Calming and reassuring, Jack had a way of making Keila simply feel better about any situation. He was practically the same age as her mom, but the way he handled her was different. Everything about being with him was different. She couldn't explain it, but since it made her feel good, she refused to overthink it. When she took her intro to psychology class, she kept trying to work little scenes from her life into class discussions to gain perspective, but all it did was confuse the class and the professor.
So, most of what she felt, she kept to herself. She also knew enough to skimp on the details where her mother and grams were concerned. Over the two years they'd become their own version of the fab four, Keila had bailed on going back to Brooklyn for a few holidays and school breaks. Her lies were ever growing, and more than once, both her mom and grams behaved as though they were suspicious of what she was telling them. Of course, they should have been. That pile of partial truths was a detail she spared Jack whenever he asked. He didn't take kindly to her skirting around the truth. She reminded herself of that every time her stack of little white lies accumulated.
"There's no such thing as a little white lie, lies of omission, or semi-truths. There's telling the truth, and everything that isn't that is a lie, pure and simple."
"That's not a tone that makes me want to say come on in, but I guess I have to since you came bearing gifts."
"Obviously, not ones you deserve or need."
Keila stepped aside and made room for Jack to pass. Whatever he was carrying smelled delicious, but it didn't feel right to ask about it in his current mood. Especially since she was the cause of said ornery behavior. As she closed the door, she stayed by it instead of following him into the kitchen. Suddenly, she was legitimately as sick as the lie she'd told earlier in the day.
"So, let me guess, your fever broke. Is this a miracle of modern medicine or a sudden reversal of fortune?"
"I can explain. I really did want to meet you guys out tonight. You know how much I love an old movie, but I kind of got backed into a corner with time."
Jack was leaning against the island, on the kitchen side, watching Keila watching the ground between her feet as she did a two-step through the story she was peddling. She'd played things up so much when he checked in midday, to see what she wanted for dinner, that he was actually the one who suggested they cancel plans with Brianna and Michael. Her claim of fever, chills, shaking, and being curled up in bed was bad enough, but the hacking cough she obviously faked had concerned him deeply. All of that energy wasted. She probably just wanted to go and hang out with people her own age. He could understand it, even if his feelings were a little hurt by the now twenty-year-old, but all she had to do was tell him the truth. She was finally looking up at him. There was no way he was going to make it easy for her.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
"This is your story to tell, kid."
Most of the time when he called her that, it was sweet and endearing. However, the look that accompanied it this time left her feeling chastised and cold.
"Jack, you've been in town a lot recently. Wait, let me finish. I meant to say since you and Michael have been working here in Virginia more, we've all seen each other a lot more than usual."
"So, tonight, you just didn't feel like hanging out. Why not just say that, Keila?"
"No, no, no. I love when we all hang out together and I guess I have been putting off some things. I got behind. I got behind a lot, and now I have deadlines I can't blow off. I love Bri, but her schedule is way different as a senior than mine is as a junior. Juries and some early morning dance classes are easier, no matter what she thinks or says. Just because she says don't worry and that I'll make it up doesn't make it so. My God, say something! You look like your head is going to explode."
"I'm listening to you prattle on about everything, except the main thing. All you had to do was tell the truth, either weeks ago, when you were falling behind or tonight, when you finally decided to get caught up. You're a junior in college and not some teenager trying to avoid an event at her grandmother's temple."
"But, it's kind of how you're making me feel. You're disappointed in me?"
"Oh, that matters to you now. Doesn't seem like it mattered much before you opened the door and saw me?"
"Of course, it did. What was I supposed to say? Hey, Jack, I've been completely irresponsible for weeks and now I have at least a weekend's worth of work to do to catch up. I felt like a stupid kid and, frankly, saying I was sick was easier."
"Easier to lie. Sounds about right, since it usually is. Yeah, I am a little disappointed in you. I think I'm going to go. There's some soup and meds in the bag. Oh, and I made you some of those rolls you love. Feel better, kid."
Well, that was a knife in the heart. That's what she'd smelled. Jack pushed from the counter and came around to her side heading for the door. He knew he was being a hardass, but he'd truly been concerned for her and he wasn't a fan of being played the fool. But, Lord, she did look weepy and contrite when he turned back in response to her hand on his forearm. Maintaining his stern countenance wasn't easy.
"Something else you want to say?" he asked.
"I'm sorry. I suppose you know that, though. Can't I make it up to you? I mean, I don't know how and I really can't do anything but work this weekend, but there must be something. I hate the way you're looking at me."
Having more than a bit of height on her, Keila wanted to shrink back and lower than his downward gaze was already making her feel. Who doesn't tell little stories here and there? He was making too much of it. Wasn't he? Or, maybe she was trying to convince herself that he was making too much of it.
"If we did things the way Michael and Brianna do, I would at least know exactly how long you'd be mad at me."
Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek in order to dampen his mirth and excitement at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time the idea of getting Keila's perfect little backside turned over his knee had crossed his mind. Actually, the first time was during a cooking lesson that nearly ended in having to remodel Michael's kitchen. That thought tangent aside, he knew he couldn't act on any of those notions. Her pitiful desperation took some of his ire down. He needed to explain. It had taken time to deal with his anger over Julia's lies that led to her death. Loving her the way he did meant the grief anchored the anger deep down, but as it lifted, he recognized the negative feelings more and more, until he had no choice except to face them. It looked like he would have to stare them down again because he needed to give Keila an explanation.
"Yeah, we're not them, though, and I doubt you're… C'mere, kid." Jack held his hand out to her. "Let's sit down and talk a minute. You'll just have to make up the time on your work."
She took his hand and willingly sitting next to him on the couch then pulled her feet under her and leaned in inches from putting her head on his shoulder.
"You know I lost my wife a long time ago."
It was a statement of fact that didn't warrant comment, so Keila sat still and waited for the rest.
"We wanted children, Julia, even more than I did, I think. I wanted her happy. I would've given anything for that. Anything but her life, and she knew it. So, when the doctor made it clear that taking a pregnancy to term would put her very life at risk, I knew we couldn't do it. We argued. A lot. It was the most we'd disagreed on anything from the moment we met, but I finally convinced her that what we had, just the two of us, was enough. There was even hope that someday we could adopt."
"You would've been a great dad."
The arm hanging over the back of the sofa slid down to Keila's shoulder and pulled her close. Both, unspoken, were calmed and settled back into the comfortable closeness they'd grown to love. Her head fell to his shoulder and he continued.
"Maybe. The thing is I thought we were on the same page. She was supposed to be on birth control. No chance of getting pregnant, I believed. She was a nurse. She was allergic to latex, so that explained away never using con
doms. Why wouldn't I trust her?"
"I guess the pills failed. They do warn about that at university health services."
"Well, I'm sure those stats improve greatly if you're actually taking the pills. Her faith was so strong. She really believed that the science was wrong. She went through her entire first trimester alone. I never had a clue how precious those months together were. She took the risk, and it was extremely calculated. I was forced into that journey without information, warning, or the ability to fight back. She took away my choice with her lie. Sure, she saw it as a little white lie, a subversion of truth, but the fact is she thought she should make the decision for me, and it has taken me a long time to face that. To face my feelings about it and to forgive her for it. And, I have. I've finally made my peace with it all. Tonight, tonight brought back some of that anger and fear. I know it isn't exactly the same, but I was worried about you, and knowing that you lied for no other reason than it was easier than the truth…"
"It made you angry. I understand. I mean, I understood you when you first said it, but now I'm clear why it's such a big deal. I'm used to getting around my mother and grams with these little stories that make conversations between us, well, easier. I guess I was doing the thing that's always worked in the past. I'm s—"
"I know. I didn't share that to get you do apologize again. I believe you."
"Will you be able to believe me about anything else again?"
"Now who's blowing things out of proportion? Maybe you would feel better knowing there was some consequence for your poor choice."
There was no chance her sharp intake of air got past him.
"Not that. No one is getting a spanking tonight. No matter how badly they deserve it."
She quickly turned her head into his chest to hide her face and the blush she was sure would be seen, even beneath her hazelnut complexion.
"I think I will stay and have dinner with you. Then I'm going to relax and watch a movie while you sit at that table getting your work done, screen facing me, and I'll just hang onto your phone. You know, zero distractions and all. Then I'll be here to proofread anything you need. It'll be like working under a tutor's watchful eye."
"I don't have to get everything done tonight, Jack. I mean, I have tomorrow and Sunday."
"Keila, does this feel like a good time to question my methods?"
His tone held a serious sternness she rarely heard, but she did know it meant questioning him at all was a very bad idea.
"No, I guess not. Not really. So, we should go heat up dinner?"
"That sounds good. Up you get. Go get your books and then set the table. I'll get everything warmed back up."
"I have a feeling this might suck just slightly less than sitting at the counter doing homework while my mom or grams did something in the kitchen, but I'm still glad you came by to take care of me."
"Anytime. But no more lying to me, Keila. Not the big ones or the little ones. Deal?"
As she hugged him back, Keila kept part of her answer in her head. It was absolutely a deal, moving forward. No need to ruin the rest of the night with past mistakes.
Chapter 11
"Would you please just hit enter? You're going to do it, eventually. Don't think I haven't seen you toggling back and forth. Writing a paper, my ass."
Brianna was pushing her friend harder than ever, because the clock was ticking and they were running out of time.
"Another dress fitting? Bri, every time we go, you change your mind just enough that we have to go back. I need to study. I need to find another job. Do you know what I don't need? I don't need to stand on another podium being stuck with pins, so we can get the fit just right. Actually, I don't think anyone needs more of that in their lives."
"You're deflecting. You won't have to find another job if you just hit enter."
"You just shut it. I might not have to hit enter if the job offer comes through and I max out my student loans. Maybe I'll move back into the dorms."
Brianna nearly fell inside Keila's closet. A closet that was, in fact, bigger than the single room she would be in if she moved back on campus.
"Right. From doorman-high rise back to sharing ten toilets with thirty girls. That is never going to happen."
"Didn't I tell you to shut it? What are you looking for, anyway?"
