by Kenya Wright
“You're someone I would have sex with, but nothing else.”
I stiffened again. “Meaning?”
She blew out a long breath. “Why does it even matter?”
“It doesn't.” I removed my hands and stepped back.
She quirked her eyebrows and wore a confused expression. “Oh my god. Yes, it does matter to you. It really does. You actually care about what I think, but why?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Fine,” I said louder than I’d intended. “You're smart, independent, and seem to have a decent head on your shoulders. Maybe, I believe your opinion of me could be accurate.”
“That shouldn't mean anything to you.” She moved the gown back over her legs and I regretted my sudden attack of insecurity right in the middle of making out with her.
“You’ve said some cruel things about me.”
“What's the big deal?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
“Yes. You do. You're just too scared to say it out loud.”
I dug my hands into my pants. “I like when women enjoy my company. I like it when they wish they were with me.”
“Why, when you know you're going to break their heart anyway?”
“That's not the fun part.”
“Yet you do it.” She got off of the table. “That is the number one reason why I dislike you. The other things could be worked on. But in the end you are who you are, and you've been that way for many years now. You have. . .you know, issues.”
She walked around me. I grabbed her arm. “What do you mean I have issues?”
“Mommy issues. Commitment issues. Being a man issues. You probably have this big gripe against the female population or maybe you just never really learned to love a woman due to your dad being a negative role model.” She freed her arm from my grip. “Pick any of those, but I bet it's a little bit of all.”
“Don't you think you're being rude?” I sneered.
“You asked for the truth and I don't really know how to sugar coat it.”
I twisted around. “And what's your problem? You're not perfect. Why did you end up with that rich guy three years ago? Why do you think he broke your heart? Why do you think he finally got rid of you?”
She placed one hand on her hip. “You're pretty bad at this.”
“At what?”
“Trying to piss me off in return. I have five brothers and one sister. I've learned how to give verbal jabs with the best of them.” She walked up to me and poked me in the chest. “But because I've hurt your feelings, I'll tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I fell in love with the rich asshole because we went crazy about the same books and laughed at the identical silly jokes in comedy films that other people had never heard of. I enjoyed being around him, couldn't wait to finish my job and race off to just touch his skin and know he really existed. I gave him every part of me because I thought that he'd done the same, and then when I got off early one day and rushed to his condo to surprise him, I discovered another woman in his bed.” She wagged her finger at me. “He never left me. I got rid of him. It's why I don't answer his calls even though he's been ringing my number at nine o'clock on every Sunday night since I walked out of his life.”
“He's been calling you every Sunday for the past three years?”
“Yes.”
“That's dedication.”
“Or a millionaire that's just bored and wants to have things his way.” She headed off.
“Hold up. Come here,” I called after her. “I'm sorry.”
“Our date is over.” She waved goodbye.
“Are you sure about that?” I ran after her.
“I'm certain.”
“We didn't eat.”
“I'm no longer hungry.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “But that's my boat. My captain doesn't move until I tell him too.”
“Then you better tell him, because I don’t feel like injuring you or him.”
Chapter 6
Max
Dawn and I lounged on my yacht’s sun deck for my date. Jazz music played in the background. We met for lunch and a nice swim.
I don’t know if I can win this.
My first mistake was having us both wear bathing suits. That tiny bikini of hers fogged my brain with yearning. I had no idea she would have something that sizzling in her clothing collection. Turquoise and bronze beads decorated her top and bottom. I couldn't tell if the beads were attached to fabric or if the whole suit was only made out of beads.
If God is merciful, I'll find out tonight.
The game was still on. Last night, Frederick returned to our hotel suite in a bad mood, went straight to his room, and slammed the door behind him. He refused to talk about anything this morning. By lunch, he sat in front of the computer. When I glanced over his shoulder, I was shocked to see that he was researching cooking schools.
Why is he looking up schools? Maybe he's going to take Dawn to one and have her learn how to cook. That's not your typical date, Freddy. What's going on?
Humming, Dawn lounged on our sundeck like a vixen of seduction.
Freddy and I both decided that to be fair to the other we would stay in a hotel for now and let the dates with Dawn happen on our yacht. It limited our dating possibilities. I’d questioned the Captain and discovered that Freddy and she went to Cuba yesterday. My taking her to another country wouldn't be so exciting after he did it. And judging by the irritated way Freddy glanced at me when I left for my date, I wasn't so sure the Cuba trip had worked out well.
A new jazz song came on.
“This is relaxing,” she said.
“Would you like some sun tan lotion?” The sooner I got my hands on her skin the better. Not that it was part of my game. I'd just been itching to touch her body since she strolled to me in those beads. Anytime I could, I peeked at that luscious rear. Desire surged within me. I could find no relief.
“No, thank you. I don't need any.” She placed on her sunglasses and rolled over to face me as she leaned on her elbow. “So what is your tactic for today?”
“I don't really have one. I just tell some jokes, impress, get aroused, and then go in for the kill.”
