Clutch

by S. M. West

  “Your hair and beard.” She closes the gap to finger my locks. “I like it.”

  Her hands freely roam my scruff, and her touch is the greatest fucking high. As her long, slender fingers cup my cheeks, she steps in between my legs and her eyes are warm and hazy. She can’t seem to stop running her hands along my cheeks and jaw like she’s addicted to me as much as I am to her.

  Her cherry lips lightly kiss the side of my mouth, her tongue darting out to flick my upper lip. My cock jerks like she just licked the tip, and I squeeze her ass, needing something to hold onto.

  Her shorts, so tiny they should be illegal, allow for my fingertips to slide along the smooth underside of her luscious ass. Glorious.

  “Hey, you,” she murmurs against my lips before her tongue delves into my mouth.

  My hello slides down her throat as I haul her flush against me. The stacked crates I’m perched on are low to the ground, bringing her chest to my eye-level. My hands slide from her ass to the back of her thighs, down to her calves. Her skin’s ridiculously soft, only making me want to get her naked this instant.

  She leans down to deepen our kiss with her hands still caressing my face, still roaming from jaw to chin, cheekbone to neck. She can’t get enough of me, and this strange stirring grows within me, heating and swelling.

  “I’ve missed you,” she mumbles against my cheek before licking and biting at my jaw.

  “Me, too,” I manage to respond, in between kisses, strokes, and nibbles.

  “Did you get to sleep?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” I yank her onto my lap, and she settles in like she’s home and we continue kissing. We stay like that, getting reacquainted and making out, albeit PG, for I don’t know how long. I think we’d still be there if it weren’t for Betty interrupting to tell Pansy that she needs to get back to work.

  “Hey, wait. Daisy’s here to stay?”

  “So it seems, but we’ll see. She’s high maintenance and living at my place is way below her standards.”

  “How is that going to work with only one bed?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see. It’s barely been twenty-four hours, and we’ve already had our moments, but she is somewhat different. She seems to want to try at this sister thing. She also has stuff going on in her life, and I think she’s looking for family support.”

  “Family support? Like financially?”

  “No.” Again she laughs. “She has more money than me. She wants someone in her corner.”

  “I thought Ivy was her go-to sister?”

  “Usually she is, but there’s more. I don’t know what, but Daisy doesn’t want to go to Ivy, so something tells me that whatever it is, Ivy won’t approve.”

  “What? So you’re the default sister? Because her fav won’t support her, she’s slumming with her baby sister?” I fail at hiding my vitriol.

  “It’s not like that. Or at least, I hope not. But we’ll see.”

  “I just want you to be careful. Just because you’re family, it doesn’t mean you can trust her or that she’s got your back.” I speak from experience and shouldn’t paint Daisy with the same brush, but from all I’ve heard, she could just be using Pansy. I won’t let that happen.

  “True, and I’ve got my eyes open, although I like to think that’s not the case.”

  “Okay, but if you need anything or need my help getting rid of her, tell me. I will help you.” My grip tightens on her. “Can I see you after your shift?”

  “I promised Callie that I’d help her with setting up her website. How about tomorrow before my shift? But no sleeping at your house,” she says with a smile.

  “I can’t. I’m having breakfast with my parents.” She straightens, her eyes full and optimistic, but I quickly dash any hope. “It’s the only way I got them to agree to leave.”

  “Pansy,” Bunny hollers from the door. “Jagger, get your hands off my flower girl. She’s got work to do.”

  Over the next few days, Daisy’s predicament becomes abundantly clear. I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out. Keeping her secret was next to impossible in my small space. Another drawback of one bathroom and paper-thin walls.

  Morning, noon, or night, her retching is audible from all corners of my apartment. The first few times, I try to help and knock on the door for her to let me in, but each time, she tells me to go away. Three days in, she breaks down and lets me in.

  I use a knife and pick the lock to get it open; she says she can’t move, and the task is rather easy. I find her on her knees over the toilet. Her usually shiny light blonde hair is dull, hanging like wet spaghetti around her face.

