Boy Toy

by Bowen, Sarina

  I walk back into the bedroom just as Kate is collapsing in a red-faced, smiling heap on the bed after her final turn. “Bouncing,” she sighs. “I wuv it.”

  “Almost as good as climbing,” Liam agrees, giving her toe a playful tug.

  “Time for a snack!” I say cheerfully. “Aunt Meg is going to give it to you.”

  They both go charging out of the room.

  “Careful on the stairs!” I say, because I can’t help it and that’s what mothers do. Two seconds later I can hear the sound of two toddlers descending one stair at a time, on their little butts.

  “Sadie…” Liam says.

  I hold up a hand. “I clued in. Sorry. There’s a voicemail and I get it now.”

  “He was such an asshole,” Liam growls, his hands in fists.

  “How can I make it up to you?” I want to soothe him. I want to unclench his fists and smooth those angry lines from his face.

  “We’re going on an errand,” he says, tugging my hand and leading me toward the stairs. “Meg!” he barks. “Gonna head out for a minute to the hardware store. Sadie needs a tool.”

  “Okay!” she calls from the kitchen. “I’ll cut up some watermelon for the screaming mimis.” That’s her name for my girls.

  Liam practically frog-marches me down the walk. We both get into his car and he practically peels away from the curb. I’m in a bit of a fog so I don’t even notice when he makes just two turns and then pulls up in front of his house, where I’ve rarely been. “Let’s go,” he grunts.

  I get out of the car and follow him up the short walk. But we’re not at the hardware store. I’d assumed maybe something broke during the bungee bouncing. “Thought we needed a tool?”

  “Oh, you definitely do,” he says, “I have just the tool for you. And here I thought you’d already read Freud.” He unlocks the door in a big hurry and pulls me inside. Then he pushes me up against the door and kisses me. It’s a hot, angry brand of a kiss. Like he’s so full of pent-up needs and fears that it needs to escape his soul. Via his tongue.

  I gasp, my head hitting the door with a thunk. He tilts his head and kisses me again, his hard body caging me in, his hands skimming down my breasts.

  And I give it right back to him, clutching his beautiful, angry face in both hands and slipping my tongue into his mouth.

  He makes a startled noise and then grips me even more tightly.

  And, duh. Now I get it. The tool Liam wants to give me is his own. And as his erection presses against my belly, I’m suddenly a hundred percent down with this plan. “Bedroom,” I moan.

  “Too far,” he grunts. “Lift up your skirt.”

  His grumpy order has the wildest effect on me, flooding me with desire. I do as commanded, and drop my panties, too, feeling absolutely shameless. Angry sex with Liam is pretty damn appealing right now.

  We’re both starved for it, and since we recently had a little chat about my birth control pills, there’s no need to slow down. I hear the sound of a zipper and then his mouth crashes down on mine again. I wrap my arms around his body just as I’m yanked into the air. My back hits the door as I wrap my legs around his waist.

  But this isn’t a movie so Liam struggles to line us up correctly. We’re shaking and frantic. I lift myself up a little higher on his body and then finally—sweet relief as he fills me.

  “Fuck…yes,” he grunts between kisses. “Hold on. Bumpy ride head.”

  “Stop talking! Go!” I gasp.

  Our teeth click together as he thrusts. If our relationship is really just sex, then we’re doing pretty well right now. We’re having angry, sweaty, crazy sex up against Liam’s front door, and it is the best thing ever. Liam doesn’t need to flatter me. I don’t need him to tell me I’m still pretty, or that he likes my dress.

  The truth is that you just can’t fake this level of enthusiasm. Liam doesn’t have to use words to tell me I’m sexy. I can hear it in each desperate sound he makes, and from the rough way he’s taking me against the door.

  “Oh, yeah. Oh fuck,” he pants into my mouth. “Right now. Need you. Give it to me.”

  Need you. Those are the words that take me over the finish line. His voice is so raw, the words so bare that I lean my head against the door and shudder against him.

  Liam makes a noise that’s bone deep and desperate. Then all his muscles lock up as he gives one more hard thrust. That one might leave a little bruise, actually.

