by Xavier Neal
A smile comes on his face. “She treats you like her own.”
“She does. And once my father had full custody of me, I became a huge daddy's girl. Pretty sure I was always a daddy's girl and that drove my mother insane.”
The smile disappears again as he quietly comments, “I can't imagine that's an easy memory to deal with.”
Fidgeting with my dress another confession escapes, “It's not. It's the main reason I don't date. I never wanna end up in the position she was in.”
“You don't date?”
“Not typically,” I correct. “The majority of the time I am very much so a booty call kind of woman. Once in a while things go a little too long or get a little too deep, I find a way back to the surface. I look for a reason to bail.”
Carefully he questions, “And when there's not one?”
“I create it.”
Arik's mouth slips open for a deep sigh to be liberated.
Let's see how he swallows that level of honesty. Maybe this is where it ends. Shit, did I just create that moment?
Instead of a fight ensuing, he leans down so his lips are a whisper away from mine. “I'll be your lifesaver. I won't let you drown.”
The desire to tell him how cheesy that came out is washed away by the gentle kiss he leaves as a back-up reminder. Unlike our other kisses that have one direction to them no matter the location, this one has hope, a very unfamiliar emotion to me.
And yet one that he keeps presenting me with. What the hell is that about?
Arik pulls away and smiles. “Let's dance.”
Thankful for the change of conversation, I place my empty glass down on the table closest by and allow him to whisk me away to the dance floor. He sweetly moves my hands to wrap around his neck while he leads. The classical music choice has Arik humming along, which makes me smile.
How is it he even hums beautifully?
“My mother taught me to dance to this when I was seven. Greg was going to some girl's country club party and she figured it'd be best to kill two birds with one stone. He resented me for being able to pick up the steps faster than him,” he freely informs me. “Tell me more about your family. Aunts and uncles? Cousins? Grandparents?”
Annoyed by the return of the subject, I glance over his shoulder at the guests. “What's with the questionnaire, Arik?”
“I think it's important to know more about my girlfriend than her favorite food and cup size.”
When my eyes divert back to him, I immediately spot the playfulness in his. “You knew the second you spotted me, didn't you?”
“I'm a tits man. What can I say?” I giggle, which is when he prods again, “Did you go to these kinds of parties when you were younger? We were always forced too. The ones that insisted you bring your children to, but don't serve child friendly food were the worst.”
“When I was younger I did,” I answer softly. “But as I grew up and could recognize blatant racism my dad started giving me options.”
Don't look so surprised. Old money is very particular who they like in their clubs.
“Is that why your parents didn't work out?” Arik's question tenses my body once more. “Too much stress trying to be different in a world that wasn't ready for it?”
“No.” With a short shrug I explain, “At some point they fell out of love and my dad didn't believe in having to stay with a person because you had children with them. He argued it did more damage than good for a child to grow up in that kind of environment.”
Don't say I disagree.
“Did you ever see your mother's side of the family? After her death?”
“She was an only child and my grandparents blamed my dad for her death until the day they died. He took it like a champ though. Never denied them the chance to see me. Always offered for them to come visit for the holidays. He didn't feel I should be robbed of time with them because they hated him. His parents on the other hand....well, they hated me in public.”
A baffled expression crosses his face. “What?”
“It was okay to have a half black grandchild behind closed doors, but not in public. They had no problem snubbing me. I think my dad and uncle Kirk were relieved when they finally passed away. My uncle Kirk is married to the most gorgeous Brazilian woman. They hated her and their kids too.”
“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Arik mutters more to himself than me.
Continuing to sway to the music I look away and reply, “Different times, sweetheart.”
The moment the words leave my lips I twist them shut.
Yup. That just happened. Maybe he won't notice....Hopefully it slipped right by him. I'm not that kind of girl. Terms of endearment and sweet nothings are so a waste of time in my book.
A quiet exhale escapes seconds before Arik teases, “Sweetheart huh?”
“Ugh. Shut up.”
“I liked it,” he proudly states.
“Well that makes one of us.” Not going the direction he's trying to take us, I change the subject to something that has been glaring at me since we started dancing. “Can you explain to me why Dora The Rich Bitch Yacht Explorer is giving me the world's dirtiest look?”
Arik's laughter explodes loud enough to gather the eyes of those closest to us. Casually he turns us until he has the view I just did. “That's Courtney Delicourt. We went to school together.”
“And her issue with me in your arms is...?”
“You answered your own question.” My face turns to look up at his. “I've never come to one of these things with a date, let alone a girlfriend.”
