Maxed Steel

by Fields, MJ

  About five blocks from home, I sit up, and Max, who has been singing along to every song on the radio, reaches over and turns it down.

  “Could you drop me off on the corner there?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  “I have an errand to run and—”

  “I got time. I can—”

  “No!” My anxiety rises. “I mean, no, thank you.”

  “Mila, if this asshole is—”

  “I’m fine. Stop acting like I need someone to take care of me.” Under my breath, I mutter, “Freaking caveman.”

  He hits his blinker and says, “And where do I pick you up on Monday?”

  “I’ll message you,” I say when, two blocks down, I think I see Cia, who clearly isn’t paying attention to my damn texts, coming toward me.

  “You need my number?” he asks as I grab my bag and throw the door open.

  “Same as it was?” I ask, sliding out, my heart in my throat.

  “You still got my digits?” He chuckles when I roll my eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Take it as you want,” I say as I start to shut the door.

  “I’ll take it to the bedroom when I lay down tonight and finish it in the shower.”

  “Yeah? Well, don’t hurt yourself.” I slam the door and pretend to walk into the corner store so he will leave.

  Standing in front of a shelf, pretending to shop, I watch him smile as he pulls away.

  I give it enough time, and then, heart hammering almost out of my chest, I hurry out and look down as Cia pushes the stroller over the curve.

  I hear her sweet little squeal as she unbuckles herself. Tears sting my eyes at just how fast she has grown and the moments I’m missing. Ones I will never get back in order to get a good job so that I can repay Aunt Pam for the opportunities she’s missed, taking care of my little girl, and help Cia break the same cycle I am now breaking.

  I squat down and open my arms wide as she runs to me.

  When she jumps into my arms, laughing, I allow the past few days to float away and grab her up, spinning her around in a circle as she laughs the kind of laugh a kid deserves to.

  When I stop, she plants her hands on my cheeks and smiles, bigger and brighter than any other smile in the universe, and says. “Mommy, I home!”

  “You are.” I laugh and hug her tighter. “And we have a big day planned. Your first big girl haircut.”

  “C come?” she asks.

  Cia answers for me, “Aunt C is going to go hang with her friends. You know, like a senior in high school should be doing.”

  “Stow the attitude,” I tell her as I prop my girl on my hip and reach in to grab her some money. I hand her a fifty. “Go have fun, check in between places, and be home by eight.”

  She rolls her eyes and takes the money. “You’re not my mom.”

  “No, I’m not, but I am your person.” I pull her into a one-arm hug. “Love you, Cia.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” she says as she walks away.

  After a much-needed hug-fest and giving my girl a million kisses, I ask, “So, are you ready for your haircut?”

  She’s looking over my shoulder.

  “Hey, Mommy’s home. Can you pay attention to me, please?” I tickle her.

  Still not looking at me, she asks, “Who dat?”

  “I’m Max. What’s your name?”

  When I hear his voice, I nearly die.

  I look at her and only her as she grins. “I’s Saylor.” She holds up her chubby little hand and raises two fingers. “I this much.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “You’re two, huh?” Max asks without even so much as a waiver in his voice.

  I take a deep breath and turn, facing him, and see him holding my binder.

  “You forgot something, Mila.”

  “You know Mommy?” Saylor asks.

  “I sure do, little lady.”

  I prop Saylor on my hip and reach out my hand for the binder. “Thanks.”

  He raises his brows. “Yeah?”

  “Well, thanks, then.” I bend down and shove the binder in the basket beneath the stroller.

  When I stand up, he’s looking her over, and she’s doing what two year olds do—mimicking him.

  He recognizes it and laughs, and she does in response.

  “Saylor”—he crosses his arms, and I notice he’s fisting his hands—“you and your mommy have a busy day?”

  “Hairs cut day.”

  “You want comp—”

  “No,” I cut him off.

  His jaw tenses, and the muscles in it pop.

  “So, again, thanks,” I say, hoping he will leave.

  Still looking over Saylor, he says, “I’d really appreciate a minute with you to discuss something I need clarification on.”

  “Monday’s good,” I say, and Saylor repeats me.

  He smiles at her. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She repeats his word.

  “Saylor, you are seriously the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “I am.” She nods.

  “And confident.” He smiles at her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, Saylor girl, you sure are.”

  “And we’re going to be late if we don’t get to Miss Lucy’s shop. So, Max, we’ll talk on Monday.”

  “We will.” He nods and steps aside.

  “Me, too?” Saylor asks.

  “I certainly hope so, Saylor girl.”

  Sailboat Miller

  Max

  I’m not sure how long I sit in my truck before I finally feel like I’m not standing in the middle of the road like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the Mack truck coming at me to smash into me. But, unlike that deer, that is clearly in shock, I wouldn’t be carnage on the road. That truck would split in fucking half when it hit Steel.

  I pound on the steering wheel with each, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  Saylor.

  Saylor with the big blue eyes and the crazy mess of waves, that deep-ass dimple, and a smile … that smile …

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel some more then flip down the visor and, yeah, I fucking smile to see if … yep, she’s mine.

  I open the door, set on getting out, stomping down the road in the direction they went and demanding that I spend time with my kid when my phone rings.

