Dick (Bad Boys #1)

by R. C. Stephens

  Her eyebrows scrunch together, and she takes a bite of chicken. “This is delicious, like mouthwatering delicious,” she says, placing another bite in her mouth. She just ignored every word I said. The kids finish eating.

  “Sir, did you want me to prepare the bath?” Rosa turns to ask.

  “Just their pajamas and towels. They aren’t ready for bath yet,” I reply.

  “Daddy, can I show Grant my room?” Jaden asks. I look to Eden for her approval before answering. Grant turns to his mother and gives a pouty look.

  “Okay,” Eden relents with a sigh. It makes me laugh. We are both clearly whipped by our children.

  All three children dash off. “They are enjoying the time together. We need to do this for them more often.” I place another bite of chicken in my mouth. I feel Eden’s gaze on me as if she’s assessing me.

  “Are you a dick or not? I don’t get it,” she says with all honesty. I let out a strangled cough, nearly choking on my bite. I wasn’t expecting that out of her mouth.

  “Eden, people are a bunch of judgmental assholes who don’t know shit about me. Do I sleep with a lot of women? Yes, I do. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m a single guy, and I can screw who I want. Just not when I want. Like I said, I don’t bring women here. If that makes me a dick or an asshole, what can I say?” I take another bite of chicken.

  “Seriously, though, I mean you’re a bright, handsome man. You can get anyone you want. Why do you choose to sleep with the married women at school? It just seems wrong on so many levels,” she says, and it almost sounds like she cares about what I do. It does something to my insides … I’m just not sure what.

  Needing to deflect the comment, I say something without putting much thought into it. “Eden, let me ask you this: why do you stay with Blythe? You mentioned he sleeps around and doesn’t acknowledge you. Unless you are a nun and are purposely practicing abstinence, it doesn’t seem right.”

  As the words fly out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. She may not have tough skin, but I do. I can handle what the media says about me, or even the mothers at the school. It doesn’t define me. She turns her head down and places her fork on the plate. Now I feel like a dick. It was coming from a good place, though. I don’t like that she seems to be suffering with Blythe.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I begin to murmur.

  She lifts her head. Her eyes are sad. “Don’t be. I was prodding. You had every right to rebut. I didn’t mean to be insulting to you. I just … I don’t know … you seem like a nice guy. If it wasn’t for the rumors then—” She pauses, but it seems like she doesn’t know what to say.

  “Eden, the only reason I brought up Blythe was out of concern. I can see you are hurting. You’re an old friend. I’m just trying to watch out for you,” I say, trying to convince myself that my words aren’t a lie. That I don’t want to reach over and claim her right now. There are a million reasons I can’t. The first begins with her meaning something to me.

  “Are we friends, Dick?” she asks then shakes her head and her lips turn up.

  “Yeah, what’s so funny about that? You don’t think I can be friends with a woman?” I answer, defending my innocence.

  “Okay, friends, then.” She reaches her hand across the table and shakes my hand. We resume eating our chicken. She reminds me of her younger self, struggling with her loneliness yet her inner strength makes her shine.

  “So, friend,” she begins. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. You know leaving Blythe. Grant is a little older, so I don’t have my hands as full as I used to. I’m kind of working up the courage to be a single mom.” She laughs almost chiding herself. “It’s silly right?”

  “No, no. Not at all. Little kids are a handful. I get it. I found myself a single father when Macy was one and Jaden was two. I still insisted on keeping them with me for weekly visits, and I definitely had my hands full. If it weren’t for Ma …”

  “What happened? Why did you leave your wife when the kids were so young?” she asks, and I can’t help but grit my jaw. “I’m sorry. Clearly we aren’t there yet in our friendship.” She tries to brush her question off playfully.

  “It’s a story for another day, Eden. Not tonight,” I answer curtly.

  She nods her head and places her fork down. We have both polished off our plates.

  “Let me clean this up,” she offers.

  “That’s quite alright, friend. I got this.” I stand up and take our plates to the sink. She giggles behind my back. “What is it?” I ask.

