Chapter 6
6
MALLORY
T he next morning I wake up feeling wrecked. I really didn't sleep well. Yesterday's events were spinning through my head like the Olympic Games in rhythmic gymnastics. I also realized that I never paid Brady for the repair and don't even know what he actually did.
I googled when the garage opens and am standing at the door at eight o'clock. Hopefully he's not there, but Mario is.
I'm lucky. Mario is in the office. He smiles as I enter.
Ms. Callahan! Everything alright with the Lambo?"
"Yes, everything's perfect. I had my own car here yesterday and I haven't paid the bill yet. I'm sorry."
He busily looks through the documents. "Hmm, there's nothing here. Who helped you?"
"Brady."
He looks up. "He'll be here soon. Would you like some coffee while you wait?"
"Uh, no, I don't have much time. Can't you just write me a bill?" I ask, a little anxiously.
"I'm afraid I don't know what he did. There's nothing recorded here."
"Okay, then I'll just call back later."
"Ah, there he is." He stands up, knocks on the window, and motions for Brady to join us.
Damn. Damn. Damn. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.
Brady looks surprised when he enters the office and sees me. "Yes?" he asks Mario, though he's looking at me.
"Ms. Callahan wants to pay her bill," Mario informs him, "but I can't find any information about it."
"I did that for free."
"I don't want that," I say quietly.
"During your work hours?" Mario asks.
"I didn't log overtime for the day before to make up for it," he explains.
"Ah, okay. Then today's your lucky day, Ms. Callahan." Marion smiles at me.
"But I want to pay," I say.
Mario looks from Brady to me, but before he can say anything, Brady declares: "I don't give a shit."
"I don't want to owe you anything!"
"You don't. It was my pleasure."
I turn to Mario. "Can you please write me a bill?"
"What did you do, Brady?"
"Not telling." He crosses his arms over his chest.
Mario shakes his head in confusion before heading to the door. "You two work it out."
He leaves and then I'm alone with Brady. His scent surrounds me, making it hard to think. He's still Mr. Sexy. Always has been.
"This is ridiculous," I say. "I want to pay for the repair."
"It's a gift."
"I don't want gifts from you."
"Again. I don't give a shit."
I pull my wallet from my purse and place a hundred dollars on the table. "Is this enough?"
"You'll never know."
"What did you actually do to my car?"
"That's something else you'll never know."
I hold out the two bills to him. "Will you take the money now?"
"No."
"Brady!"
He takes a step closer, leans toward me. "Even if you stand on your head, you won't pay a cent for it."
"You're such an ass."
"Takes one to know one."
Before my lips start, twitching, I decide to storm out of the garage. What a stubborn man!
brADY
The encounter with Mallory was the only fun part of my day. I spend the rest of it worrying about my upcoming meeting with Mindy.
My fear also comes from the fact that I couldn't stand myself in the relationship with her. Something I apparently successfully repressed, but which is coming back now.
I let her get away with so much, allowed her to cross my boundaries. I was twenty-three then. She was my first real love. Before that, there were flings, but never anything serious. I was so crazy about her that I put her on a pedestal, did everything for her.
I never told my family, but it wasn't the first time that she left me. She did it constantly. Again and again she threatened to return to her husband. Who was rich. Who was so much better than me. Who could give her a great life because he wasn't such a loser like me. She told me that over and over.
Why exactly do I think it's a good idea to meet her?
And why did I hurt Mallory for this?
I'm so stupid. Really.
Just before six, I drive to the bar that I suggested in a flash of inspiration yesterday via text, because I suddenly didn't think it was such a good idea for her to come to my place.
Mindy is already standing outside. She looks good. But she always did. She must be almost forty now, I think. She is seven years older, if I remember correctly. But she definitely looks ten years younger. Maybe she's had some work done.
She smiles seductively at me when she sees me. "Hey, babe! Good to see you."
She throws herself around my neck, pressing her tits against my chest. She definitely got implants.
"Hi."
"How are you?" She looks up at me through her eyelashes, stroking my shoulders. "You look so good."
I don't know how to deal with her. We haven't seen each other for ages.
"Uh, you too."
She strokes my chest. "Let's go to your place."
With her free hand, she unbuttons her blouse one more button, so I can see the tops of her breasts.
Only... the sight does absolutely nothing for me. I was constantly looking down Mallory's shirt, it occurs to me. I like breasts in all varieties. At least I thought I did until now. Fake breasts don't really appeal to me, as I'm experiencing right now. Or maybe just not these particular ones.
"You wanted to talk."
"Sure, talk, and touch you." She strokes my stomach.
Before her fingers can travel any further south, I grab her wrist, stopping her. "Let's go inside and get something to drink."
She pouts. "Fine. Then dessert will be at your place."
She turns around, walking ahead of me with swinging hips, but I don't even have the urge to look at her ass.
