“Should we go old school?” he asks. “Missionary?”
I smile. “We could be daring, do it from behind?”
“I do love to dare. What about you on top?”
“Another good option. We have too many options.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea—paper, scissors, rock.” Will holds out a fist. “Paper’s missionary, scissors is you on top.”
“Rock?”
“Doggy. Obviously.”
I grin and put out my fist.
“Paper, scissors, rock,” we chant. I throw scissors and so does Will. We laugh.
“Guess we’re in the same kind of mood,” he says, lying back on my sheets. “Give it to me, baby.”
“Oh, I will.” I straddle his hips and grip his cock, sliding it where we both need it to be. “But we do paper and rock after, yes?”
“Of course.”
I take a deep breath, savouring the moment, and then I sit down. I’m so turned on I part with ease, and as Will’s cock sinks all the way inside me, we both moan.
Will clutches my thighs, his fingers digging deliciously into my skin. I hate it when men touch lightly, like being pale is the same as being porcelain. Will touches me like I’m a woman who can handle herself, and he’s right. I rise on his cock, pulsing slightly.
“Fuck yeah. You like that dick, baby?”
My pussy clenches. “Yes, daddy. Fuck me, please?”
Will’s hips rise, pushing his cock deeper inside me. I’m so tight, it’s almost too much to bear. I reach down and rest my middle finger over my clit, rubbing as I rock, trying to redistribute the pleasure.
First times are supposed to be slow and exploratory, but this is fast, animal sex. Will’s hips slap against mine as we merge ourselves together. I’m so tight I can hardly breathe, and my lungs are full of the thinnest, coldest air.
“Daddy, I’m so close.”
“So come, baby.” Will’s fingers close around my nipples and I scream as my pleasure burns into that raw ecstasy once again. I feel like I’m on fire, all gold and scarlet and bottomless black. I close my eyes and know I’ll remember this for a long time. Maybe forever.
Beneath me, Will groans. “Sweetheart, daddy needs to come.”
“Do it. Come in me.”
He swears and thrusts up into me, his hands like a vice around my hips. I imagine him pouring into me, sealing us together. Afterward, we stay welded together for a long, long time. My body is sore and sweaty but my mind is as still as a glass of water, I’m nothing and I’m so happy to be nothing right here, with Will. It’s bliss, but if art has taught me anything, it’s that nothing can, or should, last forever.
“I need to get off you,” I say. “The condom. And the potential for UTIs if I don’t pee.”
Will doesn’t bat an eyelid at the UTI talk. “You’ll be right back, right?”
“Of course.”
I pad to the bathroom. Despite the central heating, I’m freezing. Seems I’ve been unwittingly addicted to Will’s body heat. Among other things. I pee and head back for the bathroom, a little apprehensive about what’s coming next. Some guys are all fun and games until the condom comes off, then it’s like you just shared a bumpy bus ride instead of your body.
“Hey,” Will says as soon as I open the door. “Come cuddle.”
I bite back a goofy smile and fold myself into his arms. We nuzzle together like bunnies.
“I feel so good,” Will says, sounding amazed. “Everything feels good.”
I smile into his hyper-warm shoulder. “I’m glad.”
We laze together for a while, then Will cups my cheek and kisses the tip of my nose. “Call me daddy anytime.”
I smile and then the thought comes, unwelcome as an upskirter in a change room—I could love you. I won’t say it, but I can feel it, bright as a sunbeam. I sit up, energized beyond all belief. “Hey, it’s still early, do you want to go into the studio, after all?”
Will grins. “Sure, I’d love to see more of your work. And once you’re done showing me how amazing you are, we can come back here and do rock and scissors.”
God, is this a dream or a simulation of absolute happiness? “That would be great. Do you want a shower?”
“Only if you’re in there with me.”
Will and I cram ourselves into my tiny shower and kiss until the water runs cold. Afterward, I pull on my warmest clothes and leave Will arranging his hair in my bedroom mirror. I pull out my French press and coffee grinds as I whistle ‘Oh What a Night’ by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons.
