His Banana

by Penelope Bloom

  I waited.

  “If I accepted this job, I’d need to know you weren’t going to treat me special just because I’m your—”

  “Lady of the night?” I suggested.

  She gave me a sour look, but then grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of the ‘G’ word.”

  “Hmm. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  “Girlfriend,” she snapped.

  I smirked. “Well, if you’re going to be so persistent about it, then sure. Also, I need clarification. Is the girlfriend thing a condition of your accepting the position, or is it separate?”

  She looked like she was trying to glare a hole straight through me.

  “I’m kidding,” I said softly. “I already thought of you as my girlfriend, even before yesterday. You were my ex for a little, and now you’re my girlfriend again. Okay?”

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” she asked.

  Now it was my turn to glare.

  She held up her hands in defense. “Kidding, too. But to answer your question, no, I still want to be your girlfriend with or without the job, obviously. I’m just saying I don’t want to be a joke. I don’t want everyone looking at me like I screwed my way in. You know?”

  “Technically you did bang the boss.”

  “One of the bosses,” she added.

  “Good point. Also, make sure it stays that way.”

  She gave me an amused look. “I think one Chamberson brother is more than enough for me. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “It does play havoc on the ego. The guy looks exactly like me. If a woman ever cheated on me with him, what excuse would I have?”

  “Well, maybe you don’t have to worry about ‘a woman’ anymore and you can just start worrying about me.” She paused for a second after she said it and then covered her face. “God. I’m sorry. I just went too hard, too fast and also implied you had to worry about me cheating on you in the same sentence.” Adorably, she flicked one finger up to peek at me from behind her hands.

  I was smiling. “For some reason, I’m not sure there’s going to be such a thing as too hard or too fast with you. And as far as the cheating goes?” I leaned across the table and beckoned her to lean forward too so I could kiss her. “I’ll make sure you don’t have any orgasms left to spare for anyone else. I’ll have you cumming in the morning, after work, and before bed. You’ll be all mine. Every last drop.”

  She leaned back, tried to rock her chair back on two legs, overbalanced, and started pinwheeling her arms for balance. Her eyes went comically wide and I barely reached out and caught her wrist in time to keep her from falling backwards.

  “And,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to also make sure I keep you alive in between all that.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said.

  “Which part. The never-ending supply of orgasms, or the keeping you alive part?”

  “All the parts.”

  19

  Epilogue - Natasha

  One Month Later

  I took the job working for Bruce, and I couldn't be happier that I did. I'd spent most of my young adult life thinking I wanted to be a reporter, and maybe I still would somewhere down the line. Working for Galleon made me realize what I had actually been craving was a job where my efforts mattered—something that let me give my fullest and get rewarded when I kicked ass. I didn't want the kind of job where my performance was measured on a checklist or by some predetermined criteria for success. I wanted a job where I could flex my brain and feel like I mattered. I thought journalism was that job, and it still could be someday, but right now, I was finding all that I craved at Galleon.

  I met Braeden after work at a company party for Business Insights. Bruce was coming later in the evening after his meetings were over. I’d put my official resignation in a day after I accepted Bruce’s job offer. Before then, I was still technically available as a freelance reporter, and I could’ve shown up to search for whatever crummy assignment Hank had lying around. Resignation or not, Hank was kind enough to invite me to the party, which was an annual get-together to celebrate the date Business Insights was founded.

  They had thrown up cheesy party decorations around the office for the occasion, and the food was as bad as usual. But drinks were drinks, and there was a plentiful supply of champagne, which was a gift Mr. Weinstead always paid for, even if he couldn’t be bothered to attend the parties himself.

  Braeden wore a tattered black t-shirt and jeans. His hair looked like it had been washed recently, which was always nice.

  “Think Bruce is going to give me a hard time when he gets here?” asked Braeden.

  We were standing by one of the tables where a dozen champagne bottles and plastic cups were set out. It was a classy combination. Expensive champagne in the kind of plastic cups high school kids liked to drink out of at parties, but no one was too proud to take what they could get here. I hadn't spotted Candace yet, but we had arrived a little early, so I was sure she'd be arriving soon. There were only a handful of people milling around so far, and no one was dancing to the music playing loudly from a pair of speakers.

  “Why would he give you a hard time? Because you failed out of the job he tried to give you?”

  Braeden closed his eyes like he was about to explain something to someone very simple. “I didn’t fail out. I realized my talents were wasted at a place like that. A bunch of yes men and corporate jimmies who couldn’t get off unless there was a stapler within reach? C’mon, man. You know that’s not where I want to end up.”

  “Of course. And I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you had to wake up at 6:30 in the morning.”

  “Nothing at all,” he said. “But I’ve got a new thing. It’s going to be big this time. Trust me.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t want to go into all the details because I’m still in the early stages, but let’s just say I’ve been spending a lot of time watching yoga videos on YouTube.”

  I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for more. “And?” I asked when he seemed content to say nothing else.

