Molly stood up and hugged my leg, making my heart jump into my throat at the feeling of her little hands clutching at me. She pulled the doll over to the couch and climbed up to sit with crisscross legs and continue to play.
Janice, the nanny, was standing right next to the couch with arms crossed and a small smile on her face.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” she greeted me, but I barely acknowledged her with a nod.
My eyes were fixated on Molly and my mind was too focused on her to properly greet Janice. I kind of blew past her in favor of tickling my daughter, who was now carefully sitting her new dolly beside her on the couch. Janice was used to that sort of treatment so she left the room and silently headed upstairs.
She didn’t take it personally. I’m sure she found it endearing to see just how enamored ‘The Axe’ was with his three-year-old daughter. She would come back down in about a half an hour to start dinner and let me have my personal time with Molly.
There was no doubt in my mind that if you pay people the right amount, they do what you want. Janice never asked for much and she didn’t take things personally. She knew this was a job. I was glad she and Molly had forged a bond. After all, I wouldn’t want Molly to feel like some stranger was raising her. But, at the end of the day, Janice knew when it was time to step aside and I appreciated that she knew her place.
I certainly paid her enough for it.
After I tickled Molly into a giggling fit, I pulled her onto my lap and watched her play with her new toy. She continued to coo and murmur nonsensical sounds. I had long given up trying to understand the conversations she had with her toys and imaginary friends. I leaned back and smiled.
“Honey,” I muttered after a few more minutes. “What did you and Janice do today?”
Molly hopped off my lap and landed with a bounce on the comfortable couch cushions, still clutching the doll. I laughed because I knew there was no taking away that toy now. Molly pointed to a little arts and crafts project on the coffee table. I didn’t have to ask which was hers, but she delighted in telling me anyway. Who was I to deny anything that made her cute little face light up?
She reached forward as she pointed at the picture and I instinctively swung my arm out to make sure she didn’t topple off the edge of the couch.
She wasn’t going to let up so I picked her up and set her down on the floor. She walked over and continued to talk about her little project. It looked like they did finger painting, but I couldn’t be sure. Arts and crafts were never a strong suit of mine. It was moments like these that made me happy that Molly had Janice around. She didn’t have much of a mother figure so I was thankful for what she did have.
In other words, I was even more grateful I had the money to keep Janice around for my daughter. With a smile on my face, I listened to what Molly had to say about her painting as I grabbed it to take a closer look. Molly squealed in delight and I immediately picked her up and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.
My shoulder ached from picking her up, but I just pushed it to the back of my head and ignored it.
I was lying in the center of my office floor, trying to clear my mind and focus on my breath. I was practicing a deep breathing technique that Shellsea recommended. It was supposed to help me to clear my mind and reach a ‘point of serenity.’
According to Shellsea it would help me better navigate my daily duties, but right now I was having trouble ignoring the rumbling in my stomach. I knew it was hunger, but I tried to convince myself it was my inner weakness trying to get me indulge in things I didn’t need. Everything in moderation!
This is stupid. I thought, but then immediately shushed myself. I’ll never reach inner peace if I keep questioning everything. Then I realized I was overthinking everything. That’s what I tended to do when I didn’t check myself.
My mind drifted towards the cancellation I had earlier. I had one and only one client scheduled for the day, but got a call for a last-minute cancellation. My stomach knotted up and I knew it wasn’t just from hunger. I shushed myself again and shut my eyes, willing myself to focus on my breathing and a blank picture in my mind. I drew in another breath and exhaled.
This wasn’t the day this plan of mine was going to work out. Inner peace? There wasn’t anything peaceful about my innards at all.
My office phone rang. I practically lunged for it. I was happy for the interruption. My failed attempt at meditation was causing more stress than it should have. That was kind of the opposite of what it was supposed to do.
“Miranda Bach, massage therapist,” I answered with my best professional voice.
“I was told you specialize in sports massage,” the man on the other end of the line practically yelled gruffly. I was used to dealing with disgruntled agents, managers, and spoiled athletes, so his tone didn’t bother me. I barely even registered it.
“I do,” I responded as I checked my reflection in the mirror.
I was trying to listen to the man on the other end, but he was pretty much rambling and none of it was anything I hadn’t heard before. I leaned in closer to the mirror and wondered if I really did look a little more peaceful.
Maybe the meditation worked? I mouthed the question at the mirror. Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself I had actually achieved tranquility. I probably just wanted to believe I had. I zoned out a bit as the guy went on and on over the phone.
He probably needed tranquil meditation more than I did. I could only imagine how much spittle coated the mouthpiece of his phone.
When he finally paused to suck in a gasping breath, I took advantage of the silence, "Yes, I have extensive experience working on rotator cuff injuries.”
“That’s great, I need absolute assurance professional discretion is guaranteed. I can’t have—”
“Yes, of course professional discretion is guaranteed. I would be happy to take him on as a regular client.”
