Chapter 9 Letty
LETTY
Why do the weekends always seem to fly by when the work week goes by at a snail’s pace?
Especially with only having one full day off, when all you want to do is laze around all day.
That’s been my question on repeat since I woke up this morning.
Last night at Twisted Oak was a doozy, busier than normal, a rowdier crowd, and most of us were looking at the clock any chance we got to hurry the time away.
It didn’t help that a few customers decided to stay through last call, took their sweet time settling the bill, and made snide remarks about our establishment closing at one o’clock instead of two.
Sorry, dude, this is Whispering Oaks. You’re lucky we have a twenty-four-hour gas station.
If he wanted the city life, then maybe he should have kept moving along.
I’d had that lifestyle, in the rich and poor side of town.
I’d keep the latter any day of the week in order to still have my mom around.
I fling the sheet and quilt off my body, and the brisk coolness in the room hits my skin and causes me to shiver.
My hibernation period needs to come to an end.
Today is the last day before my roommates are back home, which means I can hammer out laundry, clean up my bedroom, get some grocery shopping done, albeit very minimal given the rent hike, and even straighten up the living areas.
I’m starting my morning stretches, pointing my toes, rolling my ankles, lifting my arms above my head, and then rotating my neck, when my phone dances across the wooden nightstand, alerting me that I’m receiving some type of notification.
As much as I’d like to ignore it and go about my day, I don’t.
There are too many variables left unknown, and while last night, I didn’t get that tingling sensation, allowing myself to get lost in a world where my past won’t meet my future isn’t a realistic thought.
Then again, what happened with Matthew Friday night and again in the early hours of this morning isn’t helping matters, either.
When I came home, I showered, bypassed wine or food, and chose my bed for comfort.
It was then that I noticed Matthew had texted, so I replied.
One thing led to another, and I decided to make the phone call this time around, which turned into another round of phone sex.
When he guided me again to slipping two fingers inside of my wet depths this time, Matthew was vocal about not going too deep.
That’s for him and only him. I agreed willingly.
I also needed zero coaching when calling him daddy as I orgasmed even harder than the night before.
My thighs close, and I shuffle back and forth, remembering every single moment, especially when Matthew groaned my name unashamedly.
I roll over to my stomach, slithering closer to the edge, and reach for my phone.
At this point, there’s only a handful of people who could be trying to reach me: my roomies, Matthew, Ophelia, or someone at Twisted Oak, the latter of which I’ll be refusing, especially if they need me to work a shift. I’m too tired and have too much to do.
My hand wraps around the cold rubber phone case, which I splurged on in order to save it from being damaged.
I’m on a month-to-month pay-as-you-go plan, which also means you buy the phone outright, and it’s a whack of change from your wallet.
You also don’t get the option of adding insurance, meaning if the screen cracks or anything else happens, you’re shit out of luck and have to buy a whole new phone. No, thank you.
The screen is so bright that it makes me close one eye, which negates the facial recognition completely. I type in my six-digit passcode and finally see the alert. A smile crosses my face, and I kick my feet in excitement, giggling like a teenager with her first crush.
Matthew: Good morning, kitten. I hope you slept well.
The timestamp shows the message was sent an hour ago, and while I’m most excited about his text, it also means there’s something else I’m missing.
Me: Good morning, Daddy. I slept great. Did you?
I send a quick response, back out of the thread, and look for the reason my phone decided to vibrate.
There aren’t any other texts or missed calls, and my e-mails are always silenced.
Maybe it’s a reminder for how many days I have left to finish an audiobook before it’s returned.
With that out of the way, I crawl out of bed, sliding off the mattress on my stomach, stretching more of my tired muscles and using my hands to guide me until my knees leave the mattress.
I pull them to my chest, moving until I’m sitting on my ass, and cross my legs.
I’d like to say I’m this healthy person who eats right, consistently works out, or exercises in some sort of way, except I’m not.
My work keeps me moving, and stretching is about the one thing I can manage with the limited time I have.
Once I’m done going through the paces to work some of the kinks and knots out of my body, I stand up.
This room isn’t going to clean itself, that’s for sure.
I snag my phone off the bed, pull up the music app, and choose a station that reminds me of my mom—a nineties pop alternative playlist—put the volume to max, and start picking up the clothes that are piled in different areas on the floor.
I go through my tasks one by one, doing laundry, dusting my room and the living area, running the vacuum, swapping clothes from the washer to the dryer, starting another load, and then working through the kitchen.
Hours later, with a different playlist bouncing off the walls and my chores successfully done, I’m hopping in the shower before I do one last chore: the dreaded grocery shopping.
