Protecting His Brat

by Sorcha Black

  “You should wait until I’m home.”

  “Why?”

  I turned to face her. Jealousy I had no right to thrummed through my bones.

  “I don’t trust my relief guard to keep you safe in a public setting. He’s too green.”

  “Dustin? He’s fine.” She smiled sunnily, as though the fact that the boy was barely old enough to shave didn’t disturb her in the slightest. “He’s going to binge-watch Netflix with me later. It’s nice to have someone my own age to talk to.”

  Brat.

  And already on a first-name basis with the new kid? No doubt he had some Netflix and chill thoughts running through his pubescent brain. Would Aberdeen go so far as to let that little shit make out with her to get even with me for leaving?

  I drew a calming breath and stalked past her into the garage to grab my helmet, knowing exactly what she was playing at, and hating that I was falling for it.

  She followed me back into the garage, chattering about the plot of the Netflix series, and the dress she planned to wear on her date with Courtland Townsend.

  “Listen to me.” I rounded on her, thereby cutting off the flow of her monologue. “You tell that rich boy you can’t go out with him until a few nights from now at the earliest. You don’t want to look desperate. And you watch your step with Dustin.”

  Aberdeen stilled. “What’s wrong with Dustin?”

  “He probably wants to use you as a dick cozy.”

  She flushed, but her eyes flashed.

  “Right. I almost forgot how you feel about me fraternizing with the help.” She glared. “But I’m a big girl, and you don’t get to decide who I fuck.”

  Profanity coming from Aberdeen’s pretty mouth both turned me on and pissed me off.

  “So you’re going to throw yourself at any guy who tries something?”

  “It’s about time I grew up. Seeing myself through your eyes was the push I needed to finally admit how pathetic I am.”

  “You’re not pathetic, and being reckless isn’t a smart way to get experience.” The thought of either Dustin or Courtland kissing Aberdeen made me want to strangle them.

  “If I wasn’t so sheltered, you wouldn’t think twice about fooling around with me.”

  “It would be just as wrong. This isn’t about you being sheltered, this is about the fact that employer/employee relationships shouldn’t become sexual. I also have no business messing around with a girl who should be shopping for a rich husband.”

  “Maybe I don’t care about that.”

  I snorted. “You will.”

  A look of helpless rage mottled her pretty face. “Just…tell me you’re not going out to have sex with some other girl while you’re gone.”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, princess.”

  Aberdeen searched my face for a long moment. I made sure to keep my expression neutral. “Oh my god. I’m such a pathetic idiot,” she whispered, her face crumpling, which ripped out my heart. “Forget it. I’m going to make a date with Courtland, like I’m supposed to, and forget all about this.”

  Meaning me.

  “Good,” I said, feigning calm. “That’s what you should be doing, not following your bodyguard around like an adorable puppy.”

  “Right. I got it. You’ve kicked the puppy enough. It got your message loud and clear.” She turned and headed into the house.

  Even though I watched her the whole way, she didn’t look back once.

  * * *

  The ride home didn’t help soothe my nerves, even though I’d been a little reckless on empty sections of highway. The roar of the engine usually quieted my thoughts, but the part of my mind currently obsessed with Aberdeen seemed immune to my usual form of therapy.

  When I pulled up to the house, Ariel’s bike was in the yard.

  Great. I’d come home to be alone, not hang out.

  I stomped into the house, not sure where to aim my anger yet.

  “Wow. Did someone shit in your hat?” Ariel chuckled as I entered the huge, retro kitchen. His blond hair stuck up at all angles, which wasn’t unusual, but his hazel eyes were bleary. Barely awake, hungover, or both.

  I shook my head as I dug through the fridge, not even knowing where to start an explanation. Not knowing if I wanted to explain.

  “Where’s Ellis?” I asked.

  “Working. He has a two-week contract and won’t be home until next Friday.”

