JACK
THREE AND A HALF YEARS LATER
“So, Tinks still doesn’t want to have the wedding?” Fidget spoke with his palm pressed against his cheek as he propped his elbow on the metal table. He watched me play with his rock, Wilma, who he named after Fred Flintstone’s wife.
“Yeah,” I growled, my frustration aimed directly at Fidget. “It’s your damn fault, you know. ‘Oh, well, since Luke is coming out in eight-and-a-half-ish years why don’t we just hold off the wedding until then,’” I mocked my wife, loving her to death, but hating how long she was making me wait to see her in a white gown.
Legally, Ahri and I were married. I’d turned her into Ahrianna Naomi Baron a few days after she told me that we were pregnant with our two beautiful identical twin boys, Atlas and Zeke. They’re gorgeous pains in the ass, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be frustrated that we still hadn’t had a proper wedding.
“Oh, I’m sorry that my thirty-five-year sentence was cut down to fifteen years. My bad, Jack.” Fidget’s sarcasm levels were far too similar to his sister’s.
“You’re spending too much damn time with your sister.” I let out a low, threatening growl.
Looking around the visitation room, I spotted the premature dark grey-haired Latino man from across the room still staring at me. He was talking to an older man with the same grey hair as him who must’ve been his father or uncle. But honestly, I didn’t give a fuck who they were. That’s why I dubbed them Young Brazil and Old Brazil.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” I grinned, winked, and blew a kiss at Young Brazil dressed in orange. Again, he said nothing while Old Brazil’s face showed that he had a sense of humor. I shook my head, forcing my way back to Fidget. “Did I mention I fucking hate your new cellmate?” I sighed. “I miss Butterfly Guy.”
“Yeah, you miss him ‘cause you saw him a total of five times and didn’t have to spend the last few years listening to him name all the fucking butterflies in the world. Both scientific and common names. Who the fuck wants to know that? I’ll take the Brazilian mute any day over Mr. Obsessed-with-Butterflies.” Fidget rubbed his face and let out a muffled yell into his palms.
Fidget claimed that Butterfly Guy’s sole purpose in life was to annoy the shit out of him with endless and worthless butterfly facts. On some level, I think Butterfly Guy achieved his purpose.
Fidget had grown up a lot in the past few years. He still had his boyish good looks, but now, he had a body built like mine. He was no longer a slender thing, but now able to take care of himself. By the time he got out of prison, he’ll be jacked. Not Link kind of jacked (Link used to be a pro football player before he fucked up his back), but Marcel kind of jacked.
Fidget had also grown out his hair, going past his collarbone, to successfully pull off the glorious man bun. It officially made him look like a surfer with his sandy, wild beach waves. But Fidget wanted to be in the same loop as all the other twenty-four-year-old guys, regardless if the only people who saw him were Ahri or me. Atlas and Zeke were going to meet their uncle one day, but they’d just turned three a few months ago in May. We were going to wait until they turned five to see Uncle Fidgy.
Fidget rolled up his sleeves to his shoulders, showing off more of his muscular arms. He looked like a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto, but, of course, Fidget looking hot wasn’t brand new information. His permanent nickname at Tavernville was Pretty Boy for a reason. Everyone who was anyone knew Pretty Boy and his reputation which made Fidget untouchable.
Pretty Boy the Smuggler.
At this point, I would like to toot my own horn and say that I made Fidget the prince of Tavernville. I would call him a king, but that title was still mine. I got Fidget a job in the kitchen, introduced him to Blue, who then taught Fidget his smuggling ways. Unfortunately, Fidget got his low-key, high-praised secret job because Blue passed away.
Rest in peace, Blue.
If any prisoner needed a porno mag, a pack of cigarettes, or a fucking watch to tell time. Fidget was the man. He smuggled a few items each week through the groceries, but he never smuggled high-alert items that would reverse his sentence back to thirty-five years.
Fuck that shit.
Fidget was smart.
I found myself staring at Young Brazil as I dug my nail into Wilma. There was something about the man I didn’t like. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but he rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the tattoos he tried to hide with his white long sleeve shirt under his orange attire, or maybe it was because of his calm demeanor which was obviously a disguise. The guy looked unstable, filled with darkness lurking all over his exterior and interior.
“What’s Young Brazil’s name again?” I asked, clenching my jaw while still staring him down as he spoke to Old Brazil. They were only an inch away from each other as Young Brazil did most of the whispering in Portuguese, I could only assume.
Old Brazil was the only person Young Brazil ever talked to. He’d been at Tavernville for a month or so and hadn’t spoken a word to Fidget or anyone else. He spoke once on accident in his sleep, muttering some girls name. Or at least that’s what Fidget told me.
