Daddy Issues

by Wyatt, Dani

  I hated that I didn’t know before.

  It just made me want to protect her that much more. Now, today, I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I’m asking her more than just how she’s doing. I want to know how’s she’s really doing.

  “Thanks.” She blinks a few times, like she doesn’t want to look at the world. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.” Her words say one thing, but I see her eyes are saying something else. I want to know it all; I want to fix it all. I want to be the one she comes to with everything, good and bad. She takes a breath. “It hurts though. Still. A lot.” The slightest tremble accents her words and my heart clenches.

  Against my better judgment, I lean my massive torso over the counter, locking my elbows, and wait for her to look up. I’ve never dared come this close – I’ve never crossed this line.

  But today I see she needs someone, and I want to be that someone. I love the way her hair curls under at the ends. It’s the color of rich, strong coffee, with a sheen like hot milk. It makes my fingers twitch, aching to get tangled in it. The way her bangs sometimes catch on her long eyelashes when she looks up. The facets of her eyes, making me think of polished jade, rimmed with sparkling gold ribbon.

  “If you need help with anything, ever, I want you to call me.” I draw back one hand to my back pocket, pinching one of my personal business cards out then slipping it across the counter.

  I watch her trying to decide whether or not I’ve just crossed the creepy guy line or if I’m being sincere. From the way she’s so unsure around me, I imagine she’s fresh, pure, and untouched. Fuck knows. I can’t be sure. But if I were the praying kind, I’d pray for that. Because I want all her firsts to be mine. I want to own this fragile being in front of me. Own all of her experiences, her body, her heart, and her soul.

  Then, I lower my head a few inches inhaling to the depths of my lungs. I swear to God I catch the hint of something else on her. A scent of arousal. I’m instantly hard. A fog of some primal instinct clouds my rational mind, and I reach out to cover her hand with one of mine.

  For a second I forget where we are. I’m close to staggering, trying to control the need that shoots through me at the feel of her skin against mine. My cock is at full height, and if she catches sight of what I’ve got behind my zipper I’m going to get banned from this store for life with a restraining order against me.

  No closer than your cock will allow, Mr. Leonard.

  But in my fire-seared brain, something shakes loose. Her eyes are locked onto where my massive hand eclipses hers, and I lean in farther, filling myself with her scent until my lips come down to brush the silk of her hair.

  She releases a gasp and I feel her body tense.

  Thoughts of what her cunt looks like right now flicker like flames behind my eyes. I wonder if she’s wet for me. Is she bare or does she wear the same soft brown color down below? The fantasy fills my brain, making the world fall away. I’ve never been this close to her. All my fears about what I want to do to her explode. She’s so tiny and I have to fight for control.

  I would hurt her.

  And it would be beautiful.

  “Angel, babygirl.” The words slip from my lips into where I’m now latched onto the top of her head. The brush of my lips turns into a kiss and I want more.

  She retreats. Her head falling down an inch, then as quickly snaps upward, smacking my lips into my teeth.

  “I’ll finish this up...” her voice shakes. I wince, but it’s my pride that’s hurt the most.

  I fucking scared the shit out of her. What was I thinking? I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had what you would call a game, but with her I can’t even think straight.

  I manage to stand up and turn half sideways, thinking that may obscure her view of the size twelve tent in the front of my dress slacks. Since that first time she waited on me here, she’s been the center of every thought passing through my brain. She’s in my dreams, images of her legs spread for me. My hand on her ass, my cock in her mouth. The sounds she will make. Fuck.

  Why the fuck did I go with boxers today? I need twelve pairs of compression shorts if I’m within a mile of her.

  The blood is like a hurricane roaring in my ears, but I pick up on the whimper of her discomfort through the noise. I hate that I made her feel so awkward, so afraid of me. She’s moving about like she doesn’t know where to look, gathering up her pen and calculator. Making a half turn one way, then a quarter turn back.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” I manage.

  Her hands are stabbing at the calculator as she turns. “I’ll write it up. You can pick them up next Saturday.”

  That’s ten days.

  Ten days before I’ll have a legitimate reason to come back. But I’ll see her before then. The last five days I’ve forced myself to stay away from stalking her at her apartment. The landlord there caught on and I have to admit I questioned what the fuck I was doing.

  It’s not everyday you see a half-grizzly, half-human with one metal foot sneaking around behind the dumpster’s and questioning anyone that comes within twenty feet of her bedroom window, so I’ve had to back off. It’s been killing me not being closer. After the landlord threatened to call the cops, I took to driving around her block a few times a night, keeping a distance. Just checking on the lights in the apartment. Waiting until I saw them turn off. Wishing her sweet dreams and tucking her into bed in my own way.

  The last two nights I’ve had business functions and a celebration dinner with Cindy and some of her employees. By the time I got to the apartment complex for my nightly drive by, all the windows were already dark.

  I’ll watch her come and go from the store too. Follow her to the animal shelter where she volunteers on Thursdays and after work on Sunday. I think I could sniff her out if need be. Her sweet scent, her kind smile, the innocence she tries to hide. They call to me like a witch to the cross. I want her in ways I can’t understand but my mind settles on the fact that maybe some things are just not meant to be.

