by M. Merin
I stand there, silently willing the hour to speed up so I can see him again. Gradually, the feel of the bag on my shoulder sinks into my consciousness and I know I have to change before his return. My face flames red again at remembering the younger guy’s comment. Twice today, random guys felt the need to point out my unexpected period. Digging through the bag I find a pair of, thankfully black, yoga pants that I can easily wear with the t-shirt I have on.
Changing, and returning to the office, I have nothing to do but wait.
Sitting at the desk, I wrestle with the feelings I’ve had since laying eyes on Gunner less than an hour ago. Lightning bolt, at first sight type of feelings that can’t possibly exist in the real world. I have absolutely no experience with boys; well, he’s not a boy. At all. He’s got to be at least thirty?
How can I possibly express interest in him in a way that he’ll take me seriously? Did he even feel anything close to what I did when he touched me? Slapping the desk, I just get more frustrated remembering why I’m here in the first place. I’m jailbait. He won’t come near me.
Before long, I hear a motorcycle approaching. The louder the roar becomes the more excited I get; yes, seventeen-year-olds get panty-soaking excited whether or not adults want to acknowledge it. Hearing the bike cut out then footsteps approaching I start to stand, only to get my shoelace caught in the wheel of the chair as I push it backwards.
Making my day complete, I fall in a graceless heap between the chair and the desk just as he enters. I’m once again on the ground staring up at Gunner; though more embarrassed than last time.
“We gotta stop meeting like this, Sweetheart,” He’s grinning down at me and extending his hand. “You ok?”
After pulling my shoelace out of the wheel, I take his hand to stand. “I’m a little off kilter today, to be honest,” I reply with a self-deprecating grin.
“I’m gonna ask you some questions and I need you to be honest with me,” Gunner turns, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Reaching into his vest he pulls out cigarettes and quickly lights one. He rolls his eyes in annoyance after I crinkle my nose at the smell.
Exhaling, he sits there with narrowed eyes that are fixed on me.
“How long until you’re eighteen?”
“Eight and a half months. January 31.” I reply as I try to figure out where this is going. I see some emotion flash across his face before he closes his eyes and exhales a cloud of smoke.
“And you live here, in town?” I nod, still trying to figure out his intent.
“Yes, I go to the University in…”
“I know where it is,” He cuts in, “What are you studying?”
“Well…I’m in one program now, but I’m going to switch next year.”
“Isn’t that called Undecided, or some shit like that?”
“Typically. But in my case, it’s more like my parents told me what I would be studying and since I’m a minor,” There’s that damn word again! I think we both cringe over it as I keep babbling. “Even though I’m a high school graduate I can’t get emancipated, so I’m going to change majors next year. I’ve talked to a professor and if I keep my grades up I can probably get a partial scholarship and I’ve been saving up my allowance for living expenses.”
“What degrees are we talking about here?” He clearly can’t imagine there being an issue.
“From Pre-Med to Cyber Security.”
He laughs, “You want to be a hacker?!”
Without waiting for a reply, he shrugs and continues, “I’m thirty-two, I have a custom furniture business and do general woodwork on builds in this area. Then there are the Grizzlies, I’m the Sergeant at Arms,” He tilts his head at me, as if trying to guess how much I’ve heard about the MC that basically runs this town. A lot actually, but I won’t bring that up now.
“None of that is worth losing over…” he takes a deep drag on his cigarette as he continues to monitor me for a reaction. “Jailbait.”
“Enough!” The word explodes out of me louder and more forcefully than I expected. Walking around the desk, I continue, “I didn’t ask you for anything! I haven’t done anything to you! I…”
“Haven’t you, Sweetheart?” He asks in a deceptively low voice.
I look at him, beyond frustrated with his comment and at having nearly resorted to a rant myself. As I turn to grab my bags and leave the room, he reaches out, yanking me off my feet and dropping me onto the desk.
