20. Skylar
20
SKYLAR
A week after the MRI debacle, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Mr. Baker, or his offer to get the surgery. Well, I did feel a little guilty about basically shaming him into agreeing, but not so guilty that I was willing to let him off the hook.
I couldn’t help but be charmed, however, by his careful check-ins.
Kit: How’d your appointments go this week?
Me: I don’t need you to check in on me, Kit.
Kit: I know. It makes me feel better to know you’re okay.
Me: They went really well, actually. Got a lot of folks signing up for my subscription service, so thank you for that idea.
Kit: I just want you to be as successful as possible.
I knew he was telling me the truth, and little by little, I was coming around to his sweetness and unintentional humor.
Kit: I don’t think I ever told you this, but I got a shower cane so’s I don’t fall while washing up.
Me: Kit Baker, are you trying to get me to visualize you naked?
Kit: Uh, no. Sorry. I was trying to say that I do listen.
Me: I know. I was just teasing you.
Kit: You can visualize me naked if you want to.
I didn’t bother to tell him I visualized him often, whether I wanted to or not. Once I’d teased him, though, it opened the flood gates, not only on the texting front, but also on the gift-giving.
Me: Kit Baker, why is there a florist at the sanctuary gate?
Kit: Guess you’ll hafta go and see for yourself.
Me: But I was all comfy for a nap. *pouts*
While it was true that I’d been napping, I’d really been wearing an old pair of UT sweatpants and a stretched-out T-shirt. Wanting to get a rise out of him, I changed into my prettiest satin boxers, then took a sleepy selfie and sent it to him. Kit did not disappoint.
Me: sleepshorts.jpg
Kit: Please put on some clothes before you go down there.
Me: . . .
Kit: Sorry. Not my place.
Kit: I just want you to be safe.
Me: That’s okay, I put on a robe.
Me: peignoir.jpg
He didn’t respond to that picture, and I knew the gig was up, which only made me laugh even harder.
Kit: I hope you like Calla lilies. I saw them in the window of that plant shop on the square and they reminded me of you.
Me: They’re beautiful. flowerdelivery.jpg
I posted that last picture on my account and immediately got another message from one of Rich’s throwaway accounts. Ugh. Seriously, find another hobby, dude.
Anyway, I had given myself this morning off to take care of administrative work. Since I was busy, but not that busy, the admin work didn’t take very long. Which meant I was once again stuck in this cabin, not sure what to do with myself. I was considering sending Kit a text of me working at the table, but then my phone buzzed with Sam’s number. I’m not too proud to admit that I lunged for it.
Sam: My buddy Desi is in town. We’re going to lunch today if you wanna join.
Me: Desi, that’s Trip’s uncle who married his dad after his mom died?
Sam: One and the same. You’ll love him.
Me: Honestly, I could use the company. Send details.
An hour later, we were in Bee Cave, eating at a cute lunch spot right off the highway. Sam had been right; Desi was great. He was on the smaller side, with an elegant style and a gorgeous pattern of vitiligo that bleached out one of his eyebrows and part of his hairline. He also had Trip’s same electric blue eyes and a troublemaker smile he flashed often.
Mostly, it was just nice hanging out with other queens, and we came out of the gate talking about our favorite hair and makeup trends. I’m sure the three of us made quite the spectacle in that small café, but we did not care.
I needed this.
It was clear Desi and Sam were like brothers at this point, and once we made it past some light banter, I got to hear all about how Desi and Wyatt came together. Their story was emotional as hell, and I was wiping away tears by the end of it.
It also gave me a different perspective on what was happening with Kit.
“So, you’ve heard my tale of woe and redemption,” Desi said, tapping the table. “What’s your story?”
“I’m surprised Sam hasn’t told you.”
Desi gripped Sam’s hand. “He told me there was a story, but said he’d let you tell it.”
I smiled at Sam. “Thank you.”
“You got it, girl. We love to gossip, but you get to tell your own story.”
I played around with my napkin for a bit, then . . . fuck it. I went in.
“You remember that thing you and I were talking about in theory ?” I asked Sam.
“I do.”
“It met reality.”
