Candy King

by Christine d'Abo

  Dylan read the message twice, before deleting it. He didn’t want some random encounter with a woman. He wanted Simone.

  Ignoring everything he had to do, he made a beeline for his car. He needed to figure out what to do next. How best to beg forgiveness for being a complete idiot.

  He needed to win Simone over. He needed to tell her that he loved her.

  Chapter 24

  Simone’s head ached. Well, everything in her body ached at this point. She’d spent the better part of a week in front of her computer writing, sometimes for hours on end. It had gotten to the point where she’d had to set the alarm on her phone to remind herself to get up and move. To drink water. To eat.

  It was hard to force herself to step away from the keyboard as the words were flowing so smoothly. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way, since the phrases and images were this crystal clear in her head, and she wanted to get them down before the inspiration slipped away.

  Who knew that a broken heart was perfect for journalistic expression?

  Not only had she written enough on the sugar daddy phenomenon in Toronto in general, and the millionairesugardaddy.com site specifically, to fill a full week of features; she’d even tackled the opening of the housing development. That one had been difficult to write, mostly because she struggled to reconcile the positive things Dylan was doing there with the broken heart she was nursing. It had taken her twice as long to ensure she didn’t let her personal feelings get in the way of her reporting.

  Her emotions would shift from anger to sadness. Her frustration at wanting to call him and tell him what an idiot he’d been would inevitably morph into frustration at him for not wanting to take a chance on her.

  Well, screw him.

  Pushing up the bridge of her glasses, Simone read over the final paragraph of her sugar daddy article, making sure that she’d hit precisely the right tone with it. She wanted it to be calm and hard-hitting. She didn’t want to pull any punches or have anyone think that she had a soft spot for the site or for the infamous Candy King.

  It had been tempting to out Dylan as the owner, but no matter how angry and annoyed she was, there was no way in hell she’d give in and compromise her ethics. He wasn’t worth that. She’d managed to get through the first third of the story when someone knocked on her door. Squinting at the clock on her computer, she forced herself to stand up, giving her body a little shake as she went. “Coming.”

  Her dad stood on the other side, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. “Okay, so the building is turning out pretty awesome.”

  It had been an awfully long time since she’d seen a genuine smile on his face, and a bit of her anger melted away. “You went over there today?”

  “I asked your mother to come. I know she’s been worried about what I’ve been doing recently, and I wanted to put her mind at ease. Plus, there’s a chance that I might be able to be one of the first tenants. I’ve put my name on the waiting list.”

  She watched as he went straight to her couch and sat down. “You know, if you ask Dylan, I know he will make sure that you have a room. Given all you’ve done to help him, I can’t see it being an issue.”

  “I don’t want to take advantage.” But there was a sparkle in his eyes that told Simone he was simply looking for validation. “If you don’t think he would mind, maybe I’ll ask.”

  “He won’t care. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s put you down already.” That was exactly the sort of thing Dylan would do. He might be many things, but heartless wasn’t one of them.

  Well, not heartless when it came to people who weren’t interested in a romantic relationship with him.

  “Whatcha working on?” Before Simone could move to stop him, her dad picked up her laptop and began to read. “Oh, you’re a bit snarky with this one. Not your usual…sugar daddy site?” He looked up at her and frowned. “You’re doing a story on a sugar daddy site? Why the hell would you waste your time on this shit?”

  Simone made a grab for the computer, but he moved it from her. “Dad, I need that back.”

  “Not until you tell me what you’re doing? This isn’t your normal type of thing.”

  “I’m not going to be writing about food trucks and community theater for the rest of my life, Dad. If I want any chance of making a real name for myself, I need to start doing some harder-hitting stories.”

  “Like trying to determine who the owner of a porn site is?”

  “It’s not porn. And your attitude is exactly why I chose to do the story. These women need financial aid, and the men are helping them.”

  “It’s prostitution.” He sighed and handed her the laptop. “You’re better than that.”

  “It’s not. Most of these women don’t even have sex with their sugar daddies. Some just go to plays or concerts. Some will have supper and maybe go to a movie. I interviewed one woman who specialized in dates with men who wanted to pretend that she was their daughter, and they wanted nothing more than to pretend that they had some family. Hell, I know one couple where it was a sugar mamma, and she helped him pay for his student loans. Not everything is about sex. And even if it is, what the hell is wrong with two consenting adults wanting to get together to have a good time? Nothing. Our society is full of a bunch of prudes.”

  Her face had grown heated, and her heart pounded the longer she spoke. She couldn’t even look at her dad. Instead, she dropped her laptop on the table with a not-so-gentle thud. It shouldn’t surprise her that he didn’t get the whole sugar daddy concept; it was partially generational, but also, he didn’t exactly see shades of gray. Her dad had always been a black and white kind of guy, and she shouldn’t have expected this to be any different.

