Governor (Governor Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  “Can I ask you something?” I say to her as we sit down to eat in the dining room.

  “Sure.”

  “If you’re rich, why is this all the furniture you have?”

  She smirks. “I’m cheap. I don’t need anything else right now. And it’s just me. I’ll add stuff here and there as time goes on. But the other thing is after law school, I might not even be living here.”

  “Oh.” A sad pang hits me at that thought. “Where would you move?”

  “I meant I might not be living here-here, in this house. I might buy something else in the Tampa area. Maybe a condo or something without any outside maintenance to worry about. Eventually, I’ll need a place of my own up in Tallahassee, I’m sure. A townhouse or something.”

  Her smile widens, and I don’t miss how she glances Carter’s way. “Unless we’re actually doing what we talked about last night,” she adds. “That would definitely give me a reason to stick around this area.”

  “I was completely serious about that.” Carter glances at her. “Get him elected, then get you elected.”

  My heart nearly seizes at that thought. They’ve got to be fucking with me.

  As if they can hear my thoughts, both of them turn and look at me.

  “What?” I shove a bite of moussaka into my mouth.

  Carter smirks. “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

  She answers with a winning smile that exposes dimple. “Completely adorable.”

  My face heats, and now my pulse is racing.

  Adorable.

  She called me adorable!

  After dinner, I again volunteer to clean up the kitchen while they talk. I honestly don’t mind, because I like listening to them. Once dinner is finished, I hear a buzzer go off on the dryer. I swap loads again and bring the basket of clean clothes into the living room to fold while we talk. Carter talks me through it, and before long, I have a perfectly folded basket of laundry. I still sit there on the floor, caught up in their discussion about gerrymandering of districts and how the current GOP stranglehold is about to be broken once again, thanks to a court ruling that will take effect in two weeks, barring they redraw the districts in less obviously blatant ways.

  This has been the best time I’ve had in…forever.

  I don’t want it to end.

  Don’t take any of this wrong—I was happy to help out in the kitchen and by doing Carter’s laundry. For the first time in my life, literally, I felt like I belonged.

  Like they genuinely enjoyed my presence. When I worked up the nerve to ask questions, Susa was usually the one to clarify and explain things, in a kind and friendly way.

  I wasn’t made to feel stupid.

  Not a hint of condescension in her tone or in Carter’s.

  What doesn’t hit me until much later is that tonight firmly guides me on the journey to what I have now become.

  * * * *

  Susa and Carter seem to enjoy teaching me how to cook. We’re there literally every night, and all day Saturday and Sunday, once Sunday Mornings With Carter have wrapped up. We spend that time eating, talking, sometimes quietly studying, or just chilling out watching TV and movies, or enjoying her pool. Two weeks into whatever this is, Carter hands me the keys to the Snot Box Tuesday morning after returning from our shortened and very slow walk. His pain levels today are off-the-charts by my best guess, based on his stiff movements, discernible limp, and pained expression.

  “Can you go pick up Susa, please?”

  A nervous flutter churns my guts, anxiety and anticipation vying for control. “I thought you were going to drive her today?”

  Susa wants to go to IKEA in Ybor City this afternoon after our classes. She asked Carter last night if he’d drive her in the Snot Box, since it can carry more than her car. The plan was for him to pick her up this morning, bring her to campus, and they’d leave after his last class to take her. I was going to stay behind, since they’d need all the room possible in the Snot Box to carry her purchases.

  To be honest, I was planning on lying in bed, watching porn, and jerking off, instead of having to do it in the shower like I usually do.

  The jerking-off part. Obviously I can’t watch porn in the shower. I haven’t been able to do very much of that unless I come back to the dorm between classes or something when Carter’s not around.

  Although I am considering getting one of those waterproof phone cases so I can take my phone into the shower with me.

  Except I will give up wanking to porn in a heartbeat to have alone time with Susa.

  “I’m hurting too bad,” Carter says. “I barely made it through our walk. I probably should have had us hit the workout room instead of a walk. You don’t have classes this afternoon, right?”

  “Right.” I nervously stare at the keys in my hand.

  He pats me on the shoulder, then gives me a quick squeeze before releasing me. “You’ve got this, buddy.” I glance at him and spot his playful smile.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “What about me?”

  “How will you get to Susa’s tonight?” We’re supposed to have dinner there, of course. It’s what we do now. Even if all we do is grab take-out from a dining hall and take it there instead of cooking. Susa loves to shop for and cook for us. When I offer to pay my fair share for groceries, Susa waves me off, and so does Carter.

  He shrugs. “I could skip it. It’s no big deal.” Some nights we drive over separately, depending on when our classes end, and some nights we go over together. It’s not uncommon for one of us to leave there earlier than the other, either, depending on what we’ve got going on, how tired we are, our schoolwork—all of that. Sometimes I’m there later with Susa, sometimes Carter is.

  But this… The thought of him skipping tonight altogether feels…wrong to me. This magic that we’ve created in this short amount of time, whatever it is, it’s the three of us, and I don’t want to lose it. I feel like we’re actually some weird little family. So what if Susa has the hots for Carter? I don’t even care anymore. I’m able to spend time with her, and with him, and it’s perfect.