“Can you fit him in soon? If he can’t fit in soon I—”
“Yes, actually, I had a cancellation and would be happy to see him if he can make it in the next hour." It felt like I was reciting a speech at that point, but I knew exactly what kinds of answers managers like him were looking for. Dealing with panic stricken agents was just part of the job.
The man sounded relieved and kept going on about this and that so I checked myself in the mirror again, this time turning to the side and wondering if the new gut-friendly diet Shellsea recommended was actually doing anything for the bloating I had noticed. Just as I wondered if the ‘diet’ was actually causing my bloating, I heard the man say something that caught me by surprise. There was no way I heard him correctly.
"I'm sorry,” I interrupted. “What did you say your client's name was?"
"Axel Montgomery."
Panic.
My stomach felt worse than the moment the kombucha hit me. The very name sent a flood of angst throughout my body, fueled by teenage memories.
I suddenly felt like I was being unwillingly thrust into a time machine and shoved to the past. Sure, maybe I was too young to go to high school at the same time as him, but his shadow of fame and notoriety still loomed over the school by the time I went.
Axel Montgomery was my brother's best friend when I was growing up.
He was the walking embodiment of MAN during my late-blooming puberty years. He was always working out in our basement and playing shirtless backyard football with Zak. It was too much for my teenage hormone ridden body to deal with. He was my fantasy. To be fair, he was every girls fantasy. But I was the only girl that had him in my house twenty-four seven. I both loved and hated him being around so much when I was younger. He had always teased me; sometimes to the point of tears. But still, that never stopped me from fantasizing about him.
I gulped. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Is that a problem?”
The man on the other end sounded slightly frazzled, but mostly impatient. He brought me back to the present. I was glad to be out of my little tee
nage flashback to the basement and all the other moments that shaped me as a blossoming young woman. I cleared my throat and shook my head, eyes wide and staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Hello-o-o,” the man said obnoxiously on the other end.
I knew if I didn’t get it together I was going to lose out on a steady client. Not only that, Axel was a huge name in the sports world.
“Not at all,” I responded as brightly as possible. “I’m sorry, I had a minor interruption over here, but please don’t be concerned. That doesn’t happen often!”
The man grumbled, but told me Axel would be by for his first appointment later on. The call ended abruptly, but I didn’t care. I dropped my arm to my side and glanced in the mirror again. Now I definitely had no trace of inner peace, not even the faintest glimpse. I looked like a wild-eyed crazy person. And, maybe it was my imagination, but my hair looked like it was standing on end.
The mere mention of Axel’s name catapulted me into the very state I did not want to be in. I needed peace, tranquility, calmness. I didn’t need to be in some frazzled panic.
I groaned and tugged at the ends of my curly hair in frustration. I needed to do something to expel the negative energy and I needed to do it quick. I considered calling Shellsea, but that idea was fleeting. She had a hot yoga class on Tuesdays and wouldn’t answer her phone anyway. My mind switched tracks and I briefly considered calling Zak, but honestly I couldn’t deal with his jocularity when I was in full on panic-mode. And the mere thought of having to deal with that when talking to him about Axel already made my stomach tie up in knots.
I was left with only thing to do.
It was completely straying away from ‘moderation’ and sprinting straight into the arms of ‘indulgence’, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a damn. I ran out of the office, headed to the bakery two stores down, and crammed six cookies into my mouth like they were a sugary lifeline in a sea of panic and stress.
“Moderation can go fuck itself,” I muttered as I stuffed another gooey bite into my mouth. I swallowed every last morsel. I felt better already.
After wiping my mouth off and rubbing some sanitizer on my hands, I hustled back to the office. I was a little sweaty and a little agitated and I probably smelled like buttercream frosting, but it didn’t matter.
I was going to see none other than Axel Montgomery.
I had to be professional just like I was with everyone else. I walked up just in time to see a massive man hulking over the door. He was rattling the door to my office with an iron grip on the handle.
Instantly, fear flooded over me and I opened my mouth to scream for help just as I shoved my hand into my purse and reached for my pepper spray. Just as my fingers found the canister the man turned to look at me with an angry scowl on his face.
"You're late..." his voice trailed off. His eyes widened slowly, "Randy? Is that you?" He took a step forward and muttered, “Oh shit.”
I sucked in a deep breath and did everything in my power to keep my cool. I was to focused on the job and the job alone. But the moment our eyes met I knew that would be much harder said than done. Still, I pulled myself up and tried to maintain dignity even though I worried I had cookie crumbs on my face.
“Miranda, Axel. My name is Miranda”
I stared at her for a moment. The sound of her voice was the same as I remembered, only it was more grown up. The wheels in my head were turning, trying to catch up with everything. One minute I was being annoyed by my manager on the phone, the next I was angry the door was locked, and now I was standing in front of someone that used to be such a big part of my life. If someone had asked me about her on my drive over to the place I would’ve told them I would never see her again. When it hit me, the full realization that I was peering into the face of an old friend made a smile spread across my face. It was a mix of happiness and disbelief.