“Should we take the doughnuts?” Will calls from my bedroom.
“Only if you don’t mind sharing, artists are poor, hungry folk.”
“I can handle that.”
I smile and wander over to my phone. I’ve got a few notifications—a WhatsApp message from my Portland friend, Mimi, a couple of client emails, and a notification from PayPal. Apparently, I’ve received funds because my life is on an MDMA high right now. I open the app, hoping it’s at least a couple hundred dollars from a commission. Nothing worse than getting all excited over a seven-dollar payment. The screen loads and I blink.
No.
No, that’s too many numbers. It must be an error. I go into my transactions and see the same numbers. Six numbers. A two. A five. And four zeros. I drop my phone.
“Marley, are you okay?” Will is shirtless and smiling, stretching his arms over his head so he looks even more like a billboard model than ever. I know what happened. What he must have done. I’m falling but it’s not a happy roller coaster ride this time, it’s a tumble down an abandoned mineshaft.
“Marley? What happened?”
I can’t speak. He’s lovely, funny, as good at sex as Montana is cold. Why would he do this to me? How could he have done this to me? Will’s face splits into a hideous grin. “You got my donation, didn’t you?”
“D-donation?” I sputter. “You gave me a quarter of a million dollars.”
“You deserve it.” Wills smile gets wider. It’s bigger than his face. Bigger than the room. My vision swims. “You don’t know what I deserve.”
“I know you’re talented and I promise I sent you the money before you told me not to!”
“That doesn’t matter!”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t ask me what I wanted! You just threw cash in the air and hoped it would stick. Now you’re going to make my life and the rest of my career about you, some guy I fucked!”
Will raises his hands, almost hitting my ceiling. “Marley, this isn’t a big deal. Calm down!”
Oh no. Oh Christ, no.
I smile and pick up my takeaway cup. Will’s eyes widen and he takes a big step back, but it’s too late. I’ve already tossed the cold coffee right into his smug, know-it-all face.
Chapter 6
Marley
“Marley, am I doing it right?”
I look down at Anna’s daughter. Tia is up to her elbows in clay, squishing terracotta into a wonky cup.
“You’re doing great,” I say, and she is. Her unabashed love for pottery makes me want to cry, though a dropped Kleenex makes me want to cry these days. I reach into my pinafore and clutch the keychain. I know I shouldn’t draw strength from something I made for him, but I do.
“Mommy, look,” Tia calls, waving her clay in the air like a victory flag.
Anna looks up from her phone, beaming. “You’re such a clever girl, baby.”
I try. I really try not to sob like a wounded rhino, but the sound comes out anyway. I turn away, praying the impossible has happened and neither Tia or Anna noticed.
“Marley?” Tia asks. “Are you okay?”
I nod, though her sweetness is bringing up more tears. Anna gets to her feet. “Marley’s tired, honey.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You go wash up and meet us in the kitchen. You can have screen time.”
“Yes!” Tia shouts and scampers away.
I wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s sti
ll eight minutes of class left.”
Anna scoffs. “Knock a dollar off the next lesson and we’ll call it even. What’s with the tears? Is it Hat Boy?”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” Anna rubs soothing circles into my back. “Come on, let’s go have a coffee.”
She leads me to the studio kitchen and makes us an instant coffee and Tia a powdered hot chocolate. Tia reappears freshly scrubbed, and Anna hands her phone. “You watch Peppa Pig and nothing else.”
“Okay!” Tia crams her headphones into her ears and is instantly lost to the show.
“Easy-peasy.” Anna turns to me. “So, let’s hear it. And no skipping the sexy stuff.”
I look at Tia. “Can she hear us…?”
Anna smiles. “Tia Rose, if you look at me, you can eat ice cream for the rest of the week.”
Tia doesn’t so much as blink.
“See?” Anna says. “Hat Boy story. Go.”
