“Are you showing the model to a potential buyer, sir?” the manager’s asking Bobby.
“No,” Bobby says to him. “Miss Hopson and her son will be staying there.” And he doesn’t say for a few days, or a little while, or anything like that. As if we’re going to be living here for as long as we care to. Which is insane.
I can tell the manager thinks so, too, and doesn’t like it, especially because it’s me. For some reason, from the first time I laid eyes on him, he’s been looking at me like I’m not worthy to step foot anywhere near this place. And moneywise, he might be right about that. Moneywise, I’m out of my league. I know that. But Bobby doesn’t agree with that. It’s a non-issue as far as Bobby’s concerned. And since he’s the dude that owns the joint, I don’t give a rat’s behind what some manager thinks.
Bobby motions for Ayden and me to come with him, and the three of us walk together to the elevators. Like we’re a family when we’re nowhere near that. And Ayden’s so filled with excitement he keeps elbowing me every time he sees something beautiful. Like the cathedral ceilings. Like the marble on the sides of the elevators. Like the beautiful floors. We aren’t used to this. I’m trying to act like I am, so Bobby doesn’t think he’s got a couple of hillbillies on his hands, but I’m not. And on top of that, I’m still unsure if coming here was smart, or dumb as hell.
When the doors open, Bobby places his hand on the small of my back and ushers me on. When the elevator doors close us in and he doesn’t remove his hand, I feel a little better. Maybe he wants this, too, and we aren’t just some burden he has to take on. That would kill me if that’s how he felt. But something was driving that irrational anger he had.
The doors open back up on what I see is the sixteenth floor. And we head for the condo.
I was wondering why he would put us in the model unit, since the model is usually decked out with everything so that potential buyers can see what their place could look like. But when he opens the door of that unit, I realize why. It’s decked out with everything. Which means it has furniture. Something Bobby apparently knew I didn’t immediately have. But it’s not just any furniture. It’s beautiful, modern, top of the line furniture.
“Your bedroom is over there, Ayden,” he says to my son, pointing to the right.
“My bedroom?” Ayden asks. “I have my own room?” But before Bobby could answer him, he takes off, with his life’s possessions in the bags he’s carrying, and runs to that room. I hear him yell, “wow,” as soon as he runs in it. Me and Bobby both smile as we go in the room too.
Now I’ve got tears in my eyes as I watch my son flop on the bed on his back like he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. My struggles have been his struggles too. When I failed, he failed. When my heart was broken and chipped away at, his heart broke too.
I turn to Bobby. I don’t want Ayden seeing me cry. “Thanks for making him happy,” I say to Bobby. “And me.”
I can tell he’s touched by my tears because he wipes them away. Then he rubs my arm and he mouth, you’re welcome, without uttering a sound. Then he begins heading out. “The master is this way,” he says to me.
I smile at Ayden. “This place is great, Ma!” he says.
“Just don’t break the bed, boy,” I say to him and then hurry behind Bobby. I need to know why he’s being so generous. He hardly knows us! You can’t bring home every stray cat you find. One of those suckers just might claw you.
But when I see the master bedroom on the other side of the already roomy condo, with the big king-sized poster bed, all I can say is wow too. I’ve never slept in a room this magnificent, unless I count earlier tonight when I slept, at least for a few hours, in Bobby’s bed. But this is supposed to be my bed. At least temporarily, although Bobby hasn’t spelled out what temporary means.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m spelling it out. As soon as I get a couple paychecks back-to-back, I’m finding us our own place. I like Bobby, but I can’t allow myself to owe any man this much. Things blow up, I’m right back where I started from and my child’s in an unstable situation once again.
Truth is, if I didn’t have Ayden with me, I wouldn’t even be here.
“This is beautiful,” I say to Bobby, as we stand in the middle of the fully furnished room. He sits my beat-up, well-traveled old suitcase beside the bed, and then comes back over to me. And he must see something concerning to him in my eyes because he places his hands on my arms and starts rubbing them again. Every time he touches me, he soothes me, so I don’t mind the rub at all.