I told Fidget, Young Brazil wasn’t worth it, but Fidget was determined to befriend him. Why? Because Fidget wanted to be friends with everyone like we were in Barney’s fucking world. The thing was, they were going to become friends whether Young Brazil wanted to or not. That was Fidget’s superpower. Forcing people to talk and becoming best friends with them (minus the people who pissed him off, aka, Butterfly Guy).
“Antonio Castillo.” Fidget waved at his cellmate, who ignored him like he didn’t exist and went back to Old Brazil. “I like him.”
I don’t.
“You just like the chase.” I reminded Fidget.
He shrugged. “Give me a few months, and I’ll break him like I broke you. We’ll be besties by the time he leaves.” Fidget laughed.
I didn’t argue with that fact, because it was exactly that, an inevitable fact.
“So, five years?”
“Yep, five years for not having a permit on the gun he was carrying.”
“Dumbass,” I muttered under my breath.
Young Brazil must’ve had supersonic hearing because he slowly turned his head toward me in the eeriest way possible. We held each others glare until Fidget let out an exaggerated sighed, “Are you going to eye fuck my new cellmate all day or are you going to spend time with the real reason you drove six hours to be here, Jack.” Fidget pointed to himself.
Cocky little prick.
I laughed. “Didn’t drive. I got one of Emmy’s drivers to pamper me today. I would’ve fallen asleep at the wheel and driven into a ditch if I had.” I chuckled, but it was true. I slept the whole six hours while getting here with Ahri’s special road trip playlist playing in the background.
Fidget looked at my dark circles and gave me a fake pout before he said in a baby voice, “I wove you, Jacky.”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re the reason I have five kids to look after instead of four,” I growled.
“No, no, no, no, no. You can’t count your own kids. What the hell is that about?”
“Fine,” I gritted. “Three instead of two.” I lied, and Fidget called me out.
“Although.” Fidget turned a one letter word into a full sentence. “Aren’t the Bayne twins also your kids?” he got smart with me.
The answer was, ‘yes.’
Turns out, the World's Worst Parents Award goes to—drum roll please—Seth Bayne and Nani Bayne. They short version of the shit show that happened last year.
Seth and Nani Banye had abandoned their children.
They’d always been selfish parents, giving more love to each other than sharing it with their children. And once Ahri and I were in the picture, they found, and I quote, ‘no reason to stay in Chicago.’ They moved between The Bayne Hotels, New York and California, living their lives with no responsibilities.
Emilio was pissed, and why wouldn’t he be? He raised his son to be like him, family oriented, but Nani reversed all of Emilio’s and Rocky’s parenting. Crazy what ‘love’ could do. After a year of no Seth or Nani in the Bayne twins lives, Emilio and Rocky made the biggest decision of their lives.
Seth and Nani were given three options.
Option number one: be better parents. Actual parents.
Unfortunately, parenting wasn’t something that could be forced onto a couple. And it’s not something that should ever be half-assed. I would know. Ahri would know. You’re either in the kid’s life because you want to be or you’re not. There was no middle ground. No reason to come and go as you pleased, or worse, stay because you’re being paid.
Option number two: become disowned—completely broke—while also taking Savvy and Bash along with them.
This option was a bluff. Emilio and Rocky (as well as Ahri and I) would’ve fought to hell and back before Seth and Nani took Savvy and Bash away. This option was more to scare Seth and Nani with the ‘completely broke’ part.
And option number three: give up custody of Savvy and Bash, and get paid millions and millions of dollars to stay the hell out of their lives. (Win-win, right?)
This option also involved disownment, but Emilio might or might not have forgotten to mention that part. In the far future, when Emilio and Rocky passed away—knock on wood—neither Seth or Nani would see a penny of the Bayne fortune, which was going to cause some drama. But that was for the far, far, far, future. Nothing to worry about now.
Needless to say, it only took Seth and Nani less than a second to think about their life-changing decision. Option number three. They took their millions and left.
Since then, our lives had changed drastically.
Ahri and I were now the guardians of Savannah Olina Bayne and Sebastian Omar Bayne. If anything were to ever happen to Emilio or Rocky, we’d become the Bayne twins, legal guardians.
Sadly, I think deep down, Emilio always knew neither his son or daughter-in-law were cut out to be the parents Savvy and Bash needed. They had kids to have kids. To spread the famous Bayne name. Maybe that’s why Emilio wanted his glorified babysitter so badly, who the fuck knew. Either way, Ahri and I were bound to Savvy and Bash as if they were ours. And the same went for Emilio and Rocky with our boys.