  She scurries toward the back room of the gallery nearly tripping and falling on her way. My heart pumps triple time as I walk toward the front door of the store; my vision darkens around the edges, and I have to grip the door frame as I leave. My fingers ache as the metal strains under the force. Because the last thing I want to do is leave. But I can’t figure out how to stay.

  I don’t know how to do this.

  The only word I need to hear from her is my name. And it’s not Magnus. It’s something even I don’t understand. The word thrums in my brain like a dark primal drumbeat.

  It’s Daddy.

  Chapter Four

  CHASTITY

  After my shift was over, I said goodbye to Andrea and hit the road north toward Belvedere and what I hope will be a new positive step in my life. No reason to stay around here tonight, so with a few extra bucks padding my wallet from Julie, I can manage a motel tonight. Andrea promises to come and see me soon, then quick hugs, and I’m off. Three hours away suddenly feels a lot farther as we muttered our goodbyes.

  I turn the knob on the radio and I’m met with static. I punch at every button. Static.

  Great, even the radio is giving up on me. In the silence, it’s impossible to quiet the voices in my head as I drive. I try to fill the silence by singing the entire sound track to The Little Mermaid half the way to Belvedere, but I can’t stop my mind from playing over and over the moment with Magnus today.

  Yeah, that moment. The moment when he bent down and his lips kissed the top of my head. Like he was entitled. It was unlike any sensation I can describe.

  My legs shook, my panties took a direct hit, but it was more than that. More than just lust. For a fleeting moment, I felt wildly connected to him, like he was somewhere I could be safe. And I wanted him to pick me up and carry me off, cradled against his bulk.

  Tears sprang to my eyes when I got to the back room and I heard the bells on the door signaling his exit. Thank God no one saw, because I wouldn’t kno
w what to say.

  And what he called me.

  Angel. Babygirl.

  Thank goodness I’m heading out of town today because I can’t ever face him again.

  I’m not sure why, but I can’t.

  And it’s not fair because if I can’t even bear to look at him then why do I see his face every time I close my eyes? I hear his voice; I feel his hand on me.

  Imagine.

  His fingers.

  Inside me.

  Stop. I shake my head and roll down the window of the Corolla, hoping the November wind will clear my mind.

  He ran away too. So that confirms it – it was definitely a mistake. I must remind him of someone.

  Could even be a daughter. He’s probably got ten years on me at least. And I’m younger looking than my age, people often mistaking me for a teenager.

  Maybe she died. His daughter.

  Yes. That’s it. I remind him of a daughter who died and that’s why he acts that way. I am misreading all of this.

  So why are my nipples like rocks at the mere thought of him? And why is there a near constant SOS throbbing between my legs? What is happening to me?

  It’s nearly 10:30 p.m. when I pull into the motel where I’ve made a reservation. I hop out of the car and stand at the counter until a twenty-something guy emerges from the back office, licking his fingers on one hand and staring down at his phone in the other.

  “Help ya?” He doesn’t look up. Customer service at $19.99 a night isn’t what it used to be.

  “Yes, hi.” I force a smile. I heard that’s the way to make your voice friendly, put people at ease. “I have a reservation. Chastity Stewart.”

  He looks up slowly, mouth gaping, eyes less than focused. There is a hint of something in the air, and from the reddish slits that look back at me, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the smell wafting out from the back room from where he emerged.

  “Reservation?” His gaping mouth becomes a goofy smile. “Haven’t had one of those in a while.” He chuckles and looks puzzled when I don’t get the joke. “Guess you’re not just reserving a room for an hour then? We have our one-hour special for $9.99. No ID required.” Another drawn out chuckle; he clearly finds himself very amusing.

  Tears nearly burst from my eyes. This is what my life has come to. I wish my mom was here, right now, just to help me get through the next few minutes and tell me everything is going to be all right. But she isn’t here, and I’m not sure everything is ever going to be all right. I rest my arms on the counter, try to avoid sniffling, and try to speak in an even tone that doesn’t give away how lost I feel right now. “I’m renting it for the week.” I grab the pen off the counter and swallow the lump in my throat.

  He narrows his eyes at me with a lethargic look up and down, licking his teeth, then this grin spreads over his face and he nods. “Got it.”

  He shoves a blank information card in front of me. “Fill this out. If you’re going to have a lot of people coming and going from your room,” he winks and drags dirt-encrusted fingers through hair that hasn’t seen shampoo for a while. He lowers his voice, leaning in as though we are sharing a secret. “Just watch out, the cops have been trolling us the last few days. Quota time, I guess. Couple girls went for a ride downtown last night. If you need any supplies, just let me know. I’ve got you covered.” He nods at me with a knowing grin.

  I clear my throat and struggle to fill out the card, taking my time just like my mom taught me when the letters start to dance. She never lost her patience with my reading and writing, made sure I was able to manage. Luckily, the clerk’s sense of time is as wonky and he doesn’t seem to notice it takes me a lot longer than it should to complete the simple registration.

