by Cecilia Tan
“Kneel down and pray.”
“But—”
“Just do it. I’ll never give you the right answers.”
“But this statue will?”
“But your own mind will if you pray. Pray to her. If you want to say it’s the Holy Spirit, fine, but you’ll find the right answer if you do it.”
If it had been anyone but my own father taking me on such a weird trip I wouldn’t have done it. But sometimes you just have to go with the flow.
I got down on my knees and clasped my hands. I pressed my forehead against them, trying to think how to start. I’d gone through the motions of praying thousands of times before I’d left home but I’d never actually been doing it then. I’d been thinking about girls or my homework or band practice, not actually trying to commune with a higher spirit. How was this supposed to go? Dear Mary?
I felt my father get down next to me and begin to murmur out loud.
In Spanish. “Dios té salve, Maria.”
The rest of the words flooded back into my mind. Seven years old and memorizing it in Sunday school. And from there my thoughts took over. Okay, Maria, help me with my mother. I love her, I can’t help but love her even when she’s pushed me away, and now I think she’s in trouble and I want to help her. I want to help but I don’t know how. She’s in danger from the man in her life, the man who controls her, who believes he has a right to control her because of what it says in the Bible. How am I going to compete with the fucking Bible? Pardon my language. How am I going to beat that?
I looked up at the statue. Her stone face was illuminated only dimly by the streetlights along the fence. She seemed to be looking down at me with a kind expression, a sympathetic one.
And it was like she was speaking to me. Like when I would guess what Madison was thinking just from her facial expression. She was telling me to let go of anger and let love rule. Anger would only bring ruin, and love was the only cure. The fears and frustrations of men seemed petty and the source of all the sorrows in the world, and the love of women the one treasure worth guarding.
I think my mouth hung open. I’m not sure how long I stared at her. Until Cisco said, “She give you any advice?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “A whole theory on heterosexual relations.”
“Nice. Usually she just scolds me to be a better person.”
“Yeah? Do you listen?”
“Sometimes.” He put a hand on my shoulder then, as the sound of a metal door being pushed open reached us. “Shit. Let’s go.”
“But we’re not doing—”
“This is an Anglo church. If they catch us they’ll break our fingers.”
I didn’t question that. We ran for the truck.
* * *
MADISON
In the wee hours of the morning Chino came in, the scent of whiskey and jasmine and smoke clinging to his hair. He snuggled against me under the covers. “My father’s a crazy man,” he said.
“Does that mean you had a good time?”
He grunted. “I’ll explain in the morning. Or, even better. The afternoon.”
I guessed if he was out that long that they must have gotten along okay. I wondered if he’d get along with my own father that well. I hadn’t brought a guy home in years and at this point my parents didn’t really expect me to anymore. They loved me and didn’t judge beyond the occasional hints that grandchildren might be nice, immediately followed by an insistence that if I was happy they were happy. I gave them occasional hints about the life I was leading, just enough to make them sure they didn’t want to hear a lot more, just enough to convince them I was happy. And I was happy with Chino. Just plain happy. I snuggled up to him contentedly.
In the morning I slipped out of bed while he was still sleeping and checked my phone. There was a message from Gwen: Planning for the party. Call me.
I shut the door to the bedroom and went into the kitchen to start some coffee and call her back.
She picked up right away. “Hey. How’d your meeting with Lawson go? We’re getting ready to ambush Schmitt.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Ricki’s been digging into his stuff a bit more and it’s pretty gross. Did Lawson give you anything else?”
“He didn’t say much, unfortunately.” The coffee was right there on the counter where any caffeine-deficient person could find it. Sensible. “I told him he had nothing to go on, that I deposit the amount monthly because I’m getting ready to pay my mortgage, and he at least seemed worried I might be telling the truth. He wouldn’t say anything more about Schmitt, though.”
