by A. E. Murphy
She brings over our oatmeal and rolls her eyes when I clean my spoon with my water and a napkin.
“It’s clean,” she snaps but I see her lips twitch.
“Your version of clean and mine are very different,” I respond, referring to the fact she dropped an orange segment on the floor the second day she was here, picked it up and ate it anyway without rinsing it.
“Are you trying to say I’m dirty?”
“Well, you’re not what I would call clean by my standards.”
“He’s OCD, you’ve seen his house,” Maddox replies, touching my pinkie finger gently. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You say that about everything he says,” she snaps, pulling her hand away. I watch her close her eyes and count down from four before plastering a new smile on her face.
“I didn’t see popcorn on the menu, surely it should be provided when receiving a show with food?” I comment and she actually takes a step at me.
“Okay.” Maddox stands and places his hand on her stomach as I smile at her in a way I know is pissing her off. I really do rub her the wrong way.
Her pretty hazel eyes glower at me but I just find her even sexier than usual. I love it that I can piss her off to the extent where she wants to rip out my hair, but dirty fucktard near the window can’t even get her to drop her smile.
Does she find me attractive?
All signs point to yes. Now isn’t that an interesting development?
Especially now that Maddox has declared he’ll be going to England with her in six months for a while when her visa expires, which will likely turn into forever. It was a conversation we had on the way here when discussing work.
Why couldn’t he have fallen for a local girl? There are so many.
Though I must admit not many quite have the same charm as his little Pest.
If any charm at all.
“Stop being a jerk,” Maddox snaps and I know I might have gone a bit too far this time. I’m purposely goading her but my son keeps defending me. It’ll be their downfall.
Here’s hoping.
“I wasn’t,” I lie, using my most innocent mask.
He doesn’t look as though he’s falling for it.
Moments pass before the man by the window shouts, “HEY!” like before. My hands clench on the table, on either side of my nearly empty bowl. The oatmeal isn’t as bad as I thought it would be and the blueberries were fresh and clean.
She takes his bill to him, without even asking and waits for him to cash out. He’s whispering something to her but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. The twitching of her fingers tells me she’s really struggling to stay calm now.
I’m ready to go over there myself when she finally turns with his money in hand and he whistles loudly, stands and grabs a handful of her ass.
“Fucking nice,” he chuckles.
My eyes cloud over with red and I stand from my seat, so does Maddox, but before either of us take a step she’s turning on him.
Her fingers grab his nose and she twists. There’s an audible pop, a gruff cry of pain, and then, when she plants her knee in his groin, he goes down. One hand to his nose, the other to his limp dick.
The Pest has some fight in her.
“Ah shit,” she mutters and brings her notepad to her face.
Tempest
Fucking fuming is an understatement.
I got fired. FIRED. For laying that shit for brains out.
It was my second day. That has got to be a new record. I should sue him and shut that place down.
“I’m never eating there again!” I yell, punching the bag hanging from the ceiling. It’s heavy so it doesn’t sway. I bring my foot around and kick it and hit it with three more jabs. “I’m never even walking past there again!” I spin and kick but it’s clumsy and I fall onto my side.
Hopping back up using my shoulders, I launch some more controlled jabs on the bag.
“Who do they think they are? He grabbed my arse!”
So, screaming at a punching bag, alone, in a gym in the room behind the garage isn’t probably the best way to announce my sanity to the world. But it is how I cope. It’s how I deal. This, meditation, and a lot of breathing are how I stay in control of myself.
I don’t lose control, ever.
I didn’t lose control in the diner either.
“He deserved it, damn it!”
“I agree.”
I tense and stop hopping from foot to foot. A bead of sweat trails from my neck, down my spine. It’s wet but it does nothing to douse the fire I feel inside.
“I’m not in the mood,” I snap, pressing a wrapped hand to the smooth, cool surface of the bag. “Please. Just, not now, Sarge.”
“Mr. Wolf.”
“I’m not calling you Mr. Wolf. You sound like a fucking nursery rhyme,” I mutter, knowing he can hear me and not caring because I’m already really bloody angry and there’s no way I can feel worse than I do already.
I move to the window and stretch, not turning once to look at him, though I can vaguely see his reflection in the window if I focus on it enough.
“Stay right where you are,” he orders, exiting the room. “Do not move a muscle.”
I don’t know why I listen. My sweat-drenched body, in my old leggings and older sports bra, is starting to get chilly. My breathing is finally steadying, and I can feel that peace coming on that exercise brings.
His footsteps come back and I hear a click that has me tensing.
Is he taking my picture?
“Don’t move,” he warns.
It is so hard to stay still when somebody has told you to.
“Stay right there.” His voice is a whisper as he gets closer, looking for the perfect angle through the lens as the setting sun glows a fiery orange around us. I feel its heat through the glass and subconsciously reach out to touch it. When I realize what I’ve done I cringe, waiting for him to snap or shout but he simply takes a few steps back and I hear the clicking of the shutter again.