Maybe it started the day Savvy and Bash accidentally called Ahri and me, Mommy and Daddy, and neither Emilio or Rocky corrected them. Or maybe it started the day Atlas and Zeke told Emilio and Rocky, Pops and Nana, they loved them. Whenever it started, that’s when our confusing family began.
Although, our kids didn’t see the confusion. That’s the innocent beauty behind a child's mind. They didn’t see family as who was related by blood or not. They saw family as who was there for them, who loved them, who cherished them, and who would turn the world upside down to keep them safe and sound.
On top of becoming the guardians of Savvy and Bash, the whole Baron family owned twenty percent of all The Bayne Hotels. California, New York, and Chicago. I still remember the first conversation I ever had with Emilio Bayne when we joked about giving me five percent of the shares to The Chicago Bayne in exchange for my services.
If only Past-Jack knew what was to come.
Even though I was a man with more money then I could possibly need to live a hundred lifetimes, Emilio still loved to tease me by calling me his glorified babysitter. Kind of hard to be called a babysitter when it’s your kids and your working 24/7.
Officially, I was Emilio’s right-hand man, helping him with a second opinion on anything he needed. Contract deals, investments, a new color theme for one of the private lounges. Whatever it might’ve been, I was Emilio’s man. Not to mention Emilio was slowly teaching me how to become the world's most successful businessman and hotel manager, like himself.
So much for your retired life, Jack.
I’m starting to believe the most impossible dream I’d ever concocted was this so-called fantasy word: retirement.
Getting the penthouse? Easy-peasy.
Getting millions of dollars? Piece of fucking cake.
Getting the wife and kids, plus two bonus kids? Best part of my life.
But the retirement? Fuck you, Jack. Just, fuck you.
“So, on that technicality, you’re technically only babysitting Lunetta.” Fidget got way too smart with me.
I deadpanned.
“You did say Lunetta’s a sweetheart, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did,” I growled through my confession, rubbing my sore eyes. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that I take care of five kids.”
“I wove you, Jacky,” Fidget babbled again.
Fidget knew my life was as wild as my kids.
My youngest, Zeke, was madly in love with Lunetta and he tried, by all means necessary, to get her attention, which involved him doing more stupid shit. But Lunetta didn’t give two shits about what Zeke did. She was five years older than him, and she thought he was, ‘Crazy, irritating, and way too much,’ but try telling Romeo that. Zeke’s eyes turned into little hearts when he saw Lunetta.
Atlas Hamlet Baron was my oldest by three minutes then came Zeke Romeo Baron. If I had won my little bet with Ahri—guessing the gender of our kids—their middle names would’ve been their first.
My sleep deprivation could be clearly pinned to my three boys. Atlas, Bash, and Zeke. Don’t get me wrong, Savvy wasn’t as innocent as I’m making her out to be. It just so happened that the boys acted as if none of the rules applied to them. Not gravity, and especially not the consequences or punishments that came from their plans.
They stole the bellhop carts and raced them down the hall, climbed any piece of furniture they could and jumped off of it, and one time the troublemakers thought it was a great idea to stick their fingers inside the Piranha tank. After the almost finger-losing incident, my office was on permanent lockdown.
All four kids were practically superglued together (and I’m not talking about the time my boys actually super glued their clothes together, and I had to cut them out, leaving them butt-ass naked in my penthouse). But they each had their pairs.
Atlas and Bash.
Savvy and Zeke.
As Savvy and Bash considered Ahri and me their parents, they considered Atlas and Zeke their baby brothers. But sometimes, even they needed a break from their biological twins.
Zeke was the youngest out of all of them, and he was exactly like me. Cocky, crazy, goofy, and full of life…possibly even wilder than I was. It was as if someone had fed him sugar for all his meals with how much energy he had. He and Savvy were the mad geniuses behind the plans that wreaked chaos in my penthouse or at The Bayne. While Zeke suggested the ideas to the other boys and joined the madness, Savvy stayed in the background and enjoyed the mayhem.
Atlas, on the other hand, was quiet, grumpy, and a hothead like his mother…possibly even feistier than Ahri. He had strong opinions and thought they should be taken to the grave. Bash was just as stubborn, but the difference between them was that Bash could admit when he was wrong (it was rare, but it’d happened), and Bash wasn’t afraid to tell Atlas when he was wrong. Which usually turned into a lot of screaming amongst Atlas and Bash, followed by fist fights, which then made Zeke want to join the ‘fun.’
I’m fairly certain they secretly loved the fights since they came out with small injuries and enormous smiles.