He turns me to him, so that I’m facing him, and he looks me dead in the eyes. “Tell me when you need help,” he says to me. And his big eyes look so sincere, and so hurt, that it’s making no sense to me. Why would that bother him so much? Why would the fact that I didn’t tell him I was living in a motel, that I had managed to go that low, make him feel so hurt?
“Don’t ever again refuse to let me do what I can to help you,” he says to me. “I’m not taking away from your ability to help yourself, Rain. I would never do that. But when you need help, dammit, you need help. And staying in a motel, in that hellhole area, means you need help. You should have told me.”
He’s not being realistic. At least not from where I come from. “When did you expect me to tell you this?” I ask him. “On date number one, or date number two? I mean, come on, Bobby. We’ve only been on two dates and I’m supposed to let you become my provider? Really? You’re already helping me with that car repair bill. You already helped me get that job.”
He looks at me. He didn’t know I knew that. “Your brother told me,” I say to him. “But what I’m saying is that I’m not used to all this kindness and shit. I’m used to giving, not receiving. I’m sorry if I didn’t know that there’s a world out here where men help women this way, women they don’t even know, just because they can. Nobody’s ever done that for me. This some strange-ass shit to me.”
Something about what I’m saying seems to touch Bobby deeply because he says, ah, babe, and pulls me into his arms. He holds me for a long time, and then pulls back to look at me. “I’m sorry you haven’t experience kindness,” he says. “But please don’t think I go around helping every stranger the way I’m helping you. I don’t. Truth is,” he says, and he’s rubbing my arms again, and looking down, at my breasts, “I don’t know why I have this powerful need, this want, to help you.” He looks up again, into my eyes. “I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know why. I just know there’s no way in hell I was going to let you and Ayden stay in that motel another second. I wasn’t going to allow it. Why I wasn’t? Ask me that in a year from now. But please know: I’m glad you came.”
I smile. Because I don’t know why I’m so drawn to him, either. I mean, I do know why most women would be drawn to him. He’s smart. He’s gorgeous. He’s got the big eyes, which I’ve always been a sucker for. And he’s kind too? And rich too? And great, not good, but great in bed? I can see all kinds of women trying to get next to him. That’s not what I mean. I know why I want to get next to him. I guess what I mean is: why would he want to get next to me?
I know I have things to offer. I know my heart is good, and I know God knows what’s really in my heart. I don’t have ill will toward anybody on the face of this earth. I’m no crab in a pot trying to pull my fellow man down. I’ve forgiven my enemies, even the guy that shot my own son and killed my son’s father and is now out of prison roaming around Boston somewhere. Or wherever he’s roaming around. I’m happy when other people prosper, and sad when they fail. I’ve never been some vindictive bitch out to knock people down because I know I’ll never succeed if I become that girl. God will see to that. That’s why I leave people alone. I wish them well and let them live their own lives, and I live mine. I have a good heart to offer.
Maybe Bobby sees it too. And maybe I see something in him I’ve never seen in other guys before. Maybe. I don’t know. But I like one thing he said. I like when he said for me to ask him a year from now w
hy he’s being so kind to me. As if he just knows we’ll still be an item in a year’s time. Which means he thinks we will know each other fully by then, and still like what we know.
That, for me, would be amazing.
“I’m glad I came too,” I say to him.
He smiles a brilliant white smile at me, and then move me closer to him. But then, he exhales. “There’s one other thing, Renita,” he says to me.
I stare at him. “What other thing?”
I can tell he doesn’t want to say it. But he does. “There’s this lady I used to fool around with, okay?”
I figured some woman would be in the picture some kind of way. “Are you fooling with her now?” I ask him.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“What about her then?” My heart’s beating faster. Because I know it’s gonna be some bullshit.