Sam squealed and banged his fist on the table, attracting the other diners. “I knew it!” He then held up a hand. “Wait. When did this happen?”
“About twenty minutes after I gave Trip that cortisone shot.”
He threw his head back, laughing. “Damn, Kit works fast.”
“He surprised the hell out of me. Kissed me like some old Hollywood movie star right in front of, like, all the animals.” I paused. “Obviously, I’m sharing this in pretty strict confidence.”
Desi and Sam, almost as if they’d coordinated ahead of time, zipped their mouths shut.
I laughed and continued. “We fooled around.”
I stopped to remember the fooling around in question. God, his hands were so . . .
“ Girl ,” Sam said with a giant smile, “that look on your face. Can I assume he was as talented as he appears?”
“In more ways than one,” I said, my voice dropping off.
Desi laughed and clapped his hands. “I love to hear it.”
I held up my hands to stave off their excitement, and they grimaced in unison.
“Did it not go well?” Sam ventured.
“Oh, it was fantastic . . . all the way until he had an anxiety attack.”
Sam tilted his head, confused. “ Kit had an anxiety attack?”
I bit at my upper lip. “We’d fallen asleep, and I think waking up with me sprawled out across his chest sorta unraveled him.”
Desi cursed sympathetically, then drew back. “Wait. Was he shitty to you?”
I shook my head. “He admitted that his head went to some shitty places, but that had more to do with my history,” I said casually.
Though nothing about admitting it felt casual at all.
“Your history?” Desi asked, leaning forward.
I darted a look over at Sam, who dipped his chin. He’s safe , he mouthed.
Refocusing on Desi, I explained, “Sam and I were in related fields.”
“ Sex worker ?” he whispered, blessedly aware of our surroundings.
I nodded. “A very high-priced, very well-kept sugar baby ,” I responded, mouthing the last two words.
Desi whistled under his breath. “Get your bag, sweetie.”
“Oh, I did. Grew myself a nice little nest egg but got my heart broken by the last one. So, I took everything he’d given me, sold it, then moved out here and started a new business.”
“Oh, is this the traveling ortho thing Sam was telling me about?”
“Yeah. And . . . I think it might actually work. The business isn’t making money yet, but everyone I’ve visited has a handful of friends who have similar issues.”
“Nice,” Desi said approvingly. “You know, my husband and I do a lot of angel investing, so if you’re interested, send me your details.”
“My details are a probably a little too humble for you and your husband right now, but Kit is helping me with the business.”
“Oh, he is, is he?” Desi’s smile had a bit of the devil in it, and Sam sent me a wink.
“He’s so talented.” After a very pregnant pause, I added, “In business.”
Sam and Desi cracked up, and Desi stroked his chin. “Maybe I should invest in his businesses.”
“Honestly, if he’s into that sort of thing, you would do pretty well. A couple of weeks ago I spent the night at one of his hotels, and it is gorgeous . Nice amenities, excellent staff, the works. He tells me to keep an eagle eye on the profit margins but never skimp out on the details.”
“That’s often the difference between failure and success,” Desi said, and something told me he knew what he was talking about.
Sam, however, wanted to get back to what was going on between me and Kit. “So, he freaked out. What happened then?”
I blew out raspberries. “We were on the way to getting it back together when Rowdy walked in on us.”
They groaned in unison and Desi asked, “What’d Kit do then?”
“He left.”
Sam looked stricken for me. “He left ?”
“He later apologized, but then I forced him to get an MRI on that knee of his?—”
“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “You got Kit Baker into an MRI machine? Tell me your sorcery.”
“Sadie and I almost had to strap him to Betsy. Basically, I kidnapped him.”
“Think she’d be willing to take on my husband?”
“Maybe. She was pretty good at forcing his hand.”
I gave a short laugh, then sighed.
“What’s this?” Desi asked. “How’d the MRI go?”
“The scan itself went fine, but then we were sitting there with my boss, who was telling him his diagnosis and the course of action, and he . . .”
I clenched my jaw, not sure I wanted to get into it again.
“He what?” Sam asked.
“He was rude to her. And to me. So, I went for a walk to clear my head and ran straight into the last sugar daddy.”