  She heaves, and I rush to pull her hair to the sides, rubbing her back as she expels a watery bile. Once I think it’s over, I wipe a cool damp cloth on the back of her neck and face.

  “I think I’m done for now. I need to lie down.”

  She leans on me as I guide her to my bed and get her tucked in. Her forehead is damp with a light sheen, and she’s pallid with dry lips.

  I wet the cloth once more and place it on her forehead before going to the kitchen to get some ginger ale. Sticking the straw to her mouth, I make her take a few small sips.

  “How far along are you?”

  “About five weeks. I haven’t been to a doctor but have an appointment next week.”

  “And the father, does he know?”

  “Yes.” She says it with such defeat that my heart aches without even knowing the situation.

  “And?”

  “He wants nothing to do with the baby. Or me. We’d been seeing each other for seven or eight months. It wasn’t serious. He’s a model, and a baby would cramp his style. I’m on my own.”

  Clutching her limp, cool hand in mine, I gently hold on as tears shine in her eyes and her lower lip quivers.

  “Pansy, I’m so scared. I can’t do this alone. I need you so much.”

  Daisy’s plea or confession, depending on how you look at it, moves me and shocks me. I never dreamed of hearing anything resembling that from her. Ever. But even at this moment, I don’t want to be her doormat. I have a life too, and while I’ll help in any way I can, we need to get a few things straight.

  “Why didn’t you go to Ivy?” She winces. I’m not beating around the bush, I want answers. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re welcome here, but Ivy’s the doctor. She can do more for you.”

  With pursed lips and an eye roll, the Daisy I’m thoroughly acquainted with comes back. “She’d lecture me and make me suck salt for how stupid and irresponsible I was. She likes to kick you when you’re down, and I don’t need that.”

  I nod. It’s sad but true. “Why me? Daisy, you’re not alone, and I’ll help, but I need to understand why you didn’t go to one of your friends, someone you’re closer to, or heck, you have money, you could do this on your own.”

  Daisy pushes up into a sitting position, resting the cloth on the bedside table. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  “No. You and I have always just tolerated each other, even when Mom thought we should be best friends because we were the youngest.” I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know. “Why me?”

  Taking my hand in hers, she squeezes until our eyes meet. “I’m a bitch and have taken my crap and insecurities out on you. I’m not proud of it, and I’m sorry. Pansy, the sad truth is, I don’t have any friends.”

  “What?”

  I run through all her emails and photos, one- or two-word texts about parties, jet-setting to one place or another, shopping, dancing, you name it. I’m confused.

  “None of the models I hang with are truly my friends, and if I’ve gotten close to someone, it doesn’t last. And yes, I could have gone to Ivy, but despite what you think, we aren’t really that close. Ivy doesn’t need anyone.

  “Well, that’s not true. She needs people to take charge of, but she doesn’t seem to need or want a friend. She would scold me for the baby and make me feel like a failure for it,
but she wouldn’t be there for me. I need a friend.”

  It’s a shock, like a jolt to my heart. She wants me as a friend? Sure, Ivy’d be judgmental and condescending about Daisy having a baby, but she’s the matriarch. She’d make everything all right, yet Daisy came to me.

  “And that’s me? A friend?”

  “Yes. I’ve always wanted to be your friend. You’re funny, smart, and caring, but you also scare me.” My eyes widen, as does my mouth, and Daisy giggles. “You should see your face right now.”

  “I just don’t understand what you’re saying. All our lives, I’ve felt like the screw-up, the baby who got away with everything, and now you’re telling me something that I just never thought I’d hear.”

  “I hid my true feelings really well.”

  “’Why?”

  “Because I’m nothing like you. Letting my feelings out doesn’t come easily to me, I fear rejection, and…”

  “Go on,” I say encouragingly.