"You're fucking kidding me, little Randy?"
I barely paid attention to her rolling eyes as I looked her up and down. She had that same angry blush across her cheeks when I called her that nickname. She had always hated it, and apparently still hated it. She even sounded like she used to, trying desperately to correct me. It was all in vain, she was still little Randy to me. That hadn’t changed one bit but, from the looks of it however, pretty much everything else about her had changed.
Mira wasn’t just a girl a few years younger than me. She was all grown up, blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I couldn’t help but notice how fit and strong she looked. She cleared her throat, making my gaze snap back to her face. I gave her a small smile.
“Let’s step inside,” she said. Her voice was slightly shaky and I knew she was trying her best to sound cool, mature, and professional. That hadn’t changed about her either. She was always a frazzled mess.
I nodded and followed her into the office, not wasting the chance to sneak a peek at her ass. I cocked my eyebrow as I noted that it is firm and high, clearly from whatever exercises she was doing to keep her body in such amazing shape. She looked good. But then I instantly felt shitty and a little incestuous.
She’s my old buddy's kid sister. I silently remind myself in disdain.
She turned to look at me. I was still smiling, but doubted she would think anything bad of it. I was remembering how pissed she used to get when I’d teasingly call her Randy and then pull at her curls. I admit, I probably teased her a little too much when we were kids. She must have hated me sometimes, but it was all in good fun. My eyes darted up to the top of her head and my smile grew after seeing that mop of curls was still there, wild as ever but perfectly suited for her. I had never seen anybody pull off her type of hair so effortlessly. She was one of a kind.
“I still remember you always tagging along with us Randy,” I joked.
Mira huffed and looked away from me briefly, clearly trying to collect herself. My smile widened even more as she turned to look me straight in the eyes. I was quickly reminded of her intense stare. Her big round amber eyes were just as striking as ever, only now they had a different kind of intensity—one that could only come with the years that had passed.
It wasn’t like I ever minded her trying to hang out with Zak and I. Maybe she even had a crush on me; the thought of that made my grin turn a bit more cocky. She hadn’t broken eye contact with her intense stare so I just shrugged. She finally reached up to push a stray curl off her forehead. I remembered the way I thought of her when we were younger. She was like my surrogate kid sister in a way, but looking at her now, I wasn’t sure if I felt the same way.
It’s been years anyway. I justified my thoughts in my mind. Sure, Zak and I used to tease her until tears filled her eyes, but we were all adults now. And looking at her as an adult, I realized that the once tough kid was now a totally tougher adult. I wondered if she was still ‘one of the guys’ in whatever circle of friends she hung out with. There was no argument, even though she was younger than us, she was a lot of fun. She must be a great friend to whoever she was friends with now.
That was when the question welled up in my throat and I didn’t think to stop it. It wasn’t a question about her, it was a question about Zak. After all, we were best friends and I hadn’t spoken to him since he left the UCLA team.
“How’s your brother?”
Mira seemed miffed at the question. "He's fine. Still annoying," she answered in a tone I couldn’t quite place. Could she maybe feel disappointed for some reason? I figured it was to be expected if I asked about Zak.
“Nah,” I told her in mild disbelief, “Zak was one of the good ones.”
"If you say so," she said curtly.
I watched her rub her hand on the back of her neck, eyes skimming around the office casually. I thought I should change the topic. "How are you? You've certainly grown up."
She turned to look at me again and I could almost hear her say—Well, you didn’t expect me to stay a kid forever, did you? But her mouth was closed. She scratched at her chin, just below her lip,
before clearing her throat.
“I’m doing alright,” she answered in an unnaturally breathy voice. I picked up on her non-committal act. If it was anybody else the chances of her being drugged or something would be high. Mira was never that type of girl though. Maybe she was tired or nervous or something. Even as a kid she was always aloof and off in her own world.
“Just alright?”
Mira shrugged as she took a deep breath. She peered over at her desk and then back at me. She cleared her throat and quickly covered her mouth, catching a little cough in it before taking another deep breath.
“Um,” she finally said. “Alright isn’t bad, is it?”
I could tell she wanted to be vague. It was a bit annoying that she wasn’t being more open with me. But I wasn’t down to keep pushing. She said something else, but I wasn’t paying attention. Then I noticed she not only sounded even more breathy than before, but she kept heaving like she was gasping for air.
I wondered what the fuck was wrong with her, but remembered I was about to pay for her services so I dropped it. I ran my hand through my dark brown hair and smirked again, my gaze lowering from her face little by little. She turned slightly to pick something up from the desk so I seized the opportunity to let my gaze drop down even further.
She was just standing there, next to her desk, pretending to be busy with some sort of pamphlet, but I noticed her breathing wasn’t slowing down. I glanced at her breasts. They weren’t big, but they weren’t small either—a nice handful. But what made them really appealing was how perky they were. I was enjoying the rise and fall of them with each breath she took when I heard the shredding of a page.
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