  “Gotcha.” I grabbed a beer from behind the stacked pizza boxes, closed the fridge door with an unnecessary slam, and headed to the office.

  “Nice to see you too, dickhead.” Ariel, of course, didn’t leave me alone, but followed me into the office and sprawled onto one of the couches.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be home.” I rubbed a hand over my face and took a long swallow of beer. The bitterness matched my mood.

  “I thought we were over the awkwardness,” Ariel said, frowning. “If you want me gone, say the word. I can get my own place. It doesn’t make sense for all of us to pay rent somewhere when we spend most of our time living somewhere else.”

  It had been over six months since I’d come home early from a temporary security detail to find Ariel in bed with my girlfriend. At the time, I’d thought my relationship with the teacher had been showing some promise, but apparently I’d been wrong. Because of work assignments, Ari and I hadn’t seen each other much since, so things were still a bit awkward.

  Fair was fair, though. I’d done the same thing to Ariel in eleventh grade, but I’d assumed we’d grown up since then.

  “It’s not about you being home. I’m in a pissy mood.”

  Ariel stared up at the ceiling. “Talk.”

  “No.”

  “This is about a girl, and I’m way too bored to pretend I don’t want the details.”

  “It’s not about a girl. It’s been a rough week.”

  “No bandages, and you’re not limping, so I’m calling bullshit.”

  I didn’t dignify that with a response.

  “Life’s too short to keep things bottled up,” Ariel lectured, as though he’d been up late reading Chicken Soup for the Bodyguard’s Soul.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Ah, but I’m also your best friend.”

  “Ellis is my best friend.”

  “For now. Then he’ll fuck up somehow, and it’ll be my turn again.” Ariel’s lack of concern was borne of the certainty that came with having been friends for half our lives. There wasn’t much the three of us wouldn’t let slide when it came to our friendship.

  “Repressing my feelings is one of my kinks.”

  “Repressing your feelings usually ends up with you snapping and then having to repair our drywall.”

  “Once, and I was fucking twenty at the time and drunk off my ass.” I drained my bottle, wishing I’d thought to bring a second one to the library with me.

  “Have you gone to see Violet lately?”

  “No.” I went back to the kitchen to grab another beer. Ariel hadn’t moved when I got back. “She’s still pissed at me anyway. There isn’t much point in going.”

  “Blue,” Ariel admonished. “You should go see her.”

  I grumbled. “I’ll go tonight.” I opened a second beer, wishing it was easier to get drunk.

  “My next job is in Cali, but not for a while yet. Looks like it’ll be for a few months. An actor.”

  “Famous?”

  “And rich. And she’s hot.”

  “Of course.”

  “And a bitch, from what I hear.”

  “Well, so are you, so you should be fine.”

  Ariel chuckled and Frisbeed a pillow at me.

  This was edging close to what was bothering me. If Ariel was saying his next client was hot, maybe he’d be the right person to talk to about my problem with Aberdeen.

  “Would you ever sleep with a client?”

  Brows high, he shrugged. “Wow. I doubt it? I mean, maybe, depending on the situation. It’s comp
letely unprofessional, but I am a man.” He cocked his head. “Why? Have you?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re considering it?”

  I sighed. “I’m trying not to. I should resign. I wrote the letter, but I can’t make myself hand it in.”

  “Sleeping with your boss is a little weird, but not completely reprehensible, especially if she initiates it. I guess it depends on if you hope to stay there long term. But what happens when she moves on to someone her own class? It would get awkward. Anyone who can afford to hire us won’t be looking for a husband who stands around holding up a holster all day.”

  “The problem isn’t my boss.”

  Ariel grimaced. “Fuck, you’re not thinking of doing the teenage daughter.”

  I held up my hand before Ariel flipped out and pounded my face in. “She’s going on twenty-two.”

  “Still.”

  “I know. There’s almost ten years between us. Sometimes it feels like it might as well be a hundred.” I rolled the beer bottle between my palms while staring into the amber glass. “And I’m being paid specifically to protect her.”

