Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  “I picked it up from my favorite ex-stepfather.”

  “Favorite? That implies there was more than one, right?”

  “Correct.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like everyone has a bunch of ex-stepfathers. “My mom, uh, she’s big into rushing into marriage and then driving men away. It’s kind of her specialty.”

  I wince. “Sorry.”

  She waves a hand. “It’s fine. I had a lot of time to adjust to it since it happened my entire life. You just get used to the rotating husbands. She even married one guy twice. Poor bastard didn’t learn his lesson the first time.”

  Her words cause my lips to pull down. It’s so…sad. And she’s saying it like it’s so…normal.

  I wish I’d known her when I was younger. Maybe we could have been friends. I could have been there to help her.

  “Stop looking at me like that, Porter.”

  I clear my throat. “Like what?”

  “Like you feel sorry for me. You don’t see me moping around, do you?” I shake my head. “Exactly. I’m not letting my upbringing dictate the rest of my life. I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I can now. That’s why I’m working so hard, so I can make something of my life I’m actually proud of. It’s why I want to go into social work. I want to give kids the help I never got. But you know that from my letter.”

  It takes everything I have in my body to keep from jumping across this table and kissing her.

  She’s so fucking strong. So brave. So smart and beautiful and admirable and everything I want as a role model for my daughter.

  A waitress appears at the end of our table, saving me from making the leap to Dory. She’s holding our milkshakes.

  “Hey, I’m just dropping these off for your waiter. We have two shakes. Chocolate for… Oooh. Let me guess, let me guess,” she says, clicking her tongue. “I’m guessing chocolate for the lady and strawberry for the gentleman.”

  Dory scrunches her nose, and the waitress laughs.

  “All right. Guess I got it wrong.” She sets them down in front of us. “The rest of your order will be out shortly. Extra ranch.” She winks and then hurries off.

  Dory sits forward, tucking her long hair behind her ears. Her lips wrap around the straw, and I wish it were my cock they were wrapping around.

  I have to clear my throat to cover the audible groan that escapes my lips.

  I see the way her lips twitch. She noticed.

  “What’s with all the old, oversized band tees?” I ask, seeking a distraction.

  She finishes her long pull and sits back. “They were my father’s.”

  My brows rise. “Were? Did your dad bail on you too?”

  “He died when I was two.”

  I wince. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dory.”

  She ignores me. “What do you mean ‘too’? Is that what happened to you?”

  I nod. “Yeah. He, uh, he wasn’t quite what my mom was hoping he’d be after his time in the Marines. He was dark…mean. And he had quite the drinking problem. My mom threatened to leave so many times, and I guess he just got tired of her empty threats and left himself.” I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “I didn’t talk to him for a really long time. We just reconnected a couple years ago, actually.”

  “Shit, Porter.” She reaches across the table, her hand landing on top of mine. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Eh. Water under the bridge, right? I mean, at least he’s still alive.”

  “True. What happened to you and your mom afterward?”

  I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “She packed us up and moved us to California so she could ‘live her Hollywood dreams.’ Except she couldn’t bother getting out of bed on time for rehearsals, couldn’t put the bottle down long enough to pull her shit together. We lived in this crappy one-bedroom apartment for a really long damn time and scraped by. I got mixed up with the wrong crowd, mostly petty theft at grocery stores so I could eat something other than noodles and peanut butter sandwiches. I guess I became a bit of a hoodlum out of spite. But I mean, my family was broken, and my mom wasn’t doing anything to try to fix any of it, ya know? I was so angry at the world.”

  She squeezes my hand, and I realize our fingers are now interlocked.

  When did I do that? And why does it feel so right?

  “How’d you get to where you are now? Sounds like a far cry from where you came from.”

  “A lot of hard fucking work.” I smile fondly. “Honestly, though, I wouldn’t be where I am without my high school guidance counselor. She sat my ass down and straightened me out real quick. I was in there because I’d been caught hacking into the school’s system and changing grades for a few classes. She’s the one who suggested I make a career out of something with computers and set me down the path for community college.”

  “And then you busted your ass through that, got your degree, and started a billion-dollar company?”

  “Billion?” I grin. “Not yet.”

  She laughs. “But essentially, right?”

  I nod, chancing a glance at where our hands are still joined, hoping she doesn’t notice and pull away. I don’t want to stop touching her yet.

  “Basically. I was really good at my job, but I didn’t make the cut when the company downsized. I was forced out on my own and built what I have now.”

  She smiles brightly, like she’s proud of me.

  My chest tightens, and so does my hand when she tries to pull hers away.

  She doesn’t fight me.

  “I’m happy for you, Porter. That’s a huge accomplishment.”

  “Thank you,” I say, genuinely grateful for her words. “Honestly, my guidance counselor is why my assistant even kept your application. She almost tossed it because of you not meeting the age requirement, but then she read your letter and knew I’d connect with it.”

  Dory blushes, her eyes dropping to our joined hands. “I’m glad I wrote it, then.”

  “Me too.”

  We’re quiet for a bit, just sitting here enjoying each other’s company.