“She's jealous?”
In a teasing tone he says, “Are you?”
“Oh, suck it,” I gag.
My boyfriend chuckles and plants another soft kiss on my lips, this one igniting the fire between my hips he's known for sparking. A light whimper seeps out when his tongue teases mine. Reluctantly he pulls away and whispers, “Just in case you forgot how special I think you are.”
Before I have a chance to retort, Greg interrupts. “Your turn. Dad wants to introduce you to some old guy with an old person name.”
Curious, I question as Arik lets me go. “An old person name?”
“You know Bernie or Bernard or something,” Greg grumbles adjusting his white tie. “Whoever he is, you have been summoned. And you know how much father hates to be kept waiting.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Fine. I'm going. Dance with her. Watch your hands.”
“Watch my hands?”
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
“Fine. I'll dance with her.”
Playfully I object. “Do I get a vote?”
“Nope,” Arik replies, strolling away from me, straightening out his jacket.
“We don't have to dance if you don't want.” Greg immediately surrenders his hands. “I can just stand here awkwardly next to you in the middle of the dance floor.”
With a smile, I shake my head. “I was kidding. It's fine. We can dance.”
Unlike the romantic embrace I was sharing with Arik, I take a more traditional ballroom dancing stance while Greg follows his brother's instructions and also leaves a gap between us.
Jokingly I point out, “I don't have cooties if that's what you're worried about.”
“Good to know,” he says with a smirk. There's a very brief pause that I assume will turn into awkward silence. To my surprise, it doesn't. “So what do you see in my narcissistic brother anyway? You're obviously not dating him for his inheritance money or social status. How'd he end up with a woman like you?”
Spotting him shaking hands with a man who could easily be mistaken for Mr. Monopoly, I grin brightly. “He's funny. Charming. Easy going.” I glance up at Greg who seems to only slightly be interested in my response.
Why ask the question if you're not going to listen to the answer? Rude.
“His huge cock is also an important factor.”
Greg suddenly begins to cough, clearly uncomfortable from the remark. I snicker under my breath
while he struggles to gain his composure.
I win.
After a shake of the head he laughs to himself. “You're fucking perfect for him.”
Unsure if I've ever been referred to that way before, I break eye contact and observe the crowd I can see on this mega yacht.
My first mega yacht. When my dad would take me to these types of parties he always kept me on land and had an exit strategy in case it ever became too uncomfortable for me.
“How'd you two meet?” Greg's question drags my eyes away from a drunken blonde trying to convince someone to let her jump into the water. “You work together?”
“Not exactly,” I quickly remark. “His music helped us cross paths. I've actually never been to the restaurant he works at. Hell, I don't even know the name of it. Do you?”
See how I slyly asked? Any time we get near the subject of his job Arik becomes so uncomfortable that my own guilt convinces me to change the topic to something that makes me smile. I have learned more about ships than I ever wanted to know.
Greg's light colored eyebrows lift. “I didn't even know he worked in a restaurant. He keeps his personal life private.” The mistake of what I just let slip begins to suffocate me. Thankfully, there's quick reassurance. “It's alright. I won't let my little brother know you let his secret out.”
With a crooked smile I sigh, “Thanks.”
“You two have been dating awhile-”
“Not that long.”
He chuckles again. “You're just like my brother. You two spend a lot of time together?”
“As much as we can with conflicting schedules. He never has a weekend off and I work around the clock because you'd be surprised at how demanding women in power can get.” Greg nods his understanding. “But somehow we make it work. Sunday through Wednesday.”
“Interesting,” he mumbles.
“Stop looking at my girlfriend like that,” Arik's voice fills my ears. “That's how girlfriends are supposed to smell.”
“You're such an asshole,” Greg grouses letting his grip go. With an eye roll he says to me, “Enjoy him.”
“I plan on it...”
My boyfriend chuckles and returns me to his arms, which makes me feel like some sort of princess. “Miss me?”
“Eh.” My playful answer gets me a swift pop on the ass. “Hey! Don't start shit you can't finish for another couple of hours.”
With a wide grin, he pulls my body against his, his hard on pushing firmly against me. In a husky voice next to my ear he states, “That's just from the thought of you.” Before I can comment Arik pushes his stiff cock tighter against me and adds, “That's what you do to me. All the time. Every day, baby. I always want you....”
And that's the problem. I wasn't kidding when I said I would find a reason to run, to get the fuck out of this relationship before it could get too deep. Those words he just whispered, while they're sexy and sweet are the warning flare that this can't last much longer. Not if I wanna keep living my life without battle scars and an un-skewed vision. I already feel like I'm beginning to drown. At this rate I won't know which way is up and that scares the fuck out of me.
