8. Skylar
8
SKYLAR
I didn’t know what I was expecting, having Kit come with me to look at this car. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to extend the test drive so he could check out the responsiveness. Nor did I think he’d crack open the hood or crawl around under the damned thing. He noted every minor scratch, and even though the doors look fine to me, he pointed out a tiny dent he felt should reflect a lower price.
The guy selling it to me wasn’t super thrilled with Kit’s eagle eye, but when I came back with the cashier’s check, he handed me the title with a grin. “You’ve got a good man there. Your boyfriend’s awfully protective.”
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, looking over at Kit. Who was looking over at us with his arms crossed over his chest.
“He’s straight,” I answered automatically.
“Sure he is,” the guy said, then stepped a bit closer to me. Kit scowled.
“He . . . might be a little confused,” I finally admitted.
“Well, if he’s not your boyfriend, and he’s a little confused, send him my way. I’d love to help him figure it out.”
A disgruntled sound came from the back of my throat, and the guy’s eyes shot wide open. He held up his hands. “No offense meant.”
“Thanks,” I said, snatching the keys from his hands and turning back to my car.
“What did he say to you?” Kit asked, pinning the man with a glare.
“Oh, nothing,” I lied. “You wanna follow me out to Salt Lick?”
Kit ripped his eyes from the previous owner. “I love me some Salt Lick. Race you there.”
“You’re on.”
I jingled my keys at him before taking off at a dead sprint for my pretty sky-blue Ford. I was definitely going to hafta figure out a name for her, something I hadn’t even considered for the Porsche. Jumping in, I punched the start button and giggled as the engine roared to life. I’d miss the speed of the Porsche, but this was higher up and had space in the back to store a massage table along with all the things I’d need to make my new venture work. This car, plus the extra money in the bank, felt like freedom.
Prior to the sugar baby lifestyle, I’d been rich. Well, my parents were rich, and they’d cut me off ‘due to my sinful lifestyle.’ I had to sell some of my nicer things and work multiple odd jobs to put myself through college, but I did it because fuck them. Pathetically, I spent my scant free time window shopping, salivating over luxury items I could no longer afford.
One random Saturday, an older gentleman passed me as I eyed the expensive bag I’d been stalking for months.
“I’ll buy you that bag, sweetheart, if you accompany me to this boring work event.”
I didn’t believe him at first, of course, but then he actually bought the bag and gave it to me.
“You know I’ll need the right clothes to accompany you.”
“Then let’s go shopping.”
I blew off my pizza gig, spent the rest of the day being dressed and primped with his money, then had a mediocre time making him feel like the king of the world in front of his colleagues. We didn’t even kiss, but when I opened the bag the next morning, it was stuffed with cash. And just like that, my future was set.
It’d seemed like easy money at the time. I’d considered quitting college, but one of my professors convinced me to stay the course. I never did more than PRN—substituting in for sick ortho professionals as needed—but in this moment I was glad I’d listened to my professor and had kept up with my license.
I may have been late to the party, but I was finally done with feeding into the delusion that I’d have my Pretty Woman moment, that one of those fancy rich guys would find me irresistible and beg to wife me up. As it happened, most of them had already wifed someone up and I was the expensive arm candy to make their friends jealous. Good money and gifts if you can compartmentalize that shit, but I never could.
Honestly, I couldn’t explain why I let it go on as much as I had.
Well, that’s not true. Any therapist worth their salt could tell you this had mommy and daddy issues all over it. The less said about it, the better.
Instead, I focused on the road in front of me. The view from here was way better.
Despite the weekend traffic, we made it out to the restaurant in decent time. The back lot was crammed full of cars, but we found two spots close to one another. Before I could gather my things, Kit was at the door, opening it for me. He held out his hand, and I took it, electricity shooting up my arm at the work-rough texture against my soft palm.
“I can exit my car without assistance, Kit,” I said as I let him help me out. “I’m not a damsel in distress, you know.”
He gave me one of his rare half-smiles. “I do know that. Just felt like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Ah, jeez, cowboy.
“Well, then, thank you.”
Not many people know this, but when the Salt Lick has a huge waitlist, you can order the food to go and eat it out on their patio. So, we placed our order, staked out a small picnic table under a pair of massive oak trees, and enjoyed the good weather while we waited for our food.
Even with the loud chatter of people around us, it felt like we were the only two out here. Whenever I’d go out to eat with a sugar daddy, I was never the focus. There were always business associates, or even if we were on our own, the phone was always on the table, perpetually buzzing, its notifications always taking priority over my presence. Kit had several businesses on his books, but his phone stayed in his pocket the entire time.
If he didn’t stop being so considerate, I was going to do something foolish. Like revisit the kiss he’d given me when he was drunk on mezcal and pain.
Down, boy.
Rowdy would remind me that consideration is the bare minimum, but Kit was far more than simply considerate. From what I knew of his relationship with his ex, and now with their son, I realized he was a still waters run deep kind of man. I had so many questions about that kiss and our hallway interaction, but I didn’t dare ask them.
