Just the Tip (DTF (Dirty. Tough. Female) Book 4)

by Kat Addams

  “More than anything.” I turned my head toward the ceiling, fighting back the tears building in my eyes.

  I knew he was right. Best friends could be more, and often, it was those next-level friendships that turned into next-level relationships. I’d seen it in all those cliché romantic comedies I never would admit graced my TV screen during the lonely winter months.

  “She’s your raven. Duck. Goose. Squirrel. Whatever Mum would say that brought you happiness.”

  “I think Layla is a soft white rabbit. Cuddly, cute, always running late.” I smiled, taking my phone out to look at the pictures she’d sent earlier of her baby shower.

  “Some-bunny is in love!” Jay sang. His voice bounced around, echoing off the industrial walls of our silent bar.

  “And the dad jokes start!” I laughed. “Speaking of, are you and Rox okay? I can’t imagine going through what you two did. But be honest with me. Things okay? Enough about me. How are you?”

  “No, and yes. Rox and I are okay. We have as solid of a foundation as I could ever imagine. But losing our baby bird rocked both of us. We’re glad we have each other to lean on. And hopium. It’s not so bad of a drug when you have two fighting to carry the joys and the burdens. We have faith, hopium, divine intervention on our side. Seen it before, and we know we’ll see it again.” Jay finished his drink. His cheeks flushed pink.

  I’d heard Layla speak of Rox often. She’d told me how, out of everyone she admired, she looked up to Rox the most. Her best friend had weathered unimaginable storms and come out on the other side. I could say the same for my brother. I saw his struggles. The difference in him once he’d met Rox should have been motivation enough for me to get my arse in gear. And yet …

  I swallowed hard.

  I’d need time to think of an approach to tell the truth without hurting Layla, and even I wasn’t drunk enough to believe I’d somehow be able to get away with that. I decided to reach out and check on her anyway, saving the drama for another day.

  Me: Are you still awake?

  Layla: Yes. Barely.

  She texted me a picture of DTF gathered around a group of pillows and blankets on the floor. Bags of cookies, crisps, and bottles of beer were scattered around them. They’d all smiled for the picture, though I could see it in both Layla’s and Rox’s eyes that they’d been crying.

  Me: I want to apologize again for ruining your shower with that bit of terrible information.

  I squinted into my phone, double-checking that my drunk texts were in proper English.

  “Are you texting her, mate? You know you aren’t sober enough to be doing that, don’t you? Keep your lips sealed about your business until you aren’t falling over in your chair.” Jay wiped the counter with a dishrag and began to clean up the rest of the bar.

  “I’m not. I’m just making sure she’s all right.” I rested my head on my hand, staring at my screen and waiting on her reply.

  Layla: It’s not your fault. You didn’t ruin my baby shower, and you had no idea they were keeping that from me. Rox and I talked. We’re good. She’s okay. We’re getting through this. Why are you up so late?

  Me: Because I miss you.

  I deleted it and began again.

  Me: Because I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure things were okay with you and the baby.

  Layla: I’m fine. I’m keeping my head in the game. I have finals in three weeks. Then a small break before waddling back to school for my last semester. I don’t have time to think about not being fine. I’ve got a baby girl to raise.

  Me: And I’m with you every step of the way. Just let me know what you need.

  Layla: Thanks. I’m meeting with the pediatrician next week, but you don’t need to come to that. No ultrasounds or anything like that. Just a meeting. I’ve got it.

  I rubbed my eyes. I’d been down this road before. It seemed as if, now, she was the one pushing me away.

  Me: I’d love to come with you. Are you sure you don’t want me there?

  Layla: Some things I’m going to need to do alone anyway. It’s fine. You have to get on that new restaurant of yours! And I’ve got to get this degree. Let’s meet up soon though for baby talk. I want a name for this girl. I have some ideas. I can’t keep my eyes open though. I’ll have to look at my schedule in the morning.

  Me: Okay. Sleep well.

  I set my phone down and sighed.

