

In my conversation with Shane’s doctor, a female doctor who has put my mind at ease about my brother finally getting the right care, she tells me I should be honest with Shane. Only by letting him deal will he be able to learn coping methods for his emotions.

She tells me he’s already showing signs of improvement after just a few days there in a new environment, on a new medication regimen. It’s progress. He’s no longer despondent. He’s emotional. And she says that’s a good sign.

She takes me through the place, a place that looks like a hospital from outside but that feels more like a residence inside with a huge dining room, with television and game room, exercise room, even a library. We find him in a TV room with a few other people. They’re all dressed in regular clothes and the room has games, puzzles, and some people are reading books or playing cards. She tells me they have massage therapists, visiting hair stylists, and are set up with a more spa-like environment without an emphasis on pampering but more on self-care with a helping hand.

Shane is playing Chess with a pretty girl in her mid to late twenties. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie as well as tennis shoes that I’ve never seen. It dawns he has no regular clothes with him; I should get his stuff to him.

Shane’s eyes bounce up and he spots me.

This place is a lot better than I’d have expected, especially given what my brother being is in jail for.

Dr. Lexington told me there’s a good chance Shane will get approved to spend a few months here and then go onto probation with very stringent rules about drug use and staying on his prescribed regimen. He could thrive here; I can see it.

She’s working with his lawyer and the prosecutor, and they’re talking about coming to a deal after an assessment at his thirty-day mark. She says her superiors will analyze his progress and make recommendations to the court for review. She told me he’ll probably be here at least six months getting intensive counseling for his emotional issues as well as his substance abuse before he can leave, but that after four months he might be able to have weekend passes to visit with me, though drug and alcohol testing for when he comes back. He must stay 100% clean. He has to participate. His participation and progress are essential or his deal can be revoked. His first group therapy session happens tomorrow.

“Sorry to interrupt your game,” I say.

“We can play later, right?” he asks the girl. She smiles at him and then shoots me a dirty look.

“This is my sister, Jada.”

Her dirty look clears and she holds out a hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

I shake it and then Shane and I take a walk, Dr. Lexington following.

Austin’s waiting for me in a coffee shop across the street with his laptop, working. I told him it wasn’t necessary to even come, but he insisted. He told me to text when I’m done and he’ll meet me out front.

We’re taken to Dr. Lexington’s office and she asks if she can stay.

Shane agrees, looking confused.

“Your sister has some bad news for you, and I think it’s better if I’m here, for both of you.”

Shane frowns as he sits down on one of the chairs.

“It’s about Dad, Shane.”

Shane rolls his eyes.

“Dad passed away.”

Shane frowns and blinks a couple times.

“He had a mild stroke, so I went to stay with him and help him and we’re still waiting for the report, but they think he had another one, a massive one, and that’s what did it.”

He grabs his mouth and holds it a second and then his hand scrubs up and down his face. He’s processing.

He rises and paces the room, blowing out deep exhales and flexing his fingers over and over.

“He’s only 53. How can he be dead of a stroke at that age?” he asks.

My eyes bounce between him and his doctor, but she’s just watching, looking alert but not making any moves, not saying anything.

So I speak instead.

“Because he lived like crap, so his body was aging fast, I guess. He never went to the doctor so if there were warning signs with his cholesterol, blood sugar, or whatever, he-”

Shane comes back and grabs me and hugs me close. “Are you okay?” he asks me.

I take a deep breath. “It was hard. Um… I went to the funeral home this morning and made all the arrangements. I booked it for Friday, hoping you can come. I don’t know if you’ll be allowed or if that’s enough time to set everything up, but your doctor said she’d try to get permission – if you want to go.”

Dr. Lexington nods. “I’m working on it, Shane. It should be no problem. There will be a police escort, and I’ll attend as well.”

He flexes his jaw and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be there. For you. Not so much for him. I’ve got a lot of anger toward him, anger to work through, but I’ll come.” He nods. “I’ll come so that when I find my peace, I won’t regret not going, and most of all, for you. Sorry you had to deal alone, Jayjay.”

Shane looks and sounds more ‘here’ than the last time I saw him.

He sits down and takes a couple deep breaths.

“Thank you. But that’s not everything,” I say.

He leans forward and holds my hand, waiting, patiently. Looking like he’s calmer now.

“I found information in his dresser about Mom.”

Shane straightens, looking like he’s bracing.

“She died two years after she left. He never told us.” My voice hitches and I take a steadying breath.

“How?”

“She got hit by a car. I found a bunch of newspaper clippings. I think Dad found out about it when he was reading a newspaper. She was a Jane Doe until he must have identified her.”

“Two years?” he asks.

I nod.

“She still left us alone for two years.” His eyes widen.

I nod.

He blows out a breath, and then he pulls me close. I wrap my arms around my brother. He starts to cry.

I cry, too.

Dr. Lexington gives us a box of Kleenex and waits, with patience, as my brother and I cry for a good long time. She disappears a few minutes later briefly and returns with two bottles of water for us.

When Shane finally pulls away, he looks me in the eyes.

“Thank you for being the best baby sister in the galaxy. I hate that I’m in here and you’re dealing with this alone. I hate that I dragged you down with me. That I stole from you. That I left you struggling to take care of us. I should’ve taken care of us.”

“Stop it. I don’t regret being there for you. But I know you’re capable of standing on your own two feet, Shane. That’s what I want. For us to be there for each other and to be able to stand on our own as well. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. It does. How are you? Really?” he asks.

“I’ve got some … friends being there for me,” I say.

“Good.” He hugs me again.

His doctor speaks up and tells us we’ll have to wrap up our visit, that she’ll call me tomorrow or the day after to confirm she’s able to successfully set up Shane getting to come to the funeral. She tells us he’ll only be allowed to attend the actual service. No reception afterwards.

It’s better than nothing, so we agree, and Shane and I hug one another goodbye and he gets teary again.

I whisper in his ear, “I’m proud that you’re doing better. Please don’t hurt yourself again. Don’t leave me all alone in this world.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry I put you through that. So sorry. I was spinning out really bad and everything hurt so fucking much. I just wanted it to stop hurting so much.”

“Please know how much I would miss you if I didn’t have you.”

“I won’t do that to you, Jayjay. Promise.” He looks me in the eye.

I want to believe him.

But I’m scared of losing him too. So scared.

He gives me another squeeze and then I leave, thanking his doctor for all her help. She really seems to be going above and beyond.

“I am happy to try to help,” she says. “Is Austin waiting for you outside?”

I startle. “Across the street. How do you know Austin? Or is it just from the phone call?”

“I grew up with the Carmichaels. I was good friends with Adele in high school. I mean, we’re still friends but I live here so we don’t see one another much,” she says.

“Austin got you involved?”

She nods. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. He reached out and we pulled some strings to get Shane into this pilot program here. You’re his girlfriend, right?”

“I don’t know that we’ve labeled things, but…”

“Austin who? Your new boss?” Shane asks. And then he smiles.  “Good goin’ Jayjay.”

Dr. Lexington’s eyebrows shoot up and she smiles.

“I better go,” I say and get one more hug from Shane who’s going to go back and finish his game of chess.

She walks me to the door.

“Shane needs to do a lot of work, but with his medication and with him taking time to work through some of his issues as well as these new things – losing his parents – it’ll take time and effort, but I really do think he wants to do the work.”

“I hope he sticks with it. He has a hard time sticking with things, but we grew up in a home that wasn’t very loving or nurturing, and he just… he doesn’t think he’s got worth, I think.”

“His history shows he’s mostly just tried medications. We’re going to help him work through his issues, too. One without the other isn’t enough. Together, he’s got a much better chance.”

54

Austin

“You hired Dr. Lexington?” Jada asks, coming up to me in the coffee shop.

I look up from my laptop. “You okay?”

“Can you answer me, please?”

“Yeah, Tamara is friends with Adele. I made a call and asked if she had any advice about your brother’s situation. She and his lawyer talked and were able to work out getting him moved and put under her care in a pilot program that’s happening with the state and people who are in legal trouble due to mental health issues.”

She looks confused. “Was that… is that ethical?”

“It’s all above board. Nobody’s breaking any laws.”

She shakes her head. “Are you paying her? That’s a swanky hospital and I was afraid to ask about that fact.”

I flex my jaw.

“I’m paying for it.”

“And your company is paying my legal bills?”

“I am,” I admit. “I’m paying for all of it.”

Jada shakes her head and starts backing up. She bumps into a guy walking by. I reach out and catch her hand.

“Sorry,” she tells the guy.

He gives her an annoyed look and keeps going.

“Sit down here. Let’s get you something to eat and drink. How’d it go?”

She looks at me like she can’t figure me out.

“The EAP voucher?”

I shrug. “Made it up. Our company has an EAP but we wouldn’t pay $10K in legal fees for a temp employee.”

“You…I…”

She shakes her head, looking completely confounded.

“Rich people can get stuff done,” she finally says.

I shrug. “Sad, but true.”

“It’s so not fair. And you were dishonest.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I just wanted to help and I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because I want to. Because…”

“I don’t like being indebted to people.”

I lean forward and kiss her hand. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t a favor. It’s not a loan. It’s me being here for you any way that I can be. You want some food or you wanna go home?”

“Home,” she whispers. And then she shakes her head. “What’s home? I guess I’m the owner of a rundown house. Is that my home though?”

“I mean Aiden’s apartment. Let’s go.”

“Austin…”

She wants to get into heavy stuff. She wants to push me away by letting me off the hook, I can tell.

“Not here. We’ll talk when we get back there.”

“I have to go through all those papers still. Open that envelope with my name on it.”

“I know. You wanna do that now?”

“I don’t, but I have to. I need to stop into the bar by my Dad’s. Tell his friends about him dying. Tell them about the funeral.”

“Come back to the apartment, read the letter, and we’ll go from there. How about that?”

55

Jada

I’m flabbergasted. And I feel guilty that Austin is doing all this stuff for me. He made things better for Shane. His jumping in might have even saved Shane’s life. In fact, I’m pretty sure it did. I sat there over beef wellington and spilled and spilled and then I left, and he started fixing things for me.

And there’s him being here for me with losing my dad. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it.

Back in the condo’s master bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed, I lift up the file folder filled with Dad’s paperwork. Bank stuff. The deed to the house. He paid the mortgage off two years ago. There’s insurance stuff. Twenty grand in a savings account. Three grand in checking. The newspaper clippings about Mom. There were four stapled together from different newspapers. She had no ID on her when she was found and she died on impact, apparently an old lady hit her, losing control of her car during a rainstorm. Mom wasn’t dressed for the weather, had no umbrella.

Mom loved to walk in the rain.

She loved to walk in the rain and because of that, she died.

I open the envelope and I’m about to take the paper out when I see Austin move into the doorway.

“You want me here for this or you want to be alone?”

I’m always alone for everything. I always have been. Except for when I had Shane, but I never leaned on him, he always leaned on me. I lose everyone. Mom. Aunt Jade. Josh. Dad. How long before I lose Austin, too?

“Stay?” I request.

He sits down in front of me on the bed and puts his hand on my ankle, reassuringly moving his thumb back and forth.

Inside the envelope are five one-hundred-dollar bills and a note. I set the money on the bed and unfold the piece of paper.

Jada,

I know I’ve been hard on you and your brother but it’s not because I don’t care. I wasn’t raised to be an emotional man. My parents were already older and tired when I was born and maybe that’s why but it’s not in me.

I didn’t tell you about your mother because I didn’t want you to feel what I felt. I’d rather you had hope.

She didn’t love us enough. Only loved herself. And I couldn’t forgive her for it. Her ashes are in an urn in the back of my closet. I want to be cremated and want us to be scattered together at the lake we used to go to when you were small. You and your brother do it together when you can. Don’t rush.

I didn’t do many things right with you kids. Didn’t know how. It’s too late for apologies or to change anything so move on. Find some happiness if you can. Even if it’s just for a while. Life can be shit a lot of the time so find happy where you can. Even if it’s at a bar with your friends or in your driveway fixing an old car. Take it where you can get it.

Save the Mustang for Shane when he gets out. Give it to him only if he grows up enough not to wreck it wasted or sell it so he can blow the money on stupid shit. Sell the house and go back to college or do what you want with the money.

I want you to use this $500 to open a tab at the bar after my funeral for my friends to have a good night on me. Don’t spend a lot of money on the funeral. It’d be a waste. The rest of the money is yours. I saved your mother’s jewelry for you. She wouldn’t take it when she left us. Said it was for you. It’s in a hat box under my bed.

Love Dad.

I put the letter down and blow out a breath.

I don’t know how to feel.

That’s it.

It’s over.

And that’s the heartfelt letter I get from my father. Bitterness, bossiness, hopelessness?

This is why I was never allowed in that closet. Because her urn is there.

I get the impression the ink on this letter is only barely dry. It feels like he just wrote it. He must have, mentioning when Shane gets ‘out’. Did he give up on life? Maybe he gave up a long time ago.

“You okay?” Austin asks.

My eyes meet his blue ones.

And pain lances through me. I fall forward and he catches me.

I don’t cry. I think I’m done crying.

I close my eyes and sink into him.

Dad’s got some twisted beliefs and despite it all, he wants his ashes scattered with hers. I don’t even know what lake he’s talking about.

Dad is right about one thing - life can be shit a lot of the time. I’m going to just try to find some happiness where I can. Or comfort, if not happiness, because I can’t imagine pure happy when you feel like you’re on the verge of the end with somebody. And that’s how every moment with Austin feels. Like there’s happiness right in front of me but it’s right on the verge of ending.

