by C. Penticoff
I pulled a cigarette out with my teeth and lit it up. The door opened and out came Desmond, the dude with the crying baby I had swaddled and rocked to sleep. I had completely forgot this was his apartment.
"Sorry. Is the smell bothering you?"
"Nope. I came out to join ya’."
"You smoke too?"
"Sort of." He pulled out a boxy-looking vape mod.
"Awe, you vape." I realized.
He pushed the button on the side and sucked in the vapor from the tip. "Yep. It's how I quit that," he said, using his mod to point to my cigarette.
I took a big puff. "Maybe I oughta try that," I said while exhaling the smoke.
"Now I just need to figure out how to quit vaping." He laughed and so did I, understanding the struggle.
"How's...Linus? Is that the baby's name?"
"Yep. He's good. You're a miracle worker. Turns out the baby just wanted to be swaddled. I couldn't believe all that crying could've been solved so easy. He's been sleeping great."
"I can't believe no one told you to swaddle him."
"I don't really know who would've been able to tell me."
"What do you mean?
"Who would've told me? His mom isn't around. My parents didn't even raise me so they sure as shit wouldn't have known. And honestly, I don't really have many friends around here."
"Your parents didn't raise you? So does that mean you were in foster care?"
"Oh, no. They hired a nanny. My nanny would be able to tell me how to take care of this baby….but she died a few years back." I watched his spirit die a little. Clearly this woman meant a lot to him.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Me too." We paused for a few moments, while we took a few drags of the cigarette and mod.
"So you don't talk with your parents at all then?"
"Oh, I do every once in a while. They talk to me more as an adult than they ever did when I was a kid." He must've seen the surprised look on my face because next he answered what I was thinking in my head. "What I mean is they do not have the ability to relate to a child, not even their own." He sat down on his lawn chair that sat outside his front door. "There's no bad blood between us exactly. My parents are just...very different people than me. Never wanted kids. I was an accident. She was too conservative for abortion and too selfish to give me up for adoption. If she was gonna have a kid, she was gonna use it as an accessory when she needed it, and the rest of the time she could leave me to the nanny."
"Did they ever spend time with you?"
"Rarely. They even took the nanny with us on vacation, so I never really got time with just them."
"When's the last time you talked to them?"
"Just yesterday actually. They offered to pay for my daycare expenses." He bit the inside of his lip and frowned.
"Isn't that a good thing? You seem upset.” I paused. I was an idiot. “Oh, you don't want to accept their money," I assumed.
"Not really. Fuck, they were awful parents. Financial help is the least they can do. I'll take it for Linus."
"Why the long face then?" I ashed my smoke.
"Mm…"
"You can tell me."
"I just don't want to go back to work. I mean--I do. I'm just worried about leaving Linus with strangers. I know that sounds stupid. I sound like a chick."
"Not sure what that's supposed to mean. You sound like a concerned parent. That's all. I totally get it." It was kind of sweet that he was worried.
"I checked out my first center today."
"Did you like it?"
"Eh. There are sixteen babies in one classroom, with four caregivers. That's one caregiver for every four babies."
"That's how it is. I worked in a day care center for a short period of time. They basically only have time to feed, change, and sometimes rock the babies to sleep. They don't have time to play and engage with them much." I realized I was doing a shitty job at putting his mind to ease when I saw his eyes riddled with worry. "I'm sorry. It's not bad, I swear. Their needs are always met."
"It's okay. He'll be okay, I'm sure."
Suddenly, I got the best idea. "Hey, this is kind of a crazy question, but would your parents pay for a nanny?"
"Of course. And I'd prefer that if I knew someone who could do it. But I ain't gettin' some freak off the internet to do it."
I smiled and put my hands up, slightly waving them.
"No way. You'd do it?"
"Why not?"
"Don't you work?"
"No. I got laid off a while back, if you wanna call it that."
"Oh my God, this is great. Could you come over tomorrow to have lunch? That way you can spend time with him and decide for sure if you're up for it. You can bring your siblings."
"Oh, sure." I knew I'd be up for it. I was as desperate as a hooker in a penthouse. But I didn't want him to know that. "That's a great idea. What time?"
"Doesn't really matter. What time works for you?"
Let me think. I'm gonna drink and stay up late having sex, so maybe I should tell him a later time. Just then Kent pulled up next to me. I wasn't sure how the hell he knew where I was. I casually tossed the cigarette off the curb, but he totally saw it. I waved to Kent and he rolled down the passenger window. " One second," I told Kent. "How about two p.m.?"
"Two works."
I told Desmond goodbye and hopped into Kent's car before he drove away.
"You look amazing." He said it with that dashing smile he had, the one where he smiled with only half of his mouth and raised one eyebrow. I wanted to melt. I thought about the fact that he probably wouldn't be around for too long, but he was so hot, that thought kind of sucked.
I want to put him on my shelf and leave him there for when I want him. Maybe he can be a friend with benefits.