  “I’m old enough now.”

  Her voice is low, hushed. Like she’s embarrassed or something.

  “I know.” I lean across the table, lifting our joined hands, and place a small kiss across her knuckles. “Happy birthday, Dory.”

  Her breath catches, and I like the way it sounds.

  “Here we go—” The waiter stands at the end of the table, a tray full of food in hand. “Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Our hands drift apart, and I miss the contact already.

  Our regular waiter distributes the insane amount of food I ordered—with extra ranch—and leaves us to enjoy.

  We tuck into our meal.

  “What the hell is cheese stick pizza?” Dory asks, looking at my slices incredulously.

  “It’s exactly what it sounds like: cheese pizza with mini cheese sticks on top.”

  She wrinkles her nose.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I say. “No knocking it until you try it.” I hold my slice out for her to take a bite. “Try it.”

  “Are you sure it’s good?”

  “No, I just ordered two slices for shits and giggles.”

  “Sounds like a waste of money to me,” she smarts off right back.

  “Try it,” I urge.

  She rolls her eyes but takes a tentative bite. As soon as the flavors explode on her tongue, her eyes widen and she sits back, groaning. “Holy shit. That’s… That’s… Wow.”

  “Right?”

  “Can we trade?”

  I know she’s joking, but I do it anyway, swapping one of her slices of pepperoni for my own.

  “Porter! I was kidding.”

  “Just say ‘Thank you, Porter’ and enjoy.”

  “Thank you, Porter—and enjoy.” She grins around the pizza she’s already stuffing in her mouth.

  “Smartass.”

  “Well fucking well, what the shit do we have here?”

  I slide my e
yes to the end of the table.

  “Drew!”

  Dory says her name like she’s been caught doing something wrong.

  Which is really dumb because we’re grown adults. We’re allowed to have dinner together and not have it end with sex.

  I wish.

  I knock those thoughts out of my head.

  Stay on your side of the line, I remind myself.

  “Winston.” I nod at him. “I’d shake your hand but…” I hold mine up, wiggling my greasy fingers his way. I grin at baby Riker. “Hey there, buddy.”

  He pushes his face into his mom’s neck, hiding from me.

  “Always the gentleman,” Winston mocks, referring to when I flew out here for my birthday, and even though I was drunk off my ass, I still insisted on holding the door for everyone and paying.

  “Foster and Wren said you’re nannying for Porter now,” Drew says to Dory. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve the steady job and break.”

  Dory beams at her. “Thank you for throwing my hat into the ring last year. I think that’s a huge part of why I was able to even get the interview.”

  She doesn’t mention she never interviewed.

  Then we’d have to explain how we met each other.

  “It’s no problem. Although Riker does miss his Doris, I’ll allow it.” Drew winks and then shifts her gaze my way. “Besides, I’m sure Porter is paying you way more than I ever could.”

  Doris pinches her fingers together. “Just a smidge.”

  “What are you two up to tonight? Where’s Kyrie?”

  “With Foster and Wren,” I tell Winston. “She wanted to recreate their tea party from a couple weekends ago and I wasn’t going to argue about a night off.”

  Winston looks to Drew. “Shit, babe, maybe we can drop Riker off too. I have a new position I’d like to try out and I’d rather not get interrupted by the ginger goblin again.”

  “Ginger angel,” Drew corrects him, kissing Riker’s head. “But that doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.”

  I laugh because I can see the plan brewing between them now. Everyone is about to have a night off except Foster and Wren, and Wren’s damn heart is so big, she’d take Riker in a heartbeat.

  We should all be ashamed of ourselves, but…nah.

  “So, are you guys just out enjoying a night off, then?” Drew says, still hung up on figuring out what we’re doing together.

  I give her a look, and she gives me what she thinks is an innocent grin.

  Meddler.

  “Actually, we’re here celebrating—”

  “A new deal!” Dory interrupts. “Porter signed a new deal today.”

  I look over at her, and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

  She doesn’t want people to know it’s her birthday—noted.

  “Well, it’s not official just yet, but we’re signing next week.”

  “And the multimillionaire becomes the billionaire.” Winston grins. “I can’t wait to see what you buy me next year on your birthday.”

  Drunk Porter is also very free with his money. He doesn’t like receiving gifts, but he loves giving them. Which is why he bought all his friends a slew of really dumb shit last year, like matching silk pajamas they all wore on Christmas morning and fancy figurines of their animal counterparts, each decorated with hand-set Swarovski crystals. The cheapest one cost me five grand, and I’m fairly certain Foster’s using his squid as a paperweight. They’re stupid and tacky, but I know all the guys secretly love them.

  We’ve all grown tight over the last year I’ve known them, like family. Even when I was still living in California, they’d check in frequently. It was like the moment Foster introduced me to them, I became part of their little group. Knowing they have my back was a big part of why I decided to go ahead with this experimental move out here.

  “Well, we’ll let you get back to your celebration.” Drew turns to Doris. “Let’s get lunch together sometime. We can do a little playdate with Kyrie. She loves Riker, and we can catch up. I don’t miss our old apartment building, but I do miss having you so close.”