Usually, Bash was the first to throw fists. For the boy who frequently spoke English, he somehow always managed to cause destruction. I say, ‘frequently spoke English,’ because Bash was multilingual. At age five, he could speak four languages. Italian from Emilio, Polish from me, French from Rocky and Marcel, and English ‘cause…America. Currently, he’s learning Spanish from Lunetta and me, and his actual teachers. Surprisingly, no one forced Bash to be multilingual, he just happened to find his passion in life at a very young age.
Savvy, on the other hand, stuck with English when it came to talking people’s heads off. She, too, knew Italian and French, but only used it when she spoke with Pops and Nana. When she wasn’t talking, she spoke with her body. She was a dancer through and through, our little cute bubbly ballerina. But her cute, adorable exterior was nothing to be compared to when someone did her wrong. She turned worse than all the three boys combined. If you took a bite out of her, she’d come back and have a full course meal out of you. As I liked to call it, she turned into Savvy the Savage.
The boys, surprisingly, knew their limits around Savvy. She held grudges with her soul and only forgave when she saw sincerity, which was sometimes as simple as saying, ‘I’m sorry.’ Zeke wasn’t afraid to admit when he was wrong which was why they got along so well. Even though Zeke messed around with Savvy a little too much, he always knew when to stop or apologize when it got too far.
Then, there was Lunetta, an old soul. She was calm and gentle, never raising her voice, and rarely getting tempted (I mean corrupted) by the twins and their fun. She was the newest addition to the group, and I only agreed to look after her for a massive favor. Her father, Mateo Flores, was head chef at The Bayne restaurant. I told him I would take care of his little girl, as long as he knew that in the far, far, far future (eight-and-a-half-ish years from now) I would need a big favor.
A favor for Fidget.
Fidget still wanted to be a chef with all his heart, and he might as well learn some tips and tricks from the man who ran one of the best restaurants in the state. It’s not like Fidget was going to get accepted into any culinary schools with his criminal record, so, I got him the best next thing: a man who was one of the top five chefs in the States.
On top of getting him the best underground mentor I could. I got Fidget a future job at Three Sinful Bastards Brewery. Yep, they finally picked a name. Three Sinful Bastards Brewery had skyrocketed in popularity over the past years, and so had my investments in the company. The brewpub was one of the top places to hang out and get drunk if you wanted a good time. If you’re wondering if Gory Jack was as addictive as I am? The answer was ‘yes.’ It was their most popular beer, followed by Cali Blue, a golden beer dedicated to Link’s sister.
When I wasn’t being a hardcore dad (aka, when the kids were finally asleep, or Emilio and Rocky were taking care of them), I hung out at the brewpub with Ahri and the Bastards. Link and I were back where we belonged, and everything was going along just the way I imagined it should. I’d even met Link’s parents a few times over the years, and each time they apologized greatly to me for how they treated me. Did I forgive them? No comment. They only apologized to me after they found out I was a hotshot investor worth millions living at The Bayne Hotel. I couldn’t say I liked Link’s parents, but they were good people all in all when they weren’t close-minded, judgemental assholes.
Overall, life was fucking perfect. Ahri still couldn’t help but blame herself for ‘ruining’ Fidget’s life, but on the contrary, I’d gotten my new baby brother’s life all set and ready for his release.
Not only did Fidget have a mentor and a job, but he also had a great sum of money. I took Ahri’s, ‘Luke Account’, and invested it in anything I could. I turned Fidget’s thousands into a million—singular—but it could only multiply with time. We never spent his money. Ahri and I decided to hoard it for safekeeping and pay for whatever he wanted with our money, which was mostly things from the prison commissary or clothes Ahri found at the thrift store that she knew Fidget could never pass up.
One of our biggest gifts was going to be purchasing the suite right across the hall from ours for Fidget. By the time he got out, Fidget would have his very own penthouse. Just as Wallace had pampered me for my faux crimes, I was doing the same for Fidget. I was now his Wallace, showering him with gifts because Fidget’s sentence got me everything I’d ever asked for and needed in my life.
You could say Daddy Jack took very good care of his family. Because he did.
“Got any pictures of my little nephews and niece?” Fidget already knew that answer to that question.
I loved that Fidget understood our odd family.
His odd family.
I pulled out a stack of photos, staring at the first image of Atlas and Zeke posing for the camera in their boxers. They definitely didn't take after Ahri when the camera was pointed at them. The same went for Savvy and Bash, who were with Emilio and Rocky at the time of the photo. The Bayne twins lived with Emilio and Rocky, but a few times a week they had sleepovers, either at our place or Emilio’s.
I sighed happily, handing Fidget the photos.
