I lean back in the leather desk chair and adjust my glasses.
People should be alarmed at how many individuals, men and women alike, who pay for escort services frequently. It doesn’t bother me that shit like this happens. I get it. People need to put food on their tables or cocaine in their nose. What bothers me is the blatant disregard for the other person they’re often cheating on. These appointments aren’t accidents. They’re not late night work sessions with co-workers gone awry. They’re premeditated. Callously calculated. Why keep up the façade?
Shame swirls around the pit of my stomach.
I know why I did…
“All done?” Meena’s voice interrupts the guilt from growing.
My attention darts to where she’s leaning in the door frame of the upstairs study. “Yeah. It was…amazing. Did you really make that from scratch?”
She offers me a sweet smile and I try to ignore the beat my heart skipped. “I did, but it wasn’t anything special.”
“That was probably the best chicken parmesan I’ve had in years.”
Meena turns down the compliment. “Mentiroso.”
“What…what does that mean?”
“That you’re a liar.”
“I am not.”
At least not about this.
“Come on, Holden. One of your best friends is a professional chef.”
“And if you ever tell him I said yours was better, I will then lie through my teeth that I never did.”
We exchange a light laugh and her body inches into the room further.
Fuck, I want it close to me. All. The. Time. It’s what makes being in the same room with her more challenging than any other task in my life right now. Not telling her to drop to her knees and open wide, not sliding my fingers into her sleep shorts the second the kids are in bed, not yanking her mouth to mine by her hair, are just a few of things slowly driving me to the brink of insanity. She’s been in this house for six weeks and I haven’t had another taste of her yet. I can’t. I won’t. For the sake of my kids, I absolutely have to keep hitting that fucking 0. She’s making real progress with them and the last thing I need to do is fuck that up. They deserve happiness. Mine is irrelevant.
“The kids enjoy it?”
She leans against the desk to my left in the upstairs study where Lynk does his homework. While I do all ‘required’ work downstairs in my locked office, I prefer to do my side work on my laptop up here. Sometimes, I can get away with multitasking like I was before dinner was ready. Sage was coloring in my lap with glow in the dark markers, Lynk was showing me something he built on Minecraft, and I was casually reviewing bank records of a new client for The Dollhouse. It was actually Meena’s suggestion to just bring me dinner, so I could wrap up my work in peace. Her nature is constantly thoughtful and tentative. I’m not used to it. For me or my kids.
“Sage preferred the garlic bread and Lynk finished out the pot.”
I shake my head. “He can’t possibly be about to grow again.”
“Already in progress. We’re going to have to get him new tennis shoes for school. His toes touch the top.”
“Those were brand new!”
Meena shrugs, still smiling. “Kids grow, Holden. It’s what they do.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter. “Thank God, my side job pays as well as it does.”
Cautiously she asks, “What is your side job?”
“I do ‘security’ for an elite escort service.”
There’s no ounce of judgment on her face.
The lack of disgust over what I do to keep my children fed and me free is relieving. Most people aren’t this understanding. Part of me feels like I could tell her anything and everything. Part of me definitely wants to. Unfortunately, that’s the same part of me that wants her to moan my name and come on my cock.
“Which doesn’t bother me from a personal perspective. The women who offer their services for this company are willing participants unlike in my other job where they’re victims.”
A wave of understanding splashes in her eyes. “FBI doesn’t pay well?”
“Doesn’t pay at all. I’m given an allowance to pay for my gas to and from the office as well as the internet. Everything else is on me.”
She complains in my favor. “How the hell do they expect you to live?”
“’Not their problem.’. Direct quote.”
Meena quickly shakes her head.
“It’s not a big deal. Working for The Dollhouse requires minimal effort and allows for me to raise my kids without worrying where their next meal has to come from.”
“Obviously it must pay pretty well considering my salary and their school costs.”
An unpleasant taste rolls around my mouth before I confess, “I um…I don’t actually pay for Lynk’s private school or Sage’s.” There’s a short pause followed by a heavy sigh. “Their grandparents do.”
“Beth’s parents.”
I nod.
They’re not terrible people. They’re actually quite giving unlike their daughter. When she died, they swore all the financial help they had been giving her would go to our kids instead. What was left of her hefty trust fund, I was told to keep, to pay off the house, the car, and anything else I needed. Her inheritance became the kids’ college funds and the excess cash from no longer having a daughter in and out of rehab became the tuition check written to a private preschool. They were already paying for Lynk’s education, having wanted him not to fall victim to the joke the public school system has become, so when Beth died, they declared they would handle everything in that department as one last gift to their daughter.
“Do her parents get to see them often?”
Her follow up question causes me to shift awkwardly in my chair. “Not as often they would like.”