  “Shouldn’t you protect her from banging the help?”

  “That’s not in my contract, but I’m sure her mother would have added that to the fine print if she had any idea this might happen. I assume it never crossed her mother’s mind as a possibility.”

  Ariel scrubbed a tattooed arm across his forehead. “Fuck. Is she a party girl or what?”

  “No. She’s shy and sweet. Never been kissed kind of sweet.”

  “What the fuck, Blue? Have you suddenly developed a corruption fetish?”

  “It’s not about her inexperience. Like I said, she’s gorgeous, bright…and she turns into a bratty little tease when I’m around.” I chugged down the rest of my beer. “I’m trying to resist, but it’s getting more difficult.”

  “You’ve always had trouble resisting brats.”

  “Right? Why she’s never dated, I have no idea.”

  “Never? Shit. Do you really want to go there?”

  “That’s the understatement of the fucking decade.”

  “Twenty-one, huh?”

  “Don’t start.”

  “So when you were her age, she was…”

  “Fuck off. That doesn’t matter now. She’s an adult.”

  “Barely.”

  I flipped him the bird, which made him grin.

  “Have you been keeping your hands to yourself, young man?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Meaning what? First base, second? Wait, what are the bases now? It’s been so long I keep thinking second base is blindfolding a woman and fucking her ass without lube.”

  “Ha. Nothing like that. She kissed me once. I may have cooperated.”

  “Does she call you Daddy already, or is she working up to it?”

  “Shut the fuck up. Why do I tell you anything?”

  Ariel snorted. “Because you know I won’t pull any punches. You’re fucking around with a client’s daughter—a girl you’re supposed to be protecting. Not fucking. Not dominating.”

  I swallowed. Nodded. “I know.”

  “Sweet, submissive, bratty, and hot?”

  “All of that and more. Funny, smart, curious. I came home for the day to cool off.”

  “Yeah, sounds terrible.”

  “She’s so fucking tempting. She follows me around giving me the subby eyes and twirling her fucking hair. I’ve always been a sucker for a hair-twirler.”

  Ariel sat up and gazed out the big circular window across the room. The part of the backyard we could see was a riot of green upon green, with red sprays of devil’s paintbrush and purple lupines where the grass was overgrown. The space could be beautiful if we did anything with it, but no one was home consistently enough to mow the lawn, let alone take on a project that needed regular maintenance. Paying someone to maintain it seemed like a waste of money when no one had time to sit around in the yard.

  Ari rolled his head from side to side as if his neck was bothering him again. “Bratty submissives are our kryptonite. Why do we ever think we’re the ones with the power over them?”

  “For the same reason we thought sharing a house would be a great idea.”

  “Because we’re idiots.”

  I’d already finished my second beer but wasn’t feeling as desperate for a third. Booze wasn’t going to solve anything.

  “So, what should I do?”

  Ariel pressed his lips together, which made him look even harder than he normally did.

  “Keep it professional, Blue. She’s not your boss, she’s the daughter of your boss. That girl lures you into bed and someone finds out? A lapse like that could make it hard to find work. Rumors spread and ruin reputations, my friend.”

  “Fuck.” I hadn’t realized what I wanted Ariel’s answer to be until I got the opposite advice. “She’s impossible to ignore. She brats so hard, she’s practically daring me to take control.”

  “Shut that shit down. Tell her how it’s going to be. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, and your dick in your pants, you need to resign.”

  I groaned. “Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

  He scratched his chest and got to his feet. “Hate me all you want, but you know I’m right.”

  As he left the room, I gazed out the window at the overgrown yard, wishing Aberdeen was a woman I’d met at the grocery store, or even that she was less innocent so I could indulge her—and myself—once or twice and get her out of my system.

  I had to agree with Ariel’s advice, but where was one mortal man supposed to find the willpower to walk away?