“Well, never mind, because we’ve found enough on Schmitt to want to divest ourselves of involvement with him. Guess who’s planning to file for divorce? His wife. We’ve been hearing some very interesting things from her. To keep Schmitt none the wiser, Ricki’s planning to pounce on him when he shows up for the party.”
I poured the water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. “Which is coming up soon.”
“Yeah. I thought you should have a heads up about it.”
“Isn’t Schmitt such a cutthroat lawyer everyone’s afraid of him, though?”
“Apparently his wife found a divorce lawyer with the balls to take him on. We’re going to keep the club issues completely separate, though. Which brings up another thing I wanted to ask you about, regarding the club. Why do you think Granddad insisted on paying party hosts in cash, anyway? Why not just add you to the staff payroll?”
The coffee finished dripping and I used the last of the milk in Chino’s fridge to prep myself a cup. “You know, I never really thought about it. I figured he didn’t want to have to explain it to his accountant?”
“His accountant goes to the parties, though. Or used to. He hasn’t been showing up lately. The thing is we’ve got tons of people on staff. Plus contractors. We’ve never had to explain any of them.”
“I get the feeling it was the way he always did it so he kept doing it.” The coffee wasn’t a brand I was used to. It was rich and not too dark. “Maybe it made sense in the 1950s.”
“Well, it doesn’t make much sense now, when the thing that they could really get us for is not filing your taxes. Will it totally mess up your taxes if we give you a 1099 form?”
I chuckled. “Most of my legit jobs pay me that way anyway. When they bother.”
“Great. We’re going to start paying you by check instead of cash then, too. Trying to legitimize as much as possible.”
“Makes sense.” They were really preparing for anything to happen.
“Now fill me in on you and Chino. What’s been happening with you two?”
I tried to play coy for a second, just to see. “Who says anything’s been happening?”
“Maddie—”
“Okay, seriously, I’m at his house right now. I…I think this is the one, Gwen.”
“The one?”
“The one I’ve been waiting for, that I didn’t even realize I was waiting for. Mr. Right.” I had peeled off the bandage last night before going to sleep and now I peeked under the hem of the T-shirt I’d slept in to admire the tattoo. The ink was fresh and saturated, the skin raised ever so slightly as if the dark, elegant curves of the letters were embossed. Chino. I put my hand over it, feeling warm all over and almost dizzy with the rush of feelings seeing it released in me. “I got a tattoo last night, Gwen.”
“You did? Your first, right?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed, suddenly afraid she was going to tell me I was crazy. “His name.”
“Amazing!” she squealed. “I’m so happy for you!”
Okay, so Gwen wasn’t going to tell me I was crazy. “It seems sudden, like my whole life took a left turn the minute he touched me, but now I can’t imagine anything else. I can’t even explain it. When he puts his hand on me I feel whole in a way I’ve never felt before.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It’s funny. Part of me still says a woman proves her worth by being independent, so what do
es this mean?”
“Oh, Maddie. You already proved you could be independent if that was what you wanted. You don’t have to prove it anymore. Go for what makes you happy.”
“It’s funny. Words like ‘love’ and ‘devotion’ were just words to me before. Abstract concepts. But when we were in a scene together it was like the concepts stopped being abstract, like I could see the love, feel it, believe in it, in a way I never had before. There’s a bond. And now we don’t even have to be in a scene. I feel it all the time. Every waking moment, I’m his girl. I never knew I wanted that, but now that I have it, it’s like I’m complete.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that. I always knew I wanted a dom. I thought I might have to settle for a crappy one, but I always knew.”
“But Ricki didn’t.”
“Haha, no. Ricki didn’t want to admit she was kinky. Ricki didn’t even admit she had needs or emotions, which was why it took a dom to break through her shell. But that’s not you, Maddie. You took care of all your own needs.”
“Except for one. He takes me to a place inside myself I can’t reach on my own.” I watched the reflection of the skylight swim atop the coffee in my cup. “A place where I finally believe everything’s as good as I’ve been telling myself. A place where I stop worrying all the time, where I stop trying to be anything but…me, because who I am is what he wants, what he loves.”