  Dory grins. “That sounds good.”

  We tell them bye and return to our meal.

  “I—”

  “Why—”

  She laughs nervously. “Sorry, you go first.”

  “Why don’t you want them to know it’s your birthday?”

  Dory lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. I just…” She glances up at me shyly. “They’d want to stay.”

  And I don’t want them to.

  It’s unsaid but heard loud and clear.

  I give her a single nod. “Okay.”

  We chew our food for a bit, enjoying the quiet.

  “So, before I showed up, what were you planning to do here all night?” I nod toward the book that’s been moved to the end of the table. “Read my favorite book?”

  “The Outsiders is your favorite?”

  “Why do you sound surprised?” I lean forward. “Did you not think I know how to read?”

  She laughs. “No, no. I don’t know.” She waves a hand. “I just thought you read like…you know…boring stuff.”

  “Because I’m old?”

  Another burst of laughter.

  God, I love seeing her laugh.

  “No, Porter, not because you’re old. But you are, just for the record.”

  “I’m not that much older than you, Dory.”

  “No, you’re not. But you feel years away.”

  “Why?”

  She stabs a fry into the cheese. “Because you’re so…sophisticated. You have your life together.”

  “If you only knew.” I shake my head, cramming more carbs into my mouth.

  She frowns. “Then tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like knowing you.”

  I like knowing you too.

  I chase the large bite with another pull off my melting milkshake, then wipe my mouth and sit back.

  I sigh. “I struggle, Dory. A lot. Every single day. I have a lot of anger inside me because everyone leaves me and it’s hard to cope with, but I do it for my daughter. I push through and get the job done and provide for her like no one has ever provided for me before. But it’s not easy. I might seem carefree sometimes, but I’m not. You never know when the rug can get pulled out from under you, and I never take any of this for granted.”

  She stares at me, eyes full of…something.

  I don’t know what, but I like it when she looks at me like this.

  Like I’m important to her.

  “You were right,” she says suddenly. “I was going to just sit here and read. I like to come here, not just for the cheapness of it, but also because I like listening. There’s always such an interesting crowd here, so I eavesdrop. It makes me feel like my life is interesting.”

  I don’t know whether to smile or frown. “That’s sad, but also sweet.”

  She shrugs. “Just being honest. Besides, I’m kind of invested in a certain couple who frequents the place. They’re older and the woman is always coloring her hair the craziest of shades. Her husband wears a bunch of band tees and we always end up talking music. They’re so fun and vibrant. I get a little jealous of them sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re free. They’re living, not just coasting.”

  I don’t have to ask to know she’s talking about herself.

  “The Outsiders is my favorite too,” she says quietly.

  I’m not surprised by this at all. Just like me, she can relate to the characters and their struggles. It’s what drew me to the book as a kid and what kept me coming back.

  Only I think Dory might connect with it a little more than me. Given her mom’s history and the ever-revolving door of stepdads, I’d guess she sank herself into the Frost poem and believes nothing good can last forever.

  Maybe I can help prove that wrong.

  Tossing my napkin down onto my plate, I push it away. “I’m stuffed.”
/>
  “Me too.”

  I watch her lean back in the booth, patting her flat stomach. “I don’t remember the last time I ate that much.”

  “I do. It was Wednesday when you finished off my pancakes when I wouldn’t eat any more.”

  Her cheeks redden. “You can’t waste something that good, Porter. It’s a sin. Or should I say, a transgression.”

  I roll my eyes, ignoring her jab. “So, Dory, what do you want to do for your birthday? Twenty-one, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any special requests?”

  “I think…”

  She wets her lips, rubbing her hands on her bare thighs. Her soft, silky bare thighs…the ones that fit so perfectly around me…

  Pull it together, Porter.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Huh?” I say, pulling my attention back to her face and not her legs. “Sorry, it’s loud in here. Gotta speak up.”

  I’m lying, and she knows it. She stashes that knowledge away for later.

  “I said, I think I want to get drunk.”

  I should say no. I should tell her it’s an absolutely terrible idea and there’s nothing good at all that could come from a drunk Porter and Doris.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue…

  “Let’s do it.”

  Slice Ten

  Doris

  I can’t believe I said what I did.

  Even more, I can’t believe he agreed.

  But here we are, back at his house.

  “If we’re going to drink, we need to do it at home.”

  Home.

  That meant his house. The one we now share.

  Why did I ask for this again?

  After stopping for a beer in the kitchen—because Porter insisted he’s not mixing beer and liquor tonight—he leads me upstairs to his office. It’s the one part of the house I haven’t yet been in. It feels wrong to intrude on his space, so I stay away.

  It surprises me when my toes sink into carpet—the rest of the house has wood flooring.

  When I ask him about it, he shrugs. “It just feels good on my feet when I’m spending the day sitting on my ass. I like the comfort of it.”

  Fair enough.

  I glance around the room and instantly curse myself for never making the trek up here.

  I don’t care if it’s his personal space or not. That view is worth the risk of him finding out I’ve been up here.