There I was again planning for him to be uninterested. Assuming that he was only going to be around for one thing and one thing only. But if that were true, could I blame him? I, myself just raised the possibility of him being a friend with benefits, so I was probably no better.
I really wouldn't mind that. I just didn't want him to be a douchebag about it. If that's what he wants then just be upfront about it. Don't do the douchey thing that men like to do where you lead a girl on and pretend like you want something serious from her when all you really want is a one night stand, or a three night stand, whatever. At least for me I wasn't taking him out, and doing everything he was doing to try to gain my affection.
I probably just needed to get out of my head and enjoy the night.
"Where we going?" I wondered.
"We're going to Lorenzo's."
"Where's that?" I loved Italian food, so I was up for that.
"It's in Portland. Downtown."
Forty-five minutes later, we pulled up to a house in the West Hills in Portland. I had heard of the West Hills and how nice the houses were, but it's hard to picture until you actually see it. I wondered where in the hell a restaurant would be in this part of town and was even more confused when we pulled up to somebody's luxurious house.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Lorenzo's, I told you."
I raised one eyebrow and gave him a what-the-hell look.
"It's a friend of mine. He's a famous chef from Italy. He stars in a cooking show over there. But he comes here three months out of the year for vacation." Damn, it sure would be nice to vacation for three months straight every single year. "Every once in a while he'll let you pay him to cook you an authentic Italian dinner. But only for those he knows well."
I'm sure this cost him a pretty penny. "So you've reserved a private Italian dinner for two?"
"Yeah." He gave me a sideways look, almost like he thought I was displeased. I was far from displeased.
"This is by far the coolest thing that you could have done. I wouldn't have ever thought of this."
A smile and a look of relief spread across his face once he realized and I was happy with his choice. This was definitely unique and
romantic. He could have just taken me to a fancy restaurant downtown, but instead he put together this customized dinner for us. I wondered what else he had in store. Maybe I'm wrong about him.
We knocked on the door and we were greeted by a man in a traditional tuxedo, much like a butler would wear, so I knew that's who he was. I wondered if he was a butler who was always here or if this was part of the paid package.
The ceilings were high and in the center where the rooftop pointed hung the most beautiful chandelier I had ever seen in person.
The server gave us a drink menu with all these random drink names written in Italian that I couldn't understand, so I just picked what Kent picked and hoped it would taste all right.
There was no food menu because this wasn't a restaurant. Instead there was a plaque which displayed what was on the menu for the night. Apparently we were having stuffed shells with an Italian style salad and breadsticks. Not that I could read the words, but I had Kent translate for me.
"It just occurred to me that you're Italian," I said after I listened to him speak to the waiter in their native language.
"Half." He took a sip of his drink. "Mom is Spanish, and dad was Italian."
No wonder you're such a snack. "No wonder you look so exotic," I filtered myself.
"Exotic, huh?" He smiled. "Oooh."
"So, do you have a good relationship with your mom?" Whoa there. Kind of personal. I hoped the question didn't weird him out.
"Oh, sure. She just lives on the other side of the country, so it's hard to see her."
"Really? Did she move?"
"Oh no. My dad did. Then I did. They divorced when I was very small and I moved down here with my dad when I was fourteen. I was getting into trouble, so my mom thought it would be best if I moved here until he straightened me out. I ended up meeting all my best friends here and building a life so I never moved back."
"And then your dad left you this business, so I'm sure you're never moving back." I took a sip of my drink and I could feel my head growing a tad light, even only after half the cup.
"Yep. I intended on taking over one day, but we didn't realize it would be this soon."
"What exactly do you do?"
"I own dozens of car lots along Oregon and Washington. So, I do lots of things. Mainly, I travel from site to site, checking up on things and overseeing them. The West Longview lot had an incompetent moron who almost ran it to the ground, so I've been there a lot. I had to fire him and we're basically rebuilding it from scratch. Had to pull it out of fifty grand of debt. It was horrible."
I was surprised that's all he did. I didn't know exactly how much money he had, or exactly how great the car lot business was, but his level of wealth just seemed more than that. Maybe he comes from a wealthy family and inherited some of it. "Sounds like you're a busy man. I'm surprised you have time for street rats like me." I probably shouldn't have said that. Now I felt naked--like my insecurities were showing.
"Street rat? Is that what you think you are?"
"I'm mainly joking, but I can't help but to wonder." Just shut up, Izzy.
"About?"
Shut up. "About your intentions." Fuck. Word vomit. A little alcohol always got my gums bumping. "I'm not the type of girl who rolls in your crowd."
"How do you know what my crowd is?"
"I saw them when you took me to your house."
"I'd hardly call them my crowd. They're all thirsty. Sometimes I get lonely and it always feels good having a crowd of people around you, but that doesn't make them my crowd," He explained.
"Am I your crowd?" See, the alcohol had me way too loose. Seconds ago, I was showing my insecurity and suddenly I was showing my desperation.