I can’t bring myself to go back to Dad’s house and into that closet and look at her urn or grab that box of jewelry. Not today.

***

I’m sitting on the couch, watching TV. Austin hasn’t left my side at all. I got a text today from Raven, asking me how I’m holding up and to ask about the arrangements. I tell her about them and she asks for Andrew’s number to relay them. This is a relief; I really don’t want to call him myself after how weird things got.  Because Austin rented a car, we’ve been coming in a different door that has meant we haven’t passed the security desk.

Tuesday I also heard from Aunt Fay, Darlene’s mom, who told me she’d only been in touch with my mom once or twice after Mom and Dad split.

Aunt Fay tried to be gentle when she told me my mother was very flighty, always had been, that she’d gotten pregnant with Shane by Dad on what should’ve been a one-night stand, but Dad did what he thought was the right thing and proposed when Mom went to him for money for an abortion.

She told me it took convincing on Dad’s part, because he believed it was the right thing to do, but that Mom finally married him when she was six months along with Shane. Their marriage was rocky from the beginning because Mom didn’t want to be a wife and mother and made life hard on my father. Aunt Fay said Mom told her when she got pregnant with me that they had me to try to strengthen their marriage.

Aunt Fay then hesitantly told me my mom had never been that maternal, though my father really was madly in love with her. That he got frustrated that she often left us with babysitters or neighbors so she could go out. Mom was having affairs and Dad tried to forgive her, but it made him bitter and Mom felt trapped. Aunt Fay talked about the fact that the more their marriage deteriorated the more bitter my father got. Aunt Fay said both Mom and Dad should’ve broken up years before they did.

She also said Mom told her she wanted to see us, but Dad told her she couldn’t until she proved she was a fit mother. The last Aunt Fay heard through a mutual friend, Mom was engaged to an artist and talked about moving to Belize. She thought on this and said it must’ve been a few months before Mom died.

I remarked that my dad must have just quietly dealt with her loss. And she told me she thought Dad had probably spent the rest of his life dealing with that loss. And I think she’s right.

I don’t have closure; I probably never will.

I guess sometimes things don’t end tied up with a tidy bow.

56

Jada

Two days before Dad’s planned funeral we walk into Dad’s bar, the cleverly named, He Ain’t Here, a few blocks from Dad’s house.

“I guess it’s a laugh every time the phone rings, huh?” Austin whispers, amused as we step inside.

It’s dark, the decor a little dreary, but there are smiling faces when I step in. Wait. They’re sympathetic faces, some of them. We approach the bartender.

“Hi Jada,” he greets.

“Hi. Sorry, I don’t remember if we’ve met.” I say.

He shakes his head. “I’ve seen your photo. Rich flashed it often. I’m sorry you lost your pop.”

I jolt in surprise and feel Austin’s arm go around me.

A man approaches, the Santa Claus lookalike from my dad’s house the night he was ‘liberated’ to go to the bar for a drink. His last time out drinking with his friends.

“Hey little lady. So sorry about your loss,” he says. He has kind eyes.

“Th-thank you.”

“We came by with some casseroles, me and the boys, but no one was home.”

“I haven’t been staying there. That was very thoughtful, thank you. I’m actually here to let everyone know about the funeral details, actually.”

I share those details and then I pull out the envelope with five hundred dollars.

“My father left instructions asking me to open a tab up for after the funeral, so that he can buy drinks for his friends.”

“Would you let us put on a luncheon for you as well, Jada?” the bartender asks. “Or do you have plans for somewhere else for a reception after the service?”

“I don’t have any other plans, no. And I think Dad would want it here.”

“Then please come here and let us help you honor Rich.”

I swallow down a lump. “That’s very kind, thank you. I can pay for food and-”

“Let us do that. He was one of us. He spent a lot of his life here, lotta his paychecks, and he will be missed. We’d be honored to host the reception.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot. Um… can I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

I smile. That feels nice.

“I don’t know who all my dad hung out with so do you have any idea where I can find his classic car buddies?”

“I’ve already spoken to a few of them,” the Santa lookalike who’d been at my father’s house the other night says.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” I ask.

“Call me Doc.” He has kind eyes.

He holds his hand out and I shake it.

Austin then extends his. “Austin.”

“Nice to meet you, Austin.”

“Frank,” the bartender holds his hand out and we both shake.

“I’ll make sure to get all his friends to the service,” Doc says. “And Frank here will make sure there’s a spread for everyone to come back to. I’ll make my famous chili. Your father loved it.”

“Private party that day. In honor of Rich,” Frank says.

“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Your pop had a lot of friends here. He’ll be missed,” Frank says. “You talk to his job?”

I nod. “Yes, they said they wanted to send flowers.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a fair few from there stop by, too. I’ll close that afternoon, make sure there’s plenty of room.”

“I’m not sure how many will come.”

“I’ll close down,” Frank says. “Can I get you both a drink? On the house.”

“Thank you, but we need to go. I appreciate this. I appreciate it more than I can express right now.”

“No need to worry about words, darlin’. We know. We know how sweet you are and how much you loved your father. He knew it, too. Me and a coupla the guys’ll wanna get up and say a few words about him if that’s okay with you,” Doc says.

“Eulogy? Oh. Of course. I’d appreciate that.” I try to mask my reaction to the words he’s just said because it feels like he’s talking about someone else.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a sad smile.

This man looks like he really will miss my father.

“Here’s my number.” Austin hands over a business card to Frank and another to Doc. “Call if you need any information or to talk about the plan for after the service. Otherwise, we’ll see you at the service. And thank you both.”

***

I need a dress. And shoes.

I have a black dress that’ll suffice and most of my dressy shoes are in storage, so I ask Austin if we can stop by there.

We run in and grab two boxes of clothes. Luckily, I’d been organized in my packing, so I knew just where to find them.

“Shit,” I mutter, getting back into the car.

Austin’s eyes bounce to me with a question in his eyes.

“My brother needs a suit for the funeral. I have to get that over.”

“I’ve already sent him one.”

“You did?”

He nods. “Tamara called and asked about that. When all this is over, we can run his clothes over too. I saw a couple boxes marked Shane. I sent some clothes when he was first moved.”

“You did?”

He nods. “He told them his sizes, so I just ordered some basics.”

“Thank you for doing that,” I whisper.

“My pleasure.”

I blink.

“I’ll pay you back.”

I don’t know what I’d do without him right now.

Well, I’d muddle through, I’m sure, but it would suck even worse than it already sucks.

He glares at me and then looks straight ahead as he starts the car.

“I didn’t mean to upset you by saying that,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. But let’s let that be the first and last time you offer to give me money for something that I did for you. Okay?”

I swallow. And then I reach over and grab his thigh with my hand and squeeze.

This is the first time, other than the last few nights sleeping with him that I’ve made an affectionate move. He’s been the one dropping kisses on my forehead, touching me every time we pass one another in the apartment, the one pulling me close and he hasn’t tried to get sexual at all.

His warm hand comes down on mine and stays there while he drives us back to Manhattan.

57

Jada

Shane, his doctor, and their police escort (dressed in plain clothes) are already there when we arrive at the funeral home.

Shane and I get a moment alone in the chapel with the door closed, Austin, Dr. Lexington, and the officer standing outside of it before the service starts.

We sit down and hold hands in the front pew, looking at the 10 x 12 framed photo up front of Dad with his car. His simple black urn sits beside it with flower arrangements on either side. One from his work, one from the bar.

Shane looks good. He still looks thin and he looks tired, but he looks better and he’s lucid and talking to me, so I take it as a good sign. He’s shaved and has had a haircut and Austin sent him a very nice dark suit and dress shoes.

Shane asks if things are serious with me and Austin.

“I have no idea yet,” I say, “But if it weren’t for him… I don’t know where I’d be. Where you’d be. Austin hired you the new lawyer and got you moved to that program. I had no idea he did it. He’s even paying for it and I can’t imagine how much it all costs.”

He blows out a breath.

“Dad left me the house and his money, after his insurance and everything and told me to go back to college with it. I’m going to put half in the bank for when you’re out and ready to re-start your life.”

“Keep it. I don’t want it,” he says bitterly. “Really, it’s yours, Jada. Especially if your man is paying for this program, I’m not taking any cash from you.”

“He wants you to have his Mustang,” I add.

Shane’s expression perks up.

“Yeah?” he asks.

I nod.

“Now that, I’ll take.”

I chuckle.

Shane squeezes my hand.

“It’s sad. I think he gave up on life. He could’ve had so much more.”

I know,” Shane says softly.

We sit quietly for a minute together, lost in our thoughts.

“We should let everyone in. People will have started arriving,” I say.

“Thank you for everything,” Shane says and kisses my cheek. “I’m gonna get better.”

“I know you are,” I say brightly and hug him.

And I hope it’s true.

***

Not only do a dozen people from Dad’s factory come, around twenty people from the bar, Aunt Fay and Darlene, me, Austin, Shane (and his two escorts who sit in the back and stay out of the way), but Andrew, Raven, and three other people from my writing workshop show up. Also, Shane’s friend Sedgewick (who I texted to tell him about the funeral, in case he could show up for Shane), Phil, Kevin, and another friend named Rory that I’ve never met also come, and then after shaking his hand and giving hugs and macho back slaps, Shane says something to Sedgewick, which makes them move away, eyeballing the cop that’s here in plainclothes. That cop has a close eye on them until they move away from my brother.

People all greet us before the service starts, the ones I don’t know explaining who they are, saying nice things.

I’m shocked at the turnout. Particularly people who don’t even know me or Shane.

Sedgewick gets close to me and gives me a hug. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod.

Austin moves in and gets proprietary, putting his arm around me.

Sedgewick grins at me and jerks his thumb at Austin. “Staking his claim? I respect that.”

“Thanks for coming,” Austin says.

I look up at him and his eyes are on Sedgewick but he’s not being an asshole, just being Austin, I guess.

The chapel at the funeral home is nearly full as we take our seats.

I have Austin on my left, Shane on my right.

“Thanks for the suit,” Shane says softly. “You got nice taste in threads. And … for taking care of my sister.”

“My pleasure, man,” Austin replies.

“And for the help with my lawyer and my doctor,” Shane says softly. “You don’t know me, but I won’t make you regret that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Austin repeats. “I did that knowing Jada. That was enough. For real.”

Shane holds his hand out and shakes Austin’s hand.

My chin trembles as I stare at my father’s urn. My eyes go blurry as they fill with tears.

And then, just before things get started, I hear the hum of activity and look over my shoulder and see Adele, Carly, and Aiden come in with another man and three women.  I’m not sure who the rest of them are, but Carly blows a kiss and I smile. Austin’s arm goes around me. Shane takes my right hand. I hold on.

“Did you know they were coming?” I ask.

“Yeah. My father and his girlfriend plus Carly’s mom and aunt are also here.”

I’m surprised.

“Why?” I whisper.

He smiles.

“Maybe they thought you wouldn’t have a big turnout. But the turnout is a good one, isn’t it?” Shane puts in.

That’s so kind of these people.

“Your father?” I whisper to Austin.

He squeezes my hand and kisses my temple.

“He’s gonna love you.”

And my lungs start burning.

For Austin to tell his father, does that mean what it sounds like? I’m not sure I have the ability to process that. But I don’t get much of a chance to think on it because the doors close and the screen behind the podium starts showing images of landscapes. Of sky. Of water and mountains. My father’s name and date of birth scroll across the screen. The funeral director walks up to the front and tells us all we’re going to get started.

I start to tremble, but can’t contain all my emotion, so it rains from my eyes.

Austin pulls me closer. Shane squeezes my hand tighter. And I don’t have to endure it all alone.

***

The service is standard, with a few prayers and some kind words of comfort by the reverend. And then Doc and another man who introduced himself as Walter, a coworker of my father’s who said he was a fellow classic car enthusiast get up together.

Doc talks about my Dad being generous, always donating to worthy causes the bar champions, how he has always been there to buy a round or lend an ear to a buddy with a problem.

Shane and I exchange looks briefly at that.

The bar was obviously Dad’s happy place. It wasn’t our house, that’s for sure, and I can’t help but feel bitterness about that.

Walter talks about Dad’s love for cars, his love for his kids, (gesturing to us) how great an asset he was to the company softball team, and Shane and I sit with perfect poker faces. And then Walter chokes up and says their classic car enthusiast club won’t be the same without him and neither would the lunchroom on Fridays at work because “Rich brings donuts for the whole team every week.” Walter says the break room at the factory is getting a plaque with my father’s photo on it before he sits down.

Shane and I get up then and Shane does the talking, holding me close to his side.

“Thank you on behalf of me and my sister, Jada, from the bottom of our hearts for coming today. It’s very sad that our father’s life was cut short. That he won’t be around to someday become a grandfather, to walk my sister down the aisle. His job and his friends meant a lot to him. In fact, he left wishes that you all head to He Ain’t Here for a drink after the service, a drink on him this afternoon. I hope you’ll do that. Thanks, again.”

We’re dismissed, so Shane and I walk out together, arm in arm. Austin walks behind me.

I tell him I hate that he has to go back so soon.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, and hugs me goodbye in the lobby. “You and me will have a drink together later. Maybe some virgin pina coladas and then we’ll go for a spin in the Mustang.”

“Sounds good,” I whisper. “He wants us to scatter his and Mom’s ashes together at a lake we used to go to when we were small. Do you know which lake that was?”

He shakes his head. “Not a clue. I remember us going to a lake though. Check the photo albums. Mom always wrote stuff on the back of pictures she’d put in there.”