  Thus I hand him my keys.

  And this feels…

  Big. Huge.

  He cocks his head as he looks at me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m more worried about you.” His nightmares have been bad the last couple of days. I suspect that’s contributing to his increased pain levels. I’ve had to go over and sit on his bed the past three nights in a row.

  Well, I didn’t have to, but because I’m not a soulless asshole, I do it. I can’t help that I worry about him. He doesn’t seem to mind me doing it, either. Last night he awakened, but then fell right back to sleep with me sitting next to him.

  He trusts me.

  I’ve never had anyone hold that level of trust in me before. I’m not about to ruin it. The three of us are dancing around each other, and it should feel awkward and stumbling and weird, but it doesn’t.

  It feels finely-tuned, choreographed, and looking effortless for it.

  I love it.

  “You don’t think she’ll be weirded out if I show up instead of you?”

  “No, I’ll text her. I already told her last night that I might need to send you if I was hurting too much to go today. I can’t handle wandering through the damn place. I’ll be doing good to make it to classes today. You can get the big stuff for her, push the cart, load the car, and more importantly unload it for her at her place. Today, I’d just be standing there and useless. I’ll meet you guys later.”

  Those are all very logical and convenient reasons for me to go along with this. Only I was with them last night, except for when I briefly hit the bathroom right before we left, and I don’t remember him saying that to her.

  Except…Carter is Carter. I’ve learned I take Carter at face value, because that’s who he is.

  My fingers close around his keys in my palm. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He smiled. “Have fun. Just fill the tank before you
bring it back, huh? It’s on the driver’s side.”

  “Sure.”

  He lets me grab my shower first so I can go get Susa. When I pull in her driveway, she’s already stepping out the front door and locking it behind her. For a moment, I’m distracted by the fact that she’s wearing shorts and sandals. As she starts to walk toward me, I shift it into park and jump out, scurrying around to open the passenger door for her.

  That earns me an…odd look.

  “What?” I ask.

  She smiles—dimple time. “Guys usually don’t open the door for me. I like that. Thank you.”

  “My mom drilled it into me.”

  I leave off the part explaining that my mom used me as a source of narcissistic supply. Mom loved her friends praising me for how polite I was, even at age ten, and how well-behaved I was.

  And that opening doors or holding chairs for her put my attention on her. Mom could have given a shit about me, even though I spent my entire life trying to get her to.

  I wait until Susa’s inside to close the door, making a mental note to always get her door for her.

  “I hope Carter’s okay,” she says when I’m behind the wheel again.

  She’s seen him in shorts and swim trunks, and heard a brief, extremely condensed version of the story he told me. “Yeah, just a pain cycle.” I don’t mention his nightmares because unless he tells her, I won’t betray his confidence.

  “I appreciate you doing this for me today. I’m not messing with your classes, am I?”

  “No. We finish about the same time.” Like me, Carter has a parking permit. So I drop her off at her first class, then find a parking lot that’s closer to her last class than it is mine. I text her the location where to meet me as I’m walking to class.

  Not like you can miss the Snot Box. That’s one of the pluses about it—conspicuous visibility.

  I force myself to concentrate during my classes before I nervously make my way to the car after my second one, just in time to see Susa emerge from the building.

  I have the car running, the AC already blowing and cooling the interior, and the passenger door standing open for her when she walks up.

  The dimple smile. Jesus, it’ll be my undoing.

  She bounces up on her toes and brushes a kiss against my cheek. “Thank you, Owen.”

  Then she easily slides into the passenger seat.

  Holy hell, now I’m hard.

  Fortunately, I wore baggy, comfortable shorts today, and I step behind the door to hide behind it until I can shut it for her.

  I’ve never been to this IKEA before, but she knows the way and easily directs me. Inside it’s huge, and we take an escalator to the second floor, where she stops.

  “Have you had lunch?”

  “No, not ye—”

  She’s already pulling me along behind her. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think to see if you were hungry. Come on—my treat.”

  So the lady buys me lunch. She has one of those IKEA Family account cards on her keychain that the cashier scans. Apparently it’s one of Susa’s favorite stores.

  I spend the whole lunch watching her, listening to her. Asking her a key question about something in our class to get her talking and then…just listen.

  I could do this for the rest of our lives.

  With lunch finished, it’s time to get started, me pushing a cart for her. I admit that’s not totally a gentlemanly thing this time. It means I can follow her and watch her from behind in her shorts.

  Which is also another good reason for me to push the cart, to hide my perpetual boner.

  When we reach the chair section, she sits in a few, then has me sit in a few.

  “Which is your favorite?” she asks.

  I think I’ve misheard her. “Me?”

  She gently pokes my shoulder. “Yes, you. Which one do you think is most comfortable? You’re a lot taller than I am.”

  “B-but it’s your house.” I honestly have no clue how to deal with this. No one’s ever asked for my opinion on something like this before. I don’t want to pick a chair and she hates it and blames me.