  * * *

  Visiting Violet often felt like penance. I never looked forward to visiting my twin sister, but usually felt better after it was done. Dad’s death had been the end of our last mutual enemy, leaving us with only each other to fight…at least in terms of family.

  The smell of the commercial antiseptic the assisted living facility used was completely noxious, but it didn’t seem to bother her the way it did me. She was probably used to it.

  I put product in Violet’s hair then wiped the excess off my hands with a baby wipe. “There. Now you look like you’re ready to fucking party. Badass motherfucker.”

  “Yeah, real fucking metal,” Violet said acerbically, holding up her index and pinky finger.

  The new short haircut suited her, giving her a pixie look, and making her look closer to Aberdeen’s age rather than mine. I’d always been bigger than she was, but as adults, the size difference between us was completely ludicrous.

  Was she losing weight? She wasn’t happy here, but what was I supposed to do?

  A personal support worker paused at the door. “Sorry, Violet. I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

  “Hey, Annie.”

  “I’ll be back later.” The girl waved and smiled at us apologetically, then left again.

  “I marked every day you were MIA on the calendar,” Violet said for probably the eighth time since I’d arrived. This time she sounded angry rather than sad. “You know, we used to be best friends, but if I can’t count on you to show up once a week, I don’t know how I feel about you coming by at all.”

  “Oh, like you’re going to turn me away when you know I’m bringing snacks and scintillating conversation?” I ignored Vi’s guilt trip and tidied her collection of knickknacks—figurines, seashells—glad to see someone had dusted recently.

  Vi threw herself into a chair. I could feel her glare even though she didn’t look over. “You abandon me here for weeks with no one from the outside world to talk to and nothing to do, and you expect me to be happy you brought me beef jerky?”

  “Who isn’t happy to get beef jerky? It’s the perfect gift for any occasion. I deserve bonus points for sucking up.”

  “Beef jerky isn’t a good substitution for having a life.”

  Guilt stabbed at me, but there was no way to make things right without either a magic wand or a tim
e machine. “Things can’t go back to how they were. We tried you living independently, and it was working fine until you fired three PSWs in a row.”

  “I’m not going to let some five-year-old boss me around in my own apartment.”

  “They were trying to make sure you were safe.”

  “I don’t need a nanny.”

  Back to this again? I so wasn’t in the mood. It had been the same argument for the past year.

  “Sorry, Vi, but you need someone around. There’s no way to predict when you’ll have trouble.”

  “Then find someone who doesn’t feel the need to treat me like an idiot.” She ground her teeth, glaring daggers at me. “It’s the daycare voice that gets me every time. Don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

  Oh, I knew I would.

  “I tried to find better workers, but you hated them all.”

  “Like that’s a shock. I hate everyone.”

  “Well, you don’t get to live alone when you forget to do things like turn off the stove.”

  “Fucking Jordan.”

  “Fucking Jordan.”

  The one thing we could agree on was the biggest cause of shame in my life.

  The one time I’d failed to protect someone.

  “We needed eggs,” Vi reminded me, shrugging, trying to take away the sting as though reading my mind. “There was no way to know. He’d been quiet for so long.”

  “I still hate eggs,” I replied.

  “Me too. Fucking eggs.”

  “And grocery shopping.”

  “I’d love to go grocery shopping right about now.” She swallowed. “High school ex-boyfriends shouldn’t get to have this much influence over a person’s life.”

  A flash of a younger Violet lying on our apartment floor, bleeding out, superimposed itself on my very much alive sister, and the remembered vestiges of horror shook behind my ribcage. I bit my lips together to keep the anguish in. I didn’t get the flashbacks often anymore, but when they came they left a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Well, at least he’s dead.”

  “Five years in jail and a bar brawl later.” She rolled her eyes. “I wish he would have lived through it so he could spend the rest of his life in physio too. Fucking asshole.”

  “But hey, to a Jordan-free life,” I said, brandishing my Coke.