Arik
Sunday has easily become my favorite day of the week. It used to be Saturday. Like you heard Chance say the only thing better than a Saturday night is a bachelorette party except now I have a counter to that. The only thing better than a Saturday night is a Sunday morning filled with your girlfriend's moans that have your neighbors trying to file a noise complaint.
Grabbing the boat access key card from the hook in the hallway closest to the garage, I'm startled by my brother's unexpected appearance.
He leans against the wall as if trying to block my exit. “I know your dirty, little secret.”
With the keys in my possession I reply, “I actually asked to take Cappy out this time. Look at me. Making progress.”
Cappy, the ketch sail boat my grandfather left us, was always my go to escape when I needed away from it all. There's something about sailing that provides a tranquility like nothing else. Could be the high of the ocean water. Could be the focus and dedication to making the sails work with you instead of against you. Whatever the reason, it always seems to help.
Greg folds his arms across his chest. “That's not what I'm talking about.”
“Then clue me in big brother and make it quick. Ari's waiting for me in the car.”
“Have you told her yet?”
“Told her what?”
“How you don't work at some piece of shit restaurant?”
My breathing ceases.
Louder than expected he states, “How you can't spend the weekends with her because you're busy stripping?”
Immediately I command, “Lower your voice.”
“Mom and dad are in the pool. You don't have anything to worry about.” He shakes his head. “You're a fucking stripper? Seriously? That's the way you make a living?”
In a growl I snap, “Don't fucking judge me. It's a legit job.”
“Barely,” Greg argues. “You're one step away from prostitution. Unless you-”
“I've never fucked for money, thank you very much.”
“But you've come close,” he pokes the situation.
Sliding my hands in my pockets I ask, “How'd you find out?”
“You're not the only one who can dig up dirt.” When I glare he surrenders his hands. “And before you accuse me of doing this as a way to prove to our parents you're not the glowing golden child, which it was, let me say this, as hilarious as that's going to be when it finally comes out, I'm honestly more concerned about the woman in your life you're lying to.”
My volume becomes faint, “I've never lied to her.”
“Then you didn't tell her you were a waiter?”
“No. I told her I was a server, which I am. It just happens to be my body I'm serving.”
Greg sarcastically chortles. “A fucking technicality is how you're gonna try to win that one?”
The desire to punch him in his smug face thrums through my fingertips.
Can't do it right now. Oh, I have no qualms with punching my brother, but I know if I do he'll fucking cry like a bitch in heat. Everything will be on the table and defending my choice of lifestyle isn't how I want to spend the day, especially when sailing is the other option.
“Look, Arik, I know I give you shit about 95% of the time-”
“97-”
“That's because you get on my fucking nerves.” Greg quickly tries to settle his annoyance back down. “Listen to me and listen good little brother. Ari makes you almost a tolerable person.” The backhanded compliment has me tilting my head. “She makes you almost kind and enjoyable to be around. She's good for you. If you have any real desire to keep her around, which obviously you do or you wouldn't be taking her to your sanctuary known as sailing, then you need to come clean. Tell her the truth. Tell her what you really do for a living before you royally fuck this up.”
Is he right? Is being a stripper that big of a fucking deal? So she's not the only one who sees me without my clothes on. To be fair she's the only who gets the full frontal view. What do you mean that doesn't make it better? I think it does.
“Your advice has been noted.” I clear my throat in an attempt to clear away the anxiety. “Now move.”
Greg stands up straight and ushers a hand for me to stroll by.
Maybe I should tell her right now. She might be a little pissed at first but I like to think she'd get over it. Huh. Good point. What if I tell her and she uses that as the excuse to get out of this relationship? No. I'm not gonna give her a reason to walk away from me. Not yet. Not when we're this happy. Fuck that.
The drive to the port is primarily filled by the radios crummy choice in songs.
If I have to hear one more song about break ups, we're listening to death metal.
To no surprise, with just a few minutes left in the SUV, Ari gets a work phone call that grabs her attention.
Fine with me. The l
ess she can stare at me with that curious face the better. There's already enough pressure to deal with the annoying subconscious voice my brother shoved in the back of head, but having her bright brown eyes give me skeptical stares is slowly driving me insane. Just gotta get us out on that water and I'll shake this bullshit apprehension.
“That's right, Helen,” Ari sighs and gives me an annoyed look.
With a smirk I swipe the key card giving us entrance to the dock.