I tell her the story, not that there’s much to tell. Will and I met, he fixed my car, blew my mind in bed and sent me a ridiculous amount of money via the internet, so I ended it. The entire affair took less than twenty-four hours yet I’m still moping around almost two weeks later, because I’m a chump.
“How much money?” Anna asks.
When I tell her, she grips my arm like it’s a climbing wall. “Honey, how is this a problem?”
“Because I didn’t want money to be a part of our…whatever it was, and he just swung his big tech bro dick onto the table and gave it to me anyway!”
“Right…” Anna’s expression is far too dreamy for my liking.
“It’s not romantic! It’s presumptuous and gross. Where does he get off thinking I need his help?”
My new friend raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I’m sorry, were you not propping up the bar next to me at that group catfishing?”
“That was different! Henry was an idea. This is real.”
“Exactly! It’s the jackpot! You get a guy you want to be with and a way to make ends meet.” Anna reaches forward and pulls a stray thread from my Milky Way T-shirt. “Don’t tell me you don’t need the cash.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” On instinct, we both look at Tia. She’s giggling at the cartoon on Anna’s phone, oblivious to her mom’s financial worries. I’ve discounted her lessons as much as the studio will allow, but I’m sure the thirty dollars could go to a million other places in Anna’s life, just like it could in mine. Except now I have a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of backup in my PayPal account.
“It’s not fair,” I say. “I don’t need Will’s money that badly.”
“You offering it to me?”
“You’d take it?”
Anna swats my side. “Of course, I would! But I want you to stop being stupid and keep it, instead.”
“But it makes me feel so inadequate!”
“Why? That money is a gift from someone who admires your work and wants to support you...and also maybe have you suck his dick, which you’re into. So what’s wrong exactly?”
I squirm under her gaze. “Nothing. I guess I just didn’t want my story to be some Cinderella cliché where I get rescued by a hot guy. I wanted to make it as an artist on my own terms.”
“Too fuckin’ bad!” Anna says cheerily. “Shit happens. Your shit is just Lifetime movie shit. Now stop insulting me and every other broke, single woman on the planet and accept a good thing. No one likes a martyr”
A smile pushes its way onto my face, the first smile since Will walked out of my door, covered in coffee. “It’s that easy? I just…change my mind about Will and the money and everything else and go with the flow?”
“Why not? You like him, don’t you?”
Like doesn’t begin to cover it. Not a minute has passed since Will and I slept together that I haven’t thought of him. But I couldn’t see a way to like him around the quarter million dump he took on my PayPal account.
“I really like him. But what if things can never be normal between us?”
Anna laughs. She throws her head back and laughs so hard, Tia briefly glances up from Peppa Pig.
I put down my coffee. “What? Is it because I’m not normal? Or Will’s not normal? What?”
But Anna just gets to her feet, sweeping glossy hair over her shoulder. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Will’s place. Or you are, anyway. Walk me and Tia to our car and then go see him.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ You can’t go sobbing every time Tia says something cute. She’s a cute kid, you’ll never stop crying.”
I laugh. “That’s a good point.”
“Honey, all my points are good.” Anna kisses my cheek. “Nothing is ever normal. Not for you or Will or me or anyone. Ever. It’s all fucked, all the time, so just go see Hat Boy and give him that thing in your hand.”
I look down and see I’m clutching the keychain. I made it the afternoon Will sent me the money, a tiny baby-blue toolbox like the one he hauled out of his truck. I cried while I was welding the sides together and wished we’d never met, but I didn’t send back the money and I re-read his texts every night before I fall asleep.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go see him, only I’ll have to call him and find his address.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send it to you.”
“How do you know where Will lives?”
“Research. I was going to fuck up that Felix guy’s house, but it turns out the prick really is in Bali.” Anna heaves a disappointed sigh and looks me up and down. “What are you wearing to this rendezvous?”
I look down at my pinafore which is flecked with terracotta and coffee stains. “Not this?”
“Good choice.”