Mindy chooses a table where we have to sit close together. Basically exactly what I did on my date with Mallory. But there I enjoyed it. And hopefully Mallory did too.
As soon as we sit down, she puts her hand on my thigh. "I'm so glad we're seeing each other again. I've missed you so much."
It would be a lie if I said I didn't miss her, because I did for a while—a long while—, but in the past few years I've missed her less and less. Actually, I hadn't thought about her at all before she started calling me again. If only she had stayed buried in the past, I think to myself. And then I wonder if I'm especially stupid for even agreeing to meet her when I haven't had a single positive thought about this.
"Why did you contact me?" I ask her after the waitress has taken our order.
"Because I missed you, silly." She laughs. "I made a mistake back then. I should never have stayed with my husband."
"That was your decision. But that was ages ago. I don't understand why you want to come back to me after all these years."
"I realized that I only want you."
"After nine years, you realized this?"
She looks at me a bit defensively. "It was a very difficult decision. I didn't take it lightly. My husband and I had been together for so long, I couldn't risk everything back then."
"And why can you risk it now?"
"Because I'm not happy with him anymore, haven't been since then."
"It took you nine years to realize that?"
"Don't judge me. I'm here now, aren't I?"
Her hand lands in my crotch, massaging my cock, which is a miserable traitor and enjoys the attention, simply because it's been far too long since it's received any. Well, from someone other than my right hand.
"And someone still likes me," she purrs.
I don't stop her when she opens my pants and slides her hand in. I don't stop her when she wraps her hand around my cock and strokes it. I don't stop her when she leans forward and licks my earlobe. Something that has always driven me crazy.
"Let's go to your place," she suggests again. "We were so good together."
And it's true. Sex with her was always very hot, but I'm afraid that sex with her will lead to even more confusion, further clouding my mind, which obviously isn't very clear anyway. No, I need to try to decide with my head. Not with my cock.
So I pull her hand out of my pants. "Mindy, I'm sorry, we can talk, but nothing more for now."
"But why not? Don't you remember how good it felt when I had your cock in my mouth?"
"Yes, of course. But you really hurt me back then."
"I know. I want to make it up to you. You don't have to return the favor. This is my gift to you." Her eyes flash. "If you want, I can blow you in the car or in the bathroom. Come on. I know you want it." She leans forward again, lets her tongue glide around my ear before gently nibbling on my earlobe. She breathes into my ear: "I'll do anything for you, baby. Don't turn me away."
Then there must be an episode of temporary insanity, because I actually find myself with Mindy on the back seat of my car, with her mouth around my cock, which she works on expertly. Because it's been so long since I've had sex, it doesn't take long until I come. I warn her, try to push her away, but she keeps going until the end. Groaning, I finish in her mouth. Although probably every man would love to be in my position, it leaves a bitter aftertaste. I prefer it when it's less porn and more feeling.
Thinking about it, she's never given head differently than now. Maybe that's why I find it better when there's more feeling, because it's different from what she does. Or maybe I never liked how she does it.
Mindy cuddles up against me. "It could be so good between us."
No.
At first I'm surprised by the vehemence of my thought, but then I realize that I mean exactly that. No, I don't want to. I don't want to be with her, don't want to get back together with her, don't want to see her anymore.
Of course, it's absolutely mega-asshole behavior to tell her this after she's sucked my dick. Maybe I should return the favor to cushion the blow.
But I don't want to.
Twice in two days I realize that I'm a huge asshole. Why did I always think I was one of the good guys? Self-assessment is obviously not my strength.
"It doesn't work for me anymore."
She raises her head. "Excuse me?"
"Too much time has passed. I'm not the little boy I was back then."
"Wow, and you wait to tell me that until after I've swallowed your cum?"
"That was really shitty of me. I'm sorry."
She moves away from me. "But why? We were good together."
I rub my face before zipping up my pants, because you definitely can't have this conversation with your dick hanging out.
"It was good because I did everything you wanted, set no boundaries for you, and still followed you around like a lovesick puppy when you hurt me. But I'm not that person anymore. I don't want that anymore."
"You can be the boss."
"I don't want to be the boss. I want a partner who would rather cut off her hand than hurt me, just like I would do for her."
She looks at me contritely. "But I can be that woman."
"I used to wish for that, but not anymore."
"But what am I supposed to do now?"
A huge question mark forms in my mind. "What do you mean?"
She bites her lip before saying: "My husband left me."
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. She didn't want me at all, just someone to support her.
"Your husband left you and that's why you came to me? So everything was a lie?"
"No, of course not."
But the damage is already done. I now know the real reason.
"Mindy, this is really fucked up. You realize that, right?"
"I love you."
"You don't love me. You're just looking for someone stupid enough to finance you."
"It's not just about me."
"What does that mean? You have children?" I ask, feeling increasingly irritated.
" We have a child."
For a moment, I panic. We ?