  Dylan no doubt would roll his eyes and say that this only reinforced why he never wanted it to come out that he was the Candy King. Too many people would fault him for his side business, and his development company would suffer as a result. But that didn’t mean that the story wasn’t an important one to tell.

  “Baby?”

  She looked over to where her dad stood. “What?”

  “I want to ask you a question, but I don’t think it’s going to come out the way that I intend.”

  “Just ask.”

  “Why are you writing a story like that?” He sighed and moved closer. “I don’t mean because of the sex stuff. I mean, you’re so good at the community stories, why would you want to do something edgy like this?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t know where to look. “I needed a challenge. I wanted to write something that would put me on the map.”

  “You’ve never said anything about wanting to do that type of journalism before now. I thought you loved going out and eating at restaurants and writing about the marathons and stuff. You always made me laugh when I’d read your stories. I’m glad that you still write for a paper that puts out a weekly print. It’s going to kill my printer if they end up switching over to online only.”

  Sniffing, she finally looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I have a copy of every story you’ve ever published. I have a scrapbook that I keep—well, two, actually. You’ve written so much over the years, it’s been hard to keep track of it all.” He reached up and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I wanted to be a reporter so badly when I was a young man, but here you are living the reality. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

  There was no way Simone could keep a sob from escaping. though she did manage to hold herself back from throwing herself into her father’s arms. “You are?”

  “Shit, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I knew you wanted to be an investigative journalist. You used to ask when I’d tackle something hard-hitting. Something that would make a real difference.”

  He squeezed her shoulder again, letting his hand fall to his side. “That was something I had to talk a lot
about in therapy. It wasn’t that I was exactly jealous. Not really. But I was living vicariously through your successes. My therapist told me that I was putting pressure on you to fulfill my dreams, and that that wasn’t fair. In fact, he suggested that I make the scrapbook of your stories. I’d already started, so it wasn’t difficult to follow through.”

  She’d spent much of her professional life trying to live up to an expectation that wasn’t there. One that she really shouldn’t have focused so much on, instead of doing the things that brought her joy. And she did love the community stories, enjoyed getting out there and making people smile. It was those aspects of the sugar daddy story that had driven her to want to do it in the first place. She wanted to show how special these relationships could be, how much they were needed by both sides of the equation.

  The Candy King had been a bit like her Moby Dick.

  Dylan had quickly become so much more than a mere obsession. He’d somehow worked his way into her heart and taken root. Nothing she could do was going to get him out of there, which meant she was going to have to find a way to live without that piece of her. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. That he didn’t want her.

  “Baby?” He moved a bit closer. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m…not really.” She didn’t cry, even though her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. “But I will be.”

  “Did that man do something to you? I won’t live in that place if I think for even a moment that some rich asshole did something to hurt my baby.”

  “He didn’t. It’s all on me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She wasn’t about to go into all the details with him about Dylan’s aversion to relationships, but she told him enough. “He made it clear how far he was willing to go from the beginning, and I’m not about to throw myself on someone who isn’t interested.” He pulled her in for a hug, and this time she didn’t resist. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m shit at relationships. I somehow figured you and your mom would be better off with me out of the picture than having to constantly put up with my mood swings and anxiety. She still gives me hell about that, but I did what I thought was right. Sometimes, men can be idiots.”

  She laughed as she wiped her tears on his shirt. “She calls you that all the time.”

  “Called me that a few hours ago when I showed her the new place. Told me that I wouldn’t need to pay rent if I wanted to move back in with her.”

  Simone looked up, ignoring the flutter of hope in her chest. “She wants you to move back home?”

  “Always has, but I can’t do that to her. I think living at the complex is a better idea.” He shrugged. “But I might see if she wants to come spend some time with me. As friends, if not partners. Did you know she’s taking a college course in the evenings? Economics.”

  “What? No. When did she sign up for that?” Simone couldn’t imagine anyone purposely signing up for a course that involved numbers.

  “Last month. I promised I’d lend a hand if she needed it. Not that she would. She was always better at numbers than I was. Still, I want to support her any way I can.”

  She couldn’t imagine her parents being more than that, but it was wonderful knowing, despite everything that had happened between them—the tears and yelling, the frustration and heartache—that they were still able to be there for one another. Friendship was something special and absolutely the thing that she knew her father could do for her mom. “That’s great.”

  “I also want to be there for you. I know I can’t make up for a lot of the time when I wasn’t stable. And I can’t promise that I won’t go back to being like that. Right now, though, my meds seem to be working, and I’m able to hold down regular jobs. If I can move into the complex and take up this meditation that Sarah was talking about, I think that will also help.”

  “Sarah?”

  “You know, Jonathan’s fiancée? She’s the one who’s going to run the place. She has plans to offer daily meditation and yoga practice. I’m not really into all that religious stuff, but I’ve been doing some reading, and meditation is good for people with depression and anxiety. It might help.”