“A complete asshole,” Sam explained to Desi.
“Yep. Then guess who swooped in to ‘save’ me, then apologized all over himself?”
Desi and Sam shared a pained look.
I lifted a shoulder. “He did feel bad enough to agree to the procedure that Dr. K recommended. So, there’s that.”
The table went quiet. God, I really knew how to bring down a vibe.
“Sorry, y’all. I’ve got so much going on right now. I don’t know how to handle all of that ,” I said with a dramatic gesture, “on top of everything else.”
Sam and Desi nodded, twin expressions of understanding.
Right as Desi was about to say something—probably another question—my phone went off.
Given the newness of my business, I held up my finger. “I’m so sorry. I just need to check to see if this is a patient.”
“Handle your work, girl,” Desi said, sipping on his margarita.
Sam joined him as I turned over my phone and . . . well, fuck.
Unknown number: This is Rich.
Unknown number: Are you seriously ignoring me?
I held up my phone. They leaned forward and read the messages.
“Who is this?” Desi asked.
“The asshole.”
Sam gave the screen stank face and said, “Oh my God, what a dick. Like he has any ownership of your time.”
My phone kept going off, so I turned the screen back around to see what he had to say.
Unknown number: This is what I get for stooping so low.
Unknown number: I bought you a car, and you can’t even text me back?
Unknown number: Here’s hoping that cowboy you’re seeing will figure you out before he gets swindled out of a beach house.
“He bitching about all the money he spent on you? Trying to make you feel guilty?” Sam asked before biting into his crab beignet. I handed Desi the phone, and he and Sam put their heads together, reading the shitty texts.
“Rowdy and I jokingly used to call him Daddy Big Bucks.”
“Don’t tell me,” Sam said, wiping his mouth. “Weak dick, weaker knees, and gone in sixty seconds.”
“Nailed it.”
Desi curled his lip, handing me back my phone. “What a fucking douche bag. Please don’t take anything he says seriously.”
I shook my head. “I don’t. At least not anymore.”
It didn’t help, though, that Rich had said exactly the words to make me doubt myself. Such expensive gifts definitely made me feel beholden to him, but I also knew that was a tactic on his part. Even the Porche was just a drop in the bucket to a guy with his net worth; he only gave me nice things so I’d come running whenever he was available.
His strategy worked for a while, but these days I knew myself better. Especially my preference for flowers over diamonds.
“I’ve had to block him a few times. I don’t know why he won’t let it go.”
“He’s treating you like shit so you don’t know your own value, honey,” Sam said. I’m sure he’d dealt with similar dickheads. “You’re meant to feel lucky he didn’t leave you in the gutter, or whatever, so you’ll say yes when you’d rather say no.”
“That’s about the gist of it.”
“I see why this thing with Kit could tie you up in knots,” Desi said, his eyes kind. “You’ve already been through too much to get involved in another push and pull relationship. It’s like I was telling you about Wyatt and me. You know he has feelings for you, but it’s like he can’t give himself permission to lean into them, so he almost unconsciously finds new ways to push you away.”
“That is a scarily accurate observation,” I responded, letting my eyes drift to the other patrons at this restaurant. “Didn’t help, though, being there for probably two of the most stressful moments of his life.”
“I agree. Not optimal.” Desi tapped his short, manicured fingernails on the wooden tabletop. “You do know it’s okay to be done with this whole scenario, right?”
“Of course,” I responded automatically, even as his words sliced through my chest.
“Are you, though?” Sam asked. “Are you done?”
I pressed my lips together, thinking about the earnestness of his texts. I shook my head.
“Then wait to see if he gets the surgery,” Sam said, gripping my hand. “Because you know he’d do just about anything to avoid it.”
I let out a dry laugh, then dabbed at my eyes with my napkin. “Is it wrong to blackmail him into getting what he needs?”
Sam made a funny face as he gestured with his palms face up. “Depends on whether you want him to be in pain.”
Desi smacked his arm, and they both laughed.
I rubbed my chest. “I hate the idea of him being in pain way more than I hate all of the bullshit surrounding us.”
And that was the truth. Even if we couldn’t be together, I never wanted to see Kit in pain again.