  “Nothing. You just seem like a normal guy. That’s not how I pictured the great Dixon Crawford.” She smiles at me like she likes what she sees. The truth is, I like what I see too, Eden.

  There’s a silent tension radiating between us as we gaze into each other eyes.

  “You knew me as a kid,” I begin to say.

  “You were a good guy back then too.” Her voice drifts off sadly, and I wonder if my leaving affected her as much as her being taken out of my life affected me. Thinking back to those lonely days when I couldn’t leave the house or take out girls … Shit, I may have rubbed more than one out to the memory of her. Thinking about it makes my dick stiffen.

  “Thanks, Eden, that means a lot.”

  “Do you remember the day my mom left?” she asks me and her mouth turns down.

  “I do. You showed me the note. Damn, I was so sure she would get her shit together and come back for you. In fact, I thought about it sometimes when I first got to Bed Stuy. I wondered what happened to my sweet innocent friend,” I say and her cheeks flush a rosy color. Her flush turns my mind to sex and thinking of her coming with flushed cheeks. Fuck, I need to tamp this shit down fast.

  “She never came back.” Her voice is low and raspy and full of pain. It also pulls me out of my Eden-induced daydream. Without thinking, I turn around and embrace her in my arms. I’m pleased when she doesn’t protest.

  A cell phone goes off. A vibrate then a ring.

  She looks up to me and a giggle erupts from her chest. “Are you that happy to be near me?” It takes me a moment to register her comment. The phone vibrates and rings again. I reach for my pocket, breaking the embrace. She reaches for her cell phone holder on her belt.

  “It’s me,” she says, looking down to the screen warily. I wonder what that’s about. Whoever it is better have a good excuse for breaking up our touchy-feely session. My dick sure isn’t pleased.

  She presses the call button and says hello.

  “Yes, this is she … Oh … yes Jenkins … I see … um …” She pauses and her hand comes up to her neck and rubs at her pale skin nervously. I wonder what’s going on.

  “Eden.” I tilt my head and say her name.

  She looks a little disoriented when she looks back at me.

  “Eden, what is it?” I repeat.

  “One second please,” she says to whomever is on the phone.

  “Eden …”

  “It’s um … .my mother …” she finally says, and my heart sinks, Could it be the woman that walked out on her back in middle school? This is fucking eerie.

  “Your mother, mother?” I ask stupidly.

  “The woman that left me. Yes,” she confirms sadly, and her hands begin to shake as she holds the phone. “She’s dying, Dick. She asked if I could come to see her. She said we have unfinished business, and she wants me to know some things,” she explains, as a lone tear spills down her cheek. She wipes it away urgently and shakes her head.

  “Do you want to go see her?” I ask. This is so out on left field. I mean first having Natalie as a blast from the past and now her mother contacting her.

  “I think I should. The doctors said she doesn’t have much time. I can’t go with Grant.”

  “Grant can have a sleepover with Jaden. Ma is amazing. You can trust she will take very good care of him,” I say as a rush of emotions wash over me.

  I waited so long for my father to get in touch with me, wondering if he ever thought about me. The
memory of my own mother was vague and distant. I couldn’t imagine all the emotions Eden must be experiencing right now.

  “I know Ma is great. You were lucky.” She responds and her words hit me hard. After my father left, I was so bitter and hurt I withdrew inside myself. I never took the time to thank the woman who had opened her arms to a stranger’s child. My mind then drifts to Eden. The sadness inside her is so overwhelming that thoughts of what happened to her, after I left, begin to scare me. She changed her name. That can never be a good thing.

  “Do you want me to take you? I mean, I should take you. You shouldn’t go on your own,” I mutter as I make the offer. The earth has tilted sideways, and it isn’t my own parent reaching out.

  “Will you?” she asks almost pleading. She looks lost and scared. I move in and drape an arm over her shoulder and she leans into me.

  “Of course. That’s why I offered. Let me go ask Ma to take care of the kids and get them ready for bed,” I say, worried to turn around and leave her in her shaken state.