  “And let’s just say,” he added in an obnoxiously cryptic tone. “That New York City is about to have a new high profile yogi.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Can you even touch your toes?”

  “It’s not about ability, Nat. That’s the first lesson. It’s about—and this is a phrase I coined, so make sure you credit me if you use it—willbility.”

  “Willbility?”

  “Yes. The willingness to be able. It’s the core of my philosophy.”

  “Well, uh, I’m glad you’re passionate about something else. Again.”

  “Namaste,” he said, clapping his palms together and giving me a half bow.

  I would’ve laughed, but I knew my brother too well. He wasn’t kidding. It was something I loved about him, even though it seemed to trap him in an endless string of failures and disappointment. He could pour all his passion and energy into a new project for a few days. For those few days, he was truly happy, because no part of him believed he’d fail. I’d learned to nod along with him and smile because whether he was doomed to fail or not, he was my brother, and he was happy in moments like this. I’d always be crossing my fingers that he would make one of his crazy ideas stick, but until then, I would do what I could: be there for him.

  “It sounds amazing,” I said cheerily. “Let me know when you’re up and running and maybe I can put a good word in for you at Galleon. I’m sure some of the ladies there are into yoga.”

  “Very good,” he said, and I might’ve imagined it, but I thought he actually spoke with a slight Asian accent.

  I covered my mouth so he wouldn’t see my smile.

  Candace had arrived with a group of people, and she spotted me right away. She did an awkward kind of hands-over-the-head waving wiggle walk toward me. “Natashaaaa!” she growled in a kind of scarily deep voice.

  “Candaaace,” I said, grinning
as I tried to mimic her deep, weird voice.

  She squeezed me in a tight hug. As usual, she smelled like flowery shampoo and sunscreen. Candace took skin-care as serious as death, and she never walked outside without a healthy dose of SPF.

  "So?" she chirped. "What is it like working at fancy-schmancy Galleon Enterprises? Do they give you a massage break before lunch? Are the toilets gold-plated?"

  “No massages during work hours, and the toilets are porcelain just like everywhere else. But the toilet paper is two-ply.”

  “Shut up!” Candace punctuated her outburst by slapping my shoulder a little harder than I think she meant to.

  “Okay?” I said, flinching back and laughing.

  “Sorry,” she pulled me in and hugged me again. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever and it’s making me all fritzy. Okay, but it’s real talk time. When is the wedding? Babies? I need information.”

  “Believe it or not, we haven’t quite discussed those things yet since we’ve only been back together for a month. He mentioned something about what Halloween costumes we should get for the work party though, so he’s at least planning on us being together until October.”

  Candace silently mouthed the months and counted on her fingers. “Okay, I lost count, but that’s a while, right? He’s definitely planning on putting a ring on you. Hands down. Or maybe he wants to load you up with a baby first and then make the whole marriage thing like a foregone conclusion.”

  I held up a hand. “Easy there, killer. I’m just focusing on balancing the part where he’s my boss and also the guy who—”

  Candace leaned forward and raised her eyebrows in such a lewd way that I couldn’t help laughing.

  “The guy who I’m dating,” I said, emphasizing the words so they sounded more platonic than whatever she was imagining. If I was honest though, the truth probably wasn’t far from whatever wild, sex-filled fantasy she was imagining. I didn’t exactly have a huge frame of reference to go by, but Bruce had to be far above average in his sex drive. The man was a machine, and I’d started to realize my whole sex robot assessment from those early days hadn’t been too far off, except that sleeping with him was definitely not emotionless. Bruce was so passionate it gave me chills, like every touch was something sacred and every time was new.

  “Speaking of…” said Candace from the side of her mouth.

  I followed her eyes to where Bruce was walking in. It still amazed me how much he stood out no matter where he was. His height helped, but there was a distinct difference. He wasn't just some guy. Overlooking him was impossible. I'd seen people on the street stare openly at him like they were trying to figure out what movie they'd seen him in. I didn't blame them. He looked like he should have been a household name—the kind of guy you saw on magazine covers at the beach while you waited in line at the grocery store.

  I felt a now-familiar rush of pride in knowing he was my man, especially when I saw the way every woman at the party eventually swiveled their heads to stare longingly after him. The way they watched him from the corners of their eyes with parted lips followed by quick, excited whispers to their friends was a universal language. I didn’t need to read their lips to know what they were talking about.

  They were talking about Bruce. My Bruce. And they were all probably wondering if they had some kind of remote chance with him, maybe even some of the ones who weren’t single.

  Bruce shut that down when he reached me and pulled me into a possessive hug, swallowing me up in his big arms and against the warmth of his body. He pulled back and took my face in his hands, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. It was quick, and not the kind of kiss that made people look away uncomfortably in public places. It was the kind that I’d seen before and swooned to watch, because I knew it was the sort of kiss shared between people who adored each other.

