by R. R. Banks
"What is going on?" I demanded.
"The bad one," she said.
Her fingers were greasy from her pizza binge and she couldn't seem to get a proper grip on the keys.
"The bad one? Who's that?"
The keys fell out of her hand for the third time and I finally ran out of patience. I kicked the door and it splintered from the impact. I kicked it again and it swung open. I ran inside and saw Cherry scrambling backwards, pressing herself against the wall while screaming. I took a step forward to ask her what was wrong but immediately knew. She was trying to escape the washing machine that had broken free of its platform and was now performing a jerky little dance across the floor toward her.
"Not who," Jess said. "What."
Bubbles and water poured out from the lid as the machine bounced up and down. As the machine made its way forward, it resembled a jeering mouth about to open up to sing its gurgling, choking sound.
“What is going on?” I yelled.
The machine drew closer to Cherry and she pushed further into the corner she had somehow managed to back herself in. I faced off against the advancing machine like it was a bull and I was a Spanish matador. I crouched down, my hands in front of me, as I waited for the perfect moment to rush the machine. Jess no longer seemed as concerned now that she saw what was going on. This was obviously not the first time that she had witnessed the aged washing machine make a break for it.
“The machine is off-balance,” Cherry said.
“They can diagnose mental illness in a washing machine?” I asked.
I flung myself onto the washing machine. I landed on top of it and wrapped my arms and legs firmly around it. I wasn't sure that this was proper protocol to bring a washing machine under control when it had a temper tantrum, but it wasn't getting any closer to Cherry, and I was going to consider that a victory in itself. The hot water pouring out of the washing machine had soaked through my clothes and some of the bubbles seemed to be working their way up my nose, but I continued to hold on as tightly as I could.
"It means that she didn't distribute the clothes evenly," Jess said.
“I don't have any clothes in there,” Cherry said. “It’s my bedding. It's just a couple of sheets and some blankets. One pillow.”
“You shoved all of that in the bad one?” Jess asked incredulously. "Why did you do that?"
I tried to look at Cherry and gauge her reaction as I continued to ride the machine around the increasingly sudsy room. The machine was fighting back with much more enthusiasm than I would have expected, and it was producing bubbles at breakneck speed, making it harder to maintain my grip successfully.
"It was the only one that was empty!" Cherry snapped.
“Those three are all mine!" Jess shouted back. “You could have just taken my stuff out and used one of the good ones."
Cherry crossed her arms over her chest.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“Jess, unplug it,” I said, noticing that she was standing near the main plug.
Jess started to wade through the bubbles but slipped on the slick tile and tumbled to the floor.
“Son of a bitch!” she shouted.
She scrambled to sit up and I saw that she was practically covered head-to-toe in bubbles. She tried to get to her feet and slipped again.
“I'm coming for you!" Cherry yelled to Jess.
She started across the floor toward Jess, but promptly slipped in basically the same place and fell forward. They both squealed as Jess reached out for her, landed on her back, and Cherry fell on top of her. I was holding on to the rogue machine as tightly as I could, but it was fighting back valiantly and I could feel myself starting to slide off.
“Somebody fucking unplug it!” I shouted again.
Jess shouted something back at me, but I didn't understand her.
“What?”
Jess disentangled herself from Cherry and lunged at the washing machine. She slammed her fist onto the dial. The machine gave a cough and one last shake that was violent enough to cause me to tumble off and onto the floor. Jess slid down the side of the machine and landed in a sitting position in front of it. She looked up at me angrily.
“Why...don't...you...just...stop...it," she said through ragged breaths, each word blowing a few little bubbles up into the air around her.
“I didn’t think of that,” I said.
The machine suddenly made a deep whining sound and shook, and the three of us frantically scrambled away from it. There was one final thud and the washing machine fell silent. None of us moved for a few seconds. We stood still as if we thought any sudden movement would wake it up and give it a second wind.
“I think it’s dead,” Jess finally said.
Cherry tried to jump to her feet a little too quickly and had to grab the side of the machine to right herself as she slipped forward. I tried not to focus on the way her wet shirt clung to her body, accentuating her tight curves.
“I hate this laundry room," she shouted.
She flailed her way through the suds and out the door, leaving Jess and I sitting alone in the water and bubbles. Jess turned to look at me.
"It was nice to meet you."
Chapter Six
Gabriel
Part of me was still processing everything that happened when I got home that night.
How could Cherry possibly still be a virgin?
She was gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and fun to be around. The incident in the laundry room alone proved that she was almost impossible to resist. If Jess wasn’t there, I would have been tempted to strip her wet clothes off and give her a ride of my own, bubbles be damned. She was even more adorable when she came stomping back to the laundry room carrying a mop and bucket, so she could clean a path to the other washer to finish her laundry. She was resilient and independent, but I still found myself wanting to swoop in and take care of her.