He placed his hand on my knee. "You can say that." He winked and I felt my vagina tingle. You know that sensation you get down there when you're getting turned on? He slid his hand further in between my legs and inched his chair closer to mine. Clearly we were both feeling the liquor.
The waiter brought our food in and we both shook it off. Kent scooted his chair back to its original place.
"So what about you, Miss Isabelle? You said before that your dad was an athlete."
This was the part I hated talking about. "Yeah. Baseball player."
"What position did he play?"
"He was a pitcher."
"Is he not in your life anymore?"
"He died."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You never mentioned you also had a father who died."
"That's because I don't really like talking about it?"
"Your dad was rich, I’m assuming. Can I ask why he didn't leave you money?"
"Um. Well, I guess maybe he didn't plan to die that young. He left some for my mom but she blew it on vacations and drugs."
"So he didn't leave you any money?"
"Nope. I wish."
Kent raised one eyebrow and looked suspicious of me. "You sure?"
"Uh, yeah. Trust me, I'd know if he left me money, and I wouldn't be in the shitty living situation I'm in."
"Hmm." He took a sip of his beer?
Why doesn't he believe me?
After an evening of a private dinner, Kent drove me to our next secret rendezvous. My imagination was running wild. I pictured him renting out an entire amusement park out for us, or a private concert performed by some sappy country singer to compliment our intimate dinner. Maybe he'll shock me and take me to do something more simple, like star gazing. Honestly, that would've been great. I was actually pretty simple to please.
"We're here," Kent said as he pulled up to an empty parking lot that sat in front of a huge building.
We walked around the building and through a huge gate he had to enter by using a code.
My stomach began to churn, which didn't surprise me because our Italian dinner was loaded with cheese. I tried avoiding dairy as much as possible because I was lactose intolerant. I held my belly with the hand that wasn't holding Kent's.
When we came through the gate, the first thing I saw was a private jet. I'd never seen a jet up close and I was surprised how big it looked. I guess they looked so small in the air, far away.
A man from the jet opened the door and leaned his body out. "Come on in, you two love birds."
"Wait." I jerked my head toward him. "Are we going on this?"
"Oh yeah."
"Oh, my God." My face lit up at the same time my stomach turned. Not only was my stomach bothering me because of dairy, but now butterflies were storming through it.
Kent held his hand out and let me into the plane first. We sat and buckled into the seats.
I tried to slow my breathing, but my rapid heart beat made it difficult.
"You okay?" he asked.
I was trying to hide my fear, but it must've been written all over my face. "Oh, y-yeah."
Kent raised one eyebrow and half smiled. "You just stuttered." He giggled.
"Okay, I'm a little afraid, but I don't know why. I'm not even afraid of heights."
"A lot of people feel that way getting into a small plane. But, don't worry. Just enjoy yourself and the scenery."
“It’s dark.”
“Oh. Well, just relax, Izzy.”
"I'll try."
Kent pulled a double shot of vodka from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. "Will this help?"
"Give it," I playfully said and yanked it from his hand.
He chuckled as I gulped the liquor down. Normally I'd need a chaser but I didn't even care. I took it down like a champ. The burning down my throat and into my esophagus reassured me that my anxiety would be curbed soon. This was a lifesaver because the liquor from dinner had already faded, probably from the food.
After the pilot told us a few things, which I was too distracted by my nerves to focus on, the plane began its ascend to the sky. The vodka finally got to my head as the plane stopped rising. My body relaxed a little. Thank God. I was thrilled the liquor was finally helping.
We flew over the city of Portland, which looked
phenomenal all lit up.
I grabbed hold of my stomach when the cramping started up again. I should not have eaten so much dairy. I was really regretting being so liberal with it, but it tasted so good.
Kent grasped my thigh and I got the same tingly sensation in my vagina from earlier, making me forget about my stomach for a moment. I wished like hell we were in a situation where I could finally pounce him.
He tightened his grasp on my thigh. "You look really sexy tonight. This outfit is killing me."
"I wore it for you." I bit my lip and stared into his eyes.
He moved in closer to me. "What else can you do for me?"
"Depends on what you can do for me." I ran my tongue across my top lip.
Kent shut a curtain I hadn't noticed that blocked off the pilot from seeing us. Just the thought of the good old fashioned hot and steamy fucking that I thought was going to occur got me going. But, the gurgling of my stomach made me realize this wasn't going to be a good time.
In fact…
I was going to be wishing the sex would end as soon as possible.
Chapter Eleven
Kent slid his hand up my thigh. Normally this would get my juices flowing, but the gas bubble building up in my stomach was a bit of a buzz-kill.
He placed his lips against mine and slid his tongue through.
The gas bubble was growing larger and I realized at that moment this was going to be a big problem.
Yep. That's right.
I could've had an orgasmic night making hot, passionate love on a fucking private jet, but instead…