Atlas and Zeke were everything I ever asked for and more. They were absolutely fucking perfect, just like the fiery, breathtaking, Goddess who gave them to me, even though it almost came with a cost.
Ahri’s life.
Ahri's pregnancy had been calm and steady with little to no symptoms by the end of it. She spent the last three months on bedrest, dying of boredom, and after she delivered the twins,. She died. Just shy of three minute, Ahri was taken away from me.
I’d never been so fucking terrified in my entire life than the day I saw my baby girl’s face turn white and the flatline ring in my ear. The nurses rushed my empty body out of the room and forced me into the hallway where it hit me like a punch to the center of my face.
What the hell just happened? I remembered thinking.
I cried and screamed at the top of my lungs in the hospital halls, trying to kick down the door to see Ahri. Before I knew it, a security guard had tackled me to the ground. I punched my way through him to then be pinned down by another two guards. I created a pool of tears on the floor and screamed Ahrianna’s name until I lost my voice and passed out.
I was miserable and happy.
Completely and utterly confused.
On one hand, I got my boys, but on the other, Ahri left me, and it damaged me more than any crime I had ever committed. I physically felt my heart shatter into a million pieces until I was slapped awake by the doctor who told me that Ahri was alive and well.
I’d been through a lot in my life, but not once had I ever had nightmares or cried my eyes out like I did when I thought I’d lost Ahri. Even to this day, I woke up dripping in sweat, my heart violating my body until the sweet scent of Ahri’s hair and the softness of her bare body pressed against mine, cooling me down.
Every time I woke up gasping for air, I woke up Ahri.
“You had the nightmare again?” Ahri grunted in her sleep, pressing her body closer to mine. She knew very well I needed to feel as much of her as possible. I could have every single inch of her body pressed against mine, but I’d always beg for more.
I let out a faint nod. Wrapping my arms around Ahri, I figured out how to breathe again. I took in her natural scent and buried my face deeper into her long messy wavy hair. Even after all these years, her hair remained that unforgettable Twinkie-color.
“I’m fine, baby boy. I’m a lucky, invincible bitch.” She joked. It always made me chuckle as I fell back to sleep with Ahri where she belonged.
With me.
I treated my Ahri like a Queen. My boy’s like Prince’s. And my baby girl like a Princess.
I told myself I would be the best stay at home dad and take as many pictures as I possibly could of my little spawns, and I did exactly that.
Fidget laughed at one particular photo. Atlas pushing his tongue between his two front missing teeth. Savvy came up with the classic string-and-doorknob plan, while Bash and Zeke executed it. They all found out a certain special tooth fairy—me—gave out two-dollar bills and one-dollar coins, so they’ve been trying to knock some baby teeth out, regardless if they were loose or not.
“They’re idiots.” Fidget smiled. “I can’t wait to meet them…two more years to go.”
“You know, I could just bring them over next week. I don’t get why you’re putting a timeline on when you want Atlas and Zeke to visit you.”
Unfortunately, Emilio made it very clear that he didn’t want Savvy or Bash to visit Tavernville Penitentiary. I understood where he was coming from, but Ahri and I decided that we wanted Atlas and Zeke to meet Uncle Fidgy before he got out.
“I told you, I don’t want them to see me in here.”
“What? Two years from now, you plan to steal a Shawshank Redemption scene right out of the movie?”
“I just want them to be older when they meet me. To understand that sometimes people do bad things for good reasons.” He sighed, looking at the picture of Atlas, Zeke, and Ahri, cuddled and reading a Spiderman comic book.
I inhaled slowly and let out a heavy, sharp breath. “Well, you’re missing the fun years.” I rubbed my eyes.
We talked for the remaining thirty minutes until I had to leave. I’d see Fidget again, same time next week, but this time I’d be with Ahri when we had someone to look after the kids. Aka, it was Emilio’s and Rocky’s turn.
“Alright, see you next week, Fidget. Goodbye, Wilma.” I kissed Fidget’s rock and tossed her to him before we hugged our goodbyes.
“BARON! HANDS!” Diaz yelled.
Every.
Fucking.
Time.
“I’m a civilian now, Diaz.” I flipped him off and gave Fidget a longer hug than usual to mess with Diaz.
“That’s enough man. Too much love.” Fidget pushed me away.
“Says the man who used to fake his nightmares to sleep in the same bed as his sister.” I chuckled. “Love you, and I’ll see you next week.”
While I smiled like an idiot, Fidget threw on his best, ‘you’re dead to me’ face. I left him, following the group of people outside. My driver was leaning against his black Jaguar, ready for us to leave.
“Do you still want me to play your wife’s playlist, Mr. Baron?” the driver asked.