I imagined that she had her choice of men and could happily work her way through them like any other woman with her looks and personality would. I couldn't decide if her revelation that it was a conscious choice made it more or less surprising to me. The thought immediately reminded me of that night, all those years ago, once again. The image of her standing there in lingerie was one that I always carried with me. I often wondered what would have happened if I hadn't turned her away that night. If I had acted on the primal hunger that I had for her. I had been intensely attracted to her back then, and now that the age difference didn’t loom over us, it was harder to keep my mind off her. Brent had been fiercely protective of Cherry and he made it clear he wanted me nowhere near his baby sister, but it was even harder now to look at her and see her as anything young and innocent.
I forced myself to turn from my thoughts of desire back to her announcement that she would agree to the contract. I was genuinely surprised when she told me that she had already made a decision. It was a huge decision to make and I had expected her to have a long, complicated thought process. Since my father told me that I had a year to have a family or at least the prospect of one, I was willing to wait for her for a few months if that was what it took. But she had seemed completely confident in her decision, and I suddenly felt excited.
I didn't want to waste any time. The next day I had my team of lawyers draw up the specifics of the contract. It felt stiff and awkward to put something with Cherry into such formal legal terms, but the businessman in me knew that it was a necessity. No matter how close I was to Cherry's family or how much I thought I knew her, I had to remind myself that this was a business transaction. I needed to make sure that the two of us, and our baby, were guarded in all the possible problems and situations that my legal team and I could come up. It was sobering to think of everything that could go wrong and what would have to happen in each situation, and by the time the lawyers had outlined several contingency plans for what would happen if Cherry absconded with the newborn, I was feeling fairly deflated. I left the room, entrusting the rest of the contract to
the lawyers. I had made it clear that Cherry was to be as involved with the baby as she wanted to be and would have as much freedom as possible in visitation. I would be responsible for making decisions and providing financial support for the baby, along with Cherry and her mother. The rest, to me, was unnecessary details.
I went back to my office, glancing at Cherry’s desk as I went. She wasn’t there, and I checked my watch. I figured that she must be out at lunch and quickly sent her a text, telling her that I would swing by her apartment later that night so that we could finalize the contracts. Having her sign the papers was important, but it was only one of the reasons I wanted to see her that night. There was something that I wanted to give her and was too impatient to wait. The bear that I bought for the baby the day that I asked her was waiting at my house. Even though she wasn't pregnant yet, I wanted to give it to her now. I felt that it could be an inspiration to her. That it could serve as a reminder of the choice that she had made, and why she had made it.
Giving the stuffed animal to her now also carried another motive. In two days I was leaving the country for three weeks on business and wouldn't be able to see her. That bear would be a reminder to keep her focused until I got back. I had already reached out to the doctors and made an appointment a couple of days after I got home so that Cherry could get checked out. Hopefully, then we would find out how and when we could start the IVF process. The IVF doctor had assured me that since there was only one donor involved, me, the entire process had the potential to go much faster and smoother than typically. It might only take a few months. It was hard to believe I was that close to being a father.
There was a light rain falling as I pulled into her building’s parking lot that night. I had driven one of my classic collectible cars and was thankful for deciding to keep the top up instead of lowering it to enjoy the night air like I usually did. The rain fell progressively harder as I looked around for a covered spot, but everything was out in the open. I grumbled to myself as I parked in the closest spot to Cherry's apartment, wishing that I had an umbrella so that she wouldn't have to walk in the rain. I finally resigned myself to the fact that rummaging under the seats was in vain and rushed out of the car toward her door. She came out holding an umbrella and I grinned at her.
"Good planning," I said.
I took the umbrella from her and held it high enough that we could both get under it as we walked quickly to the car.
"No limo today?" she teased.
"Not today. I haven't had a chance to take this one out in a while."
The rain increased even more in volume and she tucked closer to me.
"I hope it's amphibious," she said.
"We'll see."
Unfortunately, that night I learned a very important lesson. Vintage cars have feelings and get offended when you make fun of them.
Things went smoothly enough for a few miles. After that, the car started to hiccup, shuddering and skipping as we continued on. Two miles later I was willing the car, silently at first and then out loud, to keep going. Another three more blocks and we were stopped on the side of the road and Cherry was laughing hysterically.
"I don't see what's so funny about this," I said.
"I'm sitting in an old broken-down car by the side of the road… with a freakin’ billionaire."
She laughed even harder and I wondered if there was some backstory or inside joke that I didn’t understand. The sound of her laugh joined the rhythm of the raindrops on the oiled cloth of the roof and it filled me with a surge of emotion and need. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to pull her into my lap and lose myself in her.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my chauffeur. It was his night off, but I hoped that he would answer. It went straight to voicemail and I couldn’t help but let out a groan. A few more calls produced nothing but confirmation that I needed to let my staff off in rotation rather than all at once. My last resort was roadside assistance, who reassured me that they would have their nearest tow truck to me in no more than two and a half hours.