  “Well? Are they doing all right over there? Rox texted earlier, and it seemed like they were having a good time. I heard a little sadness in her voice, but she has her girls. They’ll take care of her, just like they’ll take care of Layla,” Jay said.

  “Yeah. All good. They’re going to sleep now.” I rolled my shoulders, pushing back the nervousness I’d felt creep up my spine when Layla said that I didn’t need to be at the pediatrician appointment.

  “Jay, did you ever tell Rox about Monica?” I asked.

  “No. That’s your business. Why?” He closed the dishwasher, pressing the start button.

  “Just wondering if I needed to do damage control. She seemed a little distant. But it is over text. Maybe I misinterpreted.”

  “She’s tired, busy, and had a long day. She doesn’t know your past. But—”

  “I will. I will.” I threw my hands in the air, surrendering to a confession.

  “And soon, or she will really be distant.” He leaned on the countertop across from me, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I didn’t want to lose Layla. She deserved to know that this wasn’t my first experience with a pregnant girlfriend. Scratch that. Friend. And a true friend wouldn’t become upset with the truth. What was the worst that could happen?

  Layla and I texted briefly over the next few days. I knew she had to study for her exams, and I didn’t want to be the person who stood in the way of her degree. Besides, I told myself I had to get this new restaurant off the ground before our child arrived in the fall, which meant I only had a few short months until opening day. Jay helped me as much as he could, but his hands were full with Scarlett Herb.

  I reached out to my old bartender, Terrance—Betty’s soon-to-be husband—for a consult on my bar setup. The dining room design and layout came to me quickly, but I wanted the bar to be my crowning glory. This was, after all, a pub nearby a college, right smack dab in the middle of hipster/man-bun world. These students wanted sophistication on a budget and all wrapped up in an eco-friendly package.

  Terrance and I sketched out a few drawings that looked more like scribbled toddler art than something professional, but my contractor would understand the gist of it. I’d used him for a remodel on the other restaurant’s kitchen and restrooms, and he’d nailed the designs. With fixtures, furniture, and equipment ordered and my bar under construction, the only thing left for me to do besides wait was hiring. I didn’t need to start that yet though. I still had time.

  After Terrance left, I walked next door to the CBD shop and introduced myself to my new neighbors. The shop had been there only a few short months, according to my realtor. I hoped to ask them about the area and the building. Our row of businesses sat situated off the main road to the university. We were easily spotted from the street and had great parking in the back, and the eclectic, urban vibe from the brightly colored–painted brick certainly catered toward the younger crowd. Not to mention, I never had CBD in my life, and apparently, I’d been missing out. Customers continually flowed through their doors day and night. I waited until a customer finished checking out before making my way to the register.

  “Hello! I’m Aiden. I’m renting the space next door. Thought I’d come over and introduce myself.” I stuck out my hand, eyeing the jars of green stuff behind the cashier.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Chris, the owner. We’re still pretty new here too. Just moved in a few months ago,” Chris said, shaking my hand. “You’ve come a long way to open a restaurant. Is that an Australian accent I detect?”

  “It is. I’ve been here quite a while actually. I
own Scarlett Herb in Outer Forks, but I wanted to branch out on a new adventure into the city. So, here I am.”

  “Scarlett Herb! Never been there, but I’ve heard it’s nice. Very formal, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a bit on the fancy side. Not looking to do the same here. I want something more college-friendly but not ramen noodles and peanut butter. I’m working on that. I was hoping I could get the vibe of the place. Never been to a CBD shop before.”

  “I figured. Let me help you.”

  He came around the counter, motioning for me to follow him. We walked to a row of glass jars filled to the top with weed-looking green stuff.

  “Until we get cannabis legalized, this is the best we can do. But you can still get the calming effect from these without the paranoia some experience with THC.” He opened the lid to a jar and held it to my nose.

  “Mmm. THC. Ingredient in cannabis, correct? So, this is like weed but legal weed.” I sniffed the green leaves. It smelled like a ’90s concert I’d attended back in Australia.