I follow Anna’s advice and head home to shower and change into my good white shirt, plaid skirt, and lady brogues. I do my makeup while my hair dries, then throw on a red velvet headband. I want to look good enough that Will forgets that the last time I saw him, I threw a latte in his face.
I rush to my car, which is still running on Will magic, and head for Montrose Hill. The address Anna sent me is a triple story McMansion, all windows and bluish-gray concrete. It’s sleek, but soulless and I can’t imagine Will living there. I park and walk the winding driveway. Is Will watching from any of the tinted windows? Do I want him to be? My heart beats hard and fast and I grip the keychain, the edges giving me comfort as I get to the front door.
I take a deep breath and ring the bell. There’s no response. I squint through the window and see a load of cardboard boxes stacked by the door. My stomach drops. He can’t be moving, can he? I mean, I know Felix is gone and Will has no other ties to Montana, but to just leave?
I pace the doorstep and try to think. I could call him, but reaching out only to be told he’s moving to New York or Tokyo or somewhere would hurt so bad. I could write a letter, but I don’t have a pen or paper. Eventually, I wipe my eyes and hang the keychain on the door handle. When Will sees it, he’ll know it’s from me. Then he can decide what to do. I waited two weeks to get in touch with him, I’ll have to accept what he chooses.
I adjust mini-toolbox so it won’t slip and shatter, and hear a car approach. I turn and see Will’s truck gliding up the driveway like a shark. My mood lights up like a Christmas tree, at least until the panic sets in. Why didn’t I call? Text? Why did I leave our last encounter at me throwing a drink in his face? Who is even operating my brain?
Will gets out of the truck. He’s dressed strangely in heavy boots and blue canvas pants. I give him a silly little wave and he raises a palm in response. I can’t read his expression—he’s wearing his flat-brim cap again, concealing his lovely face.
“Hey, William Faulkner!” I call out. “How’s it going?”
I can’t see Will’s eyes, but his mouth twitches. I’m guessing this all seems a little weak considering how I left things.
“I’m sorry for freaking out about the money,” I
say. “And that I didn’t return your calls. And that I threw that coffee at you.”
Will doesn’t say anything. I want him to, but I’m the one who’s been ghosting him for a week. I owe him the words and expressions. I swallow and power on. “The thing is, I’m used to being the only one who really believes in me. I didn’t get how someone like you could come into my life and…well, I’m sure you had good reasons for giving me that money, but I didn’t see them because it made me feel small. So I’m sorry and I probably don’t deserve a second chance but, uh, maybe you could give me one, anyway?”
Silence follows. A long painful one. Will rubs his jaw but he doesn’t say a thing. He looks like he did in the manager’s office at Plonk; a little distant, a little bored, a cosmonaut drifting through infinite space. I close my eyes, ignoring the abyss opening between my ribs. “Okay, well, great to see you, have a nice future. There’s something for you on the door if you want it and...yeah.”
I power walk down the driveway, needing to exit this living hell, and Will steps into my path. “When you said you couldn’t understand how ‘someone like me’ could come into your life, do you mean a tech bro?”
“God, no!” I say, genuinely surprised. “I meant someone hot and funny who likes daddy sex.”
Will smiles and with that flash of teeth, my cosmonaut returns to earth. “Seriously?” he asks.
“Of course! Why, do you need proof?”
“I wouldn’t mind some.”
“Give me a second.” I run back to the door and grab the keychain looped over the handle. I jog back to Will and hand it over. “I made this the day you left. I’ve carried it ever since.”
He stares down at the tiny metal toolbox. “You made this for me?”
“I did. Open it.”
Will flips open the lid. Inside is a tiny terracotta heart I painted blue and gold. He looks at me, wordlessly asking me to explain.
“I could be wrong,” I say. “But when I saw you with your toolbox, you looked peaceful and, I don’t know, right for the first time. I don’t know if that means you should go back to Missouri and be near your parents or become a sexy repairman full-time, but I wanted to show you where your heart is.”
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