Apparently, nobody can fucking drive in the rain.
"Alright," I said, turning to Cherry. "We have a decision to make."
"Okay."
"My house is less than half a mile from here. We can wait for the tow truck or we can make a run for it. It's up to you."
"What kind of shoes are you wearing?"
"Does that really matter?"
"I can't bear the thought of ruining a good pair of shoes."
"I'm wearing Italian loafers."
"Good loafers?"
"I don't know, they're just one of the pair I wear when I'm not at the office."
"I don't think it’s going to work."
"Why?"
"Because you can't run in fancy loafers."
"Why not?"
"It's right there in the name. They're made to loaf."
"What does that even mean?"
"You know… like loafing around the house."
"I don't think I loaf."
"You should try it."
"I tell you what. If we make it to my house, you can show me how to loaf."
Without another word, Cherry opened the door and flung herself out into the rain. I grabbed her umbrella and jumped after her. She was jogging down the side of the street and I chased after her, trying and failing to convince her to get under the umbrella. She turned around to shake her head at me and her feet slipped in the mud that had formed on the shoulder of road. There was a moment when she seemed to pause, a kinetic sculpture of impending doom, and then she toppled.
I rushed up to her, squinting against the rain that was now coming down in sheets. Cherry was trying to scramble to her feet as I reached for her, but her hand was slippery from the rain and the mud and she dropped back down to the ground. I plunged the tip of the umbrella into the dirt beside me to try to anchor myself and reached for her again. This time she gave a tug, bringing me down into the mud with her. I shouted as I landed, but I could hear her laughing again and my own laugh bubbled out of my throat. I remembered when she was younger and would pester Brent and I until we would let her into our football games. Not wanting to hurt her, I would scoop her up against me and bring her down to the ground in a modified tackle. She would always squeal and wriggle to get away from me, but even as I released my grip she would stay still for a few more moments before scurrying away.
I recreated that now, lunging toward her and wrapping my arms around her, causing us to land on our sides. Cherry let out a squeal and I expected her to try and escape my grip. Instead, she pushed her weight forward, catching me off guard so that I tumbled onto my back and she landed on top of me. I felt her body crush against mine and wrapped my arms around her waist, rolling her onto her back again so that my body enveloped hers. I looked down into her face and felt the playful grin on mine disappear. Her expression softened, and I saw heat rise in her eyes just like the first time she saw me in the office.
I lowered my mouth to hers, catching her lips in a kiss. It was a compulsion, a need I had to fill, and I pulled away with horror when I realized what I had done. Cherry was beginning to say something when headlights washed over us, temporarily blinding me. I squinted and lifted a hand to shield my eyes while trying to get off Cherry. The car slid to a stop beside us and I recognized it as my chauffeur’s personal car. The passenger-side window rolled down and the overhead light popped on. I could see Harlan, my chauffeur, another cherished member of my staff who had been with my family since before I was born, leaned across the center console toward us.
"What in the hell are you doing?"
I got to my feet and reached down for Cherry.
"We slipped in the mud," I said.
She grasped my forearm this time and managed to get control of her feet beneath her.
"Mm-hmm," Harlan said, clearly unconvinced. "I bet you did. Where is your car?"
"A bit down the road," I said. "It’s not far from here. It broke down. You must have passed right by it."
He shook his head.
"I didn't see it," he said. "Tow truck must have gotten it."
Two and a half hours my ass.
"We didn't hear or see it," I argued.
"Well, unless that car drove itself home or slid down into the ditch and disappeared into the Earth, the tow truck got it."
I couldn't believe that I had been so wrapped up in Cherry that I had managed to miss the lights and commotion of a tow truck a quarter-mile away.
"The rain must have muffled everything," I said.
"It does that. Well, come on now. Get in this car. I'll get you home."
"Are you sure?"
"I've been doing it every day for the last forty years save Sundays, holidays, and deaths in the family. I think I can manage."
"But your car," I argued.
Harlan gave an exasperated sigh.
"Would you rather I go back to the house and get one of your cars?"
"No. I just don't want to get mud in your car."
"In the time that you've been standing out there getting soaked to the bone and fussing, we could have gotten all the way back. So why don't you get in here and we'll deal with the mess later?"
I reached for the door handle and opened it, ushering Cherry in first before tossing the umbrella in after her and joining her in the backseat.
"Thank you, Harlan," I said. "I'll get it cleaned for you."
"You bet you will."
It only took a few minutes to drive home and I was relieved to see my car sitting in the driveway.
"Look at that," Harlan said. "It beat you home and is waiting for you."
I was glad that the tow truck had managed to get the car back to my house, even if they weren't capable of notifying me or noticing that we were on the side of the road and might need assistance.
"I really appreciate this, Harlan," I said as Cherry and I climbed out of the car into a night that had suddenly become clear and still.
He nodded.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Thank you so much."