  “Thank you.” She lets out a long breath. I feel like I need to remind myself to breathe.

  “Please don’t thank me.” I release her slowly, ensuring she is steady. Then I turn to look for Ma.

  I give my kids a quick kiss and head back to Eden.

  “All set. Ma will shower them and put them to sleep.”

  Eden’s face pales further as she sits at the kitchen table, looking like the energy has been sucked from her body. She nods her head slowly, her gaze vacant. I’m not sure what to do. It’s too easy for me to put myself in her position. I’ve pictured this moment so many times in my mind. What would I say, or do, if either of my parents tried to find me. Sadly that hasn’t happened.

  I take her by the hand and guide her toward the door, then the elevator and down to my car in the parking garage. This is good. She will get the closure she needs. At least I hope she will …

  My head is spinning as Dixon leads me to the car. I’m grateful for him right now, because I don’t think I would be capable of placing one foot in front of the other to leave his apartment. The woman on the phone, my mother, said she didn’t have much time. I know I should feel sad or something, but a blanket of numbness covers me right now, and I want to revel in it.

  Dixon opens the door and helps me into his car like a small child, closing the seat belt across my lap and securing the door. I appreciate him right now because I’m in a free fall. Memories of spending too many nights soaking my pillow with tears, waiting for her to come back, drown me. I waited so long for her to fulfill her promise. I needed her to take care of me, tell me she loved me. I longed for those words. My hope burned like a raging fire for years until it completely burned out. Not only did she not return, she left me with a cold man. I can’t even think of him without my blood freezing.

  “Say something, please.” Dixon’s raspy voice pulls me out of my despair. I glance over to him, feeling so confused. About him, about me, about what’s happening in my life right now. Should I be sad that my birth mother is dying? Does she expect me to forgive her? Should I even be going to the hospital? “At least tell me which hospital to drive to.” He snaps me out of my downward spiral as I gaze at him and try to answer his question.

  He looks just as intense and maybe even as confused and hurt as I am. My mind drifts back to a time when we were neighbors. Even though our parents couldn’t be awarded parent of the year awards, we had each other. I looked forward to seeing him in the evenings. He was always attentive, warm, and caring. Two children forced to get by on their own, even when our parents were around. Then the bad. His mother taking off, then my mother. We were like two peas in a pod, going through the same emotions. Kind of like now. Only I don’t know the man sitting beside me. I knew the boy. I don’t know what he’s been through since we separated.

  “Eden?” he says my name as a question, pulling me from the torrent of thoughts that overwhelm me.

  “Sorry, Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center,” I reply quietly.

  “Okay,” he answers with a quick glance my way before focusing back on the road.

  “Do you think I’m doing the right thing? I mean, by going to see her …” I ask, knowing he will understand the depths of my question. All the pain this meeting will invoke. Pain I’ve tried to bury long ago.

  “Yes, it’s a good thing.” He pauses and hesitates before he continues. “I’ve been waiting a long time, Eden, hoping one day my mother or father would reach out. I’ve been on the six o’clock news enough times for them to have the information they need to contact me. That moment never came. I can’t lie to you and say that it doesn’t burn. It still burns. I know you know how it feels to be left behind. I’m hoping this meeting provides you the closure you deserve.”

  “What if it doesn’t? What if it only dredges up all the pain? What if nothing she says can atone for her mistakes or my life getting messed up the way it has?” My voice cracks with fear. A fury of emotion threatens to swallow me whole.

  “Those are all valid feelings, but like I said, you’re ‘what if’-ing. You’ve probably been doing it your whole life. So maybe this is it. Your moment to stop that cycle. Even if it’s bad, Eden, it will give you understanding and hopefully the closure you need. Besides, you haven’t turned out bad. You’re a great mother. You went to school, got a degree. You are a great teacher. Jaden loves you. You have a lot going for you,” he says, looking out onto the dark road.

  “Dixon, that’s just the fluff. There’s a lot of molded goo under that fluff.” I answer, because the truth of who I am is painful. I’m not the woman he thinks I am. The mother, the teacher. No, I’m a survivor. A tainted survivor.