My fault. Completely. I don’t enjoy looking into eyes that remind me of ones I betrayed. It’s hard enough having to stare into my daughter’s.
I change the subject back to something I am more comfortable with. “Thanks again for suggesting I eat while I work. Had to do some follow up on a couple background checks.”
“Is that all you do for them? ‘Background’ checks.”
The hint of tease in her voice brings back my smile. “Primarily. They’re mainly concerned with the liability and anonymity for all parties involved. More often than not, I check bank records, behaviors displayed on their social media accounts, and the incidents that don’t get documented through proper channels like a fondness for beating women within an inch of their lives then paying them off to forget it happened. Once in a while I get the joyous task of reviewing multiple feeds of security footage for…unwanted discrepancies.”
“Is that code for sex gone wrong?”
Another chuckle jumps out of me. “Occasionally.”
Meena snickers and pushes her hair behind her ear.
I can’t stop my eyes from following the harmless action. An unusual need to have her earlobe between my teeth rips through me.
It’s never a want with this woman.
It’s always something more urgent.
Something stronger.
Something undeniable.
“Given my mother’s line of work and my inability to protect her, I feel like if I can make a difference for other women who do what she did, that I should. The pay is fucking phenomenal, but it also gives me a little sense of peace when it comes to her memory.”
If she would’ve lived a little longer, I would’ve found a way to send the asshole behind bars and keep him there before I graduated high school.
“Let me ask you something.” My hands fall to my crotch in hopes of blocking the lingering result of my previous thoughts. “Why is it you’re the only one who financially helps support your parents?”
Irritation flashes in her expression as she folds her arms across her chest. “What did I say about digging into me?”
If only she knew how I really wanted to dig into her.
“To ask you what I wanted to know. So, that’s what I’m doing.” When she doesn’t reply, I threaten, “But if you want I can do it my way. I have no problem searching your history to find the answers I want.”
“Is that the type of man you are, Holden? The kind that just takes what he wants.” Her salacious tone swells my cock and my vocal chords. She scoots her body closer to me, eyes holding mine hostage. “You lack patience.”
Thoughtlessly, I growl, “I don’t have to have patience for what belongs to me.”
The corner of her lip twists upward. She slowly wets her lips and tilts her head to the side, silently begging me to conquer her now.
We can’t repeat that mistake.
Hell, maybe if I say it enough times I will start to believe it actually was one.
“I mean, for what…for who,” my words become jumbled as I desperately try to back away from where the situation was leading, “for what I need to know about the people who spend time around my children.” I clear my throat. “I like to know everything about the people my kids come in contact with.”
She tries to hide her disappointment with a sigh, “Bit overprotective.”
“I have a job that constantly shows me how terrifying the world really is. Of course I’m fucking overprotective.”
Meena lets the argument go. “I financially help my parents because I can.”
Silently, I wait for a better explanation.
“My brothers and sisters constantly have something going on in their lives. Mya has two kids and is struggling to pay her mortgage. Marc is a brand new detective barely able to afford his downtown apartment. Mora has so much credit card debt from her constant shopping, I don’t even know how she buys groceries or if she ever does since it seems like she’s always eating at our parents’ house. Mario just joined the Marines and Mara’s trying to balance school and waiting tables. Unlike them, I’ve had back to back lucrative jobs, a couple of which wiped away the lingering debt I had.”
“In exchange for what?”
Her eyes twitch a glare. “Are you asking me if I slept with someone for money?”
Do I really want the answer?
She doesn’t bother waiting for a response. “Because I didn’t. I negotiated terms that were in my benefit. You’d be surprised at the lengths a wealthy congressman will go to have his secret affair child provided with stellar care.”
“I wouldn’t.”
We share what feels like a secret smirk.
“Out of all my brothers and sisters I’m the only one with nothing tying them down.” An unexpected smile crosses her lips. “No house. No apartment. No kids. No pets. Everything I’m responsible for in my life fits in a suitcase.”
The conversation should end here.
I shouldn’t ask the next question.
It isn’t any of my goddamn business.
But fuck, I want it to be.
“Why?” I whisper out with more intrigue than intended.
A somber glaze glosses her eyes. “Because everything in life is just temporary. Kids grow up. People get remarried. Life. Moves. On. I learned very early people need you until they don’t. Life moves a lot like butterflies. It’s tiny then consumes and consumes until it sort of just pauses and you transition into something else.”
“Is that why your body is covered in them?”
She nods. “One for every new direction I take. Every new adventure I have. One to commemorate the moments that have come and gone. I’ve got one for Lynk…”
My mouth bobs in shock. “Show me.”
“Say please…”
The feeling of my balls aching knocks a groan around my chest. “Please.”