“Go in for the kill? I didn't think guys still said that.”
“We do. Us guys meet within the center of the earth, vote, and decide on what sayings will remain or stay. Going in for the kill, in regard to making love to a woman, will always and forever remain a saying on this planet.”
She giggled. “Thanks for the insider secret.”
The boat slowed down and remained in the center of the ocean with nothing but an expanse of water surrounding us. Nothing could be seen from miles out. I loved the secluded nature of being on the water, so far away from everything and everyone constantly needing something from me, or better yet hoping to somehow gain something from my family's pockets. Having a billionaire father signaled to everybody that I could pay for it all, that I owed them something, whether I really did or not. Women clung to me. Men laughed when they really shouldn't have. Store clerks, casino owners, hotel hostesses, and restaurant managers hovered around with fake smiles on their faces, wishing I would just drop all of my bills their way. When Freddy called for these female games, it was never too hard to persuade me.
The ocean was my home and the game, my only true pleasure after gambling.
I exhaled and caught Dawn staring at me with a wicked grin. “What?”
“You look at peace,” she said.
“I am.”
She sat up and scanned the space around us. Besides the waves crashing against each other or the sounds of birds as they soared by, out here was as peaceful as one could get in this world. “I must admit this is kind of freaky to me. It’s like we’re all alone out here. That’s scary.”
“Really? It's not your first time on the yacht. You were on here yesterday.”
“I was nervous being on here yesterday, but your brother
kept me on my toes. I never really had time to think about my fears.”
“And now I'm boring the hell out of you, so you're able to concentrate on being scared?”
“No.” She giggled. “I'm enjoying myself.”
“Good. Because I'm not my brother. I don't plan for an extravagant affair. I just kind of feel the situation out and go with where it takes me. Right now, we’ve stopped because the Captain’s staff is on the look-out for dolphins. Have you ever swam with any?”
“No.”
“If we can get some dolphins out here, we’ll jump in and play with them. I’ll show you how. It’s a very subtle game, but full of memorable rewards.”
Fear crept around the edges of her eyes. “I’ve never just dived off of a yacht and swam in the middle of the ocean either.”
“It’s surreal.”
“I bet it is.” She gazed off at the miles upon miles of water. “Are there any sharks?”
“Maybe, but we’ll be safe.”
“Maybe, isn’t a reassuring answer.”
“Trust me, Dawn. I’m the only thing out here that you should be careful with.”
Inch by inch, she dragged her gaze along my body. “You just might be right.”
“Anyway, dolphins are really nice. If the engine is off and the boat is just sitting in one place. Those amazing creatures will come through and maybe let us swim next to them, as long as we don’t freak them out. You can’t scream or anything.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Good.”
“So where does life usually take you?” she asked.
Interesting question.
“Out here.” I motioned to the water.
“You love living on a boat just like your brother?”
“Yes. We grew up on a huge one.”
“Freddy told me. Your dad has a mini-submarine.”
“Yes.” I blew out air and some of the embarrassment at the mention of my father. “Dad's been having a mid-life crisis for the past twenty years. I don't think he's ever going to stop being so eccentric.”
“Twenty years was when you think he started his mid-life crisis?” She frowned.
“Yeah. My dad's pretty old. He's sixty right now. Isn't that when men start acting crazy, right around forty?”
“I don't know. I’m from the school of thought that men remain crazy from birth to death.” She wiggled her feet. “Don't you think he might've started acting so weird because of your mom's death?”
Those words slammed into me. Just out of nowhere. We’d been going on a great conversational path and then she pushed me over the ledge to watch me fall.
“What?” I cleared my throat. “How did you know my mom passed away?”
“Freddy told me.”
That wasn't like him to use our dead mother as a way to get into a woman's panties. I wondered what brought up the conversation in the first place. Freddy hated talking about Mom with anybody. Since we were two years apart and he was the oldest, he’d always held on to more memories of her than me. But that didn't stop me from imagining my own memories until the point that I couldn't decide which ones were real and which thoughts were simply formed from my mind.
I stared up at her. “How did we get on my mother's death again?”
She twisted her lips. “Sorry. I just figured that since your mother passed away twenty years ago and your father started acting crazy around then, maybe it was connected.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Dad couldn’t care less about my mother.”
“Because he married your mother's friend?”
Shocked again, I sat up. “Did Freddy tell you that too?”
“Yes.”
“What were you both doing, having an Oprah moment? No wonder he was so aggravated all morning. Every time he moved around the room he banged against something or slammed an item down. I thought someone would complain about the noise and get us kicked out. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.” She tried to appear innocent, but that guiltless expression never met her eyes. She seemed happy with herself, proud even.
“You like that my brother was mad today, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Let me tell you a secret.” I scooted over to her. “I like making him angry too.”
She rubbed her arm against mine, delivering glints of desire through me. “Is this your signature move? Do you get real close and gently caress the target?”