“Jesus,” he murmurs so quietly I’m not sure that’s what he actually said. And if it is what he said, I have no idea what it means, I just know the intensity of it gave me a little clenching tingle in my womb.
With my hand flat on the glass and my fingers splayed, I close my eyes and try to keep still like he said.
I’m waiting for him to start laughing and say that this is a prank but how can it be when there’s such a raw and powerful energy charging in the air between us?
I swallow and my head drops forward slightly, as it does, I hear his footsteps move back toward the door.
He says gruffly, his tone deep and quiet, “As you were.”
And that’s that.
I relax and sit on the floor, taking in the sight of the sun sinking into the horizon. It’s such a peaceful view.
Sargent
“There’s a party on the beach tonight, my old friends are going,” Maddox tells me when his Pest leaves us alone to watch TV on the second floor.
She’s doing what she can to avoid me, I’ve likely confused her or upset her. Though I have noticed how she hasn’t told Maddox about my capturing her image.
How could I resist?
She was sweating, shimmering, glowing, her toned back and legs just caught the light in such a way. I wanted to rub oil all over her body, taking my time at each dip and curve.
I need to stop thinking about it.
I contemplate telling Maddox but for some reason I can’t, which is how I know whatever happened in that gym was less than innocent artistry. She knows it too or she herself would have approached the subject with my son.
I’ve confused her. I’ve confused myself.
I rub my face with my hands.
“Dad, you listening?”
I nod once.
“So we won’t be home until late, if at all.” He taps away on his phone screen.
“Let me guess, you need a ride?”
“Can’t you just insure me?�
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I smirk and ask, “I thought you wanted to do this on your own?”
“You can take it out of my first paycheck.”
At that I laugh. “We’ll see what we can do.”
We share a smile before he continues, “As for a ride, Kirk’s coming to get us.”
Ugh, Kirk. I like the guy but he smokes too much weed.
“Well, you kids have fun, don’t go swimming if you’re drinking and please stay out of trouble. At your age you can’t get away with playing the teen angst card.”
“We’ll take you with us and play the AARP card instead.”
“Little shit,” I murmur, smiling at his audacity. I am not old. People often think we’re brothers, not father and son. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
I am far more offended by this than I should be.
“Come on, Pest!” Maddox yells from the door.
I watch her come skidding out of her room in flip-flops, denim shorts, a bikini top, and a patterned white tank top that’s so translucent it may as well not exist. Her thick, dark brown hair is in two braids and she has a pair of sunglasses resting on her hairline.
“See you later, Mr. Wolf.” She grins, waving as she passes.
I get the scent of vanilla and spices I can’t name as she flutters past, her flip-flops clapping against the ground as she goes.
They race to his friend’s sports car and I do the fatherly thing and yell, “SEATBELTS!”
Maddox just gives me a look. I know it’s ridiculous, he’s been traveling through countries unknown for some time, but I still worry.
Sighing as they speed away while cheering loudly, I close the door and return to my empty home.
Then I call my own friends and invite them over because fuck this silence.
My phone is ringing. Why is it ringing?
It’s one in the morning, I’ve been asleep for maybe forty minutes.
I remember Maddox went out and panic holds my heart in a tight fist.
“Dad?” There’s the sound of a loud beat in the background and people laughing and talking. At least if people are laughing and talking that means nothing bad has happened. Or so I deduce.
“What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, sitting up and reaching for the lamp.
“Nothing, just, Pest is on her way home, she’s drunk. Can you make sure she gets home okay and text me when she does? She’ll pass out and forget.”
My panic leaves me, and in its place comes anger. “Why haven’t you escorted her home yourself?”
“Because I don’t want to go yet and… well… you know. Pest is cool with it. She’s in an Uber.”
“You abandoned your girl to a fucking Uber?” Did I just step into an alternate reality? I know I’m not the cheeriest, nicest guy to be around, but I’d never abandon my date to a fucking taxi alone. “And she’s cool with that?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?” He chuckles and I hear a female in the background shouting for him to hurry up. “Just make sure she gets in safely.”
What kind of man did I raise?
I blow out a breath and climb out of bed, flipping the thin blanket back as I go. I don a black T-shirt with some kind of logo on the front and make my way downstairs. My room is the only room upstairs, the rest of the upstairs is an office and second den. Or it is now that she’s here. It mostly went unused until her.
I wait for what feels like hours before I see headlights in the driveway. It has only been fifteen minutes, if that.
“Thank you!” I hear her call after a car door slams and as her feet carry her closer, I open the door.
She staggers right into my chest with an oomph and a very inebriated giggle.
I try not to think of her heat, or how perfectly she’d fit in my arms were I to wrap them around her. I definitely try not to think of the latter.
“Oops.” With her hand on my chest and the other clutching her flip-flops, she beams at me in the dark. Her smile is lopsided but strangely adorable. “Sorry, Mr. Wolf.” And then she wobbles past.
I watch as she hops on one foot and yanks on her ankle.
“What are you doing?”
“Duh,” she replies deeply and grins at me as she hops. “Trying to take off my shoe.”
