The Daddy Arrangement (Sugar 101)

by Paige Parsons

  "You know what I'm not ready for? Her, calling someone else daddy. Him, getting those calls, taking those cuddles, or being the first one to… I can't even think about it. When she told me she was out with some little drunk punk, I practically swallowed my tongue to keep from making demands. Man, that desire punched me in the gut. At my age, I haven't fallen asleep on the phone with someone in two decades."

  The men stared at one another a moment. Michael said only three words before exiting the room, "Talk to her."

  Jack followed him out, a beat later. First, they would pack, and then they would talk.

  Once the guys helped them mop up all of the water, with plenty of glares from Michael, they started hauling things from both girls' closets. Keila was astounded by Jack's participation. He just dove in and took over. She readily did what he said, and not a thing about it felt weird or out of order. She found herself staring after him as he exited her room on each trip out. His cool, calm, and playful manner was putting her at ease and making her palms sweat. It was impossible to get her roommate alone, to talk through the crazy reactions she was having. She just needed to settle the hell down and stop acting like a thirteen-year-old with a crush on her teacher, but that was how she was feeling.

  Each time he'd left the room, Keila attempted to stash her stuffed animals in her laundry bag. She didn't have a plush menagerie, well, at least not one she considered terribly over the top. But, at almost twenty-one-years-old, she was cautious about an overly zealous demonstration of love for them. Loving them was one thing, but after being busted in the mother of all water fights, she didn't want to look even sillier with her various plushy acquisitions.

  "Busted!"

  Keila turned around to see Jack standing in her doorway, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, the muscles in his forearms both visible and enticing. One arm in the bag and the other clutching it to her chest did give her a guilty look. The suffocating trout imitation she was doing wasn't helping.

  "I'm not doing anything," Keila said, snatching her arm from the laundry bag.

  "What's in the bag? Is it something naughty you don't want me to see?"

  "Huh, what? No. I mean it's nothing naughty. I hate that word. It's ridiculous unless you're eight."

  "Or, acting eight. Kid, what's going on? What's in the bag?"

  "It's a laundry bag."

  As he walked further into the room, Jack went past her and perched on the bed. It wasn't lost on him that she pulled the bag closer and took a step back.

  "I can see what it is, but dirty clothes don't make anyone that skittish. Talk, or I'm likely to think it's something way worse than the truth. I also might be forced to do something about it."

  "What?" Her gasp wasn't lost on him.

  "Breathe. You haven't looked at me like this since the first night we met and you almost sat in my lap."

  "You invited me to, and I couldn't focus on anything else. You made me nervous."

  When he noticed the fact that she'd let the bag slip down her side, Jack was glad to see her easing up again.

  "Well, we both know I don't do that anymore. Make you nervous, I mean. I did want to talk to you alone, at some point, so now is as good a time as any. Sit."

  Jack watched as Keila processed his request, trying to decide what he could possibly want to talk to her about. Her, taking a look at the laundry bag out of the corner of her eye wasn't missed, either.

  "Forget the bag. Sorry, the laundry bag. Your dirty clothes are your business."

  "I wasn't touching my dirty clothes. I'm not a freak."

  "So, there is something else in there?"

  "Stop doing that."

  "What?" he said, unable to hide his laughter.

  "Twisting my words and my thinking."

  Keila dropped the bag near the footboard and sat down, leaving what she figured was a respectable amount of distance between them. The physical distance was doing nothing for her mental state, though, and she needed him to say what this was all about.

  "Jack, we should get back out there and help finish. They're probably waiting for us."

  "They probably aren't. I thought you trusted me, Keila. After two years and all of our conversations, how could you keep something so important from me?"

  "I thought Michael would say something, but I was hoping it wouldn't be so soon. I'm sorry. I know you told me not to do it. You were really clear about your feelings, even though I can hardly understand why. Michael and Bri are so happy and I know you support them a hundred percent, so, really, it is a little hypocritical. Plus, I know I sort of gave my word and I've kind of let you take the lead in a lot of decision making, which, boy, is Brianna gonna be pissed with me when she finds out, but this is practical. Sure, in your mind, there are much better obvious options, but this is the best choice. Plus, it's just one date. One date is all I agreed—"

  "One date? Keila, what are you talking about?"

  "What were you talking about?"

  Chapter 14

  This wasn't a look on Jack that Keila was used to or fond of, and it made her want to scoot all the way back out of his reach. Gone were the eyes full of mirth and mischief. He looked the way she'd seen Michael look, many times before he and Brianna disappeared into her bedroom. It wasn't for anything good, of that she was certain.

  "Michael told me about the apartment upstairs. He put down a deposit for you. Brianna was supposed to tell you. She texted and said you finally agreed. That's what I was talking about. I was talking about apartment 1203."

  "1203? Looks like you know more about it than I do. All she told me was that it was upstairs, and I absolutely did not agree to let Michael pay for anything. Damn that girl. I told her to stop pushing. Like, I just told her that, a few hours ago. She wouldn't have had time to text Michael anything, after our conversation. She told him before we ever spoke. I'm going to wring her scrawny little neck!"

