Sucker for the Boss

by Blue Sky Books

  The hurt on his face was like a knife in her chest. Damn him, how could he still make her feel bad after what he had done? Why did she still care about him?

  And she believed him. That was the hell of it. She believed that it had been a mistake, and that he would never do it again, and that he was truly sorry. That scared her. What if she believed him but he was lying? What if he had been with Stacey since the party? What if he had been with another woman?

  All these questions, which she never before would have even considered, whirred through her mind.

  “You need to leave, now,” she said, slowly, so that he understood she meant it. She was not playing. “I need to think, Freddy. Please, just leave.”

  When he stood, he tried once more to touch her. She stepped back out of his reach. He sighed, shoulders deflating, and made for the door. She didn’t know what he had to sigh about. He was the one in the wrong, after all. He was the one who had ruined everything. But he was in pain, too.

  She followed him to the door. He made to say something. She shut the door in his face. She knew if she let him talk, she would want him to talk more and more, until she invited him back into the apartment, back into her life.

  What a mess, she thought, walking into the kitchen.

  She was starving.

  *****

  A week passed in which Katy ignored Freddy’s calls and text messages. He was desperate to meet with her again, to further explain himself, to win her over. But she went about her studies and her training until Saturday came, keeping her head down and getting on with her work and only then did she text him back. She invited him to her place again. She prepared herself for battle by drinking a strong cup of coffee in three swings and pacing up and down her apartment.

  She had been thinking a lot, these past few days.

  She had been thinking about the first time she and Freddy made love. And that was what it was: making love. It was not the dirty rutting she and Adam had engaged in. There was nothing especially wrong with the dirty rutting she and Adam had engaged in, she had come to see. It simply was not what she and Freddy had done. He had laid her tenderly on her back, and looked into her eyes the entire time, and she had never felt more close to a person. When he came, she came with him – once, it was true – but it was sweet.

  She had not been thinking too much of Adam or Stacey, and that frequently surprised her. Were they not the driving force over these past two weeks? Were they not what had driven her to seek vengeance? But the more she lived, the more she thought about Freddy, and not the two of them. They were, she realized, secondary to the real issue. She did not regret what she had done with Adam . . . or did she? She was still uncertain about it. She did not regret it for its own sake, it was true, but the idea of Freddy knowing didn’t thrill her either. Because of this, she could not tell Stacey. Stacey would undoubtedly tell Freddy, and chaos would ensue. She shouldn’t have cared what he thought anymore, but she did, and that was the truth.

  After about five minutes of pacing, her apartment buzzer sounded. She let Freddy up and sat on the couch. She forced herself not to turn as he entered. Petty, maybe, but she didn’t want him to think she was eager to see him; never mind that she was eager to see him. She placed her hands on her knees and fought the urge to dig her fingernails into her skin. I am not nervous, she told herself. And then: Yeah, right.

  Freddy shuffled in and sat beside her. He was handsome, as he always was, in his shorts and tight-fitting t-shirt, with his muscles and his open, kind face. She had once thought it was the kind of face which belonged to a person who was incapable of causing pain. But she had learned that any face, no matter how nice, belonged to a person who was capable of causing pain.

  “You’re here, then,” she said.

  “I’m here.” His voice was choked.

  She hated that his voice was choked. She hated how it made her own throat feel tight. She faced him, stared at him, waited for him to talk.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You’ve said that,” she said, her voice snappish. She didn’t intend to come across so full of rage. It just happened.

  “What else can I say?” he broke out. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry. That’s the truth. I wish it never happened. That’s the truth, too. It will never happen again. There’s another truth. I can’t turn back time. I wish I could, but I can’t. All I can do look at the situation now and try and make the best of it. If I could snap my fingers and make everything the way it was, I would. But I can’t. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” she said. “Of course, you can’t turn back time. But that doesn’t mean I can just forgive you, does it?”

  “Don’t you still love me?” His voice was tentative, as though he wasn’t sure.

  She remembered the first time she had told him she loved him. They were at the beach. It was the end of the summer, and it started to rain. They’d ran – him in his swimming trunks, her in her bikini – to a nearby café, full of people doing the same, all crammed together, pressed up against each other, dripping with the sudden downpour. He’d wrapped his rain-wet warm around her body, and brought her close, and whispered it her ear.She’d turned her head up and found his lips, and whispered it back. The memory struck her with the force blow.

  She choked, tears rose. Before she knew it her head was buried in her hands, tears squeezing through her fingers. Don’t cry!she scalded herself. Don’t let him see you cry!

  But the tears would not stop; the pain would not stop. The tears kept on; the pain kept on. There was only once person one this planet who could make her feel better when she was this upset. He was sitting next to her. The man who had caused this pain was the one man who could make it go away. The bitter irony was not lost on her.

  He reached out, wrapped his arm around her. She knew what she should do: bat his arm away; move away; snap at him. But his arms were too welcoming and her heart was too weary. The need for vengeance had taken her, thrown her about, and left her. All that remained was tiredness and a need to be held by the man she loved.