  When I jab the completed information card toward him, he snatches it from me. Then he wrestles to open up a drawer under the counter, mumbling something to himself.

  He hands me the key. Not a key card, obviously. No, this is an actual brass key on one of those plastic ID rings with the room number. This is barely a step above the Bates Motel. Actually, I’m not even sure which I’d prefer.

  We manage to finish our transaction without any more need for words, and I’m relieved. I don’t know how most people do this, any of it. I find it so exhausting just trying to interact with people, never mind when those people remind me of everything I’ve lost.

  With a sigh, I remind myself that tomorrow is a new day. Bigger paycheck next week. New town. Fresh start.

  No more Magnus.

  My heart skips a beat, and I can’t decide if it’s from relief or some twinge of grief. I think I will miss him. He made me feel special in an odd way. When he was there with me, I felt like all his attention was focused on me. I’ve never felt that before except from my mom.

  Not even the stunning Andrea drew his eye, not once. It was like he didn’t even see her when she would sashay by. And I’ve yet to see another male customer that could manage that.

  It’s not that I think I’m ugly, not that I honestly think there is a standard by which that should be judged. I’m just not much of anything. Average. Average hair, a little plump, plain face, quiet. I wouldn’t know how to flirt if you held a flame thrower to my nose.

  I’d spent so much time with mom in the last five years, if it weren’t for Andrea I would have had no meaningful human contact at all.

  Unless you count Magnus.

  And part of me wants to count Magnus.

  But the larger part of me doesn’t because I’m not sure what is there to count.

  I groan under my breath as I wiggle the key into the lock of room 112 and take in the stale scent of the brown carpet, damp-stained velvet accented wallpaper, and a general feeling of dread.

  I perch on the end of the bed and stare at the square box of a TV, complete with foil wrapped antenna, certain that the faded floral comforter on the bed would never pass the body fluids black-light test.

  So this is it. Home sweet home.

  Chapter Five

  MAGNUS

  “Westwood Gallery called.” Cindy greets me with a smile as I step into the lobby of Renault Wines. She’s taking messages from the after hours’ voicemail at the front lobby reception desk. “Angela or Anita or something.” Cindy’s off-hand manner irritates me this morning.

  It’s not even seven a.m. but we’re both the first ones here every day. This may not be my life’s work, but I’m happy to be helping my sister achieve her dream. She has a passion for wine, and since her second husband died two years ago from a brain tumor, she’s been slowly but surely rebuilding her life.

  I’ve always had a deep paternal streak, a need to help and care for people. Animals too, for that matter. My sister has a good heart and hasn’t had the best of luck in life through no fault of her own. Her first marriage ended in a divorce from a cheating asshole who I made sure understood the error of his ways before he disappeared at my direction. So using my business skills and anything else I’ve got to help her get this little venture up and running has come at the perfect time for us both.

  The hairs on my arms tingle when she says the gallery called. My dick also thickens and my balls jerk tight. The mere mention of the gallery name has me needing a cold shower, and it wasn’t even her that called.

  I correct my sister. “Her name’s Andrea. What was the message?” I try to play it cool, but my sister’s got a line on me.

  She smirks, picking up the piece of paper where she’s written down the message and regards it for a long moment before she speaks. “They called to say ‘why the hell don’t you just go and ask her out already?’ Or, I don’t know, marry her or whatever the hell the men in this family do on a first date. Dad had Mom roped in and at the church two weeks after he met her. What’s taking you so long? This has been going on for months. We don’t have any more wall space for all these posters you’re getting framed, Magnus. Don’t pretend. That day I went in there with you? You practically drooled all over yourself when she came out to wait on
us. You’re gone for her, brother. Be a man and go get what you want.” She holds the paper out in my direction and raises an eyebrow. “What you deserve.”

  I ignore her editorial. “What did they actually say?” I try to hide my annoyance.

  She lets out a long breath and pinches her lips to the side before answering. “They said they have a question about your order. That’s all.”

  “Fine.” My voice lowers, the simple thought of my Cassie sends me into a different state of mind. My dark desires for such a sweet young girl must be wrong, but on the other hand, I want everything good for her in this world. I want her every dream to come true and I want to be the one with her every step of the way.

  “Magnum.” My sister’s voice pokes me out of my daydream with the nickname she knows I despise.

  I tighten my lips and fill my chest with a deep breath, meeting her eyes without a word.

  “You deserve to be happy. You can’t blame yourself forever. You dedicated your life to the business. What happened was an accident Magnus. A tragic accident. You think you have to suffer, that somehow it’s your duty. You haven’t been interested in a woman for so long I can’t even remember. And the last year...” She steps over to brush something off my shoulder then reaches up to swat my face with a playful smack. I raise my brow looking down. My little sister has attitude, that’s for certain. “Over the last year you’ve been the walking dead. Snap out of it. I see it in your eyes. The Leonard men don’t play around when it comes to their women; they see what they want and they go after it. I remember Dad even said he knew the first second he’d laid eyes on Mom. Said he never even been interested in dating before her. He knew the right one would come along and he waited. You’ve waited long enough. You’ve suffered. Go be happy. Please.”