  Totally worth it.

  He lets out a moan that’s so low and long that I wonder if the whole neighborhood heard it. Then his forehead goes thunk against the door and everything goes quiet, except for my raging, ragged heartbeat, which needs another minute to calm down.

  We don’t say a word for a little while, and Liam doesn’t set me down. I use a limp hand to ruffle the slightly sweaty hairs at the back of his neck.

  “Fuck,” he whispers. “I’m sorry to be so…”

  “Hot?” I finish.

  With a weary groan, he gently sets me down onto the floor and disengages. “Unruly. That’s what I was going to say. Or maybe insane would cover it,” he mumbles.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t think I’d refer you to professional help just yet. Although another run-in with Decker could put anyone over the edge, I suppose.”

  “What did you see in him?” Liam asks. “Serious question.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not talking about him when I’m half naked in your entryway.” I glance around. “Nice place you got here.”

  Liam cups my face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

  “Absolutely. I’m more worried about you.”

  “It’s nothing a seven mile run can’t fix.”

  “That’s your favorite stress relief.”

  He tucks a bit of hair behind my ear. “My second favorite. Right after trips to the hardware store.”

  “I don’t know if we can keep this euphemism alive,” I say. “It’s a little dorky to always say we’re running out to the hardware store.”

  “Well the hardware store is always open for you.” He pulls me into a hug, and I lean against his chest and sigh.

  His hugs, ladies. They’re incredible. “Let’s go back and talk my sister into taking that apartment.”

  19 Evergreen Springs Eternal

  Liam

  During the weeks that follow, I’m really restless. I don’t know what my problem is. I’ve lost weight on account of all the running I’ve been doing. And Sadie and I have several additional frenzied fuckfests.

  It feels like we’re running out of time. Maybe because we are.

  I’ve only got another couple of weeks at the daycare. They’re interviewing candidates who might serve as my replacement. Nobody who’s come in so far seems like a good fit, though. The hiring isn’t up to me, but all three women who’ve applied for the job seem a little too flaky.

  During nap time I sit quietly in the rocking chair and watch Amy’s small back rise and fall as she sleeps. I mean—what if they hire someone who lets another child steal Piggypoo? Or what if they hire someone who won’t keep track of Kate’s helmet, or who doesn’t notice when Blade is eating the playdough?

  I feel anxious thinking about it. Time for another run after work.

  Most nights—if I’m not with Sadie—I read research documents or study maps of Rome, trying to picture myself living there. I make note of the best cafes and the best gelato shops.

  Somehow I don’t think I can get excited about gelato if I’m eating it all alone.

  Sadie only says enthusiastic things about my upcoming trip. “All those monuments,” she says to me one night as we chat on the phone. “I need a picture of you at the Coloseum. I miss traveling.”

  I grit my teeth when she says things like that, because the subtext is that she’s moved on to another stage in life, while I’m still a kid traipsing around Europe for fun.

  Been there. Done that. Woke up on a park bench in Amsterdam with my wallet missing. My research trip is a lit
tle less frivolous, and only slightly less temporary.

  “Traveling is fun,” I admit. “But mostly I’ll be at the lab, coding in the experiment results, so we can get a lot done in a short time.”

  “I know,” she says gently. “Though I hope you will have fun.”

  There’s a silence on the line then, because we always stop short of discussing next spring, when I’ll move back home again.

  Sadie treats our relationship like it has an immutable expiration date. She seems to like it that way. And I can’t bring myself to ask why.

  “There’s a party for my dad,” I say instead. “It’s the night of his primary election. I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll come with me as my date.”

  “A family party?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “I can’t promise excitement. Unless you’re a huge fan of shrimp cocktails and geezer music. But I’m supposed to bring a date and there isn’t anyone else I want to ask except you.”

  “I’ll go. I’m happy to, so long as Decker can babysit. Tell me the date.”

  The knot in my chest dissipates because Sadie said yes to family dysfunction and country club food. She said yes to standing at my side even though she knows my father is a dick. She didn’t even have to think about it. It was almost a reflex.