"You and your husband?"
She shakes her head, looking at me anxiously. "You and me."
For a moment I'm stunned. "Uh, excuse me?"
She puts her hands over her face.
"Mindy."
She doesn't respond.
"Mindy!"
Still nothing.
I grab her hands, pull them away from her face. She looks at me with tears streaming down her face. "My husband left me when he found out she wasn't his."
"She? I have a daughter?"
I don't know what to think right now, let alone what to say or how to react. This is completely overwhelming me.
"Her name is Kira."
"Mindy, no bullshit: I have a daughter?"
"Yes."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me? How old is she? Eight? Why haven't you told me anything about her for eight years?"
Stunned, I stare at the pile of misery sitting in front of me.
"Because... When I found out I was pregnant, I panicked because you weren't able to support a child."
"Don't blame this on me!"
I feel anger rising inside me. I need to emotionally distance myself or I'll explode.
"But that's how it was. My husband could take better care of her. But now he refuses."
"So you're only telling me now because you can't support her alone? That's so cynical and shitty."
"I know! But I can't change it. I can't take care of her alone."
"You don't really love me," I state.
"Of course I do."
But now I recognize the lie.
"You don't love me. You just want to get back with me because he won't support you anymore."
I wipe my face before opening the door and getting out. I put both hands on the back of my neck, stare at the sky, before shouting "Fuck" so loudly that someone on the street turns around to look at me.
This can't be true. I have a daughter. For eight years. Of whom I know nothing.
For a moment I wonder if I can trust her, but I see no reason for her to lie. Not that she wouldn't if it gave her an advantage, but I don't see it now. Her rich husband would certainly continue to pay for his own child.
No, she's probably telling the truth. Though of course I'll insist on a paternity test. I'm not completely stupid.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I never wanted kids, but I would have taken care of her. Will take care of her. She's my daughter. I have a daughter. Kira. Eight years old.
I can't believe it.
"Brady?" she asks hesitantly. "Is everything okay?"
"No, nothing is okay."
"I'm so sorry."
"No, you're not."
I rub my beard, run my hand over my closely cut head.
"Parts of me are."
"It doesn't matter."
"Excuse me?"
"It doesn't matter how you feel or how I feel. All that matters is her ."
"So you'll take us in?" Hope sounds in her voice.
"Are you serious?" I ask her.
"But you said it's about her."
"It is. I'll support her as best I can. I want to meet her, and if she wants that too, then I want to be her father, but I don't want you in my life."
"We only come as a package."
I take a step toward her. Instinctively, she backs away. "I have the right to meet my daughter. We don't want to take this to court."
"But..."
"No buts, Mindy. I'll pay child support for her and get to know her. Unless she doesn't want to. I would respect that, but don't you dare tell her she doesn't want to meet me. Then we'll see each other in court, I promise you that. You'll do everything so we can meet."
She's crying as she begs me: "Please reconsider. We could both move in with you."
I laugh. "That's not an option." Then I widen my eyes. "Where are you living now?"
"In a motel."
"Fuck," I mutter. Again, I tilt my head back, stare at the sky as if I might find an answer there. But unfortunately, that's not how it works. I have to get through this on my own. "How much money do you have?"
"Not much left. Gerald hates me and has frozen my cards."
"You've created quite a mess."
"I know. I'm so sorry."
"That doesn't change anything."
"Don't hate me."
I look at her. Then I shake my head. "I don't hate you, but stop trying to blackmail me. I can't stand that."
"Okay. What should I do?"
"Where is the motel?"
"Half an hour from here."
"What did you do before you married him?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you have a job?"
"I was a sales clerk."
I nod slowly as an idea forms. "You need to get a job."
"Okay, of course. But that won't be enough..."
"You'll have to say goodbye to your extravagant lifestyle. I can't finance that for you, but I'll help you."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it!"
But I already do…
"I'll show my appreciation every day."
She steps toward me.
"No. I don't want that. You and I are history, and we're not reheating it."
"But..."
"No buts. I don't want to be with you anymore."
Tears fill her eyes again, but I decide to stay firm. I can't forgive this betrayal. I don't want to forgive it. But at the same time, she's the mother of my daughter.
"For now, you can stay in my apartment. It's small, but the rent is paid. We'll do a paternity test, and if she's my daughter, I want to get to know her, as her father."
"Okay."
"You need to find a job. I'm serious about this. I can't completely support you financially."
"Okay. But you'll help me?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. That's really decent of you."
I pull my phone from my pocket and send her a message with my address.
"I've sent you my address. Come to my place tomorrow after you check out."
"Thank you, Brady. Really." She steps closer. "And you're sure I can't show my appreciation?"
"No, that's not what this is about."
"Okay."
Maybe I'm imagining it, but she seems disappointed. Though perhaps that's just my male ego talking. Whatever. This is a story I need to digest first. And thoroughly.