  “It was my turn to be late for once,” he said, letting me go a little, but still keeping his hand on the small of my back, as if he simply didn’t want to stop touching me yet. I loved that about him. He couldn’t keep his hands off me, and it had done wonders for my confidence.

  “Hey now,” I said. “I’ve gotten a lot better about that.”

  “You have, as long as I’m helping you along.”

  I smiled and shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to keep you then.”

  “You say that like you have a choice.”

  I noticed Candace then, who was watching us like our conversation was a tennis match in the final round at Wimbledon. “Hi,” she said breathily, and reached to shake Bruce’s hand. “I’m basically Natasha’s best friend. Candace. We should get to know each other better, you know, since Natasha and I are such good friends. Unrelated question: are your friends like you?”

  Bruce seemed to take her forwardness in stride. “Like me?” he asked calmly.

  I cleared my throat and bulged my eyes at Candace a little.

  “You know… Perfect? Because that’s totally my type, and if you have any friends like that or…”

  “I have an identical twin brother, but I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”

  “Identical twin… Right,” she said slowly. “I knew that, because Natasha and I looked up pictures of you and your brother on G—”

  Her words were muffled when I pressed my palm to her mouth. “Candace doesn’t know how to stop talking,” I said through my teeth. “Does she?” I asked her.

  I pulled my hand away.

  “She’s right,” agreed Candace. “I think it’s a condition.”

  “It’s fine,” said Bruce.

  I noticed Braeden chatting up a woman who looked to be in good shape. I had a suspicion he was pitching his bogus business that was confirmed when I saw him clap his hands together and give her a half bow. To my surprise, the woman seemed to be eating it up. I grinned. Good for him.

  Hank wandered over to our small group then. “Bruce Chamberson in the flesh, huh?”

  “Last time I checked,” said Bruce.

  “I wanted to apologize, formally. All’s fair in journalism, of course, but I’m sorry for the way it became personal.”

  “No harm done. But I am curious,” said Bruce. “What made you think there was even corruption to search out in the first place?”

  “At the risk of embarrassing myself and the entire company… It was a clerical error. We had a guy digging through business accounts to search for anything suspicious, and apparently he reported to Mr. Weinstead that your business was claiming unsustainably high expenses. He said it was a clear sign of tax fraud. Turned out he was looking at your expenses for 2017 and your reported gross income for 2014. Don’t ask me how he managed that degree of fuck up, but he’s been relieved of his job for the carelessness.”

  “That was it?” I asked. I’d tried to dig the reason for the suspicion out of Hank a few times without any luck.

  “That was it,” sighed Hank. “Mr. Weinstead just admitted it to me a couple weeks ago, and only because he wanted me to fire the poor kid who made the mistake. I insisted on having a reason so I wasn’t just cutting the kid loose in cold blood, and there it was.”

  “Well,” said Bruce. “I can’t pretend to be upset. It was a mistake that landed Natasha in my lap.” He paused after he spoke and I could’ve sworn I saw his cheeks start to turn red. “Poor choice of words,” he said after clearing his throat. “I’m just glad it happened the way it did.”

  I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” grunted Hank. “Very sweet.”

  “Now kiss,” whispered Candace, who was standing uncomfortably close.

  We both gave her a strange look, and she took a step back. “It was just a suggestion. Geez.”

  20

  Epilogue - Bruce

  Four Months Later

  Natasha squeezed my hand and gave me an encouraging smile. I’d never felt so nervous in my life. Not before I asked Natasha to move in with me. Not before I bought the engagement ring I was still holding for the righ
t moment with her.

  This trumped it all.

  Valerie had gotten two DUI's in as many months, and child protective services started an investigation on her that turned up several other red flags. Valerie had cocaine in the house, and she'd also apparently developed a dependency on heavy-duty painkillers after her last round of plastic surgery. Essentially, CPS had proved she was highly neglectful and managed to prove it in court, which meant Caitlyn was being removed from her care. Valerie had a boyfriend, but he wanted nothing to do with custody of Caitlyn, and even if he did, the court would've been reluctant to hand her over to someone who would keep her in the same neglectful environment. Valerie's parents didn't want her, either.

  Legally speaking, I hardly had any more right to adopt Caitlyn than Joe Schmoe off the street, but I had made sure to take all the proper steps to get myself in the front of the line. It helped that Caitlyn had signed a written statement saying she’d like to be adopted by me as a foster child. It also helped that I had the financial means to support her, as well as a clean record.

  All that being said, waiting to get word back on whether the situation would be allowed or not had been a nail-biting experience. I would absolutely adopt her whenever the day came that the court decided to completely strip Valerie of her legal right to provide for Caitlyn. I would’ve liked to think there was a distant chance of Valerie reforming and coming back to be the mother Caitlyn deserved, but somehow I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  Today was the day we took her home.

  A car pulled up outside my building exactly at the time they said it would. The driver got out to open Caitlyn’s door. I thought she might have mixed feelings, given the circumstances, but her face instantly split into a smile when she saw me.