  She likes us! fourteen-year-old Liam squeaks. He always looks on the bright side.

  “Mark your calendar for August twenty-first.”

  “I’ll let Decker know right away,” she says, and my heart grows another size larger. “What’s the dress code?”

  “Low cut and lots of skin.”

  “Liam!”

  “Sorry,” I snicker. But Sadie could go naked and she’d look perfect to me. “Sadly, the dress code is Country Club on a summer night. I’ll be wearing a navy blazer with gold buttons and a boring tie that matches my brothers.’”

  “That’s very obedient of you.”

  “Isn’t it?” I’ll wear what the man wants to his stuffy party, but it’s about the only thing I’ll cave on. Not my job. Not my attitude. But he can have the tie to celebrate his primary victory. “Thanks for coming with me, hot stuff. It means a lot to me.” She might as well know.

  “It will be my pleasure,” she says.

  “I’ll make sure of that afterwards,” I promise, and she laughs although I’m dead serious.

  * * *

  But when the day comes, I’m not ready. I mean—I’m physically ready, in my boring outfit and striped tie.

  I’m excited as always to spend an evening in Sadie’s company, but I’m worried that my dad will be an ass to us somehow. I don’t mind having my own life choices questioned, but if he gives Sadie even a little grief I might lose my mind.

  Driving over to her house, I try to focus on the good stuff. Decker is taking the girls for the whole weekend. I’ve rented a hotel suite in the VanHeimlich building downtown. We’ll be on our own. No Meg—who’s still living at Sadie’s until her lease starts on September first. No parents. No exes.

  Sadie doesn’t know it yet, but she’s getting another massage from Sven/Kevin tomorrow, and Sadie and I will spend the rest of the time having sex and eating room service.

  Our summer together will go out with a bang. So to speak.

  I’ve spent the day trying to decide which parts of her to worship first. The suite is on a high floor, so I’ll undress her while the downtown skyline shimmers all around us.

  Now there’s a happy thought to get me through dinner.

  I’m running about ten minutes late, which is unlike me. I’ve studied enough psychology to know that it’s probably my subconscious’s fault. I don’t want to go to the dinner, so I got ready too slowly.

  But that’s okay. Our plans include a cushion—a window of time between when the guests will arrive and when Dad turns up to act surprised. I’ll just swing by, grab Sadie, and zip over to Evergreen Springs.

  The party planner said that nothing ever goes wrong at Evergreen Springs, and since she’s worked there since the wooly mammoth walked the Earth, I figure she ought to know.

  That’s when I pull down Sadie’s block and spot black smoke pouring out of her kitchen window.

  My heart leaps into my throat, and I slam on the breaks so hard there’s a screeching sound. I’m out of that car in a flash and running for the back door. “Sadie!” I shout, and my throat is tight with fear. Images flash through my mind, of Sadie trying to escape from a second floor window with one twin under each arm.

  “It’s okay,” she says quickly from the vicinity of the back porch. I spot her as I round the corner. She’s standing outside with the girls. “I burnt some grilled cheese on the stove. But the fire is out already. The range is a mess from the extinguisher, but that’s the worst of it.”

  I can’t even reply for a second because I feel suddenly shaky. The smoke is dissipating quickly, and I hear the hum of what must be a fan that she’s got on in there to clear the air.

  “Wiam!” Amy darts forward and grabs my leg. “Grilled cheese burned all up.”

  I reach down and pluck her off the porch to give her a squeeze. When I stick my nose in her silky hair, it’s smoky. Like a burnt marshmallow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I croak.

  “We’re fine,” Sadie says gently. “Except for the obvious—I can’t go with you tonight.”

  “Wait, what?” Shock has made me completely forget that I was on my way to Dad’s shindig. But now I take in a few more details. Sadie isn’t wearing a dress, she’s still in cutoff jeans and a little T-shirt. And—more crucially—her shitbag of an ex-husband isn’t here to mind the kids. “Where’s D—” I stop myself just before saying his name, so the girls don’t hear the question.

