Dick (Bad Boys #1)

by R. C. Stephens

  “Mommy!” he screams out happily and wraps his arms around me fiercely.

  “Hi, my sweet boy. Did you have fun on your first ever sleepover?”

  “It was amazing. Can we do it again soon?” he asks. I place a hand on Grant’s shoulder, and Dixon walks over to us, holding Macy in his arms. My stomach dips from nerves, but also because he looks so good this morning in a fitted black button-down shirt and worn-out jeans. The shirt hugs his taut chest perfectly and the jeans grab his athletic thighs … I’m ogling. I’ve got to stop ogling.

  “Hi there.” My voice is shaky as I address him. “Thanks again for having him. He had a great time. Hi there, Macy.” I smile to his shy little girl. Dixon seems just as uneasy as I do. Something about that notion comforts me.

  “It was a pleasure.” He grins at me then switches his focus to Grant. “And you can come over anytime.” I wouldn’t mind that invitation being directed at me. I don’t kid myself, though. I’m sure he’s a one-night stand kind of guy. He had me, now it’s over.

  “I’m going to go play. Okay, Mommy?” Grant says, looking up to me for permission and I realize I’m still holding on to him.

  I let go of him. “Sure, go ahead,” I say, placing a kiss on his cheek. “You have a good day. I’ll see you later.” Before I finish my sentence, Grant and Jaden dart off toward the monkey bars.

  “Well, I better be going too,” Dixon says, holding his gaze on me. Talk about the morning after awkwardness. It really is a thing. His eyes quickly run over my body. His stare leaves a tingling sensation in my core. My mind clearly remembers our hot night together.

  “Yeah, you two have a great day.” I force a smile while trying to control the flush in my cheeks. Seeing Dixon from here on out is going to be hard. Dammit! As I think the word hard, I think of how hard and turned on he was last night, and my body temperature skyrockets. Jenna’s right, I’m screwed.

  “Okay, would you like to take a look in the mirror?” Sandy, my hairdresser, asks, holding up a personal mirror.

  I nod. “Yes.” She passes me the mirror, and I like what I see. My hair is a fountain of perfect curls flowing down my back. While Sandy worked my hair, Trisha did my nails a vibrant shade of red. Pampering myself feels nice. We definitely have the money for me to do this, but I don’t indulge often. My teaching schedule keeps me busy, and taking care of Grant occupies any free time I have.

  With Grant in pajamas, I set him up on my bed and put on a TV show he likes while I get dressed and put on makeup. I find a dress I used to wear back in the day, when Blythe used to take me out. He bought it for me when I thought he really cared. I slip the dress carefully over my head so I don’t ruin my curls. It slides on easily and I like that the fabric is generous since I never lost all my pregnancy weight. The top of the dress is strapless with a beaded bustier. It hugs all my curves and stops mid-thigh. Being September, I figure I can get away with a pair of nude pumps.

  “Mommy, you’re so pretty.”

  “Thanks, my handsome boy.” I pat his head. “Your show is over. Let’s go wait downstairs for Jenna and her cousin,” I say, and he hops off the bed and takes my hand.

  We make our way down the stairs. We have two entrances to our apartment the elevator and a regular door. I called security in advance to let Jenna and her cousin through. A moment later the elevator opens. It’s Blythe. My heart drops into my stomach.

  “Eden?” he says my name with surprise as his eyes run over my body. I’m usually dressed so simple with no makeup—plain like the way he makes me feel.

  “Blythe,” I answer, my voice monotone. “What do you think of the dress? Do you remember—”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” he asks, quashing my good mood. He hasn’t been an attentive husband for a long time, but these past few weeks he seems even more off, angry, temperamental. I wonder if I should ask him about it. My inner-self admonishes me for worrying about him. He doesn’t care to look my way anyway.

  “I’m going out with my friend, Jenna, from work. I thought you would like it,” I begin to say again.

  “You’re not twenty anymore, Eden. Dress your age,” he snaps, loosening his tie as he heads for the stairs. His face seems flushed. I wonder if he’s had something to drink, though alcohol has never made him this moody. Despite his pissy mood, I find his comment uncalled for. After neglecting me for years, he has no right to comment.