“She’s apparently pregnant,” he says.
Bingo!
But I don’t say anything. I let him finish.
“She slept around with a lot of men,” he says, “so the fact that she’s pregnant is no surprise at all. But what’s surprising is that she’s trying to claim I’m the father of her child.”
“You know she’s gonna claim that,” I bark at him. “That ain’t surprising. What’s surprising about it? If you were stupid enough to not wear a condom while you were fucking her, what do you think she was gonna do? You’re rich. You have that rich name. Who do you think she was gonna say is her baby daddy if she had to pick one out of her ass, which is the way you seem to think she’s doing it? You should have been smarter than that, Bobby.”
I’m being hard on him because I guess I’m disappointed in him. I know what baby mama drama look like. I used to be that girl. I don’t know if I want to take myself, or my son, through any shit like that again.
“Truth is,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I wore a condom.”
“But you aren’t certain?”
“I’m not certain, no.”
Now I’m exhaling. “Well, I’m glad you told me. I wish you didn’t have to go through that, I wish we didn’t, but I’m glad you told me.”
“And hopefully, it’s not true. Hopefully I’m not the father.”
“But if you are?” I ask him, staring at him. His answer to this particular question is going to tell me a lot.
“If I am, then I’ll take care of my child, I’ll want half or maybe even full custody, and I’ll try my best to be civil to his mother.”
I smile. “Good answer,” I say.
And just like that, we connect. He told me his shit. He got to see my shit. Hopefully no more shoes will need to drop in our relationship since it hasn’t even gotten off of the ground yet. Hopefully this is just the start of something beautiful, not the beginning of the end for us. But it feels great right now.
And then, suddenly, something else happens between us. Our smiles are gone. And we’re looking into each other’s eyes. And remembering what it was like, not all that long ago, when we were together. I know Bobby’s thinking about it, too, because I can feel his dick become hard against my leg. I can see the lust building in his eyes. He moves his hands from my arms, to my ass, and starts squeezing me.
I want it, too, but not here. Not with my son in the same space. His thirteen-year-old hormones are raging as they are, if that HBO movie he fell asleep watching is any indication. I’m not giving him any hints to what he’s missing out on.
“My son,” I say to Bobby when he moves in closer, and Bobby says, Right, like he totally forgot that we weren’t alone.
“My place,” he whispers to me, which surprises me. I expected him to just call it a night. It’s already been a long night. But not Bobby. He wants some. And what Bobby wants, I’m discovering, Bobby gets. Since I want it, too, we’re a perfect match.
We head for the front door. “I’ll be back, Ayden,” I yell to him. “I’m going upstairs to Mr. Sinatra’s place for a few minutes.”
“Okay. There’s a TV in this room and everything, Ma.”
I smile. “Good. And keep your ass off of that HBO!”
Bobby laughs.
“Yes, ma’am. And thanks, Mr. Sinatra!”
“You’re welcome, son,” he says, and we leave. Only I’m leaving feeling on top of the world. My son is happy. My son is safe. And I’m satisfied. That’s all I need to get by.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Being with Bobby may be all I need to get by, but Bobby needs more than that when he gets me upstairs. As soon as we enter his penthouse, and closes the front door, he’s got me pinned against the door. And we’re kissing like kissing is going out of style and we’ve got to get our chance in now. I mean hungrily we kiss. But like I said, Bobby wants a whole lot more.
He drops my pants and my panties, and unzips his pants, step completely out of them, and then pulls it out. He takes my hand and place it on it, and I take it from there. I might not have Bobby’s wide-reaching experience, I’m sure, but I’m no fucking novice either. I know my way around a penis. I know when a man hands it over, he expects me to handle it.
I crouch down and handle it. I can hear Bobby sighing as I’m jerking on it, getting it even bigger than it already is. And when I put it in my mouth, he stretches his hands out, palms up against the door, and leans his head back, like he can barely take it. Men like when I do this shit, although it’s not a favorite activity of mine, and Bobby seems to love it too.