"In all of this mess? The lost city of Atlantis! I need your sexy patent sling backs. I don't have any heels close enough in height to my wedding shoes for the fitting. I've only seen you wear them twice, and then it was only half the night. You should just let me keep them."
Brianna kept looking. She loved her roommate like a sister, they were best friends, but the girl was a slob and didn't keep anything in its place. When she walked into her room, she had no idea the horrors her bathroom or closets held. The bed was always made, and only her desk showed signs of daily usage, but behind every door and closed drawer was a war zone. The left shoe had been located in the front hall closet; however, the location of the right one was yet to be determined. The only thing the prolonged search gave her was time to keep talking Keila into hitting the damn enter key.
Keila hated admitting that Brianna was right. It set a bad precedent, but she did not want her senior year of college to be an exercise in regressions. Moving back into the dorms was ridiculous, even as a notion. She had put off applying to be a resident assistant, which meant tomb sized single or sharing with someone brand-new.
There was no judgment, anymore, between the girls, but Keila still wasn't super comfortable with the idea of diving into the sugar bowl. Dating specifically for money was, well... Even the name made her feel a little icky. No, what it made her feel, no matter how expensive the gifts, was cheap. She didn't think of Brianna in that way, but when she saw her own life through that same lens, it felt different. If her mother and grandmother ever found out, they would disown her on principle. It was really the only way they could disown her, since she had zero chance of inheriting the brownstone in the foreseeable future, and beyond that, neither of them were worth more than a couple thousand dollars and a couple of life insurance policies.
"And, you really think I can do it without it ever involving sex?" Keila's voice wavered with the deep mire of doubt she continued to wade in.
"I don't know about forever. It'll depend on how long you're in the sugar bowl. The biggest thing you need to remember is that you decide, period. It might take a while, but you can get the arrangement that's perfect for you. I did."
"Like everything else with Michael, I'm thinking your arrangement is rare."
"Not as rare as you think. Multi-million dollar companies don't get built on terrible results. But, yeah, they did break the mold with him."
"Gloating."
"Sorry."
Each of the girls had a deep U-shaped closet in their room. Brianna's was set up with shoe racks and matching hangers. Her clothes were hung seasonally and color-coded. She could also see the floor of the said closet. The contrast was the minefield that was Keila's closet. This was why Michael was constantly praising her for keeping her room so nice. All of her mess was on the floor of the closet. Bri had already kicked past a mountain mixture of clean and dirty clothes. She'd stepped on three buttons or clothes with buttons. It was hard to tell.
"Found it! If you don't clean this closet out this weekend, I'm telling. It's petty, but you need help. Now, we seriously need to get going. Michael is meeting us for lunch when we're done, and if I'm late one more time this week, well, I think we both know that's my butt—literally. Please hit send. You know we'll help screen for you. Michael even gave his stamp of approval on your profile. There's nothing left to do. Unless you've changed your mind about staying here for the year and letting Michael pay for it."
"Absolutely not! There are so many things wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin. I'm not having your future husband turn into my sugar daddy."
"Sex will definitely be off the table, plus, you already have a semi-relationship. You know wh
at he would expect and he's clear on what you would need. It would only be for a year. Married men are the best kind. They absolutely won't monopolize your time. It would be a much more hands-off approach," Bri said, sitting down beside her friend, knowing this was a move destined to make them late and land her back in Michael's crosshairs. She hadn't been too much of a bridezilla, but she was off her game and had displayed one too many fits of temper and disregard.
"Maybe, but not my best friend's husband. Besides, Michael is a little intense for my taste and his approach—well, let's just say hands-off isn't the description I would use."
Keila rubbed her ass unconsciously, thinking about the one and only time she earned her own dose of Michael. About a month earlier, the girls had royally pissed him off and, according to him, took about five years off his life.
In typical Northern Virginia fashion, the winter weather had taken a quick turn. The girls had been studying at the university library, before deciding to grab dinner and an impromptu movie. Michael was supposed to be working late, so Bri figured she wouldn't bother him with their additional plans. The only problem was that Michael cut his meeting short to meet them for dinner and planned to bring them home. The car he'd gotten his fiancé was more than safe, but she still wasn't a hundred percent confident with city driving and especially not in a storm that was picking up pace rapidly.
He called, he texted and didn't get an answer for over an hour. Intermittently, he would try Keila's number, but she wasn't picking up, either. When sitting around and calling yielded no results, he got in his car and drove to the library. They were working on semester finals and probably lost track of time. He was dealing with two hard-working students. When he pulled up, he quickly ascertained that everyone with sense had cleared out. There were only four or five cars and none were Brianna's ice blue jeep. He couldn't imagine a reason they would have taken Keila's death trap used Mustang. That car was hardly solid enough for a bright sunny day. Again, he dialed both numbers. He kept self-talking, doing a lousy job at convincing himself everything was fine as he pulled back into traffic to follow the way he knew the girls would drive back to their apartment. Not only did he not see them en route, but when he got there, Larry, their grandfatherly doorman, said he hadn't seen either girl since his shift started at five o'clock.
The Daddy Arrangement (Sugar 101) Page 9
