by Xavier Neal
He nods slowly. “Who also happened to be her pimp.”
Instinctively, I reach my hand across the back of the couch to touch his.
“He was a monster...and the reason I constantly toyed with wanting a job where I could take them down for a living.”
His vulnerability receives another gentle stroke from my fingers. He doesn’t pull away.
“Never thought it would be a requirement to keep myself out of prison.” Holden’s green eyes quickly fill with coldness and he moves out of my touch. “What about you? Were you into sports as a kid?”
Defeat over the lost closeness drops my shoulders. “There wasn’t time or money to be. I was the oldest of five at that point. I got plenty of exercise chasing Mario around. He was hell on tippy toes.”
Holden lets out a hearty laugh.
God, I want more of that from him.
“You’re the oldest of seven.”
I tease, “Can you name us all, Mr. Android?”
A playful gleam paints itself in his eyes. “There’s you-”
“Obviously.”
“Mya. Marc. Mona. Mario…”
The rambling of the list has me tilting my head at him in curiosity. “Why do I get the feeling you were prepared for this question?”
“I’m always prepared,” he flirts.
I cross my legs to dull the ache the words created.
Doesn’t help I haven’t been masturbating. After the conversation in which he admitted enjoying hearing it but his main concern was his children, I decided that I would just wait until the next time he wanted to be the one to get me off since that he didn’t bitch about. Since that’s what he really wants and for whatever reason won’t admit it. I know the scolding he tried to give me had nothing to do with worrying his kids were going to stumble upon me touching myself. They never get out of bed. Once they’re tucked in, that’s pretty much it for the night. Not even sure fireworks could make them flinch. I have to admit, I’m a little surprised Lynk gets up to the sound of his alarm, which he now uses after not being woken up three mornings in a row.
“Mia is your youngest sister, but there’s one more before her.”
“Mara.”
He smirks. “She’s a Freshman at Clover Rose this year. Theater major.”
“Yeah, her and Mia both have always had a flare for the dramatic.” After we exchange a small chuckle, I playfully ridicule, “You know, you didn’t have to Google me, Holden. If you wanna get to know me, all you gotta do is ask. I mean…it’s not like we’re exactly busy doing other things.”
I wet my lips provocatively and his face crinkles with a silent whimper.
The momentary weakness isn’t given any time to flourish. Sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs steal his attention.
“Ready,” Lynk announces, completely dressed in his practice gear.
“Got your bag?” Holden quickly asks.
“In the garage.”
“Did you fill up your water bottle?”
“Isn’t that her job?” Lynk snips and tosses his head at me.
Still not his favorite person. However, the sooner he understands I’m not the enemy, the better. Our progress isn’t much faster than the one I have with his father.
Holden tries not to bite. “Fill it up, Lynk.”
He rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen, which is when I ask, “Did you finish your homework?”
The sound of the cabinet slamming is proceeded with, “I’ll do it when I get home.”
I brace myself for the pending battle of authority. “You’re not going to practice.”
As predicted both of them shout at me, “What?!”
Why couldn’t we have had a peaceful moment for just a minute longer?
His body darts into view and I repeat, “You’re not going.”
“Yes, I am!”
“No. You’re not.” He begins to argue, something he is notorious for when I cut him off, “You broke the rules. It is homework first. Always. You don’t do your homework, you don’t do anything else.”
“But-”
“I explained this from day one, Lynk. I have been nothing but honest and direct. Consistent. Homework then video games or TV or hanging out with Joey or Scott or whatever it is you want to do until dinner.”
“This is different!” He shouts. “This is practice! I can’t miss practice!”
“You should’ve considered that when you were busy not doing your homework.”
Lynk glares and turns to Holden. “Dad!”
“You’re not missing practice,” Holden quickly caves.
Unlike his son, I don’t shout my concern, I merely gnash my teeth waiting to chew him out in private.
“Just…go…get Sage from upstairs, so we can get going.”
Lynk gives me a snide victory smirk and then does as instructed.
The moment he’s out of earshot, I snap in quiet voice, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
His tone is equally seething. “Are you!? Who the fuck do you think you are telling my kid he can’t go to practice? Practice I fucking pay for, might I add!”
“The woman standing between him and a goddamn juvie record because daddy never learned to tell him no!”
Holden’s jaw drops.
“You are not helping your son by giving him everything he wants and letting him run this house. More importantly, you’re teaching him that a man’s word is more valuable than a woman’s.”
“Wh-”
“Every time you undermine me, every time you overrule my decision, you are engraving very clear messages to him. The man of the house matters, but the woman does not. You are the ally and I am the enemy. Most importantly, you’re teaching him, that no does not indeed mean no. It means, try again or ask someone else or throw a tantrum until you get what you want. That message is the absolute fucking worst, Holden. Today a woman says no about soccer, but he gets the yes to do it anyway. Where do you think the habits of men who don’t take no for answer in other ways start? Thin air?”
Indignation tears through his expression.
“How about we teach your son to respect both men and women. His father and his…” The wishful word I want to say causes me to clear my throat. “Caregiver.”
Lynk and Sage begin descending the stairs yet Holden leaves his eyes piercing.
I stand and quietly surrender. “Your. Call.”
“Can I pick the music, Miss Meena?” Sage sweetly asks.
With a forced grin, I state, “That’s actually up to your daddy, sunshine. I’m not taking Lynk to soccer practice tonight.”
Holden grouses, “That’s your job.”
“Is it?” It’s my turn to sneer with a winning smirk. “Hard to know exactly what that entails since it constantly seems to be changing based on your mood.” I saunter my way past him. “I’ll be in my room ‘til dinner.”
“Meena-”
“Enjoy practice,” I state sharply as I continue my path around the corner. “Or don’t.”
I know this is hard for him. I understand it, I really do. He’s not the only single parent I’ve had struggles with. Hell, he’s not the only widowed parent I have worked for. However, at some point he’s going to have to realize, just like his son, not all change is a bad thing.
Seconds after locking my bedroom door, I hear a very loud, very clear, “That’s not fair!” from Lynk.
A small smile of relief crosses my lips.
Guess he doesn’t want his son to grow up to be an asshole.
The sound of stomping is accompanied with more yelling. Rather than be a part of the argument, I flop onto my bed, and turn up the television to drown it out.
Even though I know this is temporary and I’m eventually going to have to leave, it doesn’t mean I don’t want the very best for everyone while I’m here. It doesn’t mean I don’t want their lives to be better from the few weeks or months we get to share. And I know that’s all I’ll get because I know Holden. I may not know much about his history
or the horrors he hides, but I know his habits, especially when it comes to women around his children. The clock’s ticking. I just hope I make a significant difference for all of them before he pushes me out of their lives.
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?”
Irritati
on 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.”