“Stay.” He commands, leaving me in a sitting position on the edge of the desk as he grounds out his discarded cigarette and retakes his seat.
Startled and flustered, I obey. Panting at the surprise turn this encounter has taken. Completely out of my element, I sit and wait for him to continue. He closes his eyes to stop their progression along my body and scoots his chair backwards.
“I won’t touch you again,” He starts, “not until February 1.”
My mouth drops open and my eyes shoot to his.
“I want your number but that’s not all,” He continues and I am utterly incapable of anything but sitting still and waiting for his next statement.
Pausing to light another cigarette, he continues; “No dating anyone. If you’re with someone now, you fucking end it today.”
“I’m, I’m not. I, I’ve never been with anyone.” I stutter in reply to his silence. My statement causes him to curl his hands into fists and growl. I mean actually growl.
Leaning forward in his chair, he is fighting his pledge not to touch me again; I can see that in his eyes and I revel in it. Exhaling, he slides his chair further back towards the door as the smoke curls over his head.
“There will be no contact between us, unless you need anything. If anything happens – another incident like today, which I will be looking into and I will make it stop – you reach out to me,” He commands and I know he means it. I also know I should be freaked out and running away right now. But cigarettes and all, I’d be much happier curled into his lap.
“Give me your phone,” He holds out his hand to me and I almost reach for it. Stopping myself when he curls his fingers into a fist, I shake my head to clear it and reach into my bag for my phone. Taking it, he dials his own phone from it.
“Save the number.” He says, handing it back.
I quickly do so while trying to absorb what he has said and watching him as he awaits my reaction. I know I have to assert myself. I want him, I’m too young for him right now but I refuse to sit meekly at home while he’s out fucking his way through the state. “What happens February 1?”
“Well, that’ll be a discussion for adults to explore, Sweetheart.” He finally replies, drawing out the word ‘explore’ in a way that leaves no doubt what he wants to explore.
Squeezing my legs together draws his eyes towards the exact area of my body that has been throbbing since his return. That tempo is increasing by the moment and from the smirk on his face, he knows it too.
“This has to go both ways,” I mumble. Not sure how to tell this man what I expect of him.
“What’s that, Sweetheart?” He looks back up at my face, raising an eyebrow.
Studying my red Converse’s for all I’m worth, I finally form the words, “You want me to wait for you? Not to be with anyone else? I will, but only if you will.”
Silence. But the silence isn’t empty, it is very full. I know he’s staring at me and I’ll have to look up eventually and I’m gradually starting to feel pleased he isn’t laughing, nor did he walk out. That has to be good, right?
“Come again?” He asks very quietly.
OK, come on! It’s less than a year! Miffed, I scoot off the desk and square my shoulders. This guy wants to punch my V card? He can flipping earn it.
“I’m not a complete idiot. I’ve heard there are girls that, you know, do whatever for the MC. And whoever else you come across. You asked something of me, I want the same from you!” My voice gets louder as I go on; the office door is open and I’m hoping that no one is in the waiting a
rea, as that would really top off this banner day.
“Just to be clear. You don’t want any hands, mouth, tits, pussy, or ass in contact with my hands, mouth, or dick until after our next…discussion?” I know he is going for shock value but I cannot help the look on my now beet red face. Looking him in the eye, he knows damn well no one has ever spoken to me this way and wants to give me a chance to run or back down. To know who he is and what he would expect.
As I start to speak, he throws in, “Or for me to watch others go at it while getting myself off?”
Gunner
Her blush explodes simultaneously on her chest, visible through her white V-neck t-shirt, her neck, and her cheeks. Her jaw slackens, making me recite Jailbait over and over again in my mind. I don’t think she’s made up her mind yet of whether to hit me or take off, but I had started grinning when her small hands had curled up tight by the time I got to ‘tits’. Little Riley does have a backbone, alright.
