Tilly 12.
I’m gonna hurt my brother. I haven’t decided how, but I know there will be pain. Possibly blood. Maybe a vital organ or two.
Tilly: Where are you?
Tybs: About that…
Three vital organs…and a testicle.
Tilly: You are supposed to be at the venue with me to meet the director of security for the charity.
Tybs: That is correct.
Tilly: But you aren’t here, and he will be arriving any minute.
Tybs: Also correct.
Tilly: You’re up to three organs and a testicle. You wanna lose the other one?
Tybs: You wouldn’t dare. You want to be an aunt too much to let anything happen to my family jewels.
Tilly: There’s always adoption.
Tybs: Look, I’m sorry. But there’s an emergency at the rec center.
Oh. Well, that’s a good excuse.
Tilly: Is anyone hurt? What happened?
Tybs: One of the backboards fell on someone. A minor concussion…probably.
He’s being vague. Darn it, Tybalt Mazekat.
Tilly: It fell on you, didn’t it?
Tybs: Maybe…
Tilly: You are a grown man…supposedly.
Tybs: It’s Gladys’ fault.
Tilly: Please, tell me, how the elderly woman who works the front desk is at fault for a basketball backboard detaching and falling on you…
Tybs: She bet me that I couldn’t dunk.
Looking up at the ceiling above me in the lobby of the event center where the gala is being held, I shake my head and sigh. It’s sometimes hard to imagine how he’s not only older than me but has managed to survive into his mid-thirties.
Tilly: You were boasting about your non-existent basketball skills, and she asked out of courtesy for you to show her.
Tybs: The bet was implied.
Tilly: And what was the wager?
Tybs: Pride.
Tilly: How’s that working out for you?
Tybs: Good. The EMT said I’m the first person they’ve ever treated for a backboard induced concussion.
Tilly: I’ll see you at home later. If the director of security isn’t a serial killer.
Tybs: Call Wilson.
The doors open, so I put my phone in my purse and put my game face on. Plastering on a smile, I extend my hand to the man entering. Around 6 feet tall, dark hair in a crew cut, black tailored suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, no tie, shiny dress shoes, dark sunglasses, and a detached expression. This man means business.
“Hello, I’m Matilda Mazekat, the coordinator for the charity gala.”
“Rawson.” That’s it. That’s all he says. Ok, then.
“Did you have a chance to walk the perimeter of the building?” He nods curtly. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around the inside.” I hand him a printout, “This is the floor plan for the event, including where the auction items will be housed.”
“Do you have a list of the items?”
I shake my head and begin down the short hallway into the main ballroom. “Not yet. Our donors are still working on their donations. I expect to start receiving them the Monday before the gala. I’d like to limit our liability by minimizing how long we are in possession of the items.” He grunts in what I assume is agreement or he could just have something in his throat, it’s hard to tell. I lead him through the entire venue, pointing out what’s happening where, he doesn’t jot down any notes, he doesn’t ask any questions, he just follows with a stony stoicism that is unnerving.
Back where we started, I turn to him, open my mouth, and promptly snap it shut. He’s already striding out of the building.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Uh…I pull out my cell and call the charity director, Matt. He answers cheerfully on the second ring. “Matt Michaels.”
“Hello, Matt, this is Tilly in Independence—”
“Tilly, my dear. How are you? Have you met with Dale Rawson?”
“I’m well, thank you. I just finished my meeting with Mr. Rawson…he’s a man of few words.”
“Huh. Not normally.”
“Maybe he’s having an off day. He said he’d be in touch…”
“I’ll check in with him later today. He’s worked for us for over a decade. If there is a problem, I’ll let you know, dear.”
“Thank you, Matt.”
“You’re very welcome. Not too long now.”
“No, it’s coming up fast. Only two weeks away.”
“You’ll save me a dance, young lady, won’t you?” I laugh softly at his sweetness.
“Absolutely, Matt. As many dances as you’d like.”
“Maybe a few then, don’t want to upset Mrs. Michaels.”
“I look forward to meeting you both.”
“Us too, Tilly. We’ll talk next week. Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
Hanging up, I lock the front entrance behind me and place the keys to the venue in the lockbox next to the doors. I shake off the strange meeting and get into my car. Starting the engine, I’m plugging in my phone when it rings in my hand. I fumble it for a second, before clicking the accept button on my dashboard. Wilson’s growl is loud and clear as it echoes through the confines of my car from the speakers.
“What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me? You don’t meet with a man you’ve never met, alone!”
I should be angry, and a part of me is irritated at my brother for tattling, but mostly my insides go all gooey from his protectiveness. It’s sweet.
“Hello, to you too, Wilson.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath and the slow exhalation. “Tandoori. Baby.”
“I know. I normally wouldn’t have. Tybalt should have been with me, but he had an…emergency. I had no choice when he didn’t show up. The security director arrived as Tybs and I were texting.”
“In the future, call or text me. No matter what the situation. I worry about you and your safety. I’d rather myself or a brother be with you, just in case.”
“Thank you.” I whisper hoarsely, clear my throat, and say it again. “Thank you for caring so much about me.”
“It’s as natural as breathing, Tandoori.” This man…Gah! “We ran a check on Dale Rawson.”
“Wilson! He’s been with the charity for over ten years.” It isn’t important to note that I just found that out myself not 5 minutes ago.
“Still a man. Still a human being who can be bribed and swayed. However, his reputation is impeccable. He’s a consultant for several prominent organizations, including Building A Village.”
“He barely said anything, didn’t take any notes, and left as soon as we finished the tour. It was a weird meeting.”
“Anything you’re concerned about?” It’s so nice that he isn’t dismissing my reaction.
“I don’t think so. Just thought he’d be friendlier.”
“He isn’t there to make friends.” Wilson growls and I smile at the jealousy I hear in his tone.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be braiding each other’s hair and gossiping about boys anytime soon.”
“Better not. You can braid my hair and I’ll spill the tea about anyone you want.”
“I miss you.” I admit through a chuckle. It’s been a week since our make out session. Though, ‘make out session’ seems too tame for the fire he ignited in my loins against the wall of the clubhouse in front of my brother.
He groans and I hear a small thud. I’d bet my brother’s left nut that he just thumped his head against something. “Fuck, baby, I miss you too. That little teaser…I had you in my fucking arms, your hot pussy against my cock, the taste of your need on my tongue…”
“You need to stop. I’m driving and being this turned on is making it difficult to focus.”
“Come over to the clubhouse. I’ll lick you until you scream.”
“Wilson!”
I laugh when he grunts. “Fine. Call me when you’re home and I’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”
“Bull poop.” His chuckle is dark and full of filthy promise. “And I’m on my way back to work.”
“Alright, call me when you’re ready for bed and you’ll do exactly as I tell you so you cum so hard you pass out with my name on your sweet lips.”
“It’s a date.”