  Keila was on her feet and seconds from exploding out of her room, when Jack caught her around the waist. With arms and legs flailing in front of her, she was practically folded in half lurching forward to get free.

  "Settle down. Keila, stop it." Jack spun her around, putting his foot against the door to slam it shut, pressing his body on it as he pressed Keila's body back to his. She was shaking in his arms, and even though her fight to break loose had simmered down, she was far from calm. As he took in deep and obvious breaths, he hoped she would match his rhythm.

  "Put me down, Jack."

  "Are you calm? I am not letting you down until you calm down."

  "I'm calm," she answered in a measured and deliberate tone.

  He wasn't totally convinced, since her words sounded more like a hiss than a statement. She turned on him the second her feet hit the ground. Hands on hips, he could tell her lashing out was going to be epic.

  "I meant what I said, young lady. I'm not letting you out of here until I believe you've calmed down. What was that reaction all about?"

  "Don't think you can use that tone on me to get me to do what you say. You can't force me to spill my guts to you. Just because I was stupid enough to over share one night."

  "This isn't about that, but we can certainly make it about that if you want to keep pushing."

  Clenching and unclenching her fist, Keila couldn't think of a number high enough to count to that would settle her down. There were so many things to be furious about, but Jack would make a convenient target.

  "I hope your silence means you're thinking about all the ways not to escalate this."

  "Nope. I'm thinking of all the ways I can murder my roommate and get away with it."

  "Wrong answer, even in jest."

  "Well, I don't have a better one right now. I told her that I was done with overbearing women trying to control me. That's the whole reason I won't go back to my mother or grandmother for any more money. Oh, they'll give it to me, but there will be twenty years of grief and control attached, and I'm not signing up for that. I'd rather live in the Adam's District."
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  "I don't know what that means, but I sense I won't like it. You have other options. You've always had them, but you're just too stubborn to accept them, and frankly, we're all tired of tiptoeing around while you work out coming to the only logical decision on the table."

  "I'm not taking money from Michael anymore. No."

  "So your next best answer is to jump into the sugar bowl. Meeting up with a total stranger is better for you. I really don't understand your attitude."

  "I really don't understand yours. So, it was good enough for Brianna at nineteen but not me. She found Michael, and no one seems to have an issue with that. What the hell makes me so special? It's about finding an arrangement that works for me. I'm finally willing to try, and you're acting like I agreed to rob the Federal Reserve. Why do you even care?"

  The pinpricks of emotions building up behind her eyes made her want to scream even louder than she was already speaking. If she started to cry, she wasn't sure she would be able to stop. Breathing like a bull about to charge, Keila tried to get her emotions more under control. He was acting like he cared so much, but there wasn't a reason for him to care, and in her heart, she knew it. Sure, he'd been kind, and they had a friendship of sorts. Really, he was more of a mentor and slave driver, when she got off task, but this was all because they shared best friends. He brought plenty to the table, but relationships were supposed to be a two-way street. Even she understood that, at twenty. She brought homework, problems, attitude, and the occasional laugh over mini golf. Eventually, she would be on her own or suffocated by her mother and grams, and both scenarios made her want to curl up and have a good cry.

  "Why do I care? I can't believe you would say that to me. I've never demonstrated anything but care since I taught you to make French toast, two years ago. I don't check in with anyone else to make sure they've gotten in okay from a late night. I'm not helping anyone else do research and work on projects with, and I can assure you, there have been zero other drunk twenty-year-olds I've fallen asleep on the phone with just to make sure they were all right through the night. Do not ever question how much I care about you, Keila; it's insulting."

  "Makes me sound like a needy child and not an equal partner in our so-called friendship."

  "You are so right, little one. There isn't a single thing equal about our friendship. Because we're human and we both need different things. If we needed the exact same things, there probably wouldn't be a reason for us to even bother."

  That took some of the starch out of her spine as she bit her lower lip and pulled it in until it practically disappeared. All she could do was stare. There was no snippy retort on her tongue and even less in her brain.

  "Nothing to say to that?"

  Shaking her head no, Keila was stalling for time to figure out the words that might take this conversation off the road it was currently careening down.

  "I don't know what to say to that. Either you're telling me outright that I don't bring anything to this friendship or that what I bring is of lesser value."

  "That's a case of selective hearing. I haven't said either of those things. I said we provide something to one another and that they were different things. Do you want to know exactly what you've given me?"

  "I guess." She was lying. She desperately wanted to know whatever he was about to say. She wasn't expecting him to take off his shoes and get comfortable against the headboard. When he patted the spot beside him, for her to sit, her hesitation was split second. The reality was that she wanted to be close to him, no matter what he was about to say.

