The Daddy Arrangement (Sugar 101)

by Paige Parsons

  "I might not be from New York City, but I didn't exactly go around in shitkickers with straw stuck between my teeth, either," Brianna said and punched at her steering wheel. The sound of the horn startled them both, its vibrating echo the only hum around them for a few awkward moments.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't even thinking about you when I said it. I was just saying I wasn't one, either, and didn't need fancy things. I like my worn jeans and crazy t-shirts. I don't do slick straight hair, perfect bangs, or formal wear that I haven't been threatened to be in."

  Slamming her forehead on the steering wheel, very aware of the horn placement this time, Brianna mumbled from behind her arm. "I guess we can both be brats and stick our feet in our mouths. Oh, and apology accepted. I can be a little super sensitive about where I come from. Honestly, when people ask, I just say the biggest city in the state folks would know. I went a little crazy today. Shopping overboard, huh?"

  "I was this close to calling you Grams, seriously." Keila held her thumb and forefinger close together.

  "So, I guess a good friend would get you to your class and maybe would put in a couple of hours of studying, too, right?"

  "Um, yeah, she would, but I feel like you're not going to be that good friend, Brianna." Keila's singsong voice was pleading, but now that things were back on target, she didn't mind being taken off track again.

  "Just one more stop. I mean, really, no one wears three hundred dollars' worth of clothes and shoes with hands and feet that look they've been used to till earth and start cars."

  "Foot in mouth, again?"

  "No, this time, I was talking about both of us."

  "Well, that completely changes things. What do you have in mind?"

  Neither of them had enjoyed hanging out with a girlfriend as much in a long time. Keila's closest experience had been with Rain, when the school year first started and involved so much booze she didn't remember much of what they did in great detail. It became less about fun and much more about the morning-after regret toward the end of that first term. Brianna's closest girlfriend had been back home before she left for college, and like she'd explained to Keila, that relationship died a natural death of merely outgrowing one another.

  Things for them were different, though. Brianna knew it had to do with the fact that she hadn't started this friendship off with a lie. Embarrassed or not, she was glad things worked out the way they had and that she had decided to tell Keila the truth. The girls were singing out loud to show tunes that were Bri's favorite and that Keila hummed and tried to catch onto. Her only singing practice had been in a freshman choir class in high school and singing with the youth group at her temple when she was in elementary school. She had her grams to thank for that, too.

  Michael wanted to pick them up, but they'd gotten so far off schedule, after their side trip to the salon and packing and laughing and dancing around Brianna's room, they thought it best to convince him that meeting them at the restaurant made more sense. They could make the drive once in traffic, versus Michael and Jack having to make it twice during the nightmare that could be DC metro gridlock.

  Before they left the building, Keila left a note on a classmate's door, who lived two floors below, to beg her for a copy of the notes from the class she'd skipped to hang out with Brianna all day. She thought saying she got stuck at work sounded a lot better than, "I was shopping and at the spa all day."

  "Where'd you go?" Brianna popped back in the building to grab her bag, after pulling her car around from the garage.

  "Left a note for a classmate to get what I missed in class today. Remember, at some point, you promised me there'd be down time to get caught up on work."

  "Yeah, yeah! Not tonight, though. We're going to dinner, and Michael got tickets to see Wicked."

  "No way! I'm from New York and didn't even get to see it on Broadway. Those tickets are always either sold out or 'sell your kidney' expensive."

  Brianna laughed and tossed the comment over the hood of the car before sliding behind the wheel. "Welcome to the sugar bowl."

  Chapter 8

  The night was more incredible than Keila's mind could have conjured up. Every one of her senses was stimulated from the moment Brianna's car entered the underground garage of Michael's building. Keila knew she was in a different world. This was a girl who was no stranger to high rises, bright lights, or the big city, but she also didn't live in a daily world of over-the-top. Her grams had zero problems with keeping her humble. She earned everything with good behavior, quality grades, and general obedience, both her mom and grams being clear that they worked for their luxuries and they were not to be taken for granted or assumed to be her given birthright.

  Michael and Jack were heading to the restaurant straight from their last meeting, which meant the girls had free roam of the penthouse to get ready. Bri had keys and took them up directly from the garage.

  "He seriously lives here alone? My gram owns a brownstone that's three stories and it feels more cramped than this. The fact that the top floor is hers exclusively might also have something to do with it."

  "Well, let me give you the grand tour. FYI, after this, the master bedroom is off limits."

  "Um, yeah, you so didn't need to say that on any level. Let me guess, he has a cleaning lady or probably an entire staff."

  "Of course, did he look like the type of man who did his own wash or ever scrubbed a toilet?"

  "Maybe he's weird and doesn't like strangers touching his underwear."

  "Shut up, and come on. We can't be late. He's already texted the reservation time, twice."

  Keila took notice of everything, from the marble entryway to the gorgeous art that hung in the foyer. She had zero clue as to who the artist was but guessed they were wildly expensive. As they made their way to the door on the right, Keila's bare feet actually sunk into the depth of the plush carpeting. It was as deep as outside grass. The man had a four-poster bed made of the shiniest cherry wood, and the smell of the leather loveseat and chair mingled with wood polish and whatever lingered of Michael's cologne created a masculine scent she'd never experienced. When Brianna opened up one of the two walk-in closets in the room, Keila was on her heels. She clutched the frame and took it all in.

