Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Davy
Bubbles told me everything went fine with Will, and that I could talk to him about whatever I wanted to. I hadn’t asked him to spill everything to Will, but as soon as I explained our conversation from the night before, Bubbles had offered to talk to him for me.
It was such a relief, I wanted to hug him, but Bubbles gets really uncomfortable when I try for any kind of physical contact, so I don’t.
I thought the day would drag on forever, but once Bubbles came back from lunch, the rest of the day flew by. I finished one project and started the next, and even remembered to text Will and let him know when I thought I’d be finished. I gave myself an extra fifteen minutes, and it worked out well because I’d finished cleaning up and organizing everything when Will texted me he was about to pull into the parking lot.
I’d considered whether to go into the bathroom and beat off, but it hadn’t felt right. For one thing, I don’t do that at work, but also, I wanted to show my new Sir that he could demand more of me.
One of the last things he’d said before dropping me off was to write a minimum of twelve things I wanted included in our temporary contract, with at least five things I wanted, and five hard limits or other things I wanted out-of-bounds. I have a notepad I use to keep notes on each job — things the client especially wants, problems I find that I want to be certain to fix, dates supplies are due, and whatever else I need to remember. Before I left for lunch, I tore an empty page from it and took it and a pen to the restaurant, so I could make a list for my new Sir.
I thought the first would be easiest, but then I could only come up with three things. I wanted to call him Master, I wanted my rules to be spelled out so I could memorize them, and I needed him to respect my job obligations.
I went to the second category and easily came up with five — nothing permanently disfiguring, no emotional sadism, no scat play, no ass-to-mouth, and I wanted to be able to veto any piercings, though I’d be willing to get rid of that for a permanent arrangement, if we got there.
Since this category seemed easier, I tried to come up with two more things, and landed on keeping me out of the public eye unless we discussed it and agreed to do otherwise, and that he’d need to be careful not to use toys or products that would bring about an allergic reaction. That last one was kind of cheating since he’d already agreed to it, but I couldn’t come up with anything else so it would have to work.
And then I had to go back to the first category. I noted that I wanted to spend enough time with him so I got to know him fully before we decided on a permanent arrangement, and that I wanted an opportunity to go back over our temporary contract at least every other month to discuss any changes. Finally, it felt tacky to write it out, but I wrote out that my bank accounts are solely mine.
I went back through and counted to be certain I had at least five of each and a total of at least twelve. It felt like I should go higher than one over his minimum, but nothing else came to mind.
The thing I like about the MC’s restaurant’s menu is that there are things always on it, like burgers and steaks, but there’s also a daily special, and today’s was chicken and dumplings. There isn’t much of my childhood that brings back fond memories, but this meal does.
I mean, I suppose it makes sense. If you make it from scratch, it isn’t a terribly expensive meal, and this foster family grew their own chickens, which I’m guessing made it an even cheaper meal.
It was one of my first foster families, and maybe the social worker put me with them because I was so malnourished when they first took me from my family.
Supposedly, that’s why I’m so small, because I was barely fed enough to keep a child alive until I was nearly six. No one came to check on me until a few months after I didn’t get registered for school, and then they put me in a place that fed me well. This family grew their own food plus had livestock like chickens and goats. They had eight foster kids, which I imagine was quite an income since they could feed us cheap. Also, we provided a lot of free labor, helping to plant, weed, and harvest.
Usually, I prefer not to take trips down memory lane when it comes to my childhood, but the chicken and dumplings gave me a good memory, and I took that back with me to the shop.
But the memories made me think of my original family, and I realized there was another reason I shouldn’t be publicly known as Lord Byron’s boyfriend — because I didn’t want my original family to be reminded of me. I wanted nothing to do with them.
I kept track of them over social media when I was a teen, and I looked them up again after I was released from prison. My dad is in prison for armed robbery and shooting a cop. He didn’t kill him, thank goodness, but he’s still going to be inside for a long while. My aunt used to post pics of my mom on her social media, and the meth use hasn’t been kind to my mom. My aunt seems to be doing okay, working as a dental hygienist and married to a truck driver, but she had to know there was this child who wasn’t being fed or loved, and she didn’t step in, so I don’t want any part of her, either.
I never met any of my grandparents, and I don’t even know my mom’s parents’ names, much less whether they’re dead or alive. I know my dad’s parents moved to Alaska once my dad was out of high school, and I found them on social media when I got out of prison. Or, I’m pretty sure it’s them. They post cooking videos, showing them cooking the animals they’ve killed, and they have a decent following. I guess he kills them and she cooks them. I’ve never met them, but the names and ages are right, and my dad looks like a younger version of the man.
But I don’t want any part of them, either, so it’s best my name isn’t out there, attached to someone famous.
I managed a quick shower before Sir picked me up. I gathered the plan was for him to take me home, and then he’d bring me back to get my car before we went back to his place. That way I could drive myself to work in the morning.
The limo had been a little horrifying. I mean, who gets dropped off at their upholstery job in a freaking limousine, right?
I thought it couldn’t get worse, but then he picked me up in a motherfucking McLaren W1. I mean, it was a freaking work of art, but it’s about as flashy as you can get, isn’t it?
I was secretly hoping the solid black sports car wasn’t him when it pulled in, but I knew it would be. And then the gull wing doors went up, and he looked more like Lord Byron than my Sir when he stepped out.