So, I keep at it. For a man who’s done for me and Ayden what Bobby’s done for us, it’s the least I can do. Not that it’s payback for what he’s done. It’s not. But I can’t help feel this sense of wanting to do something special for him, since he’s been so kind to me. I give it my all.
I give so much that Bobby almost cums in my mouth. He pulls me back up, and starts kissing me again. Even harder this time. And I’m loving it too. Bobby has a way with that tongue! My vagina gets soak and wet just from the way he’s kissing me.
Then he lifts me up and places both my legs across his arms, opening me wide, and then, as sudden as a rush of wind, he enters me. He enters me raw.
Raw.
And both of us seem to realize it at the same time, because we look at each other with a slight sense of alarm in our eyes. But there’s a problem. He’s already moving. He’s already fucking me. And it feels fantastic. But it’s so wrong. I don’t know this man like that, and he doesn’t know me like that either! What are we doing?
But we keep doing it. I lean my head back against the door, and Bobby leans his forehead against mine.
“I’m clean,” he whispers to me. “I get tested every month as a rule, and I haven’t done shit for months. You’re safe with me.”
I feel him. I haven’t done shit for months, either, but I still faithfully take my birth control. Just in case.
“But I’m sorry I didn’t put one on,” he says to me.
But it’s just words he’s saying because neither one of us are sorry. Because if we were truly sorry, we would have done something by now. I would have gotten out of his arms, or he would have pulled out of me. We don’t do either. We just fuck.
For a long-ass time he’s banging me, and I’m literally holding on and enjoying it like it’s the first time I’ve ever done this shit. My eyes are so hooded I can barely see. That’s how good it feels to have this man so deep inside of me. It’s like I can feel his veins he’s in so deep. And he’s got staying power. He’s pumping his ass off, and giving every part of me a ride, and he’s not letting up either. He’s breathing so heavily, and sweating like a marathon runner, he’s pumping so hard. The thrill of my life he’s giving me, over and over again.
But it’s too thrilling, because I cum. And I’m so caught up in my own cum, that I don’t realize Bobby’s cumming too. It isn’t until I start feeling him pouring into me with so much to give that it’s saturating me, do I realize he’s cumming. He’s still pumping, but because he’s holding me the whole time, or because it’s been a long night, when he starts cumm
ing his strokes get weaker and weaker. He doesn’t have the stamina he had earlier, in bed.
But that’s because it can’t get any better than this. He has me now. I’m whipped. Because when he pulls out of me, and I’m standing back on my own two feet, I’m wobbly. I feel like we’ve been at it for hours, when that’s not even true. And I’m sore as hell.
He looks at me and smile that smile I’m beginning to really like, and lifts me again. Only this time he carries me to his shower. We shower together and yes, we fuck again. And because I know Ayden’s perfectly safe and sound in the condo, we go back to bed together.
And for the first time in a very long time, I sleep like a baby.
A baby in Bobby’s more than capable arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I look at Rain as I’m easing out of bed. She’s still sleep. The sound of the doorbell didn’t wake her. And my sudden movements didn’t either. Which is a good thing. She’s sleeping so peacefully.
I was sleeping peacefully, too, with her in my arms. But now I’m not so peaceful. I really don’t need this disturbance. But it probably couldn’t be helped, so I don’t fight it. I grab my bathrobe and put it on as I make my way to the front door of my penthouse condo. I know it has to be somebody in my family, or Gerard. Nobody else is allowed to come on up without permission first.
Through the peephole I see it’s Gerard. Which concerns me. They’ve apparently found Laura.
I open quickly. “They found her?”
“Who, Laura?” He asks this as he walks in. “No. There’s still no word on her.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“There’s a problem,” he says and hands me a folded sheet of paper.
Bobby Sinatra: In All the Wrong Places (The Rags to Romance Series Book 1) Page 16