“I’ll do that,” I say.

I hug Shane goodbye, telling him I’ll visit in a few days and bring him some more clothes. I ask if he can have any other comforts and he tells me he’ll find out.

I say goodbye and express my thanks to Dr. Lexington, who stands on the sideline talking with Adele and Carly. And then I shake the plainclothes cop’s hand and thank him for coming, getting a kind smile and an offer of condolences before he and Shane head for a dark SUV at the edge of the parking lot.

Austin then approaches with his group.

“Jada, this is my father, Quentin and his … Alice.”

“My Alice,” Austin’s dad whispers into her ear and she beams a big smile and extends her hand to shake mine.

Austin’s father is tall, very CEO-looking in an expensive suit. He has salt and pepper hair and chocolate brown eyes with lots of laugh lines. They look good on him.

He takes my hand next. “So nice to meet you. Sorry we’re meeting you today.”

“Thank you for taking the time. I appreciate that. How are you feeling? Austin told me you were just in the hospital.”

“I’m doing better. Thank you for asking. I’m so very sorry about your loss.”

Alice is a well-dressed curly-haired redhead who reminds me a little of Stevie Nicks. She has an accent.  I’m not sure if it’s English or Scottish but it’s from somewhere in that direction.

Carly pulls me into a hug. “It was a nice service.”

“Thank you for coming. I can’t believe you guys did that. I’m so touched.”

“Of course I came. This is my mom, Charlene, and my aunt, Susan.” Carly presents me to her mom and aunt who look like older versions of her.

“Hey Austin. How are you, handsome?” Charlene asks, hugging him, and then reaches for my hand. “Very sorry for your loss.”

Carly’s aunt greets me similarly and then Adele hugs me for a long time. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she says, patting my back.

“I can’t believe you guys came all this way. You shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper.

“Of course we did,” she says.

I look at Austin. He’s looking down at me with a look in his eyes that startles me.

“Ready?” he asks. “Or you want more time in that chapel before we go?”

“Let’s go,” I say. I’d been thinking, ‘Let’s get this over with’ up until this morning, but seeing all these people here, either for my dad or in some cases, for me, it has me emotional, but in a way that feels weird, yet not unwelcome.

Austin has been my shadow the past few days. Always here. Always doing things for me. Holding me. Touching me. Never pushing me to talk or ignoring me when I start babbling.

I’ve leached a whole lot of strength from him while leaning on him the past few days. He’s been unwaveringly here for me since the minute I phoned him to tell him my father died.

Having that strength in a partner in life? I know now that what I’ve had from him is something extraordinary. And I now couldn’t settle for less from a life partner.  Austin has ruined me for other men.

We’re at the bar in a matter of minutes.

“Wait.” I say as he reaches for his door handle.

He looks at me.

“Thank you.”

Surprise fires up in his eyes.

“You’ve done so much for me. I can’t…” I shake my head, hoping he can see how heartfelt this is. “can’t imagine how much worse this would have been without you. I’ve never had someone be so present for me through a crisis, through anything. You’ve been amazing.”

He lifts my hand and kisses it. “That’s gonna be your life from now on, baby. Having me wherever you need me, doing whatever I have to do to give you happiness. I want you happy more than I want anything.”

I’m floored.

“You’re not getting it so I’m gonna be firm in this and you need to hear and believe me. Okay? I’m here. You aren’t alone. You will never again have to go through anything by yourself with no idea who you can possibly call.” He grinds his teeth.

He’s angry. For me. Because I was alone?

I tilt my head and give him a sad smile. “There’s just no way that’s true. If only it was…”

His face changes. “Jada. I’m not fuckin’ around here.”

God, he’s amazing. And he’s going to feel so bad when he realizes he doesn’t really mean this.

He grabs my face and hauls my mouth to his, plundering it hungrily.

I’m in shock, I think.

“You don’t get it, sweetheart. You’re mine. I’m yours. You and me are Austin and Jada. Like there’s an Aiden and Carly. Like there’s an Adele and Dirk. We’re the real thing.”

“Austin…” God, if only this were true.

“I wasn’t gonna do this until tomorrow, but you and I need to have a good, long talk. We’ll stay here for an hour tops and then we’re going to go and do that.”

I open my mouth to speak but he hushes it with another kiss and then, in a daze, I follow him inside to the reception.

***

There’s a lovely luncheon set out with sandwiches, finger foods, Doc’s famous chili, and coffee and tea as well as a five-hundred-dollar bar tab open for drinks on Rich Miller. There’s a wall set up with photos people have shared of various times here in this bar with Dad and his friends. Pictures of him laughing, pictures of him holding Doc in a headlock. A picture of my dad and a pretty waitress, I’m guessing by her apron, in a clinch. That one shocks me. Dad never brought women home. Did he ever date anybody? There are even two photos of him at his job and about six of my dad with his red muscle car.

And Austin makes sure I’m good. He steers conversations when I go quiet with people. He subtly prompts me when I trail off during a conversation. He’s kind to the staff and the people who stop by to offer condolences and say their goodbyes to us as they head out.

Andrew seems resolved that Austin has moved in on me. He’s been good-natured and there hasn’t been any noticeable friction between him and Austin today. He stands there chatting with Raven most of the time we’re here.

My cousin Darlene approves of Austin. She keeps giving me open-mouth expressions whenever he turns his back.  She also flirts with Andrew at one point.

Austin strikes up a conversation with Darlene and her mother while I’m talking to Erin, another girl from my writing class, and Darlene looks at me, leans over and stage-whispers, “If you weren’t blood I would steal him from you. My God, Jada!”

We stay an hour and forty-five minutes before Austin abruptly stands and announces that we are leaving, that I’d had a long day and he wanted me to get time to unwind.

It takes ten minutes to say goodbyes including my heartfelt thanks to Frank, Walter, and Doc. Frank invites me to stop in anytime. And then Austin asks me if I want to stop by the house. I tell him I want to go back to the condo today. I’ll deal with the house later. The Carmichael family leaves. I’m again astounded they flew in for just a few hours, driving for several in the case of Carly’s mom and aunt.

When we get back to the condo, Austin goes to the kitchen and pours me a glass of wine and gets himself a beer.

I kick my heels off and take my mom’s hoop earrings out, then curl up on the couch, pulling my feet under myself. The hat box of her jewelry sits on the coffee table. Some of it is gold or silver, but a lot of it is costume jewelry, some of it really ostentatious. I plan to put most of it away for someday when I hopefully have a daughter, for dress-up time. I took out these earrings and a necklace for today. I stare at it with sadness.

He sits beside me and wraps an arm around me.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s still surreal. But… I’m not sure I’m okay, though I’m hangin’ in there.”

He caresses the back of my neck with his fingertips and then uses his grip to pull my mouth in toward his.

He kisses me soft. Sweet. And then he bites his lip as his head moves back and he studies my face.

“I was a real dick to you when I got here.”

“I remember,” I whisper. “In your defense, I didn’t make my best first impression.”

“In my defense,” I just got puked on after walking multiple blocks because the cab I was in was t-boned.”

“Oh. Yikes.”

“Yeah, prior to that I flew here from my brother’s wedding. And I hated this city, didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

“That sucks,” I say and reach for my wine.

“On top of that, I woke up in bed with my brother’s ex that morning.”

I puff up my cheeks, then blow out a slow breath before I gulp back a big sip.

“Here we go. You ready for this?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve been in the dark for a bit.”

“I didn’t wanna live in the place I was at in my head. The last thing I needed to do was drag you in there, too, especially not knowing how it was gonna go. I still don’t know.”

“I’m confused,” I say.

“I know. And I’m sorry I’ve been so tight-lipped about why I’ve been a dick.”

I shrug.

“But playing games with you let me be someone else. And it helped. And it did something else.”

“What?”

“It let me see into your head.”

“You got to play a game where you were bossy and got your way? Who wouldn’t want that?” I snicker.

He smiles.

“Play a game with me. A game where you pretend you’re not mad at me for being an insensitive, self-absorbed asshole. “

“I’m not mad,” I say. “I’m just…” I shrug.

“Afraid it’s not real?”

I nod. “It’s not that I think you’re lying to me. I’m worried you’re lying to yourself.”

“I’m not,” he assures. “Wanna play a game?”

“What kind of game?” I ask.

“A game where you trust that we’re not temporary. Where you stop worrying I’m about to disappear.”

“That sounds fun. And unrealistic,” I say softly and regret it as soon as I do.

“What about a game where maybe you come with me to California when I’m done here and find out what ocean air tastes like?”

“Don’t toy with me,” I warn.

He leans closer and kisses my neck. “A game where we go to the beach and then taste the saltwater on one another’s lips.” He kisses my mouth.

“That could be fun.”

“A game where you get a peek into my mind and see all the sexual things I want?”

“Now you’re talking,” I say and sip my wine again.

“A game where you keep on writing down the things you want me to do to you and I’ll keep reading them and we can keep acting them out but where we also build a life together?”

“What about a game where you tell me what’s going on with you, what’s really going on?” I try.

“Jada,” he whispers.

I smile sadly. There’s so much pain in his eyes right now. I touch his cheek.

And my name on his lips… in this tone, I think I’d agree to just about anything. And that’s kind of dangerous.  Because if he looks at me like that and tells me in that soft voice that he wants to fuck me against the window seventy five floors up, I’ll do it even though it’s terrifying. I’ll do it even if he tells me he’ll do it before he leaves and never sees me again.

“I was holding back. Then I didn’t want to hold back anymore and I’ve been waiting for my moment,” he says.

I put my wine down, lean back, and wait.

“Sienna showed up in St. Kitts to break up my brother’s wedding. She failed and wound up giving me a date rape drug.”

I physically jolt. Hard.

“I’ve known that girl since I was eleven years old. Figured she and Aiden would get married, we’d be family. But she wasn’t someone I’d ever have fucked voluntarily. She drugged me, took me upstairs to my hotel room, managed to have sex with me while I was three quarters unconscious, and did so knowing she wasn’t on the pill.”

I close my eyes as his words wash through me.

“To fucking stick it to my family. Her father and my mother are together, divorcing their spouses to be together so she’s pissed at my mom. Aiden marries someone else so she’s pissed at him. I’m the one that wanders into the bar and gets roofied.”

“Oh my God.”

“I take some blood tests to prove I’m drugged because my mother and brother are let in by her and look at me like I’m a piece of shit at the point I wake up, still dopey and not knowing what the fuck happened. I leave a few hours later and come home and meet you while your brother is having a party.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s probably not even worth it to mention at the wedding I got into a fist fight with the fiancé of a sort-of ex.”

“Ouch. That explains the black eye.”

“Yeah. I get here and get the test results and Carly, still in St. Kitts, gets hotel security footage showing some damning footage of her. I have Sienna arrested. I’ve been livid. Absolutely out of my mind livid that she did that to me and that everywhere I turn and tell this embarrassing story to - people try to talk me into dropping the charges. Reverse chauvinism is alive and thriving in my circles.”

I grab his hand and hold tight.

He claps his free hand over mine and looks into my eyes. “I run into her two days after my father has another heart attack and she tells me she’s pregnant.”

It’s coming together for me. The timeline of when he turned cold after the phone sex.

“So, yeah, I’ve been hot ‘n cold with you because I didn’t wanna drag you into this shit… but I couldn’t keep my mind or my hands off you. Not to mention I couldn’t keep my mind straight with the right thing to do about anything.”

I blow out a breath.

“Until I saw how you wanted this thing with us to go.”

I look away.

“Don’t play off like it was just a story. I saw so many threads of truth woven in there. And I’m here. Wanting it, too. I’ve been here and will be here for you. I read your story, you know that and we haven’t talked about it. But I don’t only wanna play games. Not with the important stuff. I want you to come to California with me. I want you to move there with me when I’m done here in a couple weeks.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m not joking. Sell your father’s house. When your brother gets out of the hospital, we can help him move to San Diego, if he wants. Try it. If you don’t love Cali, we’ll talk. If you do, we can offer to help him get set up with a place and a job. I know lots of people. You always wanted to go to the ocean, taste the air.”

“What if we don’t work?”

“How will we know if we don’t give it a shot?” he asks.

I bite my lip.

“Jada, I’ve always wanted a girl I could connect with on multiple levels. I have that with you.”

“You do?”

“The banter. The jokes. The being able to unload on one another as an outlet. Not that I’m planning on being a dick with you, but feel free to turn on the sass. You know – if you want your ass spanked.”

My eyes bulge.

He laughs at my reaction, then pulls me onto his lap and kisses my jaw. “The way you cook. The sex. Your filthy-beautiful brain and the way you write. The sex. How sweet you were to my niece and nephew. That my sister loves you. That you repeatedly tried to be nice to my mother when she was an absolute bitch. The way you had no idea Andrew wanted to fuck you, or the way you’ve been acting like I’m going to disappear into a puff of smoke any second.”

“I do not…”

“You do.”

I totally do.

“Your eyes track me continuously. You breathe differently when I’m touching you. The sex with us, Jada – it’s fucking exceptional.” He says this with a knowing look – like I couldn’t possibly disagree.

“And I like that you’re a good girl. My good girl who I suspect will let me fuck her any way I want.”

I bite my lip. His lips touch mine briefly and then he’s looking into my eyes, running his fingers through my hair. And I’m melting here on his lap.

“I’m gonna earn that, you know? Chapter four? The window cleaning scene? That’s gonna happen.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Well…” I say huffily, ”if we’re moving to California in a couple weeks, you better do it soon. You live in a house there, not a skyscraper. The fantasy won’t pack the same punch in a two-story house.”