“You know how people say there’s no such thing as a stupid question?” I grunted, pulling off my boots, getting as comfortable as I could. “Well, you just proved everyone wrong.”
He chuckled and played Ahri’s music. “Vow” by TENDER started off the playlist. I smiled like a fool madly in love, playing with my black wedding band as I twisted it around my finger.
* * *
AHRI
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t make a fucking sound.
They’d finally fallen asleep. I looked down at Atlas resting his head on my lap while Zeke was next to me with his feet up in the air, hands shaped like a ‘T’ and his head off the couch. Zeke let out small snores while Atlas stayed silent.
I swiped Atlas’s long perfectly wavy hair behind his ear and smiled. I loved my boys so much, and sometimes it was hard to believe that they’d almost killed me, but it was worth it.
They were, in one word:
Priceless.
I poked at Atlas’s left cheek knowing very well that’s where his little dimple was, and looked over at Zeke’s right cheek giving it an air kiss since it was too far to adore. They had my dimples, but everything else was from Jack. Raven black hair, soulful amber eyes, and flawless fair olive tone.
Zeke let out a heavy snore and dropped his leg on my shoulder. God, he was so much like his father it was uncanny. Zeke grunted and adjusted himself on the couch moving his head back on it so I could see his sleeping face. He had a little Marilyn Monroe freckle just like Jack while Atlas had my little chin freckle and an original one right under his natural arched eyebrow.
They were exactly alike, and I thanked genetics for their little freckles or else telling them apart when they were babies would’ve been nearly impossible.
I took a few breaths, controlling my cute-rage as I looked around the penthouse. The Justice League series still playing on the TV and the black walls were full of photos of our family. I’d added my colors like I wanted to and as Jack had promised me. We still had black and white all over the house, but I’d added my sky blues, sunshine yellows, burning reds, and forest greens. The perfect blend of a modern silent film, meeting the nineties.
Atlas’s and Zeke’s room was the most colorful thing in our house. We kept their room white, but when they got bored, they asked for their paints. They drew all over the walls. Atlas always drew sea creatures: fish, sharks, and sea monsters. Like the ones on Daddy’s body. And Zeke drew flying creatures: birds, dinosaurs, and dragons. Again, like the ones on Daddy’s body.
Savvy and Bash were never really into painting. Even when they were younger, and I’d asked them to paint with me, they shrugged. They loved how the paintings looked afterward when they were done, but the actual ‘doing’ part didn’t interest them. While the boys painted, Savvy would dance around the boy’s room, hopping from one bed to the other, while Bash silently read his new children's book in his bean bag. Rarely, was the book in English.
My eyes stopped at a photo on the wall from a few years ago when Jack got a new tattoo. Jack had gotten a few more tattoos over the years. His favorite being a pixie with wild blonde wavy hair who was dressed in yellow. It was one of the rare tattoos on his body that was colorful. His other favorite was V.XXV. The day he thought he'd lost me (You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Jack) and the twins’ birthday. Both set of twins. Same month, same date, but exactly two years apart. For a person who was always horrible with birthdays, it was like winning the lottery.
My whole life was perfect, and that included my job. Not only did I have an unbelievably flexible schedule, but I also got to pick the music. I’m not talking about just my shift, but all of the shifts as well. What made my job even better were my coworkers; Link, Marcel, and Jay.
Link reminded me of both Jack and Luke. Jack’s wildness and Luke’s nerdiness. I had a feeling Luke and Link were going to get along perfectly.
When Link wasn’t on the floor, being a social butterfly with everyone who walked in the brewpub, he shared old stories about Jack and him when they were kids. I loved them. Mostly because I loved to tease Jack about it when I got home. Link really did his part of my brother-in-law so I could embarrass Jack from time to time.
Marcel was actually on paternity leave. He successfully stole his brother’s fiancée, married her, and had a little baby girl. I always thought Marcel was the nice one, he was, but that’s saying a lot about the Bastards. They were all sinful bastards (hence the creative brewery name) when it came to the things they lusted and obsessed over.
Jay was still Jay. A complete asshole at times. He couldn’t hold his tongue to save his life. He remained brutally honest which did not go over well since he was the man-whore of the trio. Never had I seen so many different women’s hands make contact with a man’s face. There were so many that all of us at the brewpub (and Jack) had a monthly bet.
Who can guess how many slaps Jay would rack up by the end of the month?
Link was on a four-month winning streak.
Surprisingly, out of all of them, Jay and I got along the best. He’d grown up in Scorch Side, and, unfortunately, had a similar childhood to mine. He’d never admit it, but he liked me and considered me a close friend. He’d ask for my help when he needed to get rid of a clingy one-night stand, or whenever he needed to talk to someone who’d be just as honest as him. Behind all that bitterness, Jay was a sweet man. But unless you were part of our small close-knit group, no one ever saw that part of him.