  I get the head-cock, so much like Carter it’s spooky. “Owen, I want you to pick,” she gently says. “Look, you guys are my best friends. I don’t make friends easily, because I’ve never had friends I could really trust before. I didn’t know if someone wanted to be friends with me because of my money, or because their parents wanted an in with my dad, or what. I really like you guys. I want you to be comfortable. Please, you pick. I’ll pick the color, but you pick what’s comfortable for you.”

  I nod and turn back to the selections again, trying them out one more time, this time really focusing.

  Like Carter, she’s a mean-what-she-says kind of person.

  I finally settle on one, with a matching hassock. It’s comfortable, and the hassock means that regardless of height, someone can sit there and be comfortable. She picks the black leather option and smiles before brushing another kiss against my cheek.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “No,” I mumble, thinking yeah, but something else is really hard right now.

  She snaps a picture of the tag so we can pick it up later in the warehouse section. Meanwhile, I dutifully follow her around the upstairs area before we head downstairs.

  I’m…gone.

  Totally gone.

  In my mind, I pretend we’re married and shopping for our house.

  I don’t give a damn how pathetic that sounds, it’s my fantasy. Don’t shit on it.

  Downstairs in the warehouse, we swap. She takes the cart and I grab a trolley. I follow her as she leads the way through the aisles to find the flat-packs for the chair, ottoman, two bookshelves, an entertainment center, and a side table. I’m hoping everything will fit in Carter’s car, between the overflowing cart and this.

  She pays with a credit card and doesn’t even flinch at the total, even though it’s hit four digits.

  I haven’t spent that much except for textbooks and tuition.

  Before we can get out of there, though, she stops by the grocery section and grabs several cartons of cinnamon rolls, along with a few other food items.

  “I love these,” she says with a grin. “I freeze them and eat one at a time, or I’d totally pig out on them.”

  She’s definitely not fat, so whatever she’s doing is working.

  Frankly, it makes me want to eat cinnamon rolls every day now, even though before today I really didn’t have a strong opinion on them one way or another.

  I was never allowed to have a strong opinion about anything at home. I was expected to agree with my mother.

  Or, at least, not disagree with her. Last year and, so far, this year, have been spent trying to figure out who the fuck I am.

  Outside, Susa waits by the carts while I drive the Snot Box around. I have to play Tetris with everything after figuring out how to put the backseats down to make it all fit. Even better, she’s laughing as I’m muttering and swearing at the car and trying not to fuck up his headliner or upholstery.

  Carter trusted me with his car. Snot green or not, that’s huge, in my book. I don’t want to disappoint him.

  It takes me the better part of twenty minutes, but I finally get everything crammed in there. I have to tie it all down like crazy because now the back hatch won’t close all the way, but I make everything fit and ensure it won’t go flying out while I drive us back to her place.

  “Oh, I told him we’d gas up before we bring it back,” I tell her.

  “No problem.” We’re almost to her house and she waves me past where I’d normally turn. “Keep going. Past I-75.” There are several gas stations there, but first she directs me to Home Depot.

  “What do you need here?”

  She stays me with a hand and a smile. “I’ll be right back. Just wait here with the stuff.” Before I can move, she’s out of the car.

  So I do as ordered, even though it’s killing me she didn’t wait for me to
get her door for her. One of us has to stay with the car anyway, because anyone could just walk up and swipe something, since the hatch is ajar.

  I’m watching and waiting for her return, and make sure I jump out to open the door for her when she returns.

  Once we’re both back inside, she hands me…a house key.

  “Here.”

  I start to reach for it until I realize what it is. “What?”

  “I want you both to have a key.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I trust you guys. Besides, no one else has a key. Not even Daddy and Momma. That way, if you want to come over and I’m not home, you can get in. I’ll give you an alarm code.”

  She’s still holding it out to me. I finally extend my hand and let her set it in my palm.

  “Thank you.” Those two words feel totally insignificant and insufficient, though.

  She pats me on my thigh. “How else are we going to be able to continue your cooking lessons? This way, like if I need to go up to Tallahassee for the weekend or something, you guys can still come over. Laundry, cooking, the pool—whatever. I want you guys to feel comfortable there.”

  You guys.

  Not just Carter.

  Not just me.

  The two of us, a matched set, apparently.

  I’m not complaining, I’m merely noting it.

  “Thank you.” I have to unbuckle my seat belt again to put the key in my pocket, but I manage it. Next stop—we’re off to fill the gas tank. She hands me her card and tells me the zip code to plug in.

  Then we’re on our way back to her house. Meanwhile, she’s texted someone a few times. I assume with Carter, but I don’t ask because besides being none of my business, maybe it’s better I don’t know.

  You know, in case it it’s not Carter.

  And in case it’s someone who will blow my fantasies out of the water.

  Chapter Twelve

  Upon our return to Susa’s house, she checks another key and has me check mine to make sure it works before I can do anything else. Then I start the arduous process of unloading the Snot Box. All of her purchases are going in the living room, for now. Except for the food, of course.