  “You always followed your heart and embraced life without any fear, or if you were afraid, you pushed through it no matter who was in your corner or not. I kept you away for fear of finding out that we couldn’t be friends, that we wouldn’t get along. Instead, it was what I wanted all along. Like I said, I’m a bitch, and I’m sorry.”

  She pulls me in for a hug, and I’m stunned. “Does this mean you don’t like modeling?”

  “No, I do. I was fortunate to find something that I do love, and I’m good at, but this pregnancy has forced me to reevaluate the way I’ve been living my life. I need a friend, Pansy, and that’s why I came to you.”

  Her smile is watery, but it reaches her eyes, and I hug her again. My emotions are all turned upside-down.

  “I’m here for you. You’re not alone.”

  “Thank you. And I promise I’ll get my act together. In fact, I’ve just had a call from my agent about a bikini shoot in Europe. I have to give them an answer quickly because their original model backed out, and while I hadn’t counted on doing any more, I might take it. One final gig. I haven’t told anyone about my pregnancy yet. They all think I fled because Costa and I broke up. That I’m heartbroken.”

  “And are you?”

  “No. Costa and I were only friends with benefits. He made things less lonely, but we weren’t serious. I wish he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life, for the child’s sake, but maybe it’s better this way.”

  “Can I ask why you’re having the baby when it will disrupt your life? And before you answer, know that I support your decision. I just want to understand.”

  “I can’t really answer that or explain it. All I know is once I found out, there really wasn’t any other choice. I was happy to know that I’d have a chance to give a child the love and support Mom and Dad did for us.”

  “Daze, I totally understand that.”

  I’m surprised by her revelation and also elated. It goes to show; things aren’t necessarily how you see them. I feel more confident and hopeful about my future than ever before.

  I’m wired and anxious to have breakfast with my parents. I would prefer not to see them, but it’s the only way they agreed to leave. Their flight’s today. I’m up, dressed, and on my way to the city long before I have to be there. I just want to get this over with.

  When I arrive at La Mondrian -- only the best for Alice and Chuck Palmer -- I bide my time by the pool, drinking coffee. I’m not going to their room any earlier than I have to. The time goes by too fast and too slow, but like all things, the inevitable comes, and it’s time to go up.

  Mom answers the door wearing a crisp linen skirt and blouse. Her hair’s in her usual ponytail, her makeup light, but her fresh look is complete with a simple string of pearls.

  “Silas, honey.” She kisses me on the cheek and gives me a long hug.

  I’m somewhat taken aback because it almost feels sincere. I don’t know if it’s me and my wishing for that to be the case, or if it really is. Either way, it doesn’t matter. She kills my sentimental thoughts as soon as she starts talking.

  “Silas, have you considered what quitting the band means?”

  She pours us coffee and motions for me to sit with her. Reluctantly, I obey.

  “Yes, Mom, I have.”

  “Honey, I don’t know how to say this, but you need to know that even with you doing this, we can’t… um, we can’t…” Her eyes flick to the doorway that leads to where the bed and bathroom are. It’s like she’s seeking reinforcements. My dad.

  “Just say it, Mom.” My exasperation is strong and clear in my tone.

  “What your mother is trying to say is that we can’t take a reduction in the money you send us even if you quit the band.” My father strolls into the room like he rules the world, his hands busy knotting his tie. “It’s simply not an option.”

  Our gazes lock, his hard eyes challenging me, almost wishing that I’ll take him on.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, son.” His tone is somewhat softer, especially on the word son, but the hard glint is still in his eyes.

  “Well, I haven’t even got there yet. I need to talk to my financial advisor to figure things out. It all depends on what I plan on doing next.”

  I’ve never begrudged them anything, and even now, when my money is all they seem to care about, I still don’t want to leave them high and dry. They wouldn’t be destitute, or at least, I don’t think so, but either way, they are my parents.

  Even with all of this, it still feels wrong, and it hurts like a motherfucker to have them dictate to me what I can and can’t do with my money. No matter how many times I go over our past, I don’t know how we got here.