  She cursed her weakness, but could not stop it. She cursed the sobs that escaped her, the choking of her voice as she said: “This doesn’t make it all better. This doesn’t fix everything.”

  “I know,” he whispered. He cradled her face in his hands, kissed her cheek, kissed away the tears. “Don’t cry,” he said, but that was bullshit because he was crying, too. “Please, don’t cry.”

  “Don’t cry?” She laughed madly through the tears. “How am I supposed to not cry right now, Freddy? All I can do I cry!”

  There was never a truer word spoken as far as she was concerned. She saw now that she couldn’t leave this man. She would look back on this moment for the rest of her life and regret it if she did. He had hurt her, but still she did not want to leave him. She cursed herself, cursed her weakness, but she wouldn’t curse her love for him. Her love for him – and his love for her – buoyed her up around the pain.

  His kissed her tear-stained cheeks again. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know . . . I know . . . But I am. I can’t say it enough. It will never be enough. I just want one more chance, Katy. That’s all I’m asking. Just one more chance to show you that I will never hurt you again. I will never backstab you like that again. I can be better. I will be better. I promise you that. You have to believe me. Please, believe me.”

  “I do believe you,” she sighed. And that’s the hardest part. “But what if I believe you now, and you do it again, Freddy? That would kill me. Do you know how much you’ve hurt me? Do you know how much pain you’ve caused?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, tears in his voice. “And I’m sorry. I—fuck, Katy, I’m just so sorry.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her face on his shoulder, crying into the fabric of his t-shirt. It would take a long time for it to be the same – she knew that – but she found that she wanted to put the time in, want
ed to trust him one more time. “If anything like this ever happens again,” she said, leaning back and wiping her eyes, “I will never speak to you again. You will be dead to me Freddy. Do you understand?”

  He nodded and wiped his eyes. “I understand,” he said.

  She heard it in his voice; he really did understand. He understood that it would be the end of everything if he did this again. He had taken it in. She knew Freddy, knew when he was listening and only pretending to listen; she knew that now he was listening.

  “But why did you do it?” she heard herself say, spoiling the moment but unable to help it. “Do you fancy her? Do you want her?”

  “I was just drunk,” he said. “That’s all. There’s nothing else to it. I was just really, really drunk.”

  “You’ll never be able to use that excuse again,” she told him. “Drunk or not, from now on you have to be a better man. You have to be better, Freddy.”

  He took her hand and this time she held it back. “I will,” he said.

  *****

  Katy lay in Freddy’s arms on this Saturday morning, the third Saturday since they had made up, and stared up at the sunlight that filtered into her apartment. It was still taking a time – it would be a long process – but she was starting to feel more and more at ease in his arms once again. There were moments when they laughed together, like the old times, and she could have completely forgotten about it all. There were moments when everything went back to normal.

  The scene at the restaurant was not one of those moments.

  Freddy had surprised her after her last class on Friday by picking her up in his beat-up Ford and taking her to dinner. To her shock, he was wearing a shirt and trousers. She had never seen him in a shirt and trousers before. He looked dashing. She had never thought to describe Freddy as dashing. He pulled up next to her as she was walking back to her apartment, nodded at the passenger seat, smiled his Freddy smile, and said: “Get in!”

  She changed into a dress at home, and he zoomed her through the city to a restaurant she knew cost him all his week’s wages at the building site he worked part time to help pay for college. She made to mention the price, but, as was so often the case, he knew what she was going to say and clamped a hand over her mouth. “None of that,” he said.

  It turned out he had booked the table two weeks before. It didn’t matter to Katy that they were sitting near the kitchen, that they could hear the clatter of the dishes. All that mattered to her was that he was trying, that he had not gone on like nothing had happened, that he was reaching out to her and trying to make things right. The waiter was dressed even more smartly than Freddy. She knew Freddy felt out of place in restaurants like this. He was more of a greasy spoon kind of guy. That made it all the more special that he had made the effort.

  They ordered their food, ordered wine, and waited. Katy sipped her wine and Freddy tried some. His face screwed up. “Ah, wine,” he laughed, setting the glass down. “Why do people drink wine? It’s awful.”

  “Oh, my sweet man,” Katy crooned, enjoying herself for the first time in weeks, “you are merely unaccustomed to a fine vintage.”

  He laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. After a moment, she laughed with him. They laughed like fools until Stacey stumbled across to them. She laid a hand on the table and leaned over Freddy, her forehead crinkling. “You picked her?” she hissed and stumbled back momentarily. “How could you pick her?”

  Katy was so shocked her voice did not work. She hadn’t seen her friend since the night that had set everything in motion. She hadn’t even received a text or a phone call from her. As far as Stacey was concerned, it seemed that Katy didn’t exist anymore. That was fine with Katy. What wasn’t fine with Katy was Stacey interrupting one of the good moments between her and Freddy.