Riley’s next move really surprises me. She sits down again, her back is still ramrod straight and she crosses her arms across her chest; which push her tits forward. “Yep, no one’s anything on any of you. And the other, I mean, I guess people watch porn?”
Fuck. This girl blushes anymore and she’ll be in the burn unit. But I love that she isn’t backing down.
“I meant watching in the flesh, Sweetheart, not porn,” She really needs to stop making that “O” shape with her mouth.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” So prim and proper, like we’re discussing something mundane.
Waiting until her eyes make their way back to mine; I know I’m going to agree to this. But, fuck! That’s a long time, I haven’t screwed anyone in a couple weeks as it is. I guess I went through it during my deployments to Afghanistan though.
“I give you my word.”
A megawatt smile lights up her face like nothing I’ve ever seen. She bounces back off the desk and takes a step towards me but I hold up my hand to keep her back, sliding my chair backwards again. “Really?” She asks.
Standing, my chair gets pushed back through the door. I get that she doesn’t know me yet, but that shit won’t fly with me. “I give my word on something, I mean it. A hundred percent. Don’t question me on that, got it?” Towering over her, she takes a step back; that little movement pisses me off but I have no right to pull her towards me. Where she belongs.
Chapter 3
Gunner
She nods but before she can continue, Connal’s voice rings out; “Hey, the SUV is all cle…why’s the chair in the hall?” Connal rams the chair into me as he guides it back into his office, not giving two fucks that he’s interrupting.
Riley eagerly looks to him, “Is it alright?! How much do I owe you?” Clapping her hands together in front of her chest, she looks like he just handed her a new truck.
“We got the spray paint off, you may want to schedule a car wash with a wax to shine it back up a bit, but no one who didn’t see it will notice anything. I’d say, with labor it’ll be…”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, nodding to Connal so he knows not to discuss it further.
Riley still reaches back to her bag and starts digging, pulling her wallet out and giving me her little glare again, she says, “Please, I can pay for it. You helped enough bringing me here, I won’t let you pay. Connal, how much?” She repeats and starts pulling cash out of her wallet. Like serious cash.
“The Fuck?! Connal, did you leave the safe open back here?” I can’t help but raise my voice, besides the fact of the money, who the hell would pull that out in front of strangers? “Goddammit, Riley put all that away. Now!”
The three of us take turns looking at each other, Connal and I trying to figure out what seventeen-year-old walks around with what must be a few grand. Riley verbalizes her concerned expression as: “I didn’t steal it!”
“What?” Oh, my comment about the safe. “I know…I know you didn’t steal it. Is that your tuition money?” I ask, trying to figure her out.
“No, my allowance,” She returns like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Riley can’t help but notice the stunned expressions on our faces and realizes how she sounded. “I mean, it’s for the quarter,” She says in a quieter voice, trying to minimize it. Suddenly, I want her out of there and away from Connal.
Maddock. She’s a goddamn Maddock.
The last name she withheld from our introduction is screaming in my brain. I know whose child she is and this is going to turn into a shit show if Probie gets wind of it. This girl, this almost-woman, is nearly legendary around here. Rowansville has nearly twenty thousand full-time residents and a thousand stories about why Riley has been hidden away.
Following behind her, I know that every single story is wrong. Riley has only been hidden away because her parents are the two most shallow, self-centered, conniving, greedy assholes in the state. So what could a child possibly do to further their power-base and why should someone of their supposed calibre go to a local school?
Her truck was pulled to the front of the shop and was indeed graffiti free. Taking in her relieved but tight smile, I can tell she’ll still picture that word every time she looks at this vehicle. I can’t help that though. I motion her into the front, as I open the back door to toss her bags inside.
“You’ll text me? Let me know you got home okay?” I confirm.
“Yes, Gunner. A deal’s a deal, right?” She confirms that we’re still on, as she sticks her arm through the open window to shake my hand. “Thank you for helping with my truck. It really means a lot to me.”