Aside from Three Sinful Bastard Brewery having great coworkers, it was flourishing. The Bastards were now on the hunt for the ‘perfect’ graphic designer who would be willing to redo all of the branding for the company logos and packaging. Jay was set on his old college best friend’s girlfriend to complete the project (since he owed his old friend a favor), but they all had to agree on the designer who was going to give Three Sinful Bastard Brewery a new look.
Zeke let out a heavy moan that brought me back to the moment. I played with his hair while he smacked his full lips. I couldn't help but let out a faint giggle. Jack was right. He always got what he wanted, which meant I always got what I wanted.
Jack’s new life motto, ‘Happy wife, happy life.’
Whenever Jack loved to complain about us not having our wedding. I quoted him. Yes, I delayed the wedding for years, but having Luke there was going to be worth it. Like a true romantic, Luke had always been a sucker for weddings. Not to mention, our kids were going to be there, watching Mommy and Daddy show their love.
What more could you ask for?
The front door opened. “Hey, baby girl,” Jack whispered from behind me. “When’d they fall asleep?”
“About an hour ago.”
Jack threw his head back, laughed, and spoke in his normal raspy voice. “Yeah, they’re out like fucking logs. Fuck whispering. Alright, let's take our little spawns into their bedroom so Mommy and me can have some alone time.”
I rolled my eyes.
I knew they were in log mode, but I loved to watch them sleep in peace. Jack turned Zeke around like a doll and brought him over to their bedroom. Then he did the same with Atlas. He tucked Atlas in like he liked it but didn't bother throwing a blanket on Zeke since it was promised to be thrown halfway across the room in the morning. Also, Atlas had a habit of sneaking out of his bed each night to sleep with Zeke, bringing along his blanket to share.
I kissed my boy’s goodnight, and we closed their door. The second the door shut, Jack scooped me into his arms, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He kissed me like it was our first kiss. Passionate, raw, and entirely out of this world.
“I fucking missed you,” Jack growled into my lips.
“You saw me this morning.” I giggled.
“I can still fucking miss my baby girl.”
Jack took me to our office—our no kid space—kicked the door shut and locked it. Jack set me on the desk and took a step back just to watch me as he always did. He bit his lip, moaned, cocked an eyebrow, then went for our special locked drawer in his desk.
“What are you feeling today? Black Pineapple, Tipsy Twinkie, or Baby Fireball?”
“Mmmmm—I want…Tipsy Twinkie,” I said, kicking my feet in the air while Jack took out the mason jar of weed and the paper rolls.
“And I’ll be having my Black Pineapple.” Jack took out his favorite jar of weed and his tobacco paper to make a blunt. I prefer my joints over blunts. I hadn’t tasted tobacco in years, minus when I kissed Jack.
Jack rolled my joint, perfectly, then did the same with his blunt. We lit them up and took a deep inhale as we laughed. Jack stripped out of his clothes, making a black hole on the floor while he looked as colorful as me. His socks were tie-dyed blue, and his briefs were neon pink with the waistband that read: ‘Call me Daddy.’
I couldn't help but laugh.
“I do this ‘cause I love you,” Jack muttered with the blunt between his lips.
He ruffled his hair out of his slicked style and made it just as messy as mine. He knew I was a sucker for that look. Jack went to his leather chair in the corner while I sat on the large desk, kicking my feet in the air without a care in the world because this was the life.
We watched each other in pure silence, smiling like idiots in love and smoking our kush.
“What?” I smiled, finishing off my joint.
“Nothing.” Jack let out a small shrug and slapped his lap, so I could come over.
I took my seat while Jack blew a perfect ‘O’ shaped ring of smoke above my head, creating a little smoke halo just for me. I straddled myself on his hips, feeling Jack get harder and harder underneath my pussy.
“By the way, the gallery’s done. They called today,” I said, playing with Jack’s hair, wiggling my pussy and ass on his cock.
“All painted black?”
I nodded.
“Then the Black Hole Photo Gallery is in business. Now comes the fun part. Deciding what images I should put up for this month’s theme, and then the billions of months after that.” He laughed.
“Billions of months imply you’re immortal, Jack.” I kissed him.
“And who told you I’m not.” he winked.
It’s true, Jack was. He looked the same as when I first met him unless he grew out his beard. It was almost all silver. It was going to catch up to his hair soon, and when that day came, Jack would shed a tear and make me get a box of black hair dye.