  "I could move into this closet and live a very happy life. My God! Is this all yours?"

  "No. This side of this closet is mine. Honestly, I only think he made space for me in it, because I almost got busted scurrying across the apartment naked, when one of the maintenance guys was up here. I used to just keep my stuff scattered around the guest room. He's too much of a neat freak to share a bathroom with, well, he was, but he's since mostly cured me of my messy ways."

  "These gowns are yours, though, right?"

  "Yes, but I hardly need them at school, so I leave these things here. Come on. Let's put your stuff away."

  "I could just crash on the—"

  Brianna pulled her from the closet and across the hall. "Don't you dare. You are not crashing on the damn couch. Now, I'm pretty sure you get first pick. Jack and Michael haven't been home today at all yet."

  Keila was standing and just looking at her friend. "Pick of what?"

  "Rooms. You get your pick of which guest room."

  "I just said I could live in that closet. It doesn't matter to me."

  "Fine. I'll pick. You can take what used to be my messy closet of a room."

  The tones were more neutral but no less opulent. The plush carpet was more of a deep sand color, and the room was done in various tones of creams, beiges, and tans. This was a room right out of one of her gram's television design shows. It was magazine shoot ready. Even her suitcase felt a little shabby in the doorway.

  "The bathroom is through here. At some point, I highly recommend a bubble bath. It beats dorm showers, every time."

  "Shouldn't Jack have this room? I mean, he's probably not used to sharing, and clearly, the college freshman is terribly accustomed."

  "Fine. If you want
to be a bathroom martyr. Let's go. But, for the record, this little room right here is only a half bath, so you'll have to share the shower. Plus, there's no counter space for your many hair products."

  "It's the only way to keep these curls tamed, I'm telling you, unless I straighten it, which I hate doing. I will have an absolute retro afro without my products. You don't get this messy-chic naturally," Keila said, shaking her head from side to side.

  "Okay, well, the blue room is yours. Seriously, we have to get showered and changed. I'll show you the rest when we get home tonight."

  'The blue room,' as they got through the door, Bri's comment made sense. The room was slightly more masculine than the cream one, but not as much as Michael's. The room had the same sand color carpeting, but it was accented with deep navy bedding covering a wrought iron bed and a cherry wood dresser and chest of drawers. It was a little bigger in the room, with a regular closet versus a walk-in.

  "Less staring in awe and more getting ready!"

  Brianna smacked her butt hard and scurried from the room, listening to her friend's outraged giggles and threats of retaliation as she crossed the hall.

  An hour later when they headed down to the lobby, they looked like completely different people. The doorman put them in a taxi, and as comfortable and at ease as Bri looked was as nervous as Keila was feeling. She was absolutely having the 'I bit off more than I can chew' feeling.

  When they pulled up to the restaurant, it didn't make it better. It was the most opulent place she had ever been to as a guest. She looked the part in her black Aidan dress, but she wasn't feeling it. A black mini dress with a sheer overlay that fell mid-calf with two wide bands of black satin was the focal point of her outfit and was accentuated with a low heel double strap Mary Jane. Her hair was slicked down in the front with a ton of product, and the teeth of a wide headband kept her curly mane in check and out of her face. When she saw her reflection in the lobby mirror, she still felt like she had played dress up in her mom's closet. Brianna wasn't moving with an ounce of doubt. Her burgundy halter dress fell mid-thigh, and in her matching burgundy platform heels, she was all tall dancer leg perfection. Even her messy topknot looked purposeful with teardrop pearl earrings highlighting her long, lean neck. Keila was feeling every bit the little sister. It was her own fault, though, and not Brianna's that she couldn't walk in anything taller than a two-inch heel.

  Keila could see how Brianna ended up an actress and a dancer. Her friend could turn heads as much as any celebrity, but her eyes were only focused on one table, as the maitre'd led them to Michael and Jack's. Keila kept her head down in an effort not to trip. Even the two-inch heels felt like an error in judgment. Her ballet flats had never failed her before, and she was missing them now.

  "You probably want to take the empty seat. I don't think we know one another well enough for you to sit in my lap just yet."

  Head up and hands out to brace herself for impact, Keila's breath caught when she looked up into the face of the man standing before her, and what a man he was. Jack was the most distinguished and handsome man she had ever been so close to in her life and that was saying a lot, considering her first impression of Michael. Jack didn't give off the sternness that Michael seemed to wear as a badge. Jack's emerald eyes sparkled behind his round shaped tortoiseshell glasses. His smile looked like he was just done sharing a secret laugh. There was a smattering of hair on his face in the form of a light beard and mustache. The facial hair was lighter than the hair on his head. His full head of hair, that was thick and dark, didn't belie his age at all. If he was in his forties and looked that good, she couldn't wrap her brain around what he must've looked like at her age. Her age—just thinking about the always semi-drunk fraternity guys she hung around with during her first semester highlighted the absurdity of her current situation. Sure, it wasn't a real date, but to anyone passing by, that was exactly how it would look, or maybe it would look like something much worse. Either way, she needed her brain to focus in on something other than his dark green eyes and the dimples set so deep in his cheek that even his tiny smirk made them stand out.