  “Is that what you told Karina Smanrno … whatever her name is … when she was wearing that slutty red dress, hanging on to your arm?” I instantly regret it. I’ve never directly confronted him about a mistress before. My insides begin to shake. A voice appears in my head. You don’t need to take this crap. You need to start standing up for yourself. I know the voice is right. It doesn’t make me less nervous.

  His eyes widen and then his face scrunches up, probably wondering how I would know that information, even though it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I’ve looked through his phone.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “That’s your answer to your wife of nine years?” I laugh bitterly. It’s not my freakin’ business who he sleeps with? Great. As my blood pumps with hot fury and my chest burns, I can’t let it go. I’ve had enough of being treated like a nothing.

  “Who’s staying with Grant? I’m leaving. I can’t watch him,” he mutters without looking at me.

  My face contorts. “Jenna’s cousin is coming to stay with Grant. I would never expect you to spend time with him,” I reply harshly. My words are meant to cause a reaction. To slice him open the way he likes to slice me. The reaction never comes. He doesn’t care. Worst of all, I hate that Grant heard the hateful words.

  Blythe turns around and takes a few daunting steps toward me. After the way he raised his hand to me the other day, I don’t know what to expect from him.

  “Eden, I’m going to say this once. There are rumors going around that you’re spending too much time with Crawford. It makes me look bad. That kid is bad news. You need to stay away from him or so help me …” He grabs my arm and twists it, pulling me up close to his face as he continues to spew his venom, warning me of all I have to lose. “You owe me, Eden. Don’t you forget it.”

  With his face pressed close to mine, and my arm in a lock, I know I should feel scared, but instead I feel revived. If I wasn’t sure I had to leave him before, I know I have to leave him now. There’s something empowering in the thought. There is also something seriously wrong with Blythe. He may have been a neglectful husband, but he has never been violent in the past. Maybe if our relationship had been different, I would have paused to ask him what the hell is wrong with him, but he burned that bridge long ago. Now I don’t care. I just want out.

  “Blythe, please, you’re hurting me,” I plead, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp.

  Grant is over in the corner playing with Legos. He lifts his head up and makes his way over to us. At this point, I assume Blythe will be smart of enough to release me and not make a scene in front of Grant. I assume wrong.

  His face turns even angrier as his jaw clenches together and he speaks through gritted teeth. “You look like a slut.”

  “Daddy, please stop. You’re hurting Mommy.” Grant looks up to his father, his eyes rimmed with redness.

  Blythe’s glare drops to Grant and then returns to me with a steely edge. “I mean it, Eden. Don’t mess up.” He drops my arm and stalks up the stairs.

  I hold on to my arm, massaging out the pain. What the hell did he mean “don’t mess up”? He’s been messing around on me forever. I’m guessing he must have extra stress from work since I didn’t smell alcohol on his breath. He may have lost interest in me long ago, but he was never a bad guy. He saved me. I can never forget the kindness he once showed me, and even though our marriage is ending, I will never forget.

  With Grant’s arms wrapped around my leg, I return my focus to him. “I’m okay. Mommy is okay.”

  Reality is that momm
y isn’t okay. It isn’t okay for Grant to witness this hostile behavior. In this moment I realize that my plans for leaving Blythe will have to be made sooner rather than later.

  There’s a knock on the door, and I walk over on shaky legs to open it for Jenna and her cousin. Jenna prances inside, bright and excited. Her cousin looks like a good girl with long dark hair, wearing dark, thick-framed glasses like I used to wear. Thinking back to the lost young woman I was reminds me of all my bad decisions. Of course Blythe can’t be on that list because I have Grant, and despite neglecting me emotionally and physically, he did put me through school and allowed me to have my own job, with the condition that I used my maiden name. So I chose Jenkins, my mother’s maiden name, and not Stillwater my stepfather’s name since I wanted no association with him. It also put Blythe’s worries to rest about his wife not working for his own company since most people didn’t connect us. At school, I was the simple teacher with no makeup and simple clothes and not the dolled-up wife of a billionaire. Most parents didn’t connect us. Besides, given the high profile of the parents at the school, they respected my privacy in that regard. My insides are shaking despite my forced smile.