“I'm not that gentle.”
Those gray eyes widened. “So you're rough in bed?”
“I enjoy some hair pulling, ass smacking, and strong thrusting.”
She leaned toward me. “Do you rip panties?”
“That's what panties are made for, to be ripped and torn.”
“Have you ever broken a bed?”
“Yes. At least one hotel bed in every country.”
“Damn, Max. I'm actually impressed.” She shook my hand. “I feel like I should be bowing in front of you or something.”
“No bowing, but you could do something for me.”
She shook her head. “No. I won't be inviting you to my bed.”
“Did Freddy give you a good sell? Will you be giving the win to him?”
“Neither one of you will win.”
“One of us has to or you’re going to see a whole lot more of us this year.” I reached for the beaded bows on her bikini bottom and twirled the end. “I've always wanted to see what law school was about. You can expect us to be sitting right next to you in every class until you finally give the win to one of us.”
“The university would escort you off.”
“Doesn’t matter. Freddy and I always get our way, just never at the same time. One of us will win. All you need to figure out is which one deserves it.”
“Hmm.” She rose, taking her bikini bottom's beads from my fingers. “You both never told me what the prize is. What is it?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Holy shit.” She headed over to the table of treats I’d had prepared and laid out for her.
Trays of sliced fruit and various bowls of sweet dips were at the edge of the deck along with a fresh pitcher of sangria. Dawn picked up a strawberry and dipped it in the tiny bowl of dark chocolate. The thick liquid coated the piece of fruit and dripped a little before she popped it in her mouth. Chocolate dotted her chin. She had no idea.
“Hold on.” I rushed up to my feet, got to her, swiped my thumb along that dot, and sucked on it. “You have no idea how to properly eat this fruit. Let me help you.”
“I don't need any help.” She giggled. “I'm perfectly fine doing this by myself.”
“No. Let the master take care of this.” I grabbed a chunk of banana wet it with milk chocolate and brought it to her lips.
Before she could seize it, I pulled the sweet fruit away. “Say please.”
“No.” She captured it with her mouth.
“You're a cheat.”
“No. I'm just more capable than you.”
“At what?”
“Everything. Name anything that you can do well and I'll beat you at.” She kissed the air and proceeded with sampling food. “What are you good at Max?”
I considered that question for a minute. Only two things came to my mind. Even without using Freddy's handbook of finesse, I knew that answering—poker and sex—would not make me appear more appealing.
What else can I do really well?
She chewed on something and licked powdered sugar off of her lips. “Don't tell me you're drawing a blank. You have to have something in life that you're good at. Or are you just as bad as your brother?”
“I don't know why I can't think of something.”
“Maybe you're thinking too hard on the question. Quick.” She clapped her hands twice. “What is something you know you're great at? What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”
“Eating pussy.”
She covered her
mouth and laughed. “O-kay. I'm actually going to give you extra points for that answer. What else are you great at and be honest there has to be something else besides sex?”
“Poker.”
She bobbed her head. “Cool. So you're good with cards. Do you play poker a lot?”
“More than my family likes.”
“Do you lose a lot?”
“More than I would like.” I smoothed the soft pad of my thumb against my watch. “Freddy thinks I have a gambling problem.”
I didn't know why I brought it up. Maybe it was because she didn't exist in our world of back stabbers that would use the information against me. Since I was a child, Dad told us to keep our mouths closed when around anyone that wasn't family, and even then not to say it around certain relatives too. Freddy and I didn't share our feelings much, but when we did we were forced to do it away from untrustworthy friends, spying servants, gold-diggers, and any hidden paparazzi. It left me keeping more secrets than I desired, until at some point many years ago I stopped going to Freddy to talk. I ceased with going to anybody.
“Do you think you have a gambling problem?” She poured both of us a glass of sangria.
“Wait, don’t pour that. I can get Reza to come up here and serve us.” I took the pitcher out of her hand, even though it was too late.
“I think I was able to make my drink without any catastrophe happening. Now answer the question. Do you think you have a gambling problem?”
I thought about it and didn't like the images that popped in my head. Many nights ended with me drunk, lying under the table, my pockets empty, and someone calling my brother. Although those nights didn't happen often, the fact that they did made me jittery.
“Maybe, I have a little problem with gambling,” I muttered.
“That's pretty bold of you to admit that.”
I raked my fingers through my blond hair. “I said maybe, not yes.”
“Doesn't matter. Most gambleholics or people addicted to something usually don't have the balls to admit that to themselves. Many pretend nothing is wrong. They say that so much to themselves until they really believe it.”
“You sound like you know a few people addicted to gambling.”
“I have an uncle that bet away his family's house and kids’ college funds. While you wouldn’t think the amount was a lot, to his wife and children it was everything. And still to this day, as he sits by himself up in some crappy apartment in Las Vegas, he will tell you that gambling is just a hobby. He refuses to admit that there's even a possibility of a problem.”