Meena tugs her t-shirt to the side and exposes the green butterfly tattoo on her collarbone that has a tiny L in one of the wings. “When I was his babysitter, it was his favorite spot to sleep. Right there. His big head would just land there and never wanna move.”
Memories of watching her hold him rather than repel him like his mother begin to strangle me.
“Lynk was the first non-family, non-neighbor kid I ever cared for. I mean, the money was great and all, like really great considering the shit pay I could’ve made waitressing, but it was more than that. I loved being around Lynk. I loved holding a baby. I loved watching him grow…” She lets go of her shirt as well as her nostalgia. “But…a time came and I was no longer needed. I had no choice but to move. On.”
I wish she knew it wasn’t exactly a choice.
I wish I could tell her that.
“Shortly after I stopped caring for Lynk…something hit me hard and I had to ask myself, why get attached to anyone outside of your family when eventually you just have to let go anyway?”
Unsure of what else to do with her grim view, I challenge, “What if someone got attached to you? What if they wanted you to stay? What if they wanted…fuck that…what if they needed you permanently in their lives? Would you stay then?”
Meena’s eyes flood with hope, but she isn’t given a chance to respond.
“Hey Dad, wanna play Street Racers 4 with me?”
I start to respond when my computer pings with an email from The Dollhouse. My finger automatically stretches out to click it open, the words causing me to sigh as I scan them, “Wish I could, Lynk. Got a work thing I need to do before I go to my other job.”
“Oh,” Lynk’s disappointment pangs my chest. “Okay…”
“What about just one round?” Meena interjects, grabbing my attention. “Maybe like fifteen minutes? Why don’t we skip your normal fifteen minutes of reading before bed and the two of you can play then?”
She pleads with her eyes for me to agree.
Does she know something I don’t?
“Maybe you can tell him about the 98 you got on your math test.”
“You got a 98?”
He sheepishly nods.
That’s new. His grades have always been mediocre at best. Getting anything over an 80 felt like a miracle.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t at dinner.”
Because I was working…What else did I miss?
“You two can play and talk about the field trip you’re taking tomorrow.”
My eyebrows furrow. “I don’t remember signing a fieldtrip form.”
“I signed it.”
Rage rings in my voice. “Who the hell told you you could do that?”
“You did when I signed their school paperwork.” She folds her arms across her chest again. “Besides, it’s on all the calendars.”
“It’s no big deal, Dad,” Lynk says with unmistakable annoyance. “We’re just going to the aquarium.”
I should still know that. Have I just become so comfortable with Meena caring for them that I am forgetting to pay attention? Is this what it would’ve been like had Beth given a shit? Would I have just become complacent and expected her to do all the work rather than me?
“And you should also tell your dad about the problem you’re having with Kyle.”
“Who the hell is Kyle?”
“It’s not important. None of it is,” Lynk tries to brush it off and looks up at Meena. “And we can do our reading thing. It’s fine. I like doing that.”
Without hesitation, I close Beauty, my laptop. “You know what, I agree. You need to keep reading every night before bed, so why don’t we just a play a round now?”
“What about work?”
I shrug. “It can wait.”
“But Dad-”
“I worked through dinner, probably would be a good idea to take a small break. You’re gonna have to tell me about this 98…What happened to those other two points? Did you drop ‘em? Soccer ball bounce the right answers out of your head or something?”
Lynk laughs and I’m more grateful than ever Meena intervened.
My kids always come first.
Doesn’t matter the cost.
“Why don’t you go set it up while I take my dishes downstairs?”
“Sure!” He joyfully says and rushes out of the room.
As soon as I reach for the plate, Meena drops her hand on mine to stop me. “I’ve got it. Go spend time with Lynk.”
Our bodies gravitate together until her jean covered hips brush against me.
We shouldn’t be this close.
It shouldn’t feel this good.
It shouldn’t be this natural.
I need…I need…I need to hit 0.
She stands up a little straighter and quietly says, “Don’t worry, Holden. Your son still needs you.”
Unable to stop myself, my hand lifts to gently stroke her cheek. “He needs you too.”
It lingers for a brief moment before my thumb brushes her bottom lip.
And Lynk’s not the only one…
Meena’s breathing ceases clearly waiting for more, but I step back the same way I always do.
The same way I have to.
Rather than risk possibly fucking up this fragile relationship further, I hastily slide past her, no other words spoken.
Never has doing the right thing for my kids been so fucking difficult. Even trying to make a broken marriage work for their sake was easier than this. As much as I wish I could cave, I know now more than ever that I can’t. She’s having such a positive effect and providing so much stability that to fuck it up just to feel her against me would be the most selfish thing on this planet I could ever do.
I’m not that bastard any more.
Kids first.
Cock last.
I’ll figure this shit out.
I don’t have a choice.