His eyes ignite and I’m quickly on my back on the couch, him climbing up my body, then pressing a rock-hard erection against my pelvis.

My black wrap dress is soon unwrapped, revealing a black bra and panties. Austin yanks one cup of my bra down and draws my nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it.

My legs part further and he reaches down, gliding his fingers down the seam of my panties, then dipping his fingers under the elastic.

His fingers glide through my seam and then they’re inside me, crooking against that bundle of nerves in my inner walls. I jolt and wrap my legs around his lower back.

“I want inside you bare,” Austin tells me.

My lips part while I nod and then I’m nipping at his bottom lip with my teeth.

“You want me inside you?” he asks.

I nod and squirm under him.

“Are you my good girl, Miss Sweetheart?”

“Oh yeah, I am, Sir Groucho the Third.”

He smiles wide and then his smile slips as he drives his length into me, expression as serious as a heart attack.

He pulls back three quarters and then slams inside again before his head descends and our mouths connect.

As our tongues dance, my fingers grip his back, my nails likely leaving marks. I ease up at the thought of hurting him and he immediately leans over and whispers into my ear.

“I’m crazy about you.”

I nod. “You make me crazy in all the ways.”

He laughs and it feels great that he does that while he’s inside me.

He sifts his hand through my hair. “You’re what I’ve been looking for. I just met you at my worst and it took time to see through the anger.”

“I met you at my worst, too. And you’ve made everything better since then. All the stuff that’s better for me, it’s because of you.”

“Not everything. Your writing helps. It gives you the outlet. It gave me the insight into you. If you hadn’t written that, I might be missing out on everything that I love about you.”

I fight the urge to swoon.

“If you hadn’t been a snoop and on my computer, I’d still be writing about you. I’d probably be on chapter seventy-nine by now.” I laugh.

“I may have met you at what you thought was your worst, but since then, I’ve seen so many things that are just… the best.”

“That wasn’t even my worst, though. My worst was being alone in a house with my dead dad and having nobody to come sit with me. You showed me I wasn’t alone. You made every part of dealing with this past few days a hundred times more doable.”

“Not to flip you out but gotta say, I’m really hoping I get to make babies with you, Jada.” His eyes have gone sad. “Only you.”

“I’ll love a baby whether it’s ours or just yours, Austin. You don’t have to doubt that for a second. But that stuff happened to you, not me, and I don’t imagine it’ll be easiest to decide what to do so just know that I’m going to be by your side through all of that.”

He flips so I’m on top. I rock gently back and forth while gliding my hands from his hips up to his shoulders.

“I’m falling in love with you, Jada.” He puts his fingers between my legs and I rock deeper, harder, biting my lips.

“I already fell. I just worried it’d hurt when I landed, but you caught me and I survived.”

I bite my lip and then I rock faster. I rock faster as his fingers speed up. He rises to sitting and grabs my hips, making his cock go deeper and then sucks one of my nipples into his mouth while rubbing harder on my clit and I cry out, fingers in his hair.

I’m floating in euphoria and then I’m actually floating because I’m being carried to the window. He stands me on my feet, turns me, and places my palms against the window.

“I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen.” He drives up into me from behind and I stare at the city below. It doesn’t look scary. It looks like a dream sequence. I’m floating. I’m floating and Austin’s got me and I’m not going to fall. It won’t hurt. I’m fine.

His hand is banded around my chest as he drives into me from behind, his other hand cupping between my legs.

I look down and my belly pitches hard at the sight of the ground below before the room spins.

Does anyone out there see us? He covers all the really personal parts and I wonder if he does that just in case. The blinds are only open the width of our bodies and it’s daylight so chances are small.

“You good?” he asks, and his voice calms me.

“I think I’m great,” I reply.

“You’re pale. I’m getting you to the bed, but good job, baby. I love that you trusted me with that.”

I snuggle in as he’s moving me to bed, to my belly.  He fucks me hard, my face smushed into the sheets, our fingers linked as he pounds into me, chasing a release.

Austin then flips me to my back and drives into me about ten more beautiful times, eyes on mine before he spills inside me.

***

“Coming to California with me?”

It’s dark and we’re cuddled up on his bed.

“Okay.”

“You wanna go back to school?”

“I might. More than anything, I just wanna try and see if I might be cut out for this writing thing.”

“I promise you; you are cut out for this writing thing.”

My heart swells with joy.

Do I dare believe that this is real? That this is mine to keep?

“You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Nope,” I say. “Just gonna take a tinkle and then I’ll be back to do my capuchin impression.”

“Okay. Then we’ll nap and later - order some food. Yeah?”

I nod.

I go to the bathroom and when I come back, he’s lying on his side, head resting on his palm.

“How are you gonna feel if Sienna is pregnant and it’s mine?”

“How do you feel about that? That’s the most important part,” I say.

“I don’t want this to be my reality,” he says, eyes filled with sorrow. “I want one wife in my life, and for my wife to be the mother to all my kids.”

“If she has to be a stepmom to one, she could still be a mom to a bunch more,” I say, stroking his cheek. “But even if she can’t, she’ll still love that baby because it’s part of you.”

He closes his eyes and blows out a breath.

“Should I drop the charges?” he asks, burying his face in my chest.

“Only you can answer that question, Austin.”

He stares at me with the equivalent of puppy dog eyes. And I want to take away all that sadness. I wish I could.

“But will my answer be the right one?” he asks.

“This is really eating you up,” I say.

“Like you have no idea. Or… you’re the one who has the evidence with the way I’ve been.”

“Break it down for me,” I suggest.

And then he tells me the kind of person she is, the kinds of stunts she pulls, how she’s an unapologetic bully spoiled rich bitch. He tells me she cheated on his brother for political reasons to help her father’s share prices in one breath and acts like Daddy’s spoiled little girl in another. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants her punished for what she did, doesn’t care if people think it’s funny for a man twice her size to call date rape; he thinks there’s principle at stake here. But he’s also been told his child might resent him if he punishes that child’s mother while that baby is growing inside her.

“I grew up without a mom, grew up with the impact of that. So did Shane. Shane is all kinds of messed up because of it and I’m all kinds of weak and pathetic because of it.”

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ say that. You are who you are because of a bunch of factors, including, yes, your family, but also you – the uniqueness of you. You’re smart, beautiful, and I’m crazy about you. Nothing pathetic about you.”

“Okay,” I concede and snuggle in.

Beautiful? I’ve always thought I’m plain. He thinks I’m beautiful?

“So you’re saying if this is my kid I shouldn’t make it suffer.”

“A child shouldn’t suffer no matter who their parents are, but that’s not how life works,” I say with a shrug. “That said, is there a way to deal with this without her going to jail? If you can find it in your heart to let it go, I mean… do you think she’d do something like this again if you let her off the hook?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“That’s unfortunate.” I twist my lips. Hm. “I don’t like the idea of anyone getting away with hurting somebody, especially if you letting it go means they’ll do it again. Okay, let me put it this way… is it fair to say you have a slightly strained relationship with your mom?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You weren’t exactly warm with her when she came here that night. And I’ve seen the gossip rags.” I widen my eyes.

“Fair,” he says.

“And if you had a choice between growing up with and without your mom, even when you’re the angriest you ever are at her, which would you pick? Especially as a little kid.”

“Point taken.”

“I get it, Austin. As angry as I’ve been with my dad many times I want him in my life. Even if he bitches and complains and says nothing to me. Even if all he does say to me is that I bought the wrong ‘fucking’ pudding. And now Dad’s gone.”

He squeezes my hand and presses a soft kiss to my mouth.

“What if Sienna’s lying about it being mine?”

“That’s a chance you take being a bigger person. Not that I’m trying to sway you.”

“You obviously think I’m a better person who’d let the charges go,” he says.

I shrug. “If you feel like you need paternity results before you can make a decision, that makes sense. No matter how the results go, she wronged you. What she did to you was horrible and she shouldn’t just get away with that even if there is a baby involved. You’re really stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’m so sorry, Austin.”

“How do you feel about revenge?” he asks me all seriously.

“Your own happiness is the best revenge against an enemy,” I say.

“You’re not the vengeful type,” he observes. “Aiden thinks I should drop charges and get revenge some other creative way.”

“Doesn’t Confucius say that before you embark on a journey of revenge, you should dig two graves instead of one?”

“Yeah,” he says softly.

I shake my head. “Why bother? I held my father’s funeral today and I’m completely convinced that anger, spite, and being unable to let go of a grudge killed him. He had no relationship with his kids and his homelife made him feel like a failure as a husband and father. Who wants to live that way? He didn’t, even though he had a good job, hobbies, friends.”

Austin’s eyes change as he processes this. And then he pulls me closer and I drift off knowing he’s deep in thought. And I don’t sleep heavily, because like he’s been here for me for days now, I wanna be here for him, too.

58

Jada

It’s Monday morning and I’m coming, my fingers in his hair, his mouth between my legs. It’s dawn and this is how he woke me up.

As I’m falling apart, he rams his cock into me and sucks my neck hard and for a long moment.

And then he comes.

He’s catching his breath when I roll him and prop my chin in the center of his chest.

“Did you leave a hickey?” I ask.

He lifts my hair to the side and smiles. “I did.”

I laugh. “That’s my first one.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”
I nod.

“Can I give you one?”

He snickers. “You suck on my neck I’m gonna wind up hard again.”

“Good.” I squirm against him and put my mouth to his collar bone.

“Higher or my shirt’s gonna hide it.”

“You want people to see it?” I ask.

“Candy’s still tryin’ to flirt with me,’ he admits, “Maybe this’ll give her the message.”

I laugh and then I suckle his throat until I see I’ve left a mark.

And then I reach down and guide him back inside me.

***

It’s still crazy-early but I’ve slept a lot the last few days and I’m wide awake. I get into the shower with him and then while he’s getting dressed for work, I make us both coffee and then make up a lunch for him with deli meat and buns.

He smells good as he kisses me, looking hot in his three-piece suit while I’m wearing a robe with my hair wet and in my eyes.

“You sure you’re okay for me to go?” he asks, pulling me close.

I nod. “Definitely. Go to work. This apartment needs a good deep cleaning and you’re very distracting.”

“Am I?” He nuzzles my throat with his nose.

“Very. And then later, I’m going for coffee with Raven and Andrew.”

He smiles sheepishly and then caresses my throat with his thumb.

I gasp. “Austin Carmichael! Is that why you put a hickey on me? For Andrew’s benefit?”

He smiles wider.

“You’re so bad,” I whisper.

“Good thing you’re good. We balance one another out,” he says and kisses me again and then he grabs his lunch bag and his coffee and leaves.

I stand there smiling. He’s not remotely bad.

And then I check the bathroom and see that yep, that hickey is definitely going to stand out.

I hear my phone ding a few minutes later so check and there’s a text message.

Austin: I’m gonna find out what else you’ve never had in the bedroom before and give you that, too.

***

I’m supposed to meet for coffee with Andrew and Raven at five o’clock. She meets me but he ditched us.

He smiled when he saw me in the lobby first thing this morning when I went down to grab something a courier left, before his shift ended. I think my neck was the result of the ditching. He was warm and then went super cold and told me he had paperwork and would catch up with me some other time.

“Aren’t we meeting for coffee at five with Raven?”

He looks at my throat, and then says he can’t. He has to start work early today.

When I do meet with Raven, she pouts a little, which makes it dawn that she’s into him. I decide to do something about it to help matters.

Austin texted at lunchtime to say he’s working a little late but should be back by eight, so at quarter to six, I pop downstairs and see Andrew at the desk.

“Hey,” I greet.

His eyes flash with annoyance.

“I’m going to grab some dessert at the bakery for tonight. Do you want me to grab you something from the coffee shop on my way back?”

“Nah; I’m good.”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m good. Have a good night.” He waves and goes back to the split screen surveillance monitor his eyes were pointed at.

“Raven seemed disappointed you couldn’t come,” I say, smiling. “I’m thinking that if you ask her out, she’ll probably say yes.”

Andrews eyes hit mine and they look more than annoyed. They look angry.

“I’m not interested in Raven, the heiress mommy porn queen. I was interested in you, but you’d rather date that rich prick. Even sat through that funeral and you barely gave me the time of day.”

I’m taken aback by the venom in his voice as well as his words.

“My father died,” I whisper.

“Yeah and I would’ve been there for you through that if you’d let me.”

Raven talked about the type of stuff she writes the last time the three of us went for coffee. I’ve told Andrew I write but have never gotten into the types of things I write. And I’m sad that he looks down on Raven for her literary choices as well as obviously has a problem with people who have money.

“A lot of what you just said was not nice, Andrew. I thought we were friends, but…”

“Yeah, naw. I don’t do the friend zone. You’re not into me, I’m not interested in bein’ pals. Whatever. Fuckin’ bitches are all the same. They pick the rich guy over the working guy even if the rich guy is a dick. I’m gonna be one of those dicks someday. Until then, I get passed over.”

“Bitches?” I stare in shock.

“Good night, Jada,” he growls. “Have a nice life. Don’t bother calling me when things go south with him. I won’t be taking calls.”

I swallow hard and then I walk out.

I’m floored.

59

Austin

I walk into the front door of the building and Andrew’s gunning me as I walk to the elevator. He’s got a big problem with me.

“Hey,” I greet.

“Fuck you, prick,” he grumbles half under his breath.

I straighten up and cock an eyebrow.

His face goes red as he stares at his screen, lip curling.

I wander over and wait until he looks up at me.