“Aw, Maddie.”
“And because now I’m just…me…the real me? I feel like I can start fresh, start over. I realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to be a political reporter. I said this to Lawson the other day and it’s true. I’m not interested in the bullshit and the compromises that it takes. It would’ve been a nice thing my parents and my writing instructors would’ve approved of if I’d done it when I was fresh out of school. But the world that thinks that’s the top of the game isn’t the world I live in.”
“Hm. So what is the top of the game for you now?”
“The top of the game for me now? Helping women—helping people, but especially women—realize how much power they have. I was kind of stupid, wasn’t I, Gwen?”
“Stupid about what?”
“For thinking that if I submitted it meant I was weak.”
“You thought that about me?”
“No! That’s the thing. I don’t know any subs, male or female, who are weak, but somehow I still clung to this stupid idea for myself, judging myself by my own standard. It wasn’t until Chino that I realized how strong I had to be to face my fears, how strong every submissive has to be every time they choose to go into subspace. You have to face your own fears about yourself. Your fears that you’re not good enough.”
“Oh, Maddie.”
I took a deep breath. I normally didn’t get so intense on the phone, but Gwen was the first person I’d had a chance to talk to since figuring all this out.
“And sex. I’d convinced myself sex was no big deal. Nothing more than another fancy thing I did with my body—like dancing. Like ‘people make way too big a deal over this thing that means nothing.’ But it doesn’t mean nothing. With Chino it feels like it means everything.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Which brings me to something I guess I need to talk with him about as well as you and Ricki. About working at the club.”
“You don’t want to work at the club anymore?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I think I need Daddy’s permission.”
“Ohhh.” Gwen drew out that one syllable in total understanding, as my use of the word “Daddy” sank in. “That makes total sense. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself, given how Mal is with me. You’ll have to let me know what you negotiate.”
“I will.”
“I gotta run now, Maddie. Couple more people to call.”
“Bye, Gwen. Thanks for listening.”
She made another happy sound. “I’m so psyched for you. So psyched, Maddie. You have no idea.”
“Submissive Wives Club, that’s what we should start next.”
“Oooh, that’s an idea. Okay, next time.” She hung up with a laugh. Although I wondered, now that I put the idea in her head, if Gwen wouldn’t go ahead and do it.
Then I heard a voice behind me. “Is that coffee?”
I turned and saw Chino standing at the door to the bedroom, a pair of gray pajama pants clinging to his hips. “It is.” I brought my cup over to him. He had bedhead and stubble and somehow still managed to be the sexiest man I’d ever seen.
He accepted the cup from my hand. “We’ve got to iron out protocol, huh?”
“Like Lion and Kittyn,” I said.
“Mm-hm. I think one of the rules should be no D/s before coffee, though.” He blinked.
“At least not after you’ve spent the night drinking heavily with a long-lost parent?” I suggested gently.
“Hm. Not every day something like that happens, I guess. Still.” He took a sip of the coffee, then a bigger gulp. “Okay, girl. Now I’ve had some coffee. Kneel. Oral.”
The commands were delivered simply but firmly and I felt the tug of the bond between us. Yes. I sank to my knees and pulled the pajama pants down to the middle of his thighs. He was hard already, maybe morning wood or maybe that excited to wake up to us.
The first day of us. That’s what it felt like. I worked the head with my tongue until his salty precome began to flow and then I switched to taking more of him into my mouth.
“Good girl,” he said, one hand on his hip, the other still holding the coffee. “Okay, enough.”
He pulled me up into a kiss, my tongue salty from his flesh, his bittersweet with coffee.
“I don’t see us turning into protocol nuts with a lot of rules,” he said. “Do you? Let’s sit.”
“There’s more coffee,” I told him, “but no more milk.”
“Bring me some black, if you would?”
I grinned. “Is that an order or request?”