I don’t need a lot, just some yogurt, fruit, bread, and the like.
If I happen to be home for dinner while the girls are cooking and they offer a plate, I make sure to slip some money into the communal cookie jar.
One day, I hope to eventually be able to do the same for them.
First, I need to shower, dress in clothes that aren’t pajamas, and wrap up a few small things.
All of a sudden, the world doesn’t feel like it’s closing in on me, there’s a lightness to my soul.
Maybe it’s Matthew, along with the copious amounts of orgasms, or maybe I’m learning to let go of the things I can’t control.
Hours and more money than I wanted to spend later, I walk out to my car, hands full of reusable bags.
Not only do they help with the environment, but saving money off my bill, even if it’s a dollar, is a win in my book.
The weather outside is warm, the sun is shining, but the breeze that floats across the air makes it so it’s not unbearable.
Then again, the humidity here in Florida isn’t nearly as high as normal this week.
I keep my eyes peeled like usual while moving along with my day, saying hello to others, a nod here or there. Some, I’ve seen around town a time or two, others I know from Twisted Oak. Everyone’s cordial, unlike the douche canoes from last night, and I hope they never come back.
“How the hell?” My eyes are in utter disbelief when I make it to my car.
Just when I thought things were heading in the right direction, this shit happens.
I unlock the door to my car, toss my bags in the passenger seat, and walk around the entirety of the silver sedan.
I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open when I count not one, not two, but three tires sitting on their rims.
I’m half-tempted to walk back into the grocery. There’s no way someone didn’t intentionally do this. One tire, sure, maybe even two, but this is too much of a coincidence.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly pull up the Leasie Geesies thread.
Me: Hey, are either of you back at the apartment by chance?
Neither of them answers right away, which, honestly, I didn’t expect them to. It’s very rare for me to be the first to reach out, plus Mischa is with her boyfriend, and Liv is with her parents.
I chew on my bottom lip, going back and forth about what to do next.
Ophelia would probably answer, maybe, it is Sunday, after all.
She has two children, and damn it, now that I think about calling her, it leaves me just as fast as it came.
Which means I have one last option: Matthew.
A few swipes of my fingers, and I’m putting the phone to my ear.
“Please pick up, please,” I utter the plea as the ringing continues on the other end of the line.
My only other option is to order a car, drop my food off at the apartment, call a tow truck to the nearest mechanic shop, and go from there.
This is going to set me back a lot either way, but adding a ride share to the mix will be even more.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise, kitten.” Even through the mess of my life, his voice has the power to make my heart flutter in excitement.
“Hi, I wish it were for something exciting, and I’m truly sorry to bother you, but can you possibly pick me up from The Oaks?” I feel like the biggest nuisance.
“Yeah, not a problem. Is everything okay?” he follows up with zero hesitation.
“I’m not sure, maybe. I came out of the store to find my car sitting sideways.
It’s weird, though, because I had no low-pressure light on and didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary while driving it.
” I don’t explain anything else, mostly because I’m at a loss for words.
It might also make words tumble from my lips, and my problems are mine.
If this thing between Matthew and me goes in the direction I’m certain it will, I don’t want to pummel him with problems right out of the gate.
“Sit tight. I’m actually near you. It won’t take me but ten minutes, if that. Do you want to stay on the phone with me, or are you okay?” God, he’s a lifesaver. I may be out more than a few hundred dollars, but saving money on a ride will help in the long run.
“I’m okay. It’ll give me time to figure out which tow company to hire and what shop is open on a Sunday to work on it.
” There’s no weird sensation surrounding me, plus it’s broad daylight.
Surely, nobody would be stupid enough to try something.
Then again, my tires going flat like this is kind of ballsy for someone to do, too.
“Letty, I can change a tire,” Matthew offers.
“If it were only one, I could, too,” I reply on a defeated breath.
“I’m on my way. You can use my tow service, and I’ll give Colt a call, he owes me a favor.”
“You don’t have to do all of that, promise. A ride is all I need.” Well, that’s not entirely the truth.
“Kitten, I want to do this, and I will do this. I’ll make a couple of calls and see you in a few minutes.” Matthew leaves no room for brokering.
“Thank you. I will pay you back, though.” How, I have no idea, but I’ll figure something out.
“You’re welcome. See you soon.” I can hear the keys clinking in the background, along with voices.
“See you soon.” We hang up, and I open the door to my car, move the bags to the floorboard, and take a seat.
Why does it seem like when anything good happens in my life, some bitch has to come in and screw it up?
God, the dark thoughts try to take hold, and if I’m not careful, I’ll end up staying in an unpleasant state of mind, which will do nobody, including myself, a lick of good.