Why did my dick go instantly hard? I’d have to think about that later, because I stepped outside with a smile despite my misgivings about the car — I wasn’t sure I wanted to date someone who’d spend over two million dollars on a car. I made all kinds of mistakes with my first Master, in part because he seduced me with all the flash and sexiness.
“No guards, Sir?”
“Turns out, the guy you rent from works for Drake Security, and he’ll be home so he can help keep an eye on us. I mean, my team is around somewhere so they can keep an eye on me while I drive, but it’s from a distance today, not up close and personal. Are you ready to go?”
“I am, Sir.”
I put my seatbelt on right away, and couldn’t help looking around the tiny passenger compartment. There was a huge screen mounted between us, and all the buttons and dials made it look more like a racecar than anything I’d ever seen.
I was probably supposed to go all googly-eyed over the car, and part of me wanted to, but I needed to understand why Will had this car. I couldn’t figure out how to ask, so I said, “I didn’t see this in your garage, Sir.”
“It was delivered a few hours ago, and I have it for thirty days.” He shrugged. “I never get to drive when I’m on tour, and this break is kind of a big deal for me. I have a drive planned for next week, the Cherohala Skyway to the Tail of the Dragon, into Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg until I’m tired of them, through the park into Cherokee…” he sighed. “There’s more. I’ll have security following me, and likely one in the passenger seat with me if you can’t get away. I’ll change it up, so I leave when you get off work Friday, if you want to go with me. I’ll have you back in time for work Monday morning, Tuesday if we can swing a day off for you.”
“I can talk to Bash, but you won’t be able to go to all the places you planned if you have to cut it short, Sir.”
“I’d rather have a short trip with you than a long one without you. We can do the North Georgia mountains another weekend. It doesn’t have to be all in one trip.”
I stared out the side window, trying to figure out how to tell him I wasn’t sure I should be seen with him in public, and he said, “No pressure. Let’s work on the contract, and then we’ll talk about the possibilities. It’s a fun car and I won’t have it to play with long, but I just met you and I hope you’re on board with seeing where things go with us. I think exploring us is more important, I just thought it might be fun for us to get out and play a little. I can put you on the insurance, so you can drive it too, if you want.”
No way in hell was I driving a two-million-dollar car. “I would love to spend more time with you, Sir. Let’s figure out the temporary contract and then talk about it, please?”
“Yes, we can absolutely do that. How was your day?”
“Slow this morning, but the afternoon flew by. I finished the long project and the short one. I have three short projects before I work on another long one — complete reno of an eighty-two Nissan 280ZX.”
“Do you have help manhandling the seats in and out?”
“Sometimes. I mean, I have to find someone to help for, say, the old bench seats that came in older trucks. I can usually handle sportscar seats on my own, but if someone sees me struggling, they almost always either come help or tell someone else to.”
“Bubbles is a big guy.”
My face flamed hot and I was glad we were in the car and not facing each other. “He is, Sir. I have permission to answer your questions now. I’m sorry I couldn’t last night.”
“Don’t apologize. I’d already figured there was a good possibility you couldn’t talk about it because it happened with someone both of us know, and that substantially reduced the field. It’s good Bubbles came to me before I started looking into who you served time with.”
Right, because that would’ve been bad. “Bubbles is happy with Lexi, Sir. I mean, she knows about me, but not a whole lot of other people do. I think just Duke, Brain, and Bash.”
“Okay, temporary rule until we finish the contract. I’m Will, for now. We’re equals while we negotiate. Anything you need to tell me about Bubbles? If not, I’ll probably ask questions as I think of them, but I have nothing I’m dying to know at the moment.”
I shook my head and changed the subject. “You know Darnell and Keisha?”
Darnell owns the tiny house I live in, and he and his wife are my neighbors. Keisha cuts my hair for me on my front porch when she says it’s too long. Just walks over with her scissors and orders me to sit down so she can cut it. I figure it isn’t safe to argue with a woman holding scissors. Sometimes Lexi, Bubbles’ wife, cuts it.
“Darnell sometimes guards me when I’m in town,” Will answered, “but he just fills in when one of my normal guys needs off. They happen to be Ghost’s parents, and I’ve met them backstage a time or two. Not enough to spend time with them or anything.”
“Yeah. Ghost comes for dinner once a week when he’s in town. Sometimes they invite me, too. Keisha’s a really good cook.”
He pulled into Darnell’s driveway instead of mine. “Security told me to park here. I’m looking forward to seeing your place.”
The gull-wing doors opened, and I got out and looked the car over again. I felt better knowing he’d just rented it for a month, but damn, how much would it take to rent a two-million-dollar car for a month? Not to mention the fucking insurance.
“I love performing,” Will told me as we walked around Darnell’s house and then down my long driveway. “My music is…” He shrugged. “It’s my life, so far. I hope to have more people in my life, but for now, it’s a huge part of my identity. I’m fortunate that I make so much money, but it’s also a lot of hard fucking work, and time on the road can be grueling. It’s worth it, being on stage, but the times between being on stage, getting from place to place and dealing with all the people I’ve hired to keep all the gears moving together? It means I also have to pay attention to my down time. If I don’t properly recharge, I’m no good to the organization I’ve built.”
“That makes sense. I just need to be sure it’s you I’m attracted to, and not your money.”
“That’s what’s great, Davy.”