The Daddy Arrangement (Sugar 101)

by Paige Parsons

  Bri did her best brow raising, eye-blinking look at her friend to get her to abort wherever this conversation was about to go. This so wasn't the time for Keila's verbal diarrhea of honesty. Their plans weren't set in stone, but they did involve at least a few bars, a strip club they were both dying to go into at least once, and copious amounts of tequila. Even hinting at that would kick her doting fiancé into hyper vigilance.

  "We won't be doing anything to feel guilty about, Keila. You're gonna make Michael suspicious for no reason."

  His hand slid higher up her thigh, beneath the tablecloth, and the gentle squeeze turned into a pressure-filled warning. All Brianna could think was damn you, sister, fix this.

  "She's right. Michael, I'm kidding. I just wanted to see if I could get out of you what you fellas were up to because, honestly, I can't imagine Jack cutting too loose. He's quite the proper adult unless he's teasing me."

  Michael let up on Bri's thigh, fixing her with a warning look before giving his attention back to Keila.

  "If there's any celebrating being done, it will be after we close the deal, and it will be appropriate for two proper adults. I can't wait to tell him how you see him."

  "No. Don't you dare. It'll sound rude and disrespectful. Jack's great and I don't want him to think I see him in a negative light."

  The look exchanged between Brianna and Michael did not go unnoticed. She wasn't sure about the reason, but it gave her a weird feeling low in her belly.

  Michael held her eyes a moment more before getting the cute waiter's attention again. He was starved and pretty sure the girls could use some food on top of the mimosa he could taste on Brianna's lips and tongue. He was no teetotaler and wasn't going to bust them this time. Bri was willful at times, but this was more mischief than not and he was flying high from how well things were moving on the acquisition to ruin the mood. The girls went light on lunch with salads and spa water. Spa water was something else he didn't understand, but Keila and Brianna swore by it. The first time he heard them order it, Michael's reaction was what the hell is spa water and who the hell drinks spa water outside of the spa? Their answer was a shared derisive giggle followed by the response of, "Well, everyone, of course!"

  "So, Brianna, anything I need to know about the fitting? I'm not going to get another outrageous bill from that Ms. Prim because you made her late for her following appointment or last-minute changes that suddenly require an emergency team of seamstresses. Seriously. Who calls in six people to sew on flower appliques? I don't want this getting out of hand, young lady."

  "The only way she could have been late was if she just felt like it. We were there in plenty of time."

  "You choose those words carefully. Plenty of time or on time?"

  Keila could have done a spit take at the looks they were exchanging now. This was a dance they obviously knew well. Each was waiting for the other one to blink. Michael was the master negotiator, though, and Brianna rarely won—that Keila ever saw. Damn, but she didn't want her to cave. And, there it was, the tell. The blink, eyes down and to the left. Busted.

  "How late, Brianna?"

  His hand turning her head to look at him was the only reason eventual eye contact was made.

  "Like, maybe a little over fifteen minutes."

  His hand was on Brianna's chin, but now Michael's eyes were penetrating Keila's again. She caved a lot quicker than she was proud of in this instance.

  "It was thirty minutes, but it was totally my fault. Bri needed my shoes and couldn't find them because my closet is a disaster area, and honestly, I couldn't even guess where the match was in that mess. Then I was agonizing over the stupid website and she wouldn't leave until I hit send, even though I knew I would regret it as soon as I did. Which I do. Maybe no one will notice me and I can pretend I never did something so ridiculous. Can you imagine what my mom and grams would think if they ever saw it, like they'd ever be on a site like that. Grams is crafty, though, and I'm never quite sure how tech savvy she really is or if her confusion is sincere. We should have called, but you know it isn't very far and it was easier to just get there. She was annoyed, but like she's always a little annoyed. I think that's because she sees us as uncouth Yankees, not because we were late. Well, we've been late a lot, so it's kind of—"

  "Oh, my God, Keila, please stop talking! You're the only person I know who can talk themselves into more trouble. You're like a witness for the prosecution."