He pulled me close and rubbed my mons with the heel of his hand. “I think it’s a reasonable request for a Daddy to make of his girl. If she’s a good girl, she’ll obey, and if she’s a brat, well, I think she can expect to be punished.”
“Seems reasonable.” I wondered if I’d ever decide to provoke him by being bratty. Right then I couldn’t imagine it. I poured more coffee out of the pot for him and refreshed my own. We sat down in the two armchairs and each cradled our cups.
“I’ve never wanted a servant,” Chino said. “I don’t even want a housewife particularly, you know what I mean? But if there are things you want to do for me besides sex that would make you feel fulfilled, let’s talk about what they are.”
“You mean, just because I’m the girl doesn’t mean I have to scrub the toilet or cook dinner.”
“In the same way just because you’re the woman doesn’t mean that, either. Unless scrubbing the toilet gets you hot.”
I smiled. “Not particularly. I wouldn’t mind making you coffee in the morning, though.”
He took a sip of his. “I wouldn’t mind that, either. Especially since I don’t know what you did differently, but this tastes much better than usual.”
“Maybe when it’s made with wuv it tastes better,” I joked, and then we both made gagging sounds, which caused us both to crack up laughing.
He wiped his eyes. “Next thing. Should we move in together?”
“Yes. You should move in with me until we can buy a place in Laurel Canyon.”
He put on a face of mock-surprise. “What, you don’t love this place? This palace of mine?”
I smiled at his joking but my answer was serious: “If you want to save up to buy, it’d be even better to pay no rent than whatever you’re paying here. I own my place and the downstairs tenant’s rent covers the mortgage.”
He looked thoughtful. “You know that what I really want to do is buy a place for my mother.”
“And your sister?”
“Her, too.” His face turned grave. “If they’ll come.”
I put my coffee down and slipped to the rug at his feet, my palms on his leg. “If I could learn to trust you, they can learn, too.”
“I got a piece of advice last night.” He swept his hand over my hair. “Let go of anger and petty shit, and treasure love over all things.”
I couldn’t picture Cisco Garcia giving that advice, but… “That sounds like good advice.”
“I love you, Maddie,” he said, and leaned down to kiss me once more. “I am so blessed that you’re mine.”
“I love you, too, Aloysius Francisco Garcia,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh, man, no one’s called me that since I was seven.”
“Not even your mother? Or stepfather?”
“Not even them.” He pulled me up into his lap. “If we have kids, and you want saint names for them, promise me we’ll pick something people can pronounce and spell.”
I wouldn’t have guessed he’d be the first one to bring up kids. “Do you want to have kids?”
“I’m open to the idea. How about you?”
“I’m…more open to the idea than I used to be.” I had a sudden image of what Chino would be like as a father, and I liked what I saw in my mind’s eye. Maybe in a few years I’d be ready to share his attention with a baby. Maybe. “Let’s talk more about your mother before we talk about kids, though.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod.
“Let’s try calling her and your sister again. Let me call from my phone. If I need to I can pretend to be someone else.”
“Okay. You’re in charge of this operation, Maddie.”
“Then let’s get dressed first.”
“All right.” He kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll figure out the rest of the relationship stuff as we go along.”
Chapter Sixteen
MADISON
We didn’t reach Flora or Ana—Chino’s mother—that day, but I did get a text from Flora saying she wanted to talk soon. There wasn’t much we could do at that point. Chino agreed to move in with me, though, and there was no reason to wait. Neither of us wanted to be apart for even an hour if we didn’t have to be. I went home to feed Morris and get the place ready and that evening Chino brought his clothes over—right in the milk crates he had been keeping them in, with the stuff from his closet laid over the top of them in the backseat of his car. He decided not to even rent a truck or get movers; after his landlord agreed to buy his furniture he had only a handful of boxes of books and keepsakes to move, one box of dishes, and not much else. All his musical instruments were at the band’s rehearsal space.