She starts to fall to the side so I grab her elbow to steady her. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
Her foot hits the floor and she wriggles her painted toes on the wooden floor. When her wide eyes come back up to mine, her lips pinch together and she bursts into a fit of giggles so strong I laugh with her. Though only a little.
I don’t want her to think I find her cute, endearing, and funny because I do not.
“I’m so high,” she giggles, shaking her head. Her eyes become round with panic. “On life, Mr. Wolf. Not weed. Life.”
I pretend to not hear her or see her drop her flip-flops onto the floor.
“Mr. Wolf?” She dips her head to catch my eyes with hers. Hers are round, innocent, wild, glowing, alert, but also drunk, definitely high, and tired.
“Yes?”
“Are you gay?”
I absolutely love freedom of life and love but having such an attractive woman think I’m gay raises my hackles.
“I am not.”
“Because it’s cool if you are,” she mumbles, lifting the see-through tank top over her head as I guide her to her bedroom. “No judgment. Love and be loved. It would just shine a light on why you hate women.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m not gay and I don’t hate women. I just don’t like to live with a woman.”
“But I’m such a ray of sunshine,” she giggles, throwing her arms out so suddenly her hand connects with my cheek.
Growling, I grab her wrist as she laughs even harder and cups my face with her hand.
“I’m sorry, Sarge, I didn’t see you there.”
I ignore her and push open her bedroom door, but she suddenly stops and places her hands against the frame. “Shall we order pizza?”
“No, it’s one in the morning.”
“Oh.” Her bottom lip sticks out when I grab her arm and force her into her room. “Can I draw you?”
“Why are you so random?” I murmur, pushing her away from me when she places her hand on my chest again. She needs to stop touching me, my cock is finally behaving, but not if she keeps touching me.
“Can I? You took my picture, it’s only fair.”
I open my mouth to speak but my jaw hangs when she suddenly drops her denim shorts and steps out of them. She’s wearing a thong. A black, lace thong that sits on the curves of her ass perfectly.
My cock definitely isn’t behaving now. Shit. It hurts. It’s straining against my boxers and if she turns around now, she’ll see it, but I can’t move. I can’t look away.
“You’re not answering which means that’s a yes.” She grins over her shoulder as she unhooks the back of her bikini top and lifts the neck loop over her head.
I finally turn around, finding the strength and common sense to do so.
This is my son’s girl and she’s undressing in front of his father. She’s everything I thought she was and worse.
I should just fuck her and show him what a little cunt she really is, but I don’t want to be the cause of his hurt.
“You’re disgusting,” I snarl at her without looking behind me. “Have some self-respect.”
As I leave I don’t look back, not even when she throws something at the door right by my head.
If I disliked her before, I hate her now.
Sargent
The second Maddox walks in at five in the morning, I stop him in the hall.
“Don’t leave me to babysit her again, do you understand?” I snarl and he’s so startled he backs up a step.
“What the fuck, Dad?” He frowns, his happy drunken smile gone. “What happened?”
I run a hand through my hair. Do I tell him? He should know.
“She got naked,” I blurt and my voice sounds higher than it should. “I helped he
r to her bedroom and she got naked.”
He just stares at me for the longest time, blinking slowly before his lips twitch. “I mean, yeah, I should have warned you. She does that when she’s high.”
“Does what?”
“She calls it becoming one with nature.” He chuckles as though it’s not a big deal. Am I making it a big deal?
“She got naked in front of your father.”
“She’s not underage, Dad, chill, and she doesn’t have the worst body in the world to look at. Why are you so upset?”
How can he be so flippant and easy about all of this? If she were mine I’d be raging. But then again, I always have had a temper and been possessive.
“You’ve got to get your kicks somewhere,” he adds, laughing harder.
Little twerp. I get plenty of kicks.
I follow him into the kitchen where he moves to the fridge.
“Is that all she did? That’s why you’re mad? Because she stripped in a room she’s staying in?” He takes a swig of juice and waits for my answer.
“I’m going to bed,” I say and skulk to my room. “Keep her out of my way.”
“Dad,” he shouts after me but I ignore him.
What the hell kind of man have I raised?
Tempest
When I wake up the next morning, in bed, nude from head to toe, blankets kicked onto the floor, I groan and roll onto my back, scratching at the tattoo on my arm.
“Morning, sleepy.” Maddox grins from the doorway, tossing me one of his oversized shirts.
“Morning,” I reply and pull it on before sitting up on the side of my bed. “My head is spinning.”
“Mine too,” he admits, chuckling. “But you might want to avoid my dad today, you gave his aging heart a bit too much excitement last night.”
“Oh, I know,” I reply bitterly, my bad mood increasing. “He called me disgusting. That’s something I won’t be forgetting any time soon.”
“He what?” Maddox’s smile vanishes.
“I wasn’t thinking, okay? I just started getting undressed and he was there. He didn’t see anything anyway; my back was to him,” I ramble and then move my tongue around my mouth. I taste like sand and feet. I need to brush my teeth.