  Slamming her hands across her mouth seemed the only way to cease her current bout of word sewage seepage she was experiencing. The day was getting to her and Keila wasn't even sure why anymore. She practically jumped from her seat and snatched her salmon salad from the waiter's hand. Normally, her restaurant behavior and overall table manners were impeccable, but she knew the only way she would stop spewing nonsense from her mouth was to fill it with something and quick. Her face still felt flush, and after her first bite, she clutched her condensation slippery glass of spa water, with the straw stabbed through the cucumber, and gulped down a sip in the hopes of bringing down her core temperature. Brianna was going to kill her. If Michael's eyes boring into her didn't melt her through the floor first.

  It took a few minutes of food doctoring and awkward silence before a level of comfortable banter was restored. The girls had plenty to do by way of preparing for their finals and sorting through their things in preparation for the movers. Ready or not, they were coming in a little over a week and they needed to get it together. Those were the very instructions Michael left them with before he finished signing the bill and took off for another meeting.

  "Care to explain?"

  Playing dumb was one way to go. It wouldn't hold up very long and really there was no place to hide from the best friend-almost sister that you lived with and shared all your secrets with, despite how long you looked into an empty glass buying time.

  "Keila!"

  "I talk too much, huh?"

  Nervous giggles are thankfully contagious. Plus, Brianna had been on the receiving end of Keila's brain's verbal liquidation during her stint as the girl's RA, when they'd lived in the dorms. An awkward silence would have the girl confessing to stuff she'd hardly acknowledge otherwise. She said it was because her grandma could wait out silence better than anyone she knew. The woman wielded silence like a battle sword. Sharp and swift, she got to the bottom of things. Keila was never able to resist as well as her mother.

  "Well, no, normally you don't talk too much, but, girl, you were about to be on a roll. I was waiting for you to fess up to cheating on your third-grade spelling test. What's up? What was all that stuff about Jack? There are guys I know you've crushed on hard and you didn't get that tongue-tied and weird. Talk."

  "It's nothing. You and Michael were the ones being odd. I saw your little looks."

  "Is that why you went all Keila the barbarian when the food came?"

  "This stupid sugar daddy/sugar bowl foolishness is all in my head. That's all. Leave it alone. We have to go home and pack. I have zero idea where I'm sending all my shit, but it still has to be ready. Michael made that clear, and I don't think he'll be even a wee bit amused if we cost him money on rescheduling movers."

  "Michael doesn't give a rat's butt hole about that money. He just hates people getting away with stuff. That's what all that Ms. Prim talk was about. Late or not, she's been finding ways to squeeze more out of him each visit. If I didn't love my dress so much, I would have ended things with the Emily Post from hell wanna-be, but it is what it is and he'll pay her because he loves me."

  "Must be nice?"

  "It is. Now, answer my question, Debbie-Dodger."

  "You are like a dog with a nasty old over chewed bone. I've always liked Jack. I got to know him a bit better on my own when he helped me with a project last year. We talk. Now, more frequently. He's, you know— You know all of this. No big deal. I can be excited to see him. He's a friend."

  "Those goofy eyes you were all glazed out with didn't read friendly, so much as
they read lusty."

  "Shut up and let's go. We have stuff to do."

  "Um, hmmm!"

  Brianna wasn't buying it even a little and had some ideas on maybe, just maybe, eliminating the middleman and creating the perfect arrangement for her friend all on her own.

  Chapter 13

  Knowing her time was limited, Keila hustled toward the Adam's District to take a look at the last, and utterly unappealing, roommate share that she had a tear-off number for in the bottom of her bag. Frankly, when she saw where it was, she started to ignore it altogether, but who was she to judge on address alone? Well, address, news stories, classmates, and the warning talk she helped give her last two semesters while working for student services. The more she thought about it, the greater her doubts, but she had to at least give it a look. The only time she could slip past her roommate was on the way home from her last exam. Brianna was totally part bloodhound and would sniff out this little side trip in minutes. Luckily, the final was the breeze she knew it would be and she was one of the first ones out. If traffic cooperated with her, she might even beat Bri home.