  “Silas, you don’t…”

  “Chuck,” my mother interjects. A scowl covers his face, and she comes to his side, tugging on his arm. “We should eat or else we’re going to be late for the airport.”

  He mutters under his breath, but relents and sits to eat. Our meal is rife with unspoken words, and we all pick at our food, hardly eating anything. Our appetites are lost to the thick tension in the air.

  Mom dabs at the corner of her mouth with the napkin and puts on a tight smile. “Well, we best be going or else we’re going to miss our flight.”

  “Yes, let’s go,” my father responds tersely, his eyes finding mine. “We’ll continue this conversation another time.”

  Not a chance.

  “Have a safe flight,” I say, heading to the door.

  “But wait, aren’t you driving us?” Mom is quick to ask, her worrisome nature rising to the surface.

  “No, I figured it would be best to have a driver take you. The limo is downstairs waiting for you.” I don’t look back as I walk out the door.

  My chest aches like I’ve got an elephant sitting on it and breathing is hard. Fuck, why does this have to hurt so much? Anger runs like hot lava through my veins, and the urge to hit something is overwhelming.

  Lost, fearing I’ll lose control, and with nowhere to go, I drive for a while along the coast, trying to find some peace or balance or whatever the fuck is going to help. The one thing I want right now, the one person, isn’t available. Pansy.

  It’s then that I find myself doing the most unexpected thing of all. Pulling to the side of the road, I call Dr. Wexford, my therapist. I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year, and I’m surprised when she answers, and even more so when she tells me that she has time for me.

  She’s waiting for me on the front step of her beach house. She’s a pretty woman in her early forties with bangs and long dark hair that she wears tied in a low ponytail. Her long, flowing dress and her willowy figure sway with the breeze.

  “Silas, it’s so good to see you,” she greets me with a warm smile and handshake.

  “Dr. Wexford, thank you for seeing me, it was… ah… spur of the moment.”

  “Sometimes, that’s the best way.” She turns, and I follow her up the steps to her office above the garage. “It just so happens my usual appointment is on
vacation, so I was free. I’m so glad that I was. It’s been a long time. How are you doing?”

  Her office hasn’t changed since I was last there. It’s nothing like a doctor’s office, but more like a living room, with warm colors, comfortable furniture, a fountain, plants, and beautiful art. Behind her desk is a picture window overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I always feel calm and at peace in her space, even when I dreaded coming.

  Sitting in an armchair, I glance her way, and she smiles encouragingly.

  “I’m good. No, for the most part, I’m great. I met someone, and she’s changed my life in so many ways.”

  “I can tell by the way you speak about her. Tell me more?” She crosses her legs in the overstuffed chair.

  She listens, asking few but pertinent questions as I tell her all about Pansy. How we met, how things are now, and that I want her to live with me.

  “She sounds like a remarkable young woman. I hope to meet her someday.” I nod and smile, feeling a bit self-conscious about having spilled my heart and soul to her, although she knows all there is to know about me. “What’s the but?”

  “Pardon?” I furrow my brow, puzzled.

  “I’m sensing that something is bothering you. Something prompted you to call me. And I’m glad you did. It can’t be that Pansy is not living with you, so tell me, what is it?”

  Her soft, lyrical voice weakens me, and like water gushing from a breached dam, all my hurt, disappointment, and anger concerning my parents spills out of me.

  Dr. Wexford knows the history with my parents, and the current state hasn’t changed since the last time I saw her. In fact, we spent most of our time focused on my mother and father. She also knew about my unhappiness with the band and wanting a change, but she felt a lot of my anger was rooted in my relationship with my parents. Or lack thereof.

  “How did it make you feel when your father told you that lowering or stopping the deposits wasn’t an option?”

  I’d forgotten how her simple questions, almost pointless because the answers are so obvious that a response isn’t needed, are always the hardest to answer. She gets to the crux of things simply and straightforwardly.