Somehow, I looked younger than I did when I was twenty-five. To be fair, I’d been malnourished. I had dark eyes that would make a panda jealous. And I had no idea what sleep meant. Now, I was a healthy weight, still slender, slept eight hours a night, and Jack fed me everything you could possibly imagine.
Jack finished off his blunt and slouched in his chair while I got comfortable on his hips. He pulsed his cock a few times, my pussy begging for him as I dry humped him.
Jack became lost in my eyes while I found myself in his. Letting a killer smile loose, he gave me an up-to-no-good arched eyebrow. “Tell me something I don’t know about you, Ahrianna Baron.”
This was our nightly question. I loved this fucking question. I always found something new about Jack that had me falling in love with him all over again. Or just made me laugh until I snorted.
“Okay…you know how I’m not afraid of spiders or cockroaches or centipedes?”
Jack nodded.
“I'm really, really, really, afraid of ladybugs.”
Jack’s laugh boomed through the office. “What?”
“They smell weird, and they fly, and they’re all like, ‘oh, look at me I’m so fucking pretty.’ But they’re not.”
“You’re so weird.” Jack laughed through his sentence before I shut him up with a kiss.
“You asked for my true colors, remember?” I planted another kiss, parting my way into Jack’s lips to taste him. Before Jack got too into it (because we weren’t already), it was my turn to ask, “What is something I don’t know about you, Jack Baron.”
“I masturbated to our sex tape and your nudes when I can’t have the real thing.” Jack bit his whole bottom lip and thrusted up.
“You told me that about a month ago.” I blushed, still loving that stupid image because I’d done it several times myself.
“I know, but I’m horny.”
“When aren’t you?” I pointed out.
Jack chuckled. “Okay, let me see.” He bit his lip, running his hand up my pink boy short underwear, and under my baggy white shirt with Winnie the Pooh on it. Jack squeezed my waist and pushed me down on his boner as he thrusted up, releasing a throaty growl. My weakness.
“You can’t ignore the question, Jack,” I moaned. “Don’t you dare break our Kush-and-Tit-for-Tat tradition.” I cocked a meaningful eyebrow at him.
“Fine, fine, fine…” Jack paused, looking deep into my black holes. “I fell in love with you from the first second I saw you.”
“What? Really?” A mixture of a nervous laugh and scoff escaped my lips. “Bullshit.”
“I kid, you not.” Jack cupped my rosy cheek. He still had the ability to turn me into a hot mess with just a gentle touch. “You were real. You were life. You had your dark circles, your scar from Fidget’s dumbass, the bump on your nose, and a little-chipped tooth.” Jack pressed on my lips.
“So…you fell in love with my imperfections?”
“In a way, yes, but I fell for what they meant. You were a fighter. You weren’t the ‘Fragile’ label on the box. You were the label on the box that read: ‘Flammable: May cause spontaneous combustion,’ ‘Warning: She’ll eat you alive and spit you out with a heart-melting smile,’ and, ‘Danger: Hazardous sass, sarcasm, and smart mouth is promised. Be prepared to apply water on burns.’ I fucking loved that. And when you spat on my car, oh, God.” Jack grabbed his chest and rolled his eyes back. “My God, you were it for me. I needed you that second and I couldn’t control myself. You were playing with fire, playing with your food, and playing with my heart, but you didn’t know that.”
I bit the inside of my bottom lip. The butterflies in my stomach drunk from Jack’s words and colliding with one another.
“Bullshit.” My voice cracked.
“Have I ever lied to you after our kitchen bonfire confession?
“No,” I mumbled, pulling my long blonde wavy nest of hair behind my ear.
“Then trust me, baby girl.”
“I just thought you wanted to fuck.”
“I did. I haven't had sex in seven years, and you hadn’t in four years.” Jack chuckled. “We were practically virgins, but I still wanted more than just a fuck from you. You had that something I couldn't live without.”
I moved my legs to the side, rested my head on his throbbing heart and listened to how it beat for me. The same exact way my heartbeat for him. Jack hugged my legs and played with a lock of my hair.
“Do you wanna hear it?” Jack asked.
“Hear what?”
“Do you want to hear my side of the story? How the Jack of Hearts had his heart stolen by a feisty, pixie thief with eyes so dark, she made the night look bright?”
I nodded softly, my cheek pressed on Jack’s chest.
Jack cleared his throat and put on a theatrical voice, the same one he uses to read Shakespeare to the boys before bed. “Once upon a time—”
I playfully slapped Jack’s stomach to stop him.
“Okay, okay, okay.”
Jack didn’t start right away. He pulled me closer to his body. Our heartbeats, morphing into one.
“It all started with a letter. A promise…”