  There was a dark quiet place in the back of her psyche that made Keila glad that Brianna refused to let her cancel her post on the website. After looking at her fourth crappy roommate share apartment, she was willing to accept any arrangement she could get. If something didn't give and soon, she would need to inform her mother and grams of the situation and get some temporary help, with all the strings she knew would be attached to said help. Clearly, she needed something or someone in her life who was better equipped at adulting than she was currently. Stubborn didn't pay bills any more than her perch upon the moral high ground would provide her shelter. Doing her best to take the steps one at a time, so she didn't face plant on a floor she found questionable for the soles of her shoes, there was a moment of regret for the last two years spent living in the orbit of Michael and Brianna.

  She should have stayed in her lane so to speak and not gotten used to a life she had no shot at maintaining for herself. She knew better, too. It was why she'd said no so many times when they first proposed it to her. But, more than comfort was what lead to her final yes and what she now saw has her downfall. Bri's parents would've been apoplectic with Michael and the fact that he was old enough to be her dad. His full to bursting wallet would have shot their suspicions through the roof. So, she'd finally given in to serve as the ultimate in cover stories.

  There was never going to be a way for her to keep up her present living style without serious assistance, but there had also been no other way to keep Bri's parents from pitching a fit about Michael, his age, or their arrangement without Keila playing the buffer. Supposedly, she was the buffer with money who was the financial wind beneath Bri's wings. It was such a fucking mess. Was she being a hair melodramatic? Well, yes, but that didn't mean the solution was any less impossible. Tonight, she would at least check to see if there were any realistic prospects.

  Michael being on her case about her prospects on all fronts stayed a concern. She did not have the answers he wanted. Yes, it was out of concern, but she hated feeling like he felt he was obligated to care at this level. As she pulled out of the most questionable neighborhood choice she'd made to date, Keila decided that she was going to say yes to at least one of the decent guys whom Michael and Bri approved of from the site. Tonight, had to be the night. Period!

  Keila was eyeballing her roommate with a suspicious scowl. Finals were done. Brianna was finished with her final performance. Her cap and gown had arrived and Keila had sullenly and begrudgingly agreed to a date with someone from the website. Ever since she said yes, though her conscience had been bothering her, taking the coward's way out, she went with avoiding mentioning her 'date' to Jack when they spoke. Not that she thought Jack and Michael spent all their time discussing her problems and issues, but she did know she came up and was sure Michael would let slip about the date. Something in her felt Jack would be disappointed in whatever choice she made. Well, she didn't feel it; she knew it. He'd given her his very clear and stern thoughts on the subject a few weeks back when she cavalierly brought it up.

  "Remind me again why doing Jell-O shots is a terrible idea."

  "Well, I'd say mostly because you're underage and drinking any alcohol is blatantly illegal."

  "Jack." Keila had her eyes pinched shut with her entire arm pressed across them. She had hopes that the pressure would ease the throbbing, but when her own whiny voice hit her ears, she figured there was zero chance anything would take it away, short of death.

  "Don't whine at me, missy, when you're the one who called at one-thirty in the morning. Was that your only question?"

  "No fussing at me in this state. I can't handle it. You'll make me cry. Besides, Bri and I had wine with you and Michael last weekend, so the age thing doesn't cut it as a reason."

  "Technically, you're correct, but I maintain that six ounces of a quality red with dinner in the house is vastly different from whatever you chose to do tonight. And, where did you do it, exactly?"

  "We were celebrating the end of midterms."

  "That doesn't answer my question at all. I'm speaking location."

  "There were sort of a bunch of different ones. I, um, the last one was at this guy Kyle's. He's in my class. He so thought I was staying with him tonight, but I haven't had that much to drink. Total octopus."

  "I feel like that's a term that still means the same thing. How'd you get home?"