“You need something?” he clips.

“What’s your problem?” I ask, completely casual.

He shakes his head. “Got no problem.”

“No? What’s with the attitude?”

“Just sittin’ here doin’ my job man; didn’t realize I need to kiss your ass every time you walk in the place.”

“Don’t want you kissin’ anything of mine. Don’t expect attitude from you for no reason, either.”

“No reason? Yeah.” He scoffs. “Whatever, man.”

“Might wanna learn a thing or two about customer service if you expect to excel in the security industry, Andrew,” I advise.

“This isn’t my chosen profession,” he informs.

“No, but if acting is, you should be able to at least act professional, man. Make sure you do, or I’ll have to put in a complaint.”

He throws a pen across his desk. “Oh yeah? Getting’ two security guards fired? Make you feel like you got a big set of balls because you can do that?”

Fuck, this dickhead has a chip on his shoulder where I’m concerned. It’ll be good to be done with him when we head to San Diego.

I lean in. “The other guy, the guy you were hired to replace? Smoking a bong in my brother’s apartment during his shift. That’s why he got fired. If you’re gonna be an asshole with no cause, I’ll be talking to your boss again.”

“Rich pricks like you can snap your fingers and fuck someone’s life.  Too bad you’re gonna fuck Jada’s life, too.”

“What makes you say that?”

“That redhead that was here a few weeks ago might’ve said a few things about you when we went for drinks the next day.”

“What?”

“You get me fired, maybe I’ll tell Jada what I heard.” He smirks.

“Jada knows everything already. Go fuck yourself.” I walk away. Then after I get in the elevator, I turn around and smirk at him. “Have a good night. I know I will.”

The jackass glares at me as the doors close.

I have no idea what bullshit Sienna is feeding people about me. If what he said was even true. Security guards are not Sienna’s bag.

But I also don’t give a fuck right now. Fuck you, Andrew.

Jada’s mine.

I hired someone else today whose onboarding is going to mean I get to go back to California sooner than later and word is traveling about how our competitor Franklin was pulling shit with Bassell and their reputation is mud. Things with work are good. I’ve got my girl. I’m looking forward to taking her home and showing her what life will be like with me.

Of course I’m still in limbo with the Sienna shit, but beyond that, things are good.

I get into the apartment and fuck me, but Jada is standing there at the kitchen island in lingerie.

I freeze, taking in the eye candy.

She’s wearing a French Maid outfit. It’s sheer and she’s not wearing a bra or underwear.

She’s got stilettos on.

Her lips are red, her eyelashes are thick and black, and she’s standing there with her palms on either side of her hips against the counter.

I drop my stuff and head to her, undoing my shirt.

She lifts up a black feather duster and slowly dusts my chest with it, a focused look on her face.

I grab her by the back of her thighs and lift her onto the kitchen counter, going for my fly.

“Sir Groucho, I must dust… how about you inspect while I do?” She’s tried to put on a French accent. It‘s awful. But it takes the sex appeal up another notch for some reason.

“Fuck the dust,” I growl as I find my way under her uniform.

“Fuck zee dust?” she asks in mock horror, but then gasps as my fingers get to their goal. She’s drenched. I drop to a squat and bury my face under it so I can attack her pussy with my mouth. She comes all over my face in about two and a half minutes, then I’m carrying her to the master bedroom. I throw her on her back and get my clothes the rest of the way off.

“I was gonna pick the game tonight, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna have to do it tomorrow.”

“You have a game in mind?” she breathes, wild-eyed, forgetting her fake accent.

I smile. “Now you’ll have to wait.”

She pouts. Her lower lip protrudes adorably.

And then I slam my cock into her tight heat and her lips part as a gasp escapes.

***

“What’s for dinner?” I ask, snuggled with my little capuchin monkey afterwards.

“Peanut butter sandwiches,” she says sleepily, yawning.

“Slackin’ on the job now that you figure you got me wrapped around your finger?”

“Nope. Just can’t cook after having my brains fucked out,” she whispers.

I laugh.

“There’s a lasagna in the oven,” she amends.

“Mm.” I thought I smelled something cooking.

“A vegetable and seafood lasagna actually.”

“Seafood?” I make a face. “Are we gonna survive the night?”

“Fingers crossed. We’ve got twenty-four rolls of toilet paper, so we should.”

I laugh.

“And I ran to the bakery to buy some cannolis for dessert.”

“Ooh. Good call. Glad I’ve got a home gym in my house since I’ve put on five pounds in the last month,” I remark.

She giggles and pokes my belly. “Still got a six pack, I see. I’ll stop feeding you so well if your buff turns to fluff.”

I chuckle.

“Actually, I could totally handle it if you get a Dad bod. I don’t only want you for your body,” she whispers.

“No? You want me for my math skills?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out a laugh. “That’s exactly why I want you.”

“Well, I want you just as you are.”

She cuddles in closer.

“No wait,” I say.

Her eyes dart up to mine.

“One thing I’d like you to work on. Would you please, pretty please, clean up your computer desktop? I have no fuckin’ clue how you run that thing like that.”

She barks out a laugh.

“So many fuckin’ icons. Drives me batty to even think of it. Though if your computer was tidy, I could’ve missed out on discovering my favorite new soon-to-be-published author. My sweetheart.”

She lets out a little purr and nuzzles in closer.

And then she goes rigid.

“What’s wrong?” I kiss her nose.

“When you joked about why I want you, it kind of reminded me of an unpleasant exchange tonight with Andrew down in the lobby. He was rude to me. I don’t think he liked the hickey and then he got a little nasty.”

“He what?” I sit up, now serious.

“Made comments insinuating I’m after your money.”

“You know how much money I’ve got?” I ask.

Jada shakes her head.

“For all you know, I’ve got nothing, don’t get a trust fund until I’m forty and I’m up to my eyeballs in debt. Lotta business execs aren’t rolling in it nowadays.”

“Are you? In financial trouble?”

“Would you break up with me if I was?”

She shakes her head again. “I’d get a second job to help you pay off your debts.”

I pull her close, feeling warmth through every vein in my body. “I believe that. For the record, I’ve got more than a little money in the bank.”

“I’m not after your money,” she whispers. “I want your body.”

“I own my house, a boat, two cars, and a condo in the Canary Islands as well as one in Glasgow.”

Jada’s jaw drops. “Glasgow?”

“Love it there. Spent a semester there in my last year of college. Can’t wait to take you. And I’ve got money put away for future kids’ college funds already. I know money, I’ve been saving it since I got my first job at sixteen, and yeah, I got part of my trust fund at twenty-one and put it into good investments, get the rest in a few years, plus I’ll stand to inherit a whack of money when the unthinkable happens and I lose my dad. I don’t believe in prenups, never have, so when I get married I won’t be asking my bride to sign one.”

“But I would,” she declares. “I don’t care about your money. I mean… if I was that bride, not that I think I’m gonna be or anything, but-”

I cover her mouth with my hand. She looks mortified.

“What did he say to you, exactly?”

“Mmf mmmf,” she tries.

I take my hand away from her mouth.

“Are you gonna go beat him up?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

She bites her lip.

“And because he already pissed me off, saying shit to me tonight, too. The guy’s a dick.”

“He is. What did he say?”

“Just being a dick and then threatened to say something to you about whatever Sienna said to him. I knew he let her up without buzzing up intentionally that night. Told him you know everything there is to know. Anyway, we’ll be out of here soon. I got a real estate agent lined up to meet us at your dad’s house this weekend.”

“Oh good.” She relaxes. “You know what? Let’s go have some dinner and forget about Andrew. I thought he was my friend, but clearly he wasn’t, so forget about him. I’m going to.”

“Fine. As long as he doesn’t utter another negative thing or give you any dirty looks.”

“Fine.”

“But I still wanna know what he said.”

60

Jada

It’s Sunday night and Austin and I are just leaving from dinner with Suki and her sister Aurora. Suki is the lady who raised Austin. His nanny. And I love her to death.

A sweet older black lady with a slight Caribbean accent, she was not only sweet and welcoming, but she was also bossy with Austin in a way that was endearing. And he was as doting with her as I suspect he’d be if she was his grandmother.

She had pictures of Adele’s kids on the wall as well as framed pictures of Adele, Aiden, and Austin on the dresser in her bedroom, which she showed me. Adele’s wedding picture was on her wall, too, and she proudly showed me a beautiful watch and necklace she got from them for her last birthday. For dinner, she cooked a dish called Callaloo soup, fresh rolls, and then we ate a delicious and rather potent rum cake for dessert.

I brought her flowers and a box of chocolate truffles that Austin said were her favorites.

“Did I pass a test?” I ask, getting into the car.

He’s looking at me with a huge grin, so I suspect I did.

“She doesn’t hug people she just met, so I’d say you fuckin’ did.”

I smile proudly. Suki hugged me goodbye, grabbing my face with both hands and smiling big at me.

“Brought at least three girls around her and they got nothin’. Carly didn’t even get a hug her first visit.”

I gasp. “Don’t tell her. I don’t want her to feel bad.”

“Carly got one on her second, though.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Now you’ve met Dad, Suki, my siblings, my sister-in-law, my niece and nephew. All that’s left is Dirk and Dirk’s a good guy, so you’ll hit it off, no problem, and … you’ve met Mom, but…”

I laugh. “I don’t think your mom is a fan.”

“Ignore her. Everyone else does. She’s only a fan of herself.”

I snicker.

“She’s gonna act like you have no class, no taste, and she’ll roll her eyes a lot as well as do the typical future mother-in-law thing. Just do you. You’ll be fine. We do semi-monthly dinners with the family - usually at Adele’s or sometimes at Aiden and Carly’s. My mother only comes half the time. And we always serve a lot of alcohol so we can better tolerate her.”

“Future mother-in-law?” I ask. “That’s a bold statement.” It’s not the first one of that type either.

He smiles big and winks.

“But she’s a recovering alcoholic,” I say. “It’s not nice to flaunt booze in front of her.”

I note he says nothing about my question. I let it go because the wink says a lot.

“She told us from the start she didn’t want to be treated strangely because she’d quit drinking.” He shrugs.

“I still think it’s kinda rude.”

“Life goes on, Jada.”

“Is she alcohol-free though? When she was here she asked for booze.”

“She slipped and I’m just hoping she’s back on the wagon. She tried to make it seem like my sitch with Sienna was driving her to drink. It’s a game with her. It usually is. I don’t bite when she dangles these things.”

I shake my head. “I get it.”

“You think you do, but you’ll still have an Audra learning curve. You’ve got the rest of us to help you muddle through.”

I laugh.

He looks at me like I have no idea what I’m in for.

“I’m sure I can handle it. I handled you, didn’t I?”

We’re stopped at a red light, so he grabs me and kisses me.

“We’ll see if you can handle me when I get you to that bedroom tonight.”

***

“Are you my good girl?” he asks.

I’m naked, on the bed, and he’s still fully dressed, looking down at me with a drink in his hand.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Then turn over and get on your hands and knees.”

I roll and rise up onto all fours.

“Knees further apart, Jada.”

I’m definitely wet. He’s being bossy and it’s hot as heck.

His finger slides down my seam and then he leans over and tastes me. But he’s got an ice cube in his mouth, so I jolt.

“Stay still,” he orders. And then his hand glides up my bottom and down again in a gentle caress.

I do my best to stay still, but my knees are trembling.

“Good girl,” he tells me.

My eyes drift shut and I sigh in contentment.

He likes telling me what to do in bed.

But I like doing what he tells me to do in bed probably even more.

61

Austin

Three Weeks Later

San Diego, California

We’re here. Finally, I’m done with New York.  For now. I’m concerned I did such a good job of cleaning up there that it’ll mean more of that shit from my father who can’t stop talking about how pleased he is with me.

As far as I’m concerned, Aiden is up next if there’s any travel required.

We’re taking a cab home; I haven’t told anyone we’re coming today. The cab driver, a  super-nice guy named Ash, is one that Carly always uses so our clan tries him first before anyone else. He’s waiting with a big smile and he talks to Jada all the way from the airport to my house about some of the perks of living in San Diego.

She talks to him like they’ve been friends for years and it’s no wonder Suki fell in love with her. No wonder Carly wanted to do whatever she could to help Jada out when she was in a jam. She makes a great first impression. Most of the time…

She’s open, and listens to people. She’s got a beautiful smile and shines with a genuine light from within.

I’m in love with this girl and I fully intend to make her mine permanently.

The family thinks we’re coming two days from now. I want tonight to ourselves, so Jada can settle, see the house, not feel overwhelmed.

Her eyes light up stepping inside at the open plan space once we’re inside my house. It’s spacious, bright, lots of windows and there’s a great view out back of the pool and the landscaping, which is a feature of the place I get a lot of compliments on. Buying the model home, all this was done for me, so I just pay someone to keep it looking good.

The kitchen is in the middle of the action and it’s a chef’s kitchen which I’m figuring she’ll appreciate.

Her mouth drops and she stares at me. “This is amazing.”

“You like it? I bought it furnished. It was the model home. I’m totally open to changing things if you prefer another style.”

“Why waste money getting rid of perfectly good furniture?” she asks.

I laugh. “My mother redecorates every second year.”

She waves her hand. “I love everything I see so far. Show me the rest. And when can we go to the ocean?”

“Tomorrow? Does that work?”

She jumps up and down excitedly and throws her arms around me as she jumps up, wrapping her arms and legs around me. I catch her and smile.

I’m really, really fucking happy right now.

“My first plane trip, my first time to California, my first trip to the ocean tomorrow. You’re giving me so many firsts Austin. I love it.”