  That’s when I notice her red eyes and the mascara that’s run down onto her cheeks. She gives me a weird smile; she’s trying to hold herself together. “He can’t make it,” she says with a singsong voice. “He and Honey are in Aruba.”

  “Aruba?” I ask. I’m really confused. It’s Decker’s weekend with the kids. Why the hell would he take off for Aruba?

  Oh right, because he’s a shitbag.

  But Sadie is trying to tell me something. She makes a very sexual hand gesture. She’s made a hole with the fingers of one hand, and she’s jabbing the other one through it repeatedly.

  This is a very awkward game of charades. Decker is fucking... Aruba? Fucking Honey in Aruba?

  And then I understand. The finger gesture Sadie’s making isn’t sexual. She’s trying to mimic putting a ring on a finger. Honey and Decker are in Aruba getting married. “Married?” I mouth.

  Sadie nods.

  “Eloped,” she mouths back. “A few days ago. I just got the call a half hour ago, though.” She makes a crabby face.

  Well, shit. I look her over again. Those red eyes look sad. Maybe it’s because her ex moved on so quickly, or maybe because he bailed on his daughters again.

  “I’m really sorry about tonight,” she says, and her eyes water again. “I was really looking forward to the whole weekend.”

  Oh. Maybe it’s me she’s sad about. It’s not about her ex’s marriage? I don’t even think—I just step forward and hug Sadie. Amy is sort of pinned between us, but she doesn’t mind.

  “Me too,” grunts Kate from the floor. So I reach down and let her scale me like a tree. The girls are attached like boa constrictors to my arms and we all hug Sadie together.

  Sadie sniffs and hugs us back.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. The girls pat her back, too.

  “I wanted to go. I have the perfect dress and everything. But I can’t just leave the girls…”

  “Meg?” I suggest hopefully.

  “Oh! Meg got a job waitressing. And she has a shift tonight. At least she’s moving out next weekend. And I can’t ask Brynn and Tom to watch the girls because little Zachary is still so small...and Ash and Braht always have weekend plans...”

  I’m not doing a lot of clear thinking tonight. I’m on some kind of emotional overlo
ad, possibly caused by grilled cheese smoke inhalation. For whatever reason, my mouth is not connected to my brain right now, so I blurt out, “We’ll bring the girls with us!”

  Sadie is silent for a second. “To your dad’s black tie surprise party at Evergreen Springs? The adults-only party?” Her expression suggests that I’ve lost my mind.

  And maybe I have because I say, “Sure, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Party!” cries Kate.

  “Piggypoo?” says Amy.

  “Yes!” I agree, feeling both happy and reckless. There’s no way I’m leaving Sadie and the girls sad and lonely in a smoky house with no dinner. “Sadie, you finish getting ready.” She definitely needs to redo that mascara. “And I’ll pack the girls a bag. Helmets. Stuffed animals. Bribery items.”

  Sadie smiles at me through her tears. “I’ll find some size-two dresses. We can at least try to look the part.” She runs off, through the smoky kitchen and upstairs.

  This is going to be fine, I think. My dad will be too busy glad-handing to care that I’ve brought a plus three instead of a plus one.

  We shall all eat steak and scalloped potatoes, congratulate the old man, and then come back here to clean up Sadie’s stove.

  Funny how that sounds like a lot more fun than it really should. It’s not just Sadie that I’ve fallen for, but the whole family.

  I shove that thought far, far away, and go in search of Kate’s helmet and the diaper bag.

  * * *

  We’re only a half hour late. Okay, forty-five minutes. I’ve missed the setup hour, but I’m sure the country club has got it handled. That’s why we’re paying them the big bucks.

  The moment I cut the engine of Sadie’s car, we hustle the girls out of their car seats and run awkwardly inside.

  My siblings meet me at the entrance to the Double Bogey room with frantic “Where have you beens?” and “What took you so longs?”

  But a quick glance around the crowded room reveals that my father isn’t here yet. So I’m counting it as a win.

  “Are you on fire?” my sister Cassidy asks when I lean in to kiss her cheek. “You smell crispy.”