  Simone shook her head. “Back up. When did you meet Sarah?”

  “Today. Your man took off when Mom and I were visiting, but Jonathan and Sarah were there. We got to talking about what her dreams are for the place. I think she’ll do great.”

  “I thought they’d broken up?”

  “Not the way they were sucking face while I was there. I’m not sure she’s going to live there with us, but I know she wants to have a room just in case people want or need her to be around.”

  If Jonathan and Sarah had worked out their issues, there might be hope for everyone else. Shit, there might be a chance that she’d find a love of her own. Maybe not with Dylan, but with someone, someday.

  “That’s really good. I’m happy for them.” She pulled away from her dad and got herself a glass of water from the fridge. “I should probably get back to work. I need to turn my stories in to Carl by next week or else I’m going to get my ass fired.”

  She heard her dad move around and wasn’t surprised to see him back at her computer, reading. “You know, this would be far better if you were a little less cynical. It’s not your style, and I think it detracts from what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  Rather than become defensive, she took a breath and let his words sink in. “I just want it to be taken seriously.”

  “Then be true to yourself. Your voice. Simone Leblanc doesn’t write cynical stories. A Simone Leblanc piece is fun and witty. You focus on the people and their problems, what connects them and makes the reader care about what they’re doing. Not…whatever the hell this is. Go back and really think about what you’re trying to say. Then write it.”

  It was funny how having someone on the outside look in at what you were doing could help bring things into focus. It was going to mean a ton more work, but that didn’t matter. Getting the story right did. “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome, baby.” He smiled before clapping his hands. “Right. Let’s order a pizza, and then I can read over your other story, which was the real reason I came over. You’re buying because I’m helping.”

  “I am?” She chuckled. “Fine, but that means I get to pick the pizza.”

  “Just nothing with pineapple.” He shuddered. “Fruit doesn’t belong.”

  “The Hawaiian pizza is a Canadian invention. You should show your civic pride and eat it.” She wasn’t a fan herself, but if push came to shove and someone offered her free food, she’d eat just about anything.

  “I’ll drink a Keith’s beer instead.” He waved her away and sat back down.

  Simone ordered their food online, even as her mind kept circling back to Jonathan and Sarah. She’d been so confident that after their fight there was no way they’d be able to work things out. They’d both been so adamant, determined to move on without one another that Simone couldn’t imagine a scenario where the outcome would be any different.

  And yet…

  According to her dad, Dylan had been there too. That meant he’d seen that, despite everything, his brother was going to get his happy ending after all. Maybe that would be enough to remind him that he didn’t need to go it alone. He might not want Simone, but she hoped that someday he’d find someone to change his mind, someone he’d let into his life for longer than a few weeks.

  Someone who would love him the way he deserved.

  Even if she wanted that someone to be her.

  “Pizza is on its way.”

  “Great. Baby, you have some sort of message on your computer. I didn’t want to open it in case it’s a sex thing.”

  “I don’t have any sex things.” Well, except for the—“Shit, don’t open that!” She raced to take the la
ptop from him once again. “You didn’t look, right?”

  “I didn’t have time to blink, let alone look.”

  Sure enough, there was the sugar daddy message icon blinking in the corner. She hadn’t uninstalled it from her phone or her computer, as she hadn’t finished the article yet and didn’t know if she’d need to look something up.

  Sure, that’s the reason.

  There was still only one person in the world who would message her through the app. Only one person who she hoped and prayed might someday see her as something more. She should look at it, but there was no way she could do that with her dad sitting in front of her.

  “I have my issues, but I can still tell when your brain is working in overdrive.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to go. E-mail me your story on the housing development, and I’ll send you any comments I have later.”

  She blinked at him as she held the computer a bit tighter to her chest. “You don’t mind?”

  “I’ll get some pizza on the way home.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I hope that message is good news for you.”

  “Me too.”

  Simone held off clicking the icon until her dad was safely out the door. With her body shaking, she sat down on the couch, trying to catch her breath after everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes—way too many emotional twists and turns for her liking.

  Taking a deep breath, she double-clicked the icon and read. Then she reread the message.

  Shit, what the hell was she going to do now?

  * * * *

  Sitting in Carl’s office, waiting for him to once again read her article, was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. It had taken him ten minutes to finish a call he was on, and then another ten minutes to scroll through the document she’d e-mailed him before she’d come over. As always, he gave little indication as to what he thought about the story.

  “Interesting.” He leaned back in his seat as he narrowed his gaze at her. “Has Williams seen this yet?”

  “Not yet. I was planning on sending over a copy, but I wanted to run it by you first.” Carl was many things, but he’d never let her put out a garbage story that would make either herself or the paper look bad.