  “Is everything okay, Eden?” Jenna asks, looking between Grant and me suspiciously.

  “Daddy twisted Mommy’s arm,” Grant blurts out. He knows Jenna well, which explains him confiding in her.

  Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

  “I’m Matilda, by the way,” her cousin cuts in with a hesitant smile. Then she turns her attention to Grant. “Hi, Grant, it’s so nice to meet you. We’re going to have fun tonight. Is it okay if I stay and play?” she asks, crouching down to his level, her tone playful and sweet.

  Despite my grim mood now I relax a bit.

  Grant nods his head happily.

  Happy kid. Happy mom.

  “Can you show me where you keep your toys?” she asks.

  “Grant, Mommy is going out. You have fun with Matilda.” I turn my attention to Matilda. “My phone number is on the kitchen table. I guess I will get yours from Jenna. Is it okay if I check in?”

  “Of course.” She smiles warmly. She really does look nice, and she has that touch with kids. I smile at my son, despite the fact that my insides are shaking from my encounter with Blythe. This is the first time he’s physically hurt me.

  “Okay, we’re leaving now, Eden.” Jenna takes me by the other arm and leads me out of the apartment and straight into the elevator.

  “You good?” she asks, concern etched on her face.

  “I will be. Let’s go out and have fun.”

  Out in the street an Uber car is waiting for us. I let out a shaky breath. Blythe is home with Grant and the sitter. My gut tells me he would never hurt Grant. My hand lifts to touch my arm. It still hurts. I’m sure a bruise will form by morning.

  The bright lights of the city come to life, reminding me what a homebody I’ve become. I make a pact to myself to get out and enjoy life more often.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Jenna asks, pushing out her lower lip.

  “Not really.” I sigh, looking out the window. My arms come around my waist protectively. I feel fragile. These past couple days have been emotional and life changing.

  “You need to leave him, Eden. It’s enough. You’ve put up with enough,” she says, repeating herself. I know she’s worried. I also know she’s right. It’s scary, but true. “I know it isn’t my place, but I love you. I can’t see you hurting and alone anymore.”

  I turn my head to face her and her eyes look teary. “Don’t mess up your makeup, silly girl. I’m going to be fine. I know I need to leave him. I will call a lawyer tomorrow and see what I need to do,” I answer with a firm voice betraying my shaky insides.

  Jenna looks at me with a pouty face. “Does your change of heart have to do with Dick?”

  “JENNA.” My eyes go wide. “NO, it has to do with the fact that I realize Blythe is a bad example for Grant. I don’t want my son growing up, thinking it’s okay to treat a woman with disrespect and negativity all the time. My relationship with Blythe is sick. Our family life is a horrible example.”

  Jenna places a hand on my shoulder, “Eden, I’m happy to finally hear you talking this way. Now you know what we got to do?” she asks, waiting expectantly.

  “Call a lawyer?”

  “No, we’ve got to get drunk, let loose, and celebrate. You have finally come to your senses.” She giggles. The Uber car stops along a sidewalk.

  The driver turns around. “Is this good? We won’t get up front with all the limos there.”

  “Yeah, it’s perfect,” I reply, placing a twenty in his hand for a tip.

  Jenna and I both shuffle out of the cab and make our way to the front door. She’s looking hot tonight with her short brown hair blown out straight, her sexy, smoky eyes, and a black dress that hugs every inch of her curves. We are quite a pair for a much awaited night on the town. As I follow Jenna up to the door, a brush of excitement washes over me. This is a new experience. I want to have many firsts.

  We stop in front of a bouncer. He’s massive with bulging arm muscles and legs. Jenna smiles at him then says, “Hey, T.” She reaches up on her tiptoes, even though she’s in stilettos, and places a kiss on his cheek.

  “You came?” he asks, surprised.

  “I told you I would.” She grins and I sense she’s flirting. I’m guessing T is not just a friend.

  “Go have fun, but not too much. I don’t need to be hauling anyone’s ass out of there.” He smiles playfully.

  “T, this is my good friend, Eden.” She motions to me.