Thankfully, he quickly steered our conversation to the topic of planning and growing my business. Rather than trying to impress me with his acumen, he emphasized the simple, boring things he did on a consistent basis to keep his accounts running in the right direction. I was super grateful for the thoughtful questions he asked. We agreed to let me think through and write down everything I thought I’d need to make my business sustainable, then go over that list together.
Since I was a nurse practitioner with a specialty in orthopedics, job one was getting sponsored by an orthopedic doctor in the area. The ortho who ran the clinic I currently PRN’d for seemed to like me, so I was going to ask her first.
“You look nervous,” Kit observed as he returned with our food.
“I’m a little worried she’ll think I’m stupid for trying to do this.”
His brows met in the middle as we opened up the various containers of smoked meats and sides. “You can’t go in with that attitude, Sky. Never assume it’s not a good idea, especially when it fills a glaring need such as this one.” He speared a piece of brisket with his plastic fork, gesturing at me with it. “Approach her with confidence in your choice, and she’ll follow suit. Even if she doesn’t want to sponsor you, I bet you anything she will point you in the right direction.”
“You think?”
He chewed thoughtfully on his brisket before continuing. “Not if you go in there doubting yourself. If you aren’t convinced this is a great idea, then not only will she say no, she’ll hesitate to send you to her friends who could be interested in your idea.”
I grimaced, picking at the always delicious German-style potato salad. “The thing that’s fucking me up is, now that I’ve thought it through, I actually kinda want it to work out.”
“Well, that’s a pretty big change from when I first suggested it,” he said, clearly happy with himself.
Smiling, I threw a balled-up napkin at him. “Shut up. Obviously, I think it’s a good idea because I’m here talking to you.” The smug twist of his lips turned to something that looked more like pride, and I ducked my chin, happy we’d somehow become friends who could tease each other. “Anyway, it’s technically your idea.”
He shook his head as he ripped off a length of paper towel to wipe his mouth. “No. I was drunk and talking out my ass with no clue what it’d involve.” He reached out and gripped my hand. “You’re the one who has to do all the follow through.”
I tried to ignore how much I loved his hands on me, but it was a lost cause.
This man has no idea what he’s doing to me.
I let out a long breath, refocusing on the conversation at hand as I glanced to the back parking lot, where my pretty Bronco stood out among the ranch trucks and family vehicles. I’d already taken a big step.
Maybe the rest of it wouldn’t be so bad.
“Are you kidding me? This has been an issue for years ,” Dr. Kleinfeld said, her eyes lighting up. “I love the idea of you going out there. Not only do these stubborn-ass motherfuckers need it, I’m kind of digging the idea that they’ll happily accept help from a queer guy.”
Dr. K was bisexual, but married to a guy, so we had lots of conversations about what it meant to be queer, queer passing, and queer hidden.
“How worried should I be about getting shot for being gay?”
She sat back in her chair, tapping her nose. “I want to say you have nothing to worry about because I grew up in the Hill Country, and most of these folks are happy to live and let live folks.”
“You want to say it, but I hear a but coming.”
She steepled her fingers, her expression thoughtful. “I hate to say it, but you might do well to hold back on the full glam until you get a rotation of people you’re safe and comfortable with. Not because I think it’s wrong, I just . . . We’re talking about your safety here.”
I drummed my fingers on her desk, thinking through her words. “I have friends out there I can be myself around, so if I need to tone it down during business hours, it won’t be like I’m stifling myself twenty-four-seven.”
I liked what she had to say, though, about me representing queer folks out there. Especially for the kids, who might have never seen a gay guy on their property, ever. Maybe Rowdy had managed to be a good influence on me after all.
She reached for her phone, a smile returning to her face. “I have a few people to get you started with, but I don’t think it’ll take long for word-of-mouth. The ranchers won’t be happy when their wives start booking appointments for them, but they know more than anyone else how much pain those ornery bastards are in.”
Thinking about Kit’s stubborn ass, I responded, “I’m still a little worried about getting them to come in for imaging.”
“Why do you think I try to double book my clients with imaging and their office visit on the same day? If they only have to come downtown once, I have a better shot of moving them in the right direction. And, since you’ve got the qualifications, you can have the direct conversation with the radiologist and handle it for them from soup to nuts.”
“But I can still call you in if I need your help, right?” I asked, anxiety constricting my throat.
“Of course. We’ll meet once a month, and we’ll figure it out. Things are a little different from when I first started my business, but I’m absolutely certain I can help you with the details.”
“Thank you. Some of my friends are pretty sharp, business-wise, so I think between you and them, I’ll be able to do it.”
Dr. K agreed, then let me drag her out to the parking lot to ooh and awww over my Bronco, whom I’d decided to name Betsy. “Pretty, isn’t she?”
“She’s perfect.”
Dr. Kleinfeld then turned and gave me a huge hug. “This, more than anything else, tells me how serious you are. I know you had a lot of fun with the other thing you were doing, but I’ve never seen you look this lit up talking about anything.”
I pulled away from the hug and wiped away a few stray tears. “Thanks for saying that. I’m looking forward to starting a new chapter.”
“Me too. I can’t wait to see where you go with it.”