  "My wife was younger than I was. Not by a lot, but I was on my own long before she was, and as we got to know one another, she turned to me for advice as much as she did her own parents. It was the first time someone was relying on me for good advice and not the other way around. I didn't have the best home life, and my football coach and his wife became my family. I relied on them for everything. I know, now, that they didn't mind, and I am always grateful I had them, but it was a new experience having someone else need me in that way. I liked it. I wanted to be reliable, dependable, and a rock for her. She was the first person I woke up wanting to put before myself and any of my own wants or needs. That was revolutionary for my brain. I was used to taking care of myself and worrying about myself alone. Then, over time, she replaced me as the priority and I didn't mind. It made me happy. I've been lost without her, without that. Slowly, you've taken up that part of my mind and my heart."

  Keila looked up, having stared down at her hands since scooting up next to him listening, but in a detached manner. She couldn't resist looking to see if his eyes matched the words coming out of his mouth. How could this be happening? Sure, she'd harbored a fantasy or twenty that involved Jack but felt certain it was inappropriate and one-sided. She was also conflicted. Her love for all the ways he filled the missing daddy gap had nothing to do with late-night lust thoughts that made her wake up wet, frustrated, and like a very bad girl. She wouldn't even share the last part with Bri, and they had very few secrets between them.

  "I had no idea. I mean, how would I? It's not like I've had a dad or a boyfriend, so things get mixed up in my head where men are concerned. That isn't an easy assumption to be made. As much as I liked our conversations, cooking lessons, and your advice, and I still do, I don't know what it means or how I'm supposed to be with you."

  "You could just be yourself. I liked that shy, awkward girl I first met. The one I taught to make French toast and kept from burning her fingers in a frying pan. By the way, no one is that bad in the kitchen."

  "That sauce was so tempting. I plead temporary insanity."

  "Culinary crazy, I'll accept your plea, but only because you were so cute and so excited. That much sugar for breakfast probably isn't a great idea for you."

  "You'll be happy to know then that I'm usually too rushed and manic in the morning to pull off anything that elaborate for breakfast. Protein bars and coffee carry me through most of my day."

  "Discussion for another time. This, this right here, is what I get from you. You've given me back something I've been missing. I'm just sorry I didn't come out and say it a long time ago. I never wanted you to feel lacking in any way, because you aren't."

  "Thank you for that, for this."

  Keila let go of his hand for a moment. She wasn't sure when she'd taken hold of it or which one of them initiated the contact, but she missed it the second she pulled away. She climbed over his legs and picked up her discarded laundry bag and dumped its plush contents at the foot of the bed. Dirty bunny plopped unceremoniously on Jack's outstretched legs.

  "I figure the other thing I can give you is honesty, even if it's about something completely stupid. I'm not some freak with a dirty laundry fetish. I am a freak who owns way too many stuffed animals at almost twenty-one-years-old. I didn't bring them to the dorms, but when Bri and I moved into this place, I brought them all back with me. I know they're silly and immature, but I love them and always have. I started feeling more and more ridiculous about them as you were helping me pack and move things out of my room. First, the water fight, and now this," she said, spreading her arms out across the assorted lot.

  "This is proof that truth is way less scary than imagination and little lies. But, we've covered that, and I know you wouldn't pick an easy lie over an awkward truth anymore. Not with me, at least. I was thinking a lot of things, but never once something so innocent. Come back and sit. Tell me about this little guy," Jack said as he held the washing machine worn item delicately in his hand.

  "Well, this is Dirty Bunny, even though he really isn't dirty. That's why he looks so creepy and bad. He gets washed every week with my laundry. My gram's friend from temple made him for me. He used to be attached to a much larger knit blanket. The story goes that as I got bigger, he got smaller. Finally, the rest of the blanket part could no longer be considered or used as a blanket, and Grams cut him down to size. Well, she did it after I caught her trying to toss him out. I don't normally un
ravel, well, not too often, but for some reason, I sort of lost it. I was a bit hysterical. Honestly, I was so inconsolable, I think she did it just to shut me up. I pretty much keep him under my pillow and occasionally rub on him, but when he's not there, I don't fall asleep as easily. It's dumb, and I guess I wanted you to see me as slightly more sophisticated than that image."

  "You'll be happy to know that I neither see you as dumb or sophisticated. You're just Keila, and I happen to think you're pretty terrific. There's some growing up to do, but you know what, we've all been there, and those of us who get a little help along the journey are even more successful."

  "You're full of wisdom, huh?"

  "I know a few things. Some taught, others learned the hard way, but all worthwhile. I think we might be the same in that way."

  "What way?"

  "Having to learn things the hard way. You're a lot calmer now. So, is it safe to go back to our original topic?"

  "My busybody roommate?"

  "Keila, I'm going to make you an offer, and you are not going to refuse."

  Jack fixed her with his stern no-nonsense businessman glare, daring her to challenge anything he was about to say.

  "Okay," she answered, taking the non-verbal chastisement in stride.

  "My plan is to stay here, after the wedding, and to work closely with Michael on our government contracts. I've already been looking for a place. That's why you haven't seen me around for a while. I had to sell my place in New York and look for a place out here. Easy, don't get jumpy and interrupt until I'm done. I don't know what this could be between us, but I want time to figure it out, and I absolutely don't want you on any website seeking arrangements with strangers. So, I'm suggesting we enter into our own little daddy arrangement."