  T nods his head. “It’s a pleasure, Eden. You ladies go have fun.” He gestures for us to enter.

  I follow Jenna into the club. It’s opening night. The place is massive and adorned with a very expensive lighting system. There must be some vacation theme going on because there are palm trees and cabanas set up. I actually like the idea.

  Jenna taps my shoulder. “It’s nice here, yeah?”

  “Very.”

  “Just give it an hour. The place is going to be filled with New York’s finest. The owner is also the owner of the Knicks, New York’s basketball team,” she explains.

  “Jenna, I know who the Knicks are. I have also met the owner, Malcolm Anderson.”

  “Right, forgot you’re part of this rich crowd.” She laughs. She knows I’m not a big fan of the ‘rich crowd’ as she puts it. Although, I do remember Malcolm being very down to earth.

  Jenna pulls me over to the bar for some drinks, which is a good thing because I definitely need to loosen up.

  An hour later and the place is full. Familiar faces pass by, smiling at me or reaching in for a cheek kiss. Most are distant friends and acquaintances of Blythe. I smile and play my part as I’ve been taught. Every once in a while I notice Jenna glancing to the door while T peeks his head in and nods to her. I’m starting to get the feeling they may be an item, even though she hasn’t mentioned him before and she rarely does relationships.

  “Are you meeting up with him later?” I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the entrance.

  Jenna nods and my eyes go wide. “Jenna, he’s massive.” I giggle. “I mean how are you going to fit his ding dong inside you? It must be the size of a horse’s ….” I slap my hand over my mouth, and Jenna bursts into a fit of laughter.

  “I know right? I was thinking the same thought. He is hot as hell and as big as he is, he’s also damn sweet. His ding dong is giving me second thoughts though.” She cackles and shakes her head. “My dear, Eden, you must be on your way to tipsy if you just referred to T’s cock as a ding dong.”

  I laugh so hard I snort. “Oh my! I’m definitely tipsy,” I admit as my inhibitions are reduced to low alert. Internally, I know I have to be careful with all these acquaintances here tonight.

  “Come, dancing drunk is a blast.”

  She hauls me away from the bar toward the dance floor. I want to tell her I don’
t plan on getting drunk, but I don’t want to ruin her mood either. A moment later we’re at the center of the dance floor, and I’m shaking my booty while my hands are in the air. Tipsy and dancing is working for me. Jenna closes her eyes as her body sways to the music. There’s little space to move on the dance floor now and the warmth of all the bodies makes me sweat. A man places his hands on my hips from behind and I freeze, not liking the contact. Crap! You’d think he would ask permission first. I shake my head “no thank you,” and he pulls away, lifting his hands in surrender. A moment later a shooter girl walks up to us, and Jenna stops dancing.

  “Here.” She passes me a shot. I pass. I’m already warm and fuzzy. “Just take it, Eden. It’s on the house, and we are letting loose tonight,” she hollers and downs a shot. I wasn’t concerned about the money. I just don’t want to lose control. Her eyes narrow, and she looks at me as if daring me not to take the shot.

  I wave my hand at her. I guess one last shot can’t hurt. “What the heck.” I follow her lead and down one of the blue shots. I shake my head at the bitter after taste. We continue to dance when someone knocks me from behind, causing me to lose my balance. I’m about to slip when strong able arms catch me from breaking my fall.

  “Holy shit! I’m so sor—” He pauses mid-sentence.

  I’m met with the sexy, smoldering glare of Dixon Crawford. My stomach sinks, but it feels different with the alcohol pumping through me.

  “Eden? I uh … I didn’t recognize you.” He supports me with both hands and brings me close to his chest, embracing me in his arms while waiting for me to steady myself.

  “Dixon … what are you doing here?” I mutter, as if I should be the only one out on a night on the town.

  He chuckles to himself and sucks in that plump lower lip, and dammit, I want to reach forward and suck it. I want to taste him all over again, and it seems like the alcohol has only magnified that want.

  “My friend Malcolm owns this place,” he explains. “We went to school together in Bed Stuy.”

  Wow! Malcolm Anderson is from Bed Stuy?