  "Taxi. Doesn't matter. I'm home. Well, at least it is for a few more months. Who knows where I'll be living once they get married."

  "You could know. Michael says you keep refusing his help."

  "Michael talks too much. Was that loud? I think he's staying over here tonight. Shh, okay."

  "He can't actually hear my side of the conversation, but I know he wouldn't appreciate yours or your tone."

  "As long as he keeps his spanking hand to himself. He's her daddy, not mine. That doesn't seem fair, does it? Brianna gets two daddies and I've never had one. She must be a really good girl. Ha, I hate that term. It's not like we're little kids or anything. It does sound sweet when Michael says it to her, though."

  "You know you're a good girl, too, Keila. Well, most of the time. Tonight, certainly doesn't count."

  "Are you mad at me for drinking or waking you up? I'm sorry."

  "For drinking or waking me up?"

  "Waking you up. Not for drinking, well maybe for drinking, a little."

  "I think you mean for drinking a lot, and you didn't wake me up. I was reading."

  "Why were you reading at one in the morning on a Friday night?"

  "Because I couldn't sleep and it helps me to relax."

  "If I'm up reading at one in the morning, I'm definitely not relaxed."

  "Part of being in college. I remember those days."

  "You remember that way back."

  "Funny girl. Keila, why did you call me? I'm sure you have friends you knew were awake and that would have been a safer bet to not—what did you accuse me of doing—fussing at you."

  "Well, normally, Bri and I celebrate the end of exams together. We get drunk, bitch about the quarter and what's coming up next. Tonight wasn't the same without her, and then her door was closed, so I just wanted to talk to someone. Sorry, I really didn't mean to bother you."

  "Keila, listen to me. Are you listening?"

  Her eyes were getting heavier and she could feel sleep trying to close in. Jack's voice was almost soothing to her ears when he was speaking so deep and deliberate. She didn't want him to stop, so she forced her brain and mouth to work in concert and respond to his question.

  "Um-hm, I'm listening."

  "You are not bothering me. You have never been a bother to me. I knew it was you when I picked up, so I had a choice to not answer. Do you know why I did?"

  "Why did you, what?"

  "Why I answered is because I enjoy talking to you. I enjoy helping you and having the chance to teach you s
omething new. I get something out of it, too, you know. I don't believe there's such a thing as a purely selfless act. The fact of the matter is that when I help someone, I get to feel pretty good, too. Does that make sense, sweetheart?"

  His answer came packaged in the soft gurgling snores and deep breathing of a very intoxicated Keila. At that moment, Jack wished he were close enough to go over and check on her, to make sure she was all right. There was also a little corner of his mind that wanted her with him, in his house, making sure she never got like this.

  "Keila," he said, letting his voice drop down to his football days when he was captain of the team and calling plays. Jack knew the vocal change would snap her from her slumber.

  "No yelling, please. You promised."

  "I never promised anything of the sort. Now, I want you to do exactly what I'm going to tell you. I can't get to you, but if you give me any pushback, young lady, I will wake Michael up and tell him to deal with you the way he would Brianna if she came home drunk."

  "That's mean."

  "That's the deal. You do what I say and this stays between us. Agreed?"

  "Yes, Daddy Jack." She sat up on the edge of her bed, in a mental fight to keep her brain engaged so she could follow his directions to the letter. She was really hoping he would call her a good girl again.

  "Put me on speaker, so I can hear what you're doing. Make sure your door is closed and change into pajamas. Let me know when you're finished."

  She didn't say anything, but he could hear her moving around and took that as a good sign. As he waited, he replayed what she'd just called him. He wasn't about to acknowledge it or attempt to unpack the reason, in her present state.

  "Keila, are you finished changing?"

  "Uh-huh. Time to sleep."

  "No, no. You're not done yet. Go get a bottle of water and bring it back to your room. Then brush your teeth. Get two ibuprofens, take them, and tuck yourself into bed. Go ahead. Don't hang up and tell me when you're done. Keila, up and at 'em."