I kiss her. “And I fuckin’ love that I get so many of those.”

***

The look on Jada’s face when we get to Ocean Beach is a look I’ll never forget.

It’s sunset and the sky is a swirl of crimson, yellow, and purple. She’s in awe as we walk the sand.

“Hey,” I whisper, turning her to me as she stares at the horizon.

“I smell it,” she tells me.

“Are you happy? Because California has been home, sweetheart, but if you’d rather we stay in New York or go somewhere else, I’m totally open to talking about that.”

“I don’t care where we are as long as I’m with you,” she says.

“I love you,” I whisper and then touch her lips with my fingertips.

Her eyes go bright with tears and she swallows before she whispers, “I love you, too, Austin.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and gets on her tiptoes.

“Your first ocean kiss,” I say, and then our lips meet.

62

Jada

Waking up in Austin’s bed feels like a dream. It’s been amazing – these few days here so far. My new life feels like a vacation. Sun and palm trees, and living in a big, beautiful home with sunshine spilling through the windows. Austin’s home office has a desk right by the window that looks at the pool and he tells me it’s now my office – a place for me to write. Though I can see myself writing outside a lot, too.

Yesterday, while he was sitting at the desk going through his mail, I told him I wanted to get a job and he sweetly told me no.

“No? What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Your job right now is to get settled, see if this feels like home, and to write.”

I frowned. He opened an envelope and pulled a bank card out. And then ripped open another envelope.

“Here.” He handed me two cards. “One debit, one credit. You can give me the Carmichael card back since you’re… you know… fired.” He smirked at me. “Call the number on the back and follow the prompts to pick your pin.”

“Fired?” I gasped.

“Yeah. You’re no longer my housekeeper. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, your girlfriend is not looking to be a kept woman.”

He studied my face for a minute. “How about this? Take two months and then we’ll talk again. Those cards are for anything you want or need in the meantime.”

“I don’t need anything.” I pouted.

“If you do, use them. Especially the credit card. I get killer air miles with it and then we can fly for free when we wanna go to Glasgow, Spain, or wherever. I use that and pay it each month so groceries, gas, whatever. Racks the miles up fast.” He waved his hand.

“I saved almost all the money I made while working for you so if I need something, I can buy it myself.” I pouted and crossed my arms. I also have some money in the bank leftover from my father’s finances.

“Okay, fine. But buy the food, gas for the car, and shit for the house with the Amex, though.”

I said nothing.

“Stop pouting or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.”

I jolted in surprise. And then I put a huge fake pout on my face. I pushed my lower lip out as far as it’d go.

Austin’s eyes lit with delight, then I was hauled up over his shoulder. I dropped the bank cards in surprise and was taken up to his bedroom, spanked on my butt three times over his knee, and then he fucked me doggie style on his bed.

I love that he wants to take care of me. It’s something I’ve never had.

I also don’t want to be a burden, don’t want to be a taker and not a giver in the relationship. But he’s been so sweet and nurturing and I know it comes from a good place, so I figure I’ll take the two months he’s offering and then make sure I’m contributing somehow beyond cooking, cleaning, and shopping.

***

It feels a little daunting walking into Adele’s house with Austin for my first Carmichael family Sunday dinner, but it’s a big and important one so the focus won’t all be on me, the newcomer. As soon as we’re out of the car, the door is flying open. Once we climb the steps, I’ve got little Braeden grabbing my waist and hugging me.

“Told you!” Braeden beams a smile up at me.

“Uh, what?” Austin squats. “And don’t I even get a hello?”

“Hey Unco Austin.”

Austin’s face goes funny.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

He shakes his head and clears the expression. “Told her what?”

“Never mind,” I say to Austin. And I wink at Braeden. He winks back. Or tries, but it’s a struggle and the cutest attempted wink I’ve ever seen as his little face goes all twisty as he blinks with both eyes and then pulls one open with his little hand.

Adele and Carly approach together with big smiles on their faces and I’m engulfed in hugs.

“He said my name properly,” Austin grumbles to his sister, hugging her.

She shrugs. “I know. He’s growing up too fast. He still mispronounces Aiden. I’m guessing that’ll end in a week max.”

“And he’s wise beyond his years,” I say, stroking Braeden’s head.

“I told her she was gonna be my auntie,” Braeden announces. “And I was right.”

“We haven’t gotten married,” I warn in a whisper.

He shrugs. “I think it’ll be a couple months,” Braeden announces.

I laugh nervously. And then my eyes are met by Austin’s and he has a serious look on his face that makes my heart skip a beat.

I smile shyly as we move further into the house.

“How are you?” Carly asks, eyes concerned.

“I’m okay,” I say, “and also amazing. Austin’s made it all so much easier. It’s kind of crazy to have everything fall apart and come together all at the same time, you know?”

She squeezes my hand. “I know,” she says softly.

Austin’s eyes are on me with a look of love and promise. I feel all squishy inside.

“So, Audra and Q are here with their significant others?” Austin asks under his breath.

“Oh yes…” Adele says with her lips pulled tight and her eyes saying something like ‘oh shit’.

We head into the big family room and as I compliment Adele on her lovely home, I see Alice holding Baby Lilly on her lap. Lilly is sucking on a fabric book.  Austin’s dad Quentin is beside her on the couch, smiling at the baby.

On the deck outside, I spot Austin’s mother with a tall and attractive older man. They’re talking to a dark-haired guy who is grilling food.

“Hello, Jada,” Austin’s father rises and gives me a hug. “Welcome to California.”

“Hello again. How are you, love?” Alice asks.

“Good. Thanks. How are you?”

“Wonderful,” she beams.

Lilly squeals at me.

“Hi baby girl!” I greet and tickle her feet.

“You know everyone here,” Adele says, “Come meet my husband and Mom and her beau. Wait. What to drink? Long island iced tea okay?”

“Sounds good. I met your mom briefly in New York,” I say.

“Beer please,” Austin replies.

“And how was that?” Aiden asks, coming into the conversation, smiling.

“Hi Aiden.”

“Hey,” he greets and hugs me. “Welcome to the nut house. And  the family. Same diff.”

I chuckle and my eyes bounce to Austin who’s smiling wide at his brother.

Adele puts drinks in each of our hands, then pulls the screen door aside and waves me out. My eyes land on Austin.

“Right behind you, baby,” he says and follows.

63

Austin

It all happens in a blink around sunset. One minute, I’m sitting with my family, cuddling my sleeping niece against my chest while watching my mother and the girl I know I’m going to marry bond – seeing my mother laughing and looking happy, having my father and his ex best friend speaking off to the side with my brother and brother-in-law looking like they’re trying, for the sake of all of us, when things go more fucked up than any of us could’ve imagined.

***

We’re just finishing dinner and my mother has already told me she wants to speak to me privately before the night is over. She’s been rather well-behaved today so far. For Audra, that is. So I instead say, “What about breakfast tomorrow instead? Come over. Spend the morning with me and Jada.”

My mother smiled at that and seemed even more at ease.

She hasn’t even been rude to Jada once, though she refuses to look at my father or Alice.

Alice takes it all in stride and talks happily with everyone, seeming completely unaffected.

Jada tried to bring Alice into the conversation twice, once asking about her accent and then asking her about Wales, her birthplace.

My mother pulled Carly into a separate conversation at that point, trying to avoid eye contact with Alice.

Her need to ignore Alice might be why she’s being so sweet to Jada, but as it’s making my girl happy right now to be welcomed into the fold, I’ll take it.

***

We’re sitting in the backyard and I’m on a lounger with my niece asleep on my chest. Aiden has just finished telling Jada and Roger the story of Carly breaking records on the leaderboard at laser tag back when “she didn’t appreciate my management style.”

“You mean when I wanted to castrate you?” Carly corrects.

“Ouch, Peaches. That’s not nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “He was the biggest alphahole ever,” she says.

“Oh, I don’t know about ever,” Jada mutters under her breath.

“Hey!” I act affronted and then I wink at her.

“Now look at you, all… ovary destroying over there.” Jada waves. “With a baby sleeping on you like that. These Carmichael boys, I tell ya.”

“They get it honestly,” Dad chimes in.

We all laugh.

“What?” he asks, affronted. “I’ve exploded some ovaries in my day.”

My mother busts up laughing. “Uh, no. My hysterectomy did that, not you.”

Alice laughs. Roger snickers.

This is bizarre. My parents getting along. Their significant others laughing as Mom ribs Dad.

***

My siblings and I exchange glances. My father, too. His brows are up in surprise as he looks at my mother laughing, sitting with Jada and Carly, looking like she’s having fun without it being related to alcohol and without looking like she’s only smiling due to enjoying anyone else’s discomfort.

But she’s been in conversation with them both for the past half hour, discussing some author my mother reads. I think Carly brought up books knowing it’d give them common ground. Jada has explained she was attending that author’s workshops in the big apple and Mom and her talked about going to a signing next month in Los Angeles when that author is doing a book tour for her latest. Sounds like the three of them are making plans to go together. My mother doesn’t even get bitchy when Jada timidly tells her she wants to be a writer and write steamy romance. My mother says she wants to read her work. Jada laughs nervously and I shoot her a look of horror.

***

I’m stretched out on a lounger by the pool, thinking I’ll pass the baby to Adele or Dirk next time one of them heads inside when from the corner of my eye, I see a flash of auburn hair.

Sienna?

“What the fuck?” I say, and watch her bolt through the yard, having come over the fence of the yard behind Adele and Dirk’s and then she’s at the table with my mother, Carly, and Jada and she’s lunging for Jada.

“Fuck!’ I shout. But I’ve got the baby in my arms. And now she’s wailing because I’ve shouted. And they’re thirty feet away. My eyes go wild looking for the nearest person to hand Lilly off to when my mother is pulling a flailing Sienna away from Jada. It’s arms, hair, screams. A tangle of Sienna trying to swing for my mother, for Jada, or even Carly who is also right there. Roger moves fast, hauling Sienna away from my mother.

And Sienna’s hair is flying wildly as she kicks her feet, being pulled up off the ground by her father. She shouts, face contorted. “You and you next!” Sienna hisses at Carly and Jada. “Bitches fucking everything up in my life!”

I hand Lilly to Adele, who’s run out and I rush in that direction.

“Let me go! Let me go! She’s ruining everything! And you! You bitch, Audra. I hate you. You fixed nothing. Why did you lie to me? I hope you bleed out and die right here.”

“Sienna, fuck!” I get between Sienna and Jada and Carly. “Call the cops, Dirk. You got her, Rog?”

Sienna struggles in her father’s grip as he tries to settle her down.

“Princess, settle down. Give me the knife.”

Knife?

I see it now.

Roger tries to take it from her but Sienna struggles, shouting at her father for being here with the traitor Carmichaels, the enemies. The kitchen knife blade glints with bright red on the tip. My eyes slash to Jada, no blood that I can see. Carly. No blood either. They’re both freaked, but neither are bleeding.

Sienna struggles some more, grunting, crying.

She’s a mess. Her hair is everywhere. She looks nothing like the pampered and coiffed rich bitch we all know. There’s blood on her but I don’t know if it’s hers.

It’s mayhem, with Lilly crying in my sister’s arms as my sister grabs Braeden’s hand and tries to usher him toward the house and Braeden’s crying, too.

I hear Dirk on the phone with emergency services as my eyes wildly traverse everyone.

“You!” Sienna points at me. “and you,” she hisses at Aiden. “I hate you both.”

And then I hear Braeden.

“Grammy’s bleeding! Grammy’s bleeding!” Braeden shouts as Adele pulls him into the house.

Alice gasps, grabbing my father’s arm. All eyes must move to my mother, whose back is to me. My mother looks down at her stomach and slumps to the patio while the knife clatters. Roger lets go of Sienna to reach for my mother, who hasn’t said a word, whose cream-blouse I can now see is glowing crimson across the middle. Aiden grabs Sienna and wrestles her to the ground, holding her down.

Jada pulls out of my grip to reach for my mother, and then she and Carly are on their knees in front of my mother, whose middle is gushing blood. Alice is there, too, piling towels on my mother’s stomach. My mother’s eyes dart between me, my brother, my sister, and then Roger and she looks at us with fear in her eyes that I’ve never seen and will never forget for the rest of my life.

“It’s okay, Mom. Dirk has an ambulance is coming,” Aiden says. “Hang on!”

Sienna roars out a banshee-like scream.

“Shut the fuck up you goddamn bunny boiler,” I snap and Aiden growls in her face.

She laughs maniacally while my brother continues to pin her.

“We’ll put pressure on it, Mrs. Carmichael,” Alice says. “Try to relax. Q, Roger, help please.”

My father gets on his knees beside Roger and presses a towel to her middle. Alice puts her hands there, too. They all try to keep my mother talking, telling her to hang on while Dad’s, Alice’s, and Roger’s hands all hold the towels in place.

Jada and Carly have their arms around one another. I put my arms around them both.

“You two okay?”

I get nods and sniffles, and Jada wrapping both arms around me and hanging on. I feel both of them trembling.

Sirens.

The ambulance. Thank God.

***

Aiden contained Sienna until the cops arrived and arrested her.

Sienna was in hysterics under my brother, thrashing, calling him names, spouting insults at all of us as her father looked on in horror between his daughter and at my mother.

While she was carted away by the cops, she was out of her mind screaming threats at me, at Aiden, Carly, and Jada. That she’ll kill us. That she’ll pay to have us killed. That we should be looking over our shoulders always. That when my kid is born, she’s killing that too. She screamed at her father that she hopes Audra dies, hopes he dies.