  “Eh, kind of. Here. I’ll roll you a joint. You try it and tell me what you think. All these jars here are different strains. We also have salves, tinctures, and oils. But for an immediate effect, it is the good ol’ tokin’ the bud. What level do you want?” He set the jar back down and handed me a brochure.

  “Uh, I know nothing about this stuff. I guess … mid-level? Can these be baked in edibles? Like, say, mixed with a dessert?” I asked.

  “Already ahead of ya. How about this? You want to cater to FU? Offer an edible. Before dinner, after dinner—it doesn’t matter. The students love our stuff. We source from local farms in the surrounding areas. We’re big on supporting our community around here.” He walked to a jar on a higher shelf and pulled out a chunk of the plant. “I’m going to give you three strains. High, mid, low. Come back when you’ve smoked them and let me know what you think. I can show you how to put them in food.”

  “Edibles on the menu. Hmm. I think this is a brilliant idea. I’m not sure what to expect, but I’ll give it a try.” I gulped as I watched him meticulously roll three joints.

  “The fatter one is the high strain. The long, skinny one is low. And the middle is the middle. Enjoy.” He placed them in my palm.

  “Thank you.” I curled my fingers around the medicinal herbs and tucked his brochure into my back pocket.

  Maybe these herbs would calm me enough to get out the words I needed to speak to Layla. Whiskey helped, but that was a dangerous path to tread. Once I had enough whiskey, I sometimes began singing. I wasn’t sure why it happened. I guessed when I became drunk, I thought I was a rock star. I wasn’t. Jay always knew to cut me off when I cleared my throat and belted out those first few notes. Hopefully, CBD wouldn’t make me do that. Otherwise, I’d sing to Layla the old news that I should have told her long ago.

  Layla, baby, I had a baby, but I didn’t … so don’t kill me …

  I cringed, pushing back the thought of my inebriated confession.

  “Looking forward to doing business with you, Aiden! Can’t wait to see what you and I can come up with on the pot brownies!” He laughed. “I kid. I kid! Kind of.” He winked before I disappeared out the door.

  I left the restaurant and made it back to my place, tingling with nerves. Not only did I need to confess, but now, I also had a plan to be the guinea pig on edibles for my new place. I never did anything like that in my life. The closest I’d come to ingesting any mind-altering drugs was when I had eaten a bad mushroom once. I’d foraged fungi one day, thinking I was the ultimate go local guru. I wasn’t. I’d heard colors and seen sounds that day. I would never forget what the color blue sounded like. It wasn’t a serene sound at all, but more like that of a hippo fart. I’d left mushroom hunting to the experts ever since.

  When I arrived back home, I kicked off my shoes and ate a quick, frozen entree. After working in the kitchen all day at Scarlett Herb, the last thing I wanted to do was cook at home. I tried to relax in front of the TV, but Layla kept running through my mind. I wondered how the pediatrician appointment had gone and how she was feeling. I thought about reaching out, but smothering her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  I sighed, opened up my phone, and did what any bored male did when they were alone. I typed in my favorite porn site and pulled out ol’ Tom. I’d been so busy and out of it this week that I’d neglected him. Every morning, like clockwork, he stood at attention, waiting to be petted. But every morning, like clockwork, I told him I was too busy. Now, my body ached with a need that only grew, the more I thought about Layla.

  I flipped through the porn categories, landing on pregnancy fetishes. I’d never known I had a pregnancy fetish. But the way she had ridden me that last time left me fantasizing about her for days. And now, all I wanted was to imagine her on top of me again. I mentally swapped Layla’s face with the pregnant lady on the screen and got to work. I licked my lips, imagining the porn actress as Layla, grinding back and forth on top of me.

  Oh! Reverse cowgirl. How I’d love to slap Layla’s ass like that.

  I slowly pumped my fist up and down my cock, thinking of my baby’s mama bouncing on my lap. The way she’d felt that moment she first lowered herself on my dick had me seeing sounds and hearing colors again. She was the best kind of drug. Hopium.

  My cock pulsed in my palm, needing to release. I was almost over the edge when my phone rudely rang, interrupting me. Layla’s number popped up on my screen. I nearly jumped out of my seat, closing my browser before answering.

