Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The numbers are adding up. There are no discrepancies, no missing receipts… nothing. I should be elated, except it feels… off. I can’t put my finger on it. With Cal asking me to investigate, I expected to find errors left in right.
Maribel is babysitting Addy and Vinny, while I work in the home office.
I can hear their pitter platter in the playroom upstairs as I run the numbers again.
Dutch, our Australian Shepherd mix whines, begging to be let out.
Out of habit, I glance over to Tori’s desk with a “Victoria’s Photography” sticker on her printer.
She’s out doing a photoshoot for a client today, and I already miss her.
Maybe that makes me sappy and co-dependent, but she truly spoils me.
Standing, I stretch my back and limbs, then go to let Dutch out. After I check on the kids and make sure Maribel didn’t need anything.
The house is oddly quiet as I make my way up the stairs but find it empty. I run back downstairs and notice the master bedroom is cracked open.
“Tori?” I call out, pushing the door open. Vinny is jumping on his knees on the bed in his underwear and I hear Addy singing in the bathroom.
“Vinny, whatcha doing in your underwear?” I laugh at my three-year-old son. Clearly, I’ve walked into chaos.
“Daddy!” he jumps into my arms. “I used the big boy potty.”
“That's great, bud!” I hold out my palm, and he smacks it with his. I put him down and grab his hand, leading him into the bathroom. “Let’s check in with Addy.”
My five-year-old daughter is scoping through Tori’s make up, singing a catchy song she heard on her favorite kids show. “Hi, daddy,” she greets me, popping the lid off a lip stick.
“Oh, baby girl. Let’s not do that.” I quickly take it away, suddenly horrified at the future that awaits me as a girl dad. “Leave mommy’s stuff alone,” I edict, replacing the cap and trying to make sense of my wife’s chaotic organization. “Where’s Aunt Maribel?”
“She’s in the closet,” Addy answers, then chases Vinny around the small room.
“Maribel,” I shout, confused as to why she would be in our closet. I enter the walk-in and see the brightly colored horse tattoo on the back of a shoulder. “Tori? I thought you-“ I pause, realizing Maribel is half dressed. “Shit, sorry.” I step out.
“Hey. You’re fine. Sorry about my being here, Vinny didn’t quite make it to the toilet,” she sounds muffled. “I’m dressed. I didn’t want to bother you, and I figured Tori wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a shirt.”
“Oh no, I know she wouldn’t mind,” I say from the safety of the bathroom. “I came to ask if you needed help,” I reply. She joins us and we lead the children out of the rooms and into the living room. “Which I guess you do.”
“It was just chaos for a few minutes. I’mma go upstairs and grab Vinny a pair of shorts.
Y’all only had shirts down here.” She backs away and runs up the stairs.
While Tori and Maribel have been friends for years and have no sense of boundaries with one another.
I’m not sure how comfortable I am with her going into my closet without permission.
“You kids, hungry?”
“Yeah!” they scream.
The garage door slams open as I take chicken nuggets out of the air fryer. Tori struggles walking in with her equipment. I stop what I’m doing to help her and give her a chaste kiss. “Hey baby.”
“Thank you baby.”
Maribel is in the living room, cleaning up toys and random pieces of clothing Addy and Vinny throw about the place. “How’d it go?” I ask as I follow her into the office.
“Eh, they wanted the generic Pinterest shots. I just wish people would trust me when I suggest poses that would flatter them and make them unique… but you know how it is.” She puts down the first trip of items from her SUV.
“Maribel, mind taking the kids’ lunch over for me.” I ask on the way to the garage with Tori.
“I brought us burrito bowls. They’re in the front seat.” Tori directs me.
“Yes,” I whisper-yell. “You know me so well.”
“So, when can you do my boudoir photoshoot?” Maribel asks Tori once we’re sitting around the table, eating. I keep my mouth shut and try to ignore the conversation.
Tori’s profession does not bother me. She does all kinds of photoshoots, but I know she hasn’t felt comfortable enough to do a boudoir session.
Although, I’ve been a willing practice subject alongside her.
Maribel bringing it up during lunch makes me slightly uncomfortable…
especially since she’s married to my best friend.
And especially knowing she has the same tattoo Tori and I designed.
The one I went to the tattoo shop and held Tori’s hand while she got it inked onto her skin.
“I’m not there just yet. I’m still playing around with angles and positions,” Tori answers nonchalantly.
“But the photos you showed me are beautiful.”
“What photos?” I raise my head at the comment, clearly unable to ignore them.
“The ones you and I have been taking at the studio… for practice.” Tori reddens, pushing her food around in her bowl.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were showing those.”
“Embarrassed?” Maribel giggles. “Trust me, they’re hot and you’ve got nothing to worry about. You two are annoyingly gorgeous.”
“I’m not embarrassed. Nor worried about them. I know how gorgeous and perfect Tori is.” I smile at Tori when she blushes prettily in my direction.
“So, will you do mine?” Maribel asks again. Tori shrugs, putting the lid on her burrito bowl to save for later. “Yeah, just give me some time.”
“Is Cal still at the shop?” I change the subject, noting the time.
“Yeah. He’s always there. Especially with the whole side business.” The side business, meaning stealing vehicles and selling them for parts or sending them off to Mexico. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him.” I close my own bowl and grab Tori’s to put it in the fridge for her.
“What about?” She does the same to her bowl and offers it to me to do the same. It rubs me the wrong way, but I still take it not wanting to be disrespectful.
“Club business.” I return to Tori and she stands. I smack her ass before giving her a long harsh kiss. She licks my lips and I can’t help but kiss her deeper. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. I love you.”
“Okay. Love you, too,” she grins. My eyes drift to her mouth and I reluctantly step out of her arms.