  “It was never a matter of choice,” Freddy said calmly, looking up at Stacey. “I made a drunken mistake. I never would have chosen you. What are you to me? I don’t even know you. Katy and I have a bond deeper than you could even guess at. Just . . . go away.” Freddy seemed tired from his speech. He wasn’t the speech type, normally. The last few weeks had brought much out of him.

  Stacey wheeled on Katy. “You’re a bitch!” she cackled, tottering. Lipstick was smeared across her lips. She was quite clearly drunk. She stumbled on her high heels and waved her arms out to her sides. Then she gripped the table and loomed over Katy. People at the restaurant turned their heads, sneered at this disturbance in this high-class place. “You think you’re so special, don’t you, with your grades and your . . . your sport! Well, I felt your man’s boner against my leg! I did!”

  Katy erupted at that. She flew to her feet. She would have struck her with her hand if she did not have something better to strike her with. But she did. “You think that’s impressive?” she barked. “I fucked your dad, Stacey. Yes, go and ask him.” Stacey’s grimace wavered. “Dear old Adam and I had quite the few days. We fucked, in your house.”

  Stacey turned on her heels and fled through the restaurant. Katy watched her go, unable to stop the smile from twisting her lips, not trying to stop the smile, in truth. This was the moment her vengeance had been for. This was the moment she had been leading up to. She let the smile take her face, and then the smile disappeared. Freddy barged past her and made for the exit.

  She caught him at the door, followed him out into the street. “Where are you going?” he said.

  He turned on her, fists clenched. “Is that true?” he spat. “You fucked her dad?”

  “Yes, it’s true!” she spat back. Who did he think he was to lecture her? “If you don’t remember, you’d just cheated on me. You can’t take the high ground now!”

  “That was a drunken kiss! I didn’t fuck her!”

  She shook her head. “That distinction really means something to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, no, damn it, I don’t know.” Slowly, he unclenched his fists. “How could you do it? Why did you do it?”

  “Revenge,” she said simply. “It was just revenge.”

  “Revenge?” he said, like he didn’t understand the word. “You fucked a guy for revenge?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I did. I was hurting. I was in pain. And I wanted to get my own back. Am I proud of it? No, of course I’m not! But I did it, didn’t I?”

  “Damn,” Freddy whispered, leaning against the wall. “We’ve really been through it, haven’t we?”

  “Yes,” Katy said, softening as he softened. “I guess we have.”

  “Can we go on?” His voice was heavy with worry, with a strained quality. “Do you think we can go on?”

  She sighed and moved to him, laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and they stayed like that for a long time. “I think we can try,” she said.

  *****

  It was not easy, but the relationship began to repair over the course of several weeks. After this time, Katy started to think of her relationship with Freddy like a strong cliff face. The waves had battered and smashed against the cliff face, had done everything they could to break it, but they had stayed strong. They had stayed together. They had won through.

  College was out for the semester, and Freddy and Katy lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling, tired from their lovemaking. It was not the dirty weariness she’d felt with Adam. It was a deep, contented tiredness, the tiredness she often felt after a long session at the gym. She stretched her arms up and he dived under the covers, tickling her belly.

  “Stop it!” she squealed. “You’re evil!”

  “I am,” he said, poking his smiling face from under the covers. “I am very ,very evil.”

  She held his face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his beard tickled her palm. She was reminded momentarily of Adam, but she pushed that thought away. That had been a mistake. That had been the biggest mistake of her life. She was sure of that now. It didn’t matter how much she had enjoyed it at the time. Whenever she looked back on it, her belly became tight.

  Sud
denly, Freddy jumped to his feet. Naked, he began to pace the room.

  “Um, what’re you doing?” Katy said, watching his tight buttocks, his muscular legs, his muscular everything. His cock dangled casually between his legs. He wrung his hands and paced. “Freddy, is something wrong?”

  “I want to ask you something,” he said, still pacing.

  “Maybe it would help if you asked me, then, instead of giving me what is probably the worst stripper show ever.”

  He laughed and came to the bed, falling to one knee. “I love you more than anything, Katy. We’ve been together for – what? – two years now. We’ve had our hard times, I know that. But I also know that we got through them. Together. That’s why . . .” And he reached under the bed. His face creased. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Where is it?”

  Katy giggled as she reached across to her bedside table, lifted her lamp, and produced the ring box. “Looking for this?” she said. “You’re nowhere near as sneaky as you think you are.”

  “You’re the evil one!” he laughed. His laughter stopped and he took the ring box with one hand and her hand with the other. “What do you say?”

  “Oh, you are a romantic, aren’t you?”

  “Be serious.” He nudged her playfully.

  “What do you think I say? We’ve been through a lot and I’m still here, aren’t I? Put that ring on my finger.”

  She held out her hand.

  THE END

  Dreams from her youth

  Malory dropped her satchel to the ground and ran into her father’s arms. She was seeing him after six months and she couldn’t believe he looked the same, for some reason she was convinced that all this time apart would have aged him a little.