  “Layla. Hey!” I breathed heavily into the phone.

  “Mmm. Ooh yeah. Right there. Yes, Daddy. Yes. Give it to me. Do you like my big, prego belly? You knocked me up, didn’t you, baby?” the porn actress called out.

  My browser hadn’t closed.

  “Um, Aiden? What are you doing?” Layla asked.

  “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Make Mama squirt all over that cock,” the actress screamed.

  “I, uh … hang on.” I furiously punched the exit button on the browser, but the site was frozen.

  Poor Tom was up and down, up and down. If dicks could cry, mine would be wailing. He didn’t know if it was showtime or no time. My balls knew. They’d shriveled up so deeply into my body that I thought they would hibernate the rest of the year.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes, Daddy! Put that dick in my mouth. Come here. Is Daddy going to feed his naughty girl?”

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Let me call you right back.” I hung up quickly, restarting my phone.

  I wasn’t a tech person, but even I knew that shouldn’t have happened. I paced my living room, wondering how I’d handle that conversation, but then I realized that I’d already avoided enough truths with Layla. What was wrong with adding one more?

  I dialed Layla’s number.

  “Sorry. Hey, how are you?” I cringed, hoping she’d leave it alone.

  “I’m good. I’m guessing you are too. Sounded like it anyway,” she said.

  “Yep.” I cleared my throat, offering no explanation.

  “Right. Well, I was going to tell you about the pediatrician. Ask if you want to come over Saturday, and we can discuss her and the birth plan. Maybe grill out and hang by the pool. It’s been so damn hot out lately. I could use a swim. Sound fun to you?”

  “That sounds like a perfect day. I’ll get someone to cover my shift Saturday evening. I’ll do the grilling, and you do the chilling, little mama. Any requests? No chicken shawarma.” I walked over to my fridge and pulled out a beer.

  “Steak. A juicy, bloody steak. And that pee veggie.” She sighed.

  “Peas? Like English peas? Black-eyed peas?” I asked, plopping back down onto my couch and taking a long swig of my drink.

  “No. The one with the smelly pee. That long, skinny thing. I can’t think of the name. Damn pregnancy brain.”

  “Asparagus! You want a rare steak and asparagus. I can manage that. I’ll take care of it. And you.” My eyes shifted to the CBD joints on my kitchen tab
le. Saturday would be the perfect opportunity for me to try this supposed calming medicine and confess my past that still, at times, haunted me and held me back.

  “Yes. Stinky pee sticks and bloody meat. Saturday. I’d chat a bit, but I just finished class, and I’m exhausted. I need to sleep. I’ll see you Saturday though.”

  “That’s all right. You rest. I’ll see you Saturday. Good night, Layla.” I smiled into the phone. I had another date with my friend, and this time, I wouldn’t fuck it up.

  “Good night, Daddy. Can’t wait for you to feed your naughty girl on Saturday.” She laughed before hanging up.

  I bit my lip, wincing.

  Burn.

  Tom stirred at the sound of her giggle, but the mood had passed. I gently patted him and promised I’d take care of him another time—hopefully, Saturday.

  NINE

  Layla

  I stood in the shower, letting the water warm me before performing gymnastics to shave myself. The hair on my legs had grown ridiculously long, and no doubt, my muffin looked like a Chia Pet down there. I assumed it did anyway. It wasn’t like I could see my cooch over this watermelon baby bump I was sporting these days.

  I’d slid into the third trimester like a pro, all dumpy and weepy. Recently, nesting had hit me. I’d cleaned everything top to bottom in half of my house. By the time I’d reached the other half, that crazy pregnancy symptom had left. I’d thrown everything into closets and prayed for the next person who opened them.

  I grunted, hiking my leg up and propping it on the soap holder. With one hand, I grabbed the towel rack behind me, and with the other hand, I made crazy swiping motions across my vag, hoping to avoid a hack job. I was two minutes into shaving and out of breath already. I chucked the razor outside of the shower and gave up. Besides, I didn’t have a clue as to why I had been prepping down there for Aiden anyway.