  “Better be you, Miller,” I sputter as I slam the door shut and answer the phone, warning myself to keep it chill. “Lucy, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “What happened to Mila?” Bella laughs

  “Who the hell’s Lucy?” Kiki asks

  “Why are you in Bayside?” Bella asks.

  “How’s your ass?” Kiki snort-laughs.

  “Miller’s truck took a shit, and she apparently has family obligations.” I stop before I spill the tea, which is hard as fuck not to do when the old cranium pot is at a rolling boil. Swear to fuck steam is coming out of my ears. “Brought her home and—”

  “You’ll be here for Steel Sunday, right?” Kiki asks.

  “My gonna be there?” I ask, knowing I need to talk to him.

  “Tricks and Justice, too,” Bella tells me.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there. Where we eating?” I ask, because I’m so fucked up right now that I can’t see straight, much less remember the rotation.

  “Our place.” Kiki laughs.

  “Shit’s not funny, Kiki,” I warn her, knowing damn well she’s about ready to push some damn buttons. “If you bring it up, I’m heading back to school.”

  She snort-laughs again. “Fine. Grab some soda pop.”

  “I can buy beer now, you know!” I snap.

  “And there we have it.” Kiki laughs. “He didn’t get laid.”

  “I got fucked; I can promise you that,” I snap.

  “She that bad a lay or did the new steel get twisted up?” Bella laughs.

  Before I have time to say anything, Kiki pipes in again. “I’m thinking it wasn’t a literal fucki
ng.”

  “I gotta go.” I hit end.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

  I scroll through my phone, looking for Mila’s number, and then I see “Sailboat Miller” in my contacts with five emoji stars and … a fucking heart.

  I shoot her a text, and it goes undelivered.

  Of course it fucking does.

  * * *

  Halfway home, my phone sounds off again, and it’s Beau.

  I hit accept. “Took you long enough to answer, man.”

  “Sunday is for sleeping,” he grumbles.

  “It’s also for doing unto others. I need a favor. Need you to get Mila’s number from Red.”

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Pretty sure Freckles hates my ass right about now.” He chuckles.

  “Not even gonna ask, but I’m gonna help you look like a fucking hero. Tell her I need Mila’s number because I just dropped her off at home, and she left something in my ride. Tell her I had to drive her back because Mila’s truck broke down in the lot a few hours ago.”

  “That sucks, but how the hell does that make me look like a hero?” he asks.

  “Boone, they’re best friends. You’re helping Mila out, and that’s gaining you a favor.”

  “I don’t want hers or any of her kind of favors, man.”

  “Boone, you never know that for sure. Pocket them and collect on them when you can.”

  “I—”

  “I need this, man,” I all but beg.

  He sighs. “Fine.”

  “Thanks. Chat later.” I hang up.

  Ten minutes later, I get a text from an unknown number and cut across two lanes to the offramp so I can check it out.

  Once pulled over at a gas station, I hit the message.

  Thanks for helping my bestie. Now, if she’s pissed you have her number, it wasn’t me. ~ Linds.

  I save her contact real quick then hit the message and call Lindsey.

  She answers the phone. “Max?”

  “Need some more help?” I say.

  “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she groans.

  “Nah, just wondering if you know any motorheads on campus that would take a look at her ride and see if they can resuscitate old Becky.”

  “I think Oakley’s dad owns a shop a few miles from campus.”

  “Wanna shoot me his digits so I can give him a call?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thanks, Linds. You’re the best.”

  She sighs. “Kind of feel like I’m not right now.”

  “She’s not gonna be pissed you gave me her number, but if you’re worried, I’ll tell her I had it.”

  “Max?”

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “If you hurt her, I’m going to be so pissed at you.”

  “And if she hurts me?” I ask because, like a tornado through a mobile home park, I’m flying through all the damn emotions right now.

  “Then you deserve it.” She hangs up, and I stare at the phone.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  * * *

  Rolling up to the house, I don’t get that same feeling I usually get. The feeling that, once I walk into the house, nothing else matters but what’s inside those walls.

  My phone jets off, and I look at the screen. It’s Oakley.

  I answer, “Hey, man, I got a favor to ask of you.” After I tell him about Mila’s truck, he assures me that his dad will check it out. I know he’s the real deal, and I trust that he will do right by me.

  Then I inhale a deep breath and start typing out a text to Mila.

  Gotta be real here, my head is spinning so fast I don’t even want to get out of my truck and walk inside. Put me out of my fucking misery, Blue, and tell me: is she mine? ~ Max

  I see the message is delivered then read. I watch as bubbles jump around the screen then stop. Swear to God, I hold my breath, waiting, and then the bubbles start bouncing again and, yep, they stop.

  I hit her with: Miller, nothing but the truth. Please. ~ Max

  She comes back with: The truth is, I don’t know. But don’t worry about it. I don’t want anything from you. ~ M

  I type back: What do you mean, you don’t know? Jesus, Mila, look at her. The eyes, the smile. The dimple alone tells you the answer. And don’t worry about it? Not gonna lie; I’m pissed I missed two years. Two fucking years, Mila. ~ Max

  She immediately replies.