She’s completely lost it.

***

We’re at the hospital while my mother is in surgery. And I’m fucking furious. I can’t sit, I can’t think, I can only pace.

I can’t stop looking over Jada to make sure she didn’t actually get hurt, too. Aiden and Carly are cuddled on a couch in the corner, Aiden looking pissed and Carly looking traumatized.

Dirk went to get more coffee and Adele paces, talking on the phone to Alice who has the kids back at her place. My father and Roger are also here, both looking lost in their own thoughts.

Dad leans over and puts a hand on Roger’s shoulder. Their eyes meet. Roger dissolves into tears and my father hugs him.

Jada seems to know to let me pace. Her eyes on me are sad.

“Girls, I’m so sorry,” Roger chokes out. “All of you. I’ve sent doctors over, but Sienna wouldn’t speak to them. Her mother was worried about her, said she was becoming more and more despondent at the thought of the upcoming court date, and we didn’t know she would… would have a psychotic break I guess.” He shrugs. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known this was a possibility…”

“You didn’t know,” Dad says. “She’s gonna get the help she needs now, Rog. Did you get ahold of Suz?”

Roger nods. “Not yet, but the travel agent is trying.”

I close my eyes and blow out a breath. What mother goes on a vacation when her daughter is in a state like that?

Suzette Greer is a lot like my mother.

I push that thought away, wanting to avoid negative thoughts about Audra while she’s fighting for her life.

“Don’t,” Jada warns softly. “This isn’t on you.”

“It’s not, Austin. My daughter made choices. Bad ones.”

I say nothing. I wasn’t taking the blame for this because I was charging Sienna with assault. Not remotely. It’s not on me at all.

Aiden pipes up. “I want her cell phone checked, her computer run through with Jude for forensics, I wanna know if she’s done anything to try to make our lives difficult going forward.”

“I really don’t think she-” Roger starts.

“You didn’t think she’d stab my mother today, did you? I need to know!” Aiden snaps. “Auz needs to know. We both need to know our women are safe. That she won’t go after Adele or after Audra again, if Audra even survives this.”

“Everyone stop, please,” Adele pleads, tears streaming.

Dirk is back. He puts the tray of drinks down and pulls her close. “Let’s just hope Mom survives and then the book can be fucking thrown at Sienna,” Adele mumbles into her husband’s shoulder.

“She might be the mother of your niece or nephew,” Roger reminds her.

And I stop and lean forward, hands bracing on my thighs, feeling like I’m about to puke my guts up.

Jada comes to me. I pull her close. Breathe her in. But I’m shaking. With rage.

An evil, psychotic bitch might be having my baby. An evil bitch who might have killed that baby’s grandmother and who wanted to stab my girlfriend and my brother’s wife.

Jada rubs my back. I stare into her eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers. “Somehow.”

I nod and bury my face into her hair.

But I’m not sure it will.

***

My mother survives her surgery. She’s going to have a gnarly scar on her belly. She’ll deal, though. Audra has the best plastic surgeon in San Diego on speed dial.

Sienna was sedated and I immediately got my lawyers working on demanding a paternity test.

They get a judge to agree because she’s probably not going to be deemed fit to stand trial for attempted murder and if she is pregnant with my child, I’ll be within my rights to be consulted on antipsychotic drugs and their effect on a fetus.

The idea of all this has me sick to my stomach.

Jada is unwavering in being here for me. Psychic in knowing when I need her close and when I need space.

She’s no stranger to dealing with someone with mental illness so the only thing that gets to me in the few days following my mother’s stabbing is when she starts talking with sympathy for Sienna. She knows it’s a sore spot so thankfully she doesn’t push that argument with me.

I have a hard time feeling sorry for that girl, have a hard time believing this isn’t just her not liking that she’s not getting her way after a lifetime of having every whim answered by her parents, everything she wants from men because of her looks. The world either falls to her feet or succumbs when she pushes her money and her status around. And not getting her way this time turned her into a holy terror.

I won’t feel sorry for that bitch who went at the woman I love with a knife and wound up stabbing my mother. Not at all. And I’m just sick inside at the notion she might be the mother of a kid that’s biologically mine.

Adele has tried asking again if I’d raise the kid or not.

I haven’t given any answers. I have none.

Audra, though? This whole thing seems to have humbled her a little. Sad, but true.

In the hospital a couple days after her surgery, she told me to do what was right for me and that she’d be behind me.

She’s even being civil with my father and Alice.

***

A Week Later

We’re expecting a call today from my lawyer with the results of Sienna’s paternity test.

“Do you want to talk what-ifs?” Jada asks.

She’s at the kitchen counter, using a spatula to press Rice Krispies, butter, and marshmallows into a glass dish. She spent yesterday shopping with Carly and Adele, buying stuff for the kitchen that I didn’t have, including the dish she’s currently using. I spanked her ass for using her own money to buy it but realize she doesn’t want me to think she’s after my money.

“Besides,” she argued back, “The house sold, and it sold for more than asking, so I have money coming. I can splurge on some Pyrex.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

I paid someone to pack her father’s house up after reroofing and painting it.  Everything was put in storage before they stuck up the for-sale sign. It sold quickly and it’s been good that it’s one less thing on Jada’s plate.

She’s planning to enroll in a writing class at UC San Diego for starters. She’s having fun with my sister and my sister-in-law. She’s been writing at her new desk, too, but she put a password on her computer. I acted fake outraged that she did that, until she whispered the password into my ear. “Grouchothethird”.

***

She’s talking about her class while she cuts the treats into squares. “At least it’s part-time. So… it won’t be too bad if my responsibilities have to increase.”

“Your responsibilities?”

She bites her lip and looks like she wants to take those words back.

“Are you saying you’re keeping things open in case you have to become a mother unexpectedly” I ask angrily.

“You said you didn’t wanna talk about this until we know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to take us down this road.”

I shake my head. “We’re here, so let’s travel on it for just a minute, then.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re willing to put your life on hold to help me take care of a kid that’s not even yours? A kid born to a woman who tried to knife you? Who stabbed the kid’s grandmother?”

She gives me a sad smile. “Absolutely.”

“It’s not gonna piss you off?’

“Is it ideal? No. But, if that’s the hand you’re dealt, then it’s the hand I’m dealt, too. I want you, Austin, and if you come with a baby I’m here for you every minute of every day.”

“What if I don’t wanna raise it?” I ask.

She grabs my hand. “I’m just keeping myself open for whatever you decide. It’s your decision.”

“Whatever we decide,” I correct and kiss her hand.

“Right.” She smiles.

“I love you, Jada, and I’m not about to foist this on you if it’s not what you want.”

“I want you and whatever comes with you,” she tells me.

I believe her. I kiss her and breathe out a long breath. I want this answer. And I don’t. With equal intensity.

I suddenly understand why my brother sat on that paternity test envelope for a year before he opened it. I want to know. But if it’s yes, everything is gonna change and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

My phone rings.

It’s my lawyer.

Here we go…

64

Jada

Austin answers his phone. I hold his free hand tight, trying to lend him any strength I have.

I love this man and he looks so rattled right now. I can imagine. I mean, I get it – why he was so livid so often.

I watch his face as he listens. He squeezes my hand and his eyes close.

He winces.

And that physically hurts.

It must be a yes. And he looks distraught.

My chest hurts. I start trembling.

Okay. If this is the reality, it’s the reality. There’s a cute little bedroom next to the master that’ll be perfect for a nursery. I can write with a baby on my hip. Danielle Steel had nine kids and she’s written nearly two hundred books.

This is gonna be fine. We can do this.

Austin is ‘mm hm’ing and then he says goodbye.

He blows out a breath.

“We’re gonna be okay. We can do this,” I tell him and wrap my arms around him.

He pulls me close. “She’s not pregnant.”

I flinch and pull back. Shocked.

“Oh, she was though.”

“She was?”

“Apparently she’s had a long history of problems with her – reproductive organs and found out days before she attacked that the pregnancy wasn’t viable.  It was an ectopic pregnancy and it’s gone now. The loss set off the psychosis, we’re guessing. Her mother went on a cruise without her and she was alone at home when she got bad abdominal pains. She drove herself to the hospital.”

His phone rings. “That’s Roger. Apparently I’m about to be told the rest. My lawyer said he didn’t have all the information, that Roger was gonna call me.”

“Take it. I’m right here,” I say and I get two bottles of water from the fridge and pass him one.

He steps outside with the phone, but as he does, waves at me to come out. “I just need air, it’s okay if you listen.”

I wave. “Go ahead. Fill me in when you’re done.”

I’m in shock. I’m relieved and sad in equal measure. I’m relieved that this is over for Austin, but sad about Sienna’s mental health issues. It’s been a little hard to see Austin act cold about it when I’ve lived with people acting cold about my brother’s mental illness almost all my life, but he really just thinks she’s a manipulative spoiled person rather than having real problems. And I’m no expert, but I suspect she does have mental illness. It seems like a woman scaling a fence with a knife and planning to stab a bunch of people seems to me like a person with serious mental health problems.

I understand Austin’s anger. But I still feel bad for her.

He tells me it’s because I’m a good person. He’s a good person, too. He’s just angry right now.

He comes back in a few minutes later, blowing out a long breath.

He takes me into his arms and I hold on tight.

“Marry me,” he says.

I lean back and look at him.

“Huh?”

“I’m not joking. You’re a fucking angel and I’m insane if I don’t lock you down immediately.”

“I think you can do better than that as a proposal, Carmichael,” I scoff, pulling away.

He jerks me back against him and laughs into my hair. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll ask again when I’m inside you later when you’re bein’ my good girl, and you won’t be able to say no.”

“You’re right about that,” I whisper. “And maybe I’ll say yes. Maybe…”

He smiles wide.

“So?” I ask. “Are you gonna tell me what that was about?”

He breathes deep and takes a big sip of water before he spills the details.

“So, as far as we can guess, she thought being pregnant was her get out of jail free card. When that went away, she lost it I guess. The cheese slipped off her cracker.”

“Don’t be insensitive,” I chide.

“She tried to knife you and Carly and wound up knifing my mother. Forgive my insensitivity, Cooties.”

I sigh.

He shakes his head. “The thing is from my conversation with Rog, he told me the medical records show she was way less pregnant than she should’ve been and so Rog talked to her about that.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t mine. She was almost a month less pregnant than she would’ve been if she got pregnant on Aiden’s wedding night.”

I jolt in surprise.

He blows out another breath. “Yeah. She was tryin’ to use this, I guess. It’s fucked. She’s semi-lucid, really weepy and remorseful. She stormed over to Adele’s, ready to demand my address but saw her father’s car in the driveway with everyone else’s cars and sounds like she snapped.”

“Ho boy.”

“You might wanna sit down for this next part,” he says and sits down on a chair and pulls me onto his lap.

I wait.

He shakes his head. He’s obviously trying to process something but I jiggle his shoulders. “Suspense, Groucho, suspense!”

“Just thinkin’ that doesn’t hold water if she had a knife. That’s premediated.”

“Hm. Good Point.”

“Anyway, she admitted to Rog she had sex with a security guard she met in New York to try to get pregnant.”

I gasp.

He nods. “Said she borrowed a friend’s pregnancy test to give it to me, knowing she was ovulating. She was hoping to get with me that night she showed up. Rog said when she couldn’t, got herself knocked up anyway figuring she’d try to fix the paternity test somehow. Throw money at people to tamper with it. Delusional.”

My eyes bulge.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. But it’s over.”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

“And that means I get the opportunity to make all my babies with one person only.”

I smile wide.

“We’re babysitting tomorrow night for Adele and Dirk to have a date night.”

“Are we?” he asks.

I nod. “I love kids.”

“Good,” he says with a big smile.

***

A Week Later

I’m yawning at the sink, looking out the window, waiting for the toast to pop while I daydream.

It’s a Saturday morning and I have a mild hangover after a night out with Carly, her friend (I guess mine now, too) Ally, Adele, and two girls that Carly works with, Stacy and Sonia.

It was a fun night. Ally is a hoot. Even if the night did end with her hunky beau carrying her out of the nightclub over his shoulder as a nod to reenact a time at that same club where Aiden did that with Carly.

Ally says Jude is way more an enemies-with-benefits than a boyfriend, though Carly told me after that Jude totally sees himself as her boyfriend.

All I know is that it was fun to watch. And extremely hot.

I smile, looking at my little avocado tree on the counter in the pretty orange pot. Austin bought it for me yesterday for the back yard, calling it my guacamole tree. I need to read up on how to care for it and get it to grow fruit.

I catch the scent of something burning.

Shoot. Who turned the dial on the toaster up to nine? My preferred toast setting is four!

I pull the toast out, burning my finger, and drop it on the plate, shaking my hand for a second. I’m ready to grab the bread and put new slices in when I feel a presence behind me.

I startle.

“Hey,” Austin says huskily. His lips touch my collarbone and I breathe in his scent. He’s back from his run. He’s sweaty. And for some weird reason, I love that smell on him. It must be loaded with pheromones or something.

“Hey,” I return. “I burnt breakfast.”

“Mm. I see that. And smell that. Are you wearing underwear under this shirt?”

“No,” I whisper. Yes, I’m wearing one of his dress shirts. He gets this look in his eye whenever I do, so I do – often.

“Let’s not let that burnt toast go to waste, then, Miss Sweetheart.” He lifts a piece up in his right hand.

He’s caging me against the counter now, his left hand beside my hip.

He waves it around for a second. “Still too hot, I think.”