  Jack looked at Michael and Brianna for a clue as to how he should proceed. The young lady in front of him hadn't reacted to his lap joke as expected, and now the poor little thing looked like she was going to pass out.

  Brianna came to the rescue. "This is Keila. She's normally much better with the English language and walking. Right, Kei? Kei?"

  "Yeah. Yes. I'm Keila. I'm sorry. I think my mind was somewhere else."

  "Well, I hope it's interested in joining us for the rest of the evening. These show tickets will be wasted, otherwise."

  Jack pulled out the seat next to him and held out his hand to guide her into it.

  "Thank you. I promise I don't usually make such clumsy entrances. I really wish I had gone with flats. I was so focused on not falling, I kind of failed at everything else."

  While his friends were caught up in one another—Michael's right hand had not come from under the tablecloth yet—Jack found himself enamored of the jittery little thing beside him with the head full of curls. He supposed she wasn't that tiny. She certainly filled the dress she was wearing out perfectly. Her petiteness only highlighted by the fact that, standing and sitting, he towered above her. As she stood in front of him, she was also totally obscured from view by the breadth of his shoulders. He might be over forty, but he'd held on to his all-star football player body. Work and working out helped focus his mind and mend his heart after Julia's death, and like was often the case, he got sucker punched with grief. He would continue to be a good host, but he had to put himself in check when it came to admiring the sweet girl to his left.

  Weird waiter moments had been hurdled. Keila finally knew what she wanted, but she was so worried about spilling sauce on her expensive new dress that she changed her mind twice before the waiter left the table.

  "What was that about?" Jack asked.

  "What?" Keila could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. All three of them were looking at her with clear expectations written on their faces. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why, though.

  Bri jumped in with a semi-rescue, "The roundabout ordering you did is the what. You said you had your heart set on pasta. Why did you switch to fish?"

  Keila wanted to send her answer telepathically, which would have gone something like, 'seriously, how about I tell you Monday when we get back?' Instead, she said, "It all looked so interesting. I probably shouldn't have gone first. You know, too much time to change my mind."

  Brianna laughed it off and went back to giving her attention to Michael. Jackson did great keeping up a steady stream of conversation, both asking for and sharing information, but Keila couldn't get her brain and mouth to work in concert. By the time dessert and coffee came, she was reduced to polite nodding and agreeable sounds. Convinced that silence was her friend, when she climbed in the backseat of Michael's car, Keila simply smiled at her seat companion as he reached over to help her with her seatbelt because, like her mouth, her hands had become traitorous, too.

  Keila couldn't wait to get back to the penthouse to get into some of her regular clothes. At least the obligation for small talk and idle chitchat wouldn't weigh so heavily during the show. Plus, she would be sitting. That took her mind to the possibility of climbing and tripping up or down the stairs. The other choice would be to take his arm, but the thought of touching him again made her shiver inside.

  All she had to do was concentrate on not being the klutzy kid she was feeling like. The worry over heels, dresses, spilled sauces, and the elevated conversation would disappear in the comfort of shorts and a tank top. If Michael kept ice cream in his freezer, she would be golden.

  "How about a movie?"

  Brianna thought for sure Keila would want the night to be over. She was certainly ready for some alone time with Michael. The show was unbelievable and Keila had definitely lightened up. She was more her usual talkative self, and since she did
come along to keep her company with the promise of a fun weekend, it didn't seem like going to bed on a Friday night at eleven o'clock qualified. So, a movie night was in order at a minimum.

  The second they crossed the threshold, Keila pulled her shoes off and stood by the door with them in her hand. She wanted to change and relax, but she wasn't ready for bed. All night, Jack's presence had driven her to absolute distraction. Still, when given the best out she'd had all night, something in her didn't want to be locked away in the guest bedroom away from his playful teasing or observant eyes. She was glad that the trio was on board to watch a movie.

  "Girls, get changed and pick something to watch, and I'll put some snacks together."

  Michael was headed into his bedroom without waiting for them to respond. Keila hadn't moved from the door and Jack was headed toward her room. Just what she needed, another awkward moment she would have to live through.

  "Um, I sort of already picked that room. I'm sorry."

  "We figured you'd prefer the private bathroom," Brianna rescued again.

  "Well, I certainly will now. Brianna, didn't you see my clothes in the closet?"

  "Oh, no. We were rushing around and didn't notice or unpack. I am so sorry," Brianna said. She was most sorry for Keila. Jack was being himself, if not a bit more playful, but Keila was acting like a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  "I can be out in a few minutes." Keila carried her shoes past him and would have continued on had Jack not reached for her arm. Was it possible to liquefy from a touch? If anyone were to ask Keila at that moment, her answer would've been an emphatic yes. No hand on an arm should cause such a physical reaction. The man was absolutely nothing to her, but she was reacting to him like no man before. She couldn't figure it all out and she absolutely couldn't do it with his hand on her arm.