  I mean, you weren’t the only one. I mean, just forget it. I don’t want anything from whoever the “father” is. I got this. ~ M

  I type back: Not cool with not knowing, Miller. ~ Max

  Her message comes even quicker this time.

  I’m not cool with a lot of things, but I get to spend two days during the school week with her, and you’re interrupting. ~ M

  I tap the phone so hard I’m sure the screen is going to crack.

  Yeah, well, I want two fucking years back! ~ Max

  I hover my thumb over send, but I hit it back, erasing everything, and reply with: We talk Monday. Enjoy your time. ~ Max

  After I hit send, I climb out of my ride and feel like I’m going to get sick.

  “Hey, Max,” Dad says, walking out of … fucking somewhere, holding flowers in his hands.

  “Anniversary’s next week, yeah?” I ask.

  He holds up the flowers and puffs out his chest. “It is, but that doesn’t mean your mom doesn’t deserve to get flowers on any given Sunday.”

  I eye him suspiciously, and he groans.

  “She’s reading those books again. Figured I’d step up my game, you know.”

  “She’s probably not reading because you’ve lost game, Dad; she’s probably reading because you guys have some downtime now that you’re empty nesters, semi-retired, and not chasing me around the world.”

  He clamps a hand on my shoulder, and then we walk toward the house.

  “Not sure I need dating advice from my boy, but when you fall ass over tea kettle in love, you raise a few kids and they leave, and she starts reading, it’s a sign.”

  “A sign?” I half-laugh.

  “A sign she’s not thinking of you.” He states as if it’s gospel.

  “Or a sign you’re jealous of paper dudes in books,” I joke.

  “Laugh it up, Max”—he nudges me with his shoulder—“’cause I’ll be doing the same when you find the one, your forever kind, and you’re out picking flowers because you woke up and she’s got a Kindle over her face because she fell asleep reading instead of letting you rock her to sleep for the third night in a row.”

  It hits me that I already did, and I saw her first when I was fifteen, then life happened and she’s got secrets that could easily stop the good, good from going down now.

  “You good?” he asks.

  “Got some stuff on my mind,” I answer him honestly.

  “Is this a Mom conversation, or a Dad conversation?”

  “I’m more in the internal dialogue stage at this point.”

  “Gotcha.” He opens the front door. “I’m here when it needs to come out, kid.” He winks. “Always will be.”

  “Know that and appreciate it.”

  As soon as we walk up the stairs, Kiki asks, “How’s your ass?” right in front of Mom.

  She looks up from her mixing bowl—she’s always baking. “What happen to your butt, Max?”

  Bella comes flying down the hall, saying, “Let me tell her.”

  I shake my head and remind her, “I tell a better story.”

  We all look at Mom.

  She sighs. “You’re all great at retelling a story. Bella’s through art and paying special attention to detail in her wording. Katherine, through song and with a special detail to emotion, can write a song with great emphasis on feelings. And Max has a flair for comedic timing and making light of some very … deep issues.”

  “She’s talking about your penis piercing, isn’t she?” Kiki says, knowing damn well Mom hasn’t a fucking clue about that mishap.

  “What?
” Mom drops her spatula.

  I look at my sisters and ask straight-up, “And where are your kids?”

  Bella shrugs as she holds back a laugh. “Chillin’ with their dads by the pool.”

  “Stop deflecting and …” Mom stops when Dad puts a vase full of flowers in front of her, and she looks up at him. She gets lost for a minute, looking at him.

  He asks, “And what about me, C? What am I good at?”

  “You’re the whole package.”

  To that, he bends down and kisses her.

  Against his lips, she says, “One of you better start talking.”

  When she turns to look at us, Dad grabs her chin and turns her attention back to him. “Eyes on the prize, baby.”

  “I love you, Jase, and I will stroke your ego a little bit—”

  “More than my ego needs some—”

  “Dad!” Kiki cuts him off. “Just, yuck.”

  “This coming from something that was made from my yuck, Katy girl?” He acts offended as he looks down at Mom.

  “It’s not yuck, Jase; it’s glorious.”

  “Damn right it is.” He winks.

  Dad does that shit to get Mom’s attention, always has. The whole shock and awe thing works good for them. They love a good debate and straight-up allows them to be their own person, too. Both Bella and Kiki act taken aback, even though their husbands aren’t much different. Me? I admire it. Been looking for it and realizing I had it. Still fucking do, with a plus one. Just need to work some shit out.

  “But, even so”—she looks away from him to me—“Max has the floor right now.”

  “Whether I want it or not,” I grumble.

  Bella elbows me. “Oh, please, you basically fought me for it.”

  I sit down and begin, “It all started the day I walked through the lush green grass leading to my dorm. Although I was in a hurry, something”—I scratch my head—“that reminded me of my mom caught my eye.”

  “You have major issues, Max,” Kiki says before popping a grape in her mouth.

  “Says the mother of a four-year-old who still sleeps in her bed,” Bella jabs.

  “Not that I have to defend my choices as a mother to you, but Brand and I feel it’s important that he has that because of my broken womb,” Kiki defends herself.