He isn’t planning to…

His left hand cups my hip briefly and then the dress shirt I’m wearing is lifted.

He is gonna do this.

No way…

I grab onto the counter, feeling the still-warm, rather abrasive piece of toast against a place it probably shouldn’t be.

Epilogue

Seven Months Later

I’m waiting outside the hospital in Dad’s red Mustang. The top is down. Shane comes outside with Dr. Tamara Lexington.  She waves.

I blow her a kiss. “Thank you for everything!”

She blows one back and steps back inside.

I get out of the car and leave the driver’s side door open.

“Shut it!” he orders, and I bristle.

But he’s smiling.

I shut the door as he rounds it and throws his arms around me. “Let me see it!”

I flash my hand and the beautiful engagement ring I got three months ago.

Shane grins and then shields his eyes. “Thanks. Whoa. Flashbang. Now I’m blind.”

“Ha. It’s pretty, isn’t it? And now that you’re out, I wanna ask if you’ll walk me down the aisle.”

“Absofuckinglutely.” He hugs me. “How’d he pop the question?”

I trip and catch myself. “Um, you know. The usual.” My face burns red.

Shane does a double take and then screws up his face. “You need a secondary engagement story.”

“I have one,” I whisper. “But it’s you here…”

He smiles.

Austin proposed to me during sex. Actually, he slipped the ring on my finger while my wrists were cuffed to the headboard.

I’ve been telling people he blurted the proposal in his kitchen, because truthfully he did do that, but that’s not when we technically got engaged. That took a little longer, though he teased me relentlessly telling me it could happen at any place or anytime and to be on my best ‘good girl’ behavior because I could get proposed to at any moment. I love the secret truth about our engagement, and it’s only for us.

But for some reason, I had a total poker face with Shane.

Shane walks around and opens the passenger door, gesturing for me to get in. I do.

He closes it, rounds the hood and then instead of opening the door, he puts one hand on the door and jumps over, Dukes of Hazzard style.  I cackle with glee.

We loved watching reruns of that when we were kids. One of the things we actually did with Dad. The three of us would watch it every weeknight at seven o’clock. We watched all the seasons twice before Dad got sick of watching and went back to M.A.S.H.

Dad and Mom’s urns are carefully stored in the trunk. I went through my parents’ photo albums a few months ago when I came back for a week to sort through storage stuff and just like my brother said, Mom had put notes on the back of the photos about the date, place, and occasion. Carly and Adele came to help me and we made a girls’ week of it. I feel so lucky to have such good friends now. It’s hard to fathom how opposite of alone I am now.

In between sifting through the storage stuff, we went for dinners and to a dance club, I got to visit Shane, and we also attended Raven’s first book signing. She went the self-publishing route, but also told her family about her books after she hit a bestseller list with her debut novel. She has a lot to be proud of and tells me her family was shocked but is supportive, which has shocked her in the best way. She has a new beau, too.

Of course we stayed at Aiden’s condo when we were in New York and surprisingly, Andrew still works as a security guard on the night shift.

The guy has no idea that he got Sienna pregnant, though it wasn’t viable. And I have no idea if he’s gotten any more acting jobs, but I do know he looked unhappy when he saw me.

I smiled. “Hi Andrew.”

“Jada,” he returned and looked away.

Based on his reaction, I didn’t ask any further questions.

Now, Shane is out of the hospital and on probation. He’s been assigned a probation officer in San Diego.

Adele connected Roger with Dr. Lexington and strings were pulled and Sienna is in a similar program to Shane in California.

Apparently she’s doing well in that program.

There were mixed feelings about helping her, but it’s what Austin’s mother wanted, so everyone agreed.

I donated most of Dad’s stuff. I got his furniture taken to the dump, but felt conflicted about that recliner of his. He loved that chair, but it was in rough shape.

All my father’s tools went to his classic car buddy Walter. His cigar humidor and a few of his models (he built model cars when my parents were still together) I dropped at the bar and Frank put them up on a shelf over the bar with a picture of my father. I saved a few models for Shane; in case he wants them.

We drive an hour and a half before stopping and I rent us adjoining motel rooms near the lake.

And after burgers and laughs, we hang out and talk. We talk a lot. And I feel like I’m getting to know a new version of my brother, a version that gives me a lot of hope for his future.

I wind up falling asleep in his room on one bed and he crashes on the other.

I’m woken up in the morning with my hand in warm water and my brother laughing as I make a mad dash for the bathroom.

He’s always loved waking me up in annoying ways.

After breakfast, we take our parents’ urns to a spot near a weeping willow right beside the water before things open up into a rocky beach.

Now that we’re here, I have a memory of tiptoeing through the rocks to swim as a little kid and cutting my foot on a shard of green glass. The memory becomes vivid as I stand under the tree, staring at the rocky shoreline. Dad got the glass out while Mom dried my tears and Shane made funny faces behind her, trying to get me to laugh so I wouldn’t cry.

It’s a windy day, so we sit and talk with the urn lids off. We talk about some of the positive things we remember about both our parents and it doesn’t take long for the wind to stir up dust from both urns.

We watch, quietly as the dust seems to come together and swirl into a faint cloud. Not a large one, not a very defined one, but for sure – it’s obvious some of their ashes mingle.

“Bye Dad. I love you. Bye Mom. Love you, too. Hope you’re in a happier place, that Lala Land is awesome, and that Dad likes it there, too,” I say softly.

Shane says nothing. His shoulders are slumped and his eyes are pointed to the urns.

He takes Mom’s urn and I take Dad’s and we quietly empty them into the water, watching some of the sand rise up with the wind and some of it settle to the rocks. I see a piece of broken green glass down in the rocks, too. The same piece of glass from so many years ago? Not likely. But it sure looks the same.

“You okay?” I ask my brother.

He nods and puts his arms around me.

“This still hurts,” I say. “But I’m glad I have you here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too, Jayjay.”

A ladybug lands on my engagement ring then and I smile, looking at it.

“Look,” I say to Shane.

“Mom used to call you ladybug,” he says.

She did.

“Yeah. I always felt like they were lucky. I don’t think one has ever landed on me before.”

It flies from me to him, landing on his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ve got luck now, too,” Shane says and then he smiles before he asks me for my manicure kit. I pass it to him and he removes the nail file so he can carve our initials as well as Mom’s and Dad’s into the tree.

It takes a while before he rises and dusts his jeans off.

“Let’s go. I’m ready for that California life.” He takes the bug from his shoulder to his finger and puts it on the tree.

I rented Shane a furnished apartment twenty minutes from us. I told him I’ll pay his bills for a while with the money from Dad’s house while he gets on his feet. He doesn’t want any vast sums of money in his account, lest he get tempted. Austin got him a job interview for the mail room at Carmichael Consulting. He says he wants the job for now, that he’s interested in higher education and wants to consider night school after he gets settled.

We’re taking a road trip with Dad’s Mustang to California, where I’ll then be hitting publish on my first book. It’s the Austin Smut File, revised a little. I haven’t given it a new title yet, but I’ve been hoping a better title than The Austin Smut File comes to me on the trip.

I send a text message to my fiancé.

We’re done. I’m on my way home.

He replies.

You doing ok?

Me: I am.  Very okay.

I write another text as Shane backs out of the parking space.

Miss you already. Love you. I’ll text you tonight when we get to our next hotel.

Austin: Be safe. Love you, too. Can’t wait until you’re home. But call me tonight. Need to hear your voice. Be alone. Be naked.

So bossy. I love it.

We decided when I get back that it’s time to start planning our wedding. I feel so lucky and I can hardly wait to get home.

Home. Home with Austin. It really does feel like home. He feels like home.

The End

Jude and Ally’s story is NEXT – Releasing May 7, 2021

Bad Girl – http://ddprince.com/bad-girl/

Available to preorder on major ebook retailers.

Join DD’s Chickadees, DD Prince’s Facebook reader group. A place for book fun, upcoming story teasers, giveaways, and shenanigans. LOTS of shenanigans.

http://facebook.com/groups/ddprincefangroup

Sign up for DD’s free email newsletter for exclusive giveaways, sneak peeks, sales, freebies, and to get notified about new releases on http://ddprince.com.

Which other DD Prince books should you check out?

The Beautiful Biker Series

Smokin’ hot  steamy biker romances with steam, laughs, feels, and a little bit of gritty darkness.

- Detour
- Joyride
- Scenic Route
- Crossroads

(more books coming!)

Shifter Romance:

- Wild – Tyson Savage hasn’t shifted to man in years. And when he does after catching the scent of his fated mate, he’s even wilder as a man than he is as a wolf.

This one has biting and knotting, folks!

(No cliffhanger. More books in this series coming about other alphas)

Alien Romances:

Available on all ebook retailers –

Hot Alpha Alien Husbands.

- Book 1 – Daxx and Jetta

- Book 2 – Zane and Tanya

Sci-fi lite – these are fun, dirty stories about a space matchmaking projects with 7 ft tall horny humanoid alpha males who haven’t had sex in years. Sprinkle in some space aphrodisiacs and have a blast.

Dark mafia romance:

If you like dark, dangerous antiheroes (trigger warnings), DD’s most popular series so far is The Dominator Series.

- The Dominator
- Truth or Dare
- Unbound

- TNT –  Book 1.5 but best experienced after book 3.

- The spin-off, Saved, is available as standalone or book #4 and available on all ebook retailers.

Paranormal Vampire Romance

The Nectar Trilogy – dark, taboo, unpredictable, and maybe even unputdownable.

- Nectar
- Ambrosia
- Essence

More books may have been published and /or retailer availability may change at any time so visit ddprince.com for the latest links and information. Sign up for the newsletter to get emailed about new release, sales, reader events, and more.

Erotic Thriller / Fairytale Retelling

The Hollow Duet, an erotic and twisted retelling of The Headless Horseman legend. This is a story where the monster gets the happy ending.

- Hollow

- Holden

Oh yes, this goes there.

This list might not be exhaustive! For more information, check out http://ddprince.com

Want to follow DD on social media and book sites? Check out
http://ddprince.com/about-dd_prince/
for a list of links.

End of Book Notes:

When I started writing this, I didn’t know much about where it was going. I knew all three books would have an enemies-to-lovers theme and that there would be forced proximity in a ‘rooommate’ scenario with a few parallels between the books, but other than that, all I knew about Austin was that he liked good girls and that Jada was going to be one.

I was pleasantly surprised throughout the process. Getting to know Austin, Jada, and experiencing the level of frustration they both had at things out of their control.

I tackled some subject matters that felt important, too, like reverse chauvinism. Strained relationships with family after divorce. And addiction and mental health.

How would any of us handle those situations if faced with them? I guess we can’t know, but it was interesting to explore.

I hope you enjoyed this story.

I’m looking forward to seeing what happens with Jude and Ally, too. It’s not just enemies-to-lovers, I’m thinking enemies with benefits. Ally has secrets and Jude is like a bloodhound, determined to figure out what they are while the two of them enjoy some carnal pleasures.

At the time I write this, Jude and Ally’s book, Bad Girl, is set up for preorder. So I’m going to get on that immediately and hope I can deliver it on time. I hate giving myself deadlines but did that to get this series finished. As much as deadlines fuck with my writing mojo a little, I’ve had lots of fun writing this book.

If you’ve helped with the alpha or beta reading of this book, with promoting my links on social media, or being in my reader group cheering me on, THANK YOU.

Special thanks to alpha readers Robin, Peggy, Liz, Haelah, Nina, Scharme.

Thanks to my beta readers, my street team, and my reader group - DD’s Chickadees.

If you enjoyed this book, a review really helps a lot.

So do recommendations among your book friends. It’s not easy being an indie author, having to do so many things yourself. Recommendations are the BEST marketing there is. Thank you, as always.

I love my tribe of readers, authors, bloggers, FRIENDS.

Much love!

Back to it now. I’ve got lots of books in the works.

Bad Girl, The Devious Games Duet, and I’m dying to get back to my bikers, my shifters, and have so much more planned too.

TTFN.

Xoxo

DD

About DD Prince

DD Prince is a Canadian author - writing from the honeymoon capital of the world. She’s a wordy foodie who loves to read and write across multiple romance genres. She loves reading and writing smutty books with substance and hard-won happily-ever-afters.

She met the love of her life (The Mister) at seventeen and they’ve got two sons (The Boy and The Wee Boy), a quirky cat (Tucky Boo), and a tiny talking Pacific Parrotlet (Jack) with a BIG attitude. Heck, all these males in DD’s house have attitude. It’s no wonder she writes about alpha males.

Contents

Good Girl

1

Austin

2

Austin

3

Jada

4

Austin

5

Jada

6

Austin

7

Jada

8

Austin

9

Jada

10

Austin

11

Jada

12

Austin

13

Jada

14

Austin

15

Jada

16

Austin

17

Jada

18

Austin

19

Jada

20

Austin

21

Jada

22

Austin

23

Jada

24

Austin

25

Jada

26

Austin

27

Jada

28

Austin

29

Jada

30

Austin

31

Jada

32

Austin

33

Jada

34

Austin

35

Jada

36

Austin

37

Jada

38

Austin

39

Jada

40

Austin

41

Jada

42

Austin

43

Jada

44

Austin

45

Jada

46

Austin

47

Jada

48

Austin

49

Jada

50

Austin

51

Jada

52

Austin

53

Jada

54

Austin

55

Jada

56

Jada

57

Jada

58

Jada

59

Austin

60

Jada

61

Austin

62

Jada

63

Austin

64

Jada

Epilogue

Bad Girl

End of Book Notes:

About DD Prince