Tea with Teddy and Sox
Chapter 1
JACE
The small world around me is changing too fast. The person I felt closest to in the house moved out.
I mean, Shiloh is absolutely Toby’s person first and foremost, but he understood me in ways that the others just don’t get it.
When you look like a stereotype of someone that most people wouldn’t want to be alone with after dark in an alley, it’s… painful trying to date.
Let’s just say that I’m happy for him and Toby to have found their place with Don. Their matching probably used up all the miracle points in the universe, leaving none behind for someone like me.
I was stupid to think that a dating app was a good idea.
These days, everyone is just looking for a hookup.
And while I absolutely take advantage when the opportunity comes up, I am tired of trying to explain that I am not a fan of bottoming despite being a submissive.
Most of the time, I can find someone for a night – not much more than that, though.
My last attempt at a relationship got into my head.
“What kind of grown man has a stuffed animal these days?”
“Are you some kind of pervert?”
“I don’t fuck children, so either it goes or I do.”
With his words echoing in my head, I did something stupid: I threw Sox in the trash. Luckily, Toby rescued him right away. It was a stupid impulsive thing, but everything just kind of hit a boiling point that night.
I am so tired of being treated like less of an adult by everyone in my life just because I am a submissive.
I am still a grown fucking human being fully capable of making my own decisions.
Hell, ninety percent of the kink furniture around this whole entire city has been designed and built by me – without a Dom-ly type being in charge of me.
Not that I would mind someone to take over some times…
My brain is still on my non-existent love life while the usual crowd at Mac’s starts drifting in for the evening.
Tonight is bar trivia night, so the crowd will be better than most regular nights.
Bonus is that I don’t have to worry about doing anything except slinging drinks between rounds – Eli handles the emcee duties for events.
“Hey Jace! Hi Sox!”
Lucky gives an animated wave from his perch on his Daddy’s back as soon as they come in the front.
I make my teddy’s arm wave to my friend before preparing his virgin screwdriver – yes, I know it’s just orange juice, but it makes him giggle – in his special sippy cup.
Spencer points to the new local beer on tap.
Eli heard about a new mix-master at one of the local microbreweries and decided to try them out for a month. So far, it’s been a hit.
Spencer sets Lucky down on a stool before settling himself down on the next one. He helps take the cartoon backpack off his boyfriend’s back, digging out a coloring book to place on the bar top. Without being asked, I pull out the pack of ninety-six crayons from under the bar for Lucky to use.
“Did you get any new orders lately?” Spencer asks without looking away from Lucky with a dopey grin on his face.
Shaking my head, I go back to doing an inventory on the liquor behind the bar.
Some asshole bought a custom piece that I made for someone else secondhand and was using it to abuse his long-term boyfriend.
The only reason I found out about it was one of the Doms at the club is now dating the boyfriend that was abused.
I overheard the conversation he was having with Justice about possible legal steps to take.
He noticed me listening. He recognized me – he’s bought other furniture from me.
Fortunately, he knows my policy and indemnification clauses in the contracts when it comes to my kink furniture.
Having an extremely successful contract lawyer for a big brother comes in handy sometimes, like making sure I am not able to be held liable for the sickos in this world misusing my creations.
Even still, it hurt to hear that something I poured my love into was used to hurt someone else. So, no. I haven’t had any new orders because I don’t really trust people to be decent human beings at the moment.
Time flies during trivia. It’s one of the better nights to be working at Mac’s.
And yeah, I don’t really need to be a bartender with what I make on my art and furniture sales – custom kink furniture is a very lucrative business.
What I do need is to be around people. I’m too much of a loner.
Okay, so I shouldn’t be putting myself down. Introvert is the better word, right?
Regardless of what I call myself, by the time Eli is locking up the safe, I am ready to escape to my personal bubble up at the house. Thankfully, the walk home is only about ten minutes. The downside is that it is all uphill on a steep grade.
“You want a ride, TB?” Eli asks after setting the alarm and locking up.
As nice as it would be to get to my bed faster, I need the alone time to decompress after an evening of people-ing.
Instead of climbing into the passenger seat of his Mustang, I turn start the trudge up the hill and give him a small wave when he honks his horn driving past me.
The noise from the highway fades into the background as the sounds of the night in the woods envelops me.
Crickets sing to my loneliness while lightning bugs light up the trees like some fantasy realm come to life.
I wish magic existed here. Maybe then, I could go back to having my outside match who I am on the inside without the fear of being hurt again.
My phone vibrating in my pocket makes me jump, and I have to laugh at myself for being such a fucking coward.
“Hello?” I answer cautiously because calls after midnight are rarely a good thing.
There is the sound of papers shuffling and some shouting in the background before the person on the other end of the line responds.
“Can I please speak with Jason Whitetower?”
Call me a fucking statue. My birth name is something I haven’t heard since I was taken in my Mama Sue… or at least not without some warning that it was coming.
“Jason Whitetower. Eight years old. Has an issue with bed wetting and an unnatural dependence on his stuffed animal. Recommend foster placement with more children to interact with.”
“This court finds that Jason Whitetower is to return to foster care in lieu of a relative coming forward.”
“Who even knows if this Whitetower is even a real man. That woman is lucky she remembers her own name with how high she was last time.”
I somehow manage to croak out a response and the person on the other side of the call tells me that they are calling from a hospital in Mercer County and that my father has been brought in.
This must be a joke. Mom always told me my father was dead.