And I know she means it. She’s not like so many other women in my life who put it on thick to try and get something from me.
“Sweetheart,” I don’t know if this is going to wreck things. “I’m beginning to put together who your parents are and it’s gonna be complicated.” She quickly flushes again and tries to pull her hand back from my grasp. “Let me finish!” I bark.
Easing up on my hold, I change my grip, keeping our thumbs hooked but wrapping my fingers up around her wrist. “A deal’s a deal. But I want you to know it has nothing to do with them, not in my mind. Not while I was driving around earlier trying to think of how to make something of this. Eight and a half months can be a long time, just remember this started when you were in a puddle at my feet at the car wash – not a few minutes back when I figured out that you’re a Maddock. Understand?”
Her eyes widen when I say her last name, then her sweet little smile is back, “I understand.”
I release her hand and she gives me a little nod before driving away. I stand, watching her go, then move for my bike. Gonna pay a visit to her Gram.
Eileen Riley is one interesting lady.
My parents were a mess. My mother had me her senior year of high school and I grew up hearing about how I ruined her life. It wasn’t that she got knocked up by a married cop over twice her age that ruined her life, in her mind it was me. He wouldn’t leave his family for her nor acknowledge me. In fact, he managed to keep my existence a secret until I was seven. That’s when mom dropped me off at his mother’s house and told her she was done dealing with my shit.
Grandma took one look at me and knew two things. The first was that I was the spitting image of her son, the second was that I needed to be in a hospital. The cold I was on baby aspirin for was actually pneumonia. From that day, until her death during my deployment; she loved me exactly how a mother should love a child.
It was while I was hospitalized with pneumonia that G’ma and Mrs. Riley became close friends. They had grown up in the same area, but different social standings were more strictly adhered to back then and kept them apart. Mrs. R volunteered in the children’s wing of the hospital and as my G’ma was self-employed as a baker, she would sit and read to me when Grandma couldn’t be there or visit with her while I was sleeping.
My G’ma, not sure how she was going to pay my hospital bill when I was released, was in turns mortified and thankful to lea
rn that “it had been anonymously taken care of”. She also pegged the culprit; Mrs. R was the only one around with the means or interest to do so.
G’ma started sending Mrs. R weekly checks to pay the balance down. They were always returned. Then one Sunday, she dressed me up and we drove to the Riley spread. G’ma had a plan; if Mrs. R wouldn’t take the money then she would bake for her. With all of her charity events and dinners, surely this would be a benefit. I spent the visit in a kitchen larger than our home, feasting on sandwiches and hot chocolate while G’ma and Mrs. R discussed the “hospital matter” in the parlor.
Mrs. R, realizing she had wounded Grandma’s pride said she would consider her plan but somehow at the end of the hour had convinced G’ma that she would be doing her such a favor to set up shop in an abandoned storefront she owned; which coincidentally had an empty two bedroom apartment over it. I never knew the details, but G’ma’s bakery is still there; my half-sister runs it now.
Once I returned from my time in the Marines and made my way back here, I was met at G’ma’s tombstone one day by Mrs. R’s driver. Rogers handed me a note and after sizing me up warned me not to disappoint her.
In the most elegant of notes, I was invited to continue my G’ma’s monthly visits to Mrs. R’s; “but please note, I’ve decided to downsize and live in town now” was written in perfect penmanship. I was there the following Tuesday promptly at two, and every month since.
Today would be a surprise visit. Mrs. R had always done right by me; I owed her the respect of declaring my intentions.
Chapter 4
January 25, 2018
Riley
I thought the holiday season would never end. Between houseguests from Boise and D.C. that my parents invited to the ranch and a forced week in Boise to be paraded in front of their political and business connections I was a mess.
The good news about the hectic pace they set, my parents hadn’t noticed my class schedule for this semester. Operation Major Change was successfully underway. Classes had started back a week ago and I was thrilled with them. When I could focus.