  A soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Eden, there’s no molded goo under your fluff. You are all pure goodness. Always have been. You don’t think I understand that life can be hard? That kids like us are faced with tough choices? That we have to do what we can to survive? I get it, Eden, but don’t let that difficult past negate your accomplishments.” His tone is so convincing. I really want to believe him. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m not innocent.

  We pull into the parking lot at the hospital, and I gasp for air. My chest is so tight I spend all my energy focusing on just breathing. He parks the car and I lean forward, placing my palms on the console. I think I’m going to hyperventilate.

  “You’re strong.” His thick voice cracks through my negative thoughts. “You can do this. I’ll be behind you every step of the way.” He leans over and places his hand on my shoulder. He has no idea how much his encouragement means to me. I’ve never had this kind of support or understanding.

  I lift my head and gaze at him. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. My legs feel like jelly. I doubt I can walk right now.

  “You can do this,” he repeats the confidence-boosting speech. He gets out of the car swiftly and jogs around to my door, opening it for me. A gentleman. A part of me wants him to take me home and make passionate love to me to the point I don’t even remember who I am. Before I have time to protest, two able arms are lifting me up, one at my back the other at my behind, lifting me out of the car.

  Wide-eyed, I ask, “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Put me down.” I’m frantic.

  He nods his head. “No can do.”

  He kicks the car door shut and with a heavy stride, makes his way to the front entrance with me in his arms as people stare at us as like we’re crazy.

  “Dixon, put me down. People are watching us.”

  “It’s Dick, and so what?”

  I place my hand on his bicep, feeling his taut muscles at work.

  “So?” I ask incredulously. “What about the paparazzi? What if someone recognizes you?” I remind him.

  “That’s not my concern right now.”

  Our faces are mere inches apart. I quickly suck in air, feeling his hot breath tickling my lips. My nerves settle and something else takes up the vacancy in my chest. Warmth, flutters. I want to reach out and mash our l
ips together. His dark blue eyes drop to my mouth, and I want to close my eyes and feel his thick lips against mine. Unconsciously, my eyes close as his breath brushes across my face.

  “Beautiful Eden, please do this.” His words caress my cheek while we are still moving. The sound of sliding doors causes my nerves to jump as we enter the main lobby. I’m disappointed he hasn’t kissed me. Although, why would he at such an awkward moment? I wish he would kiss me, and I would fall under his spell, which would pull me out of the hell I am living through right now. I still don’t open my eyes as I feel Dixon’s heavy footsteps. I don’t answer. Instead, I lean forward and place my head between his chest and shoulder as he continues to carry me. Then he pauses.

  “Hi, I’m looking for the room …” He pauses and I am guessing we are at a front desk. “Eden, what’s your mother’s name?”

  “Judith Jenkins,” I whisper across his jaw. Even her name hurts to say.

  “I’m looking for Judith Jenkins’ room,” Dixon repeats. At the mention of her name, I fist his T-shirt tight.

  “Room 615, sir,” a woman’s voice responds.

  Breathe, Eden, breathe. With my nose pressed into his strong chest, I take in Dixon’s manly smell: a mix of woodsy cologne and something distinctly him. It distracts my mind from the life-altering moment only minutes away. We enter the elevator.

  “You can put me down now,” I say, my voice low and shaky.

  He gently places me down, with a hand at my back, as he waits to see if I’m steady. My legs are shaky. I exhale.

  “You can do this. Just listen. You don’t have to say anything. You must be curious where she’s been all your life.”

  “I am,” I admit, biting on my lip.

  Dixon’s thumb lifts and caresses my chin. “You’ve got this.”

  “I hope so.”

  The elevator door chimes, and Dixon takes my hand in his. How does he know what to do in the exact moment I need it?

  He guides me out of the elevator toward the nurses’ station and asks for room 615. Then he pulls me toward the room. “Remember, you’ve got this, beautiful.” His words are so convincing. Everything in me wants to believe them, but I’m thrust back in time. A little girl with a wounded heart.