Junkyard Dog

by Hunter, Bijou

  “For what?”

  “To clean up all this shit,” I say, waving my hand at the stacks.

  Candy stands up and surveys the mess. “Depends on what’s in the boxes.”

  “Business records. Tax shit.”

  Candy’s sexy mouth drops open. “Shouldn’t they be at your accountant’s office or something?”

  “They have their copies. I have mine.”

  Candy walks to a pile of boxes and shakes her head. “Is there anything sensitive in these boxes?”

  “Probably, but my enemies would have to dig through a lot of boxes to find them. I don’t even know which ones have anything important in them.”

  Candy frowns at me, and I feel small under her disapproving scowl. Fuck her for having such power.

  “What did you fucking think was in the boxes?”

  “MREs and other prepper stuff,” she says and then adds when I frown at her. “Your office looks like a bunker, and you have a small arsenal in the coat closet. I assumed this other crap was you preparing for the end of the world.”

  “For your information, I keep my end of the world shit at my fucking house. I can survive for five to ten years easily. It’ll only depend on if I save anyone with me.”

  Candy holds my gaze, and I wait for her to catch the hint that I’d be willing to save her under the right circumstances.

  “I’m glad you mentioned that,” she says, turning away and looking inside a box. “If the bombs fly or zombies rise, I’ll bring my kids to your place. Might bring my sister and her kids too. I’ll leave the douche husband at home.”

  “You can show up, but I make no promises about whether I’ll let you inside.”

  Still checking the box, Candy grins. “If the world is coming to the end, you could do worse than having two hot blondes at your beck and call.”

  I shrug, but there’s no denying I’d be a lucky fucker to sit out the end of the world with this woman. Her kids, sister, and even more kids don’t interest me as much.

  “You keep bitching about cleaning all this up, so have at it.”

  Candy looks at me suddenly, and I can feel her thinking. Devious thoughts too. She’s up to something, and I cross my arms in anticipation for whatever bullshit she’ll pull.

  “How do you feel about paying someone under the table?”

  “Who?” I growl, sounding scarier than I plan, but Candy doesn’t react to my tone.

  “My sister could use extra cash, but nothing that can be traced.”

  “First, you bring your kids here. Now you want me to hire your sister. I’m not running the Candy Wilburn charity house here.”

  She hears how I stumble over my words. Her eyes narrow and she sizes me up. I don’t need her knowing she turns me into a dog in heat. I want to shift my stance and let my hard dick breathe. Knowing Candy, I have no doubt she’ll notice.

  “Her husband is a douche, and I want her to leave him. Any cash she can hide would help.”

  “Why in the fuck do you think I care?”

  “You said her husband is a douche. I would think you’d want to piss him off. Don’t you live to fuck with people?”

  I detect no judgment in Candy’s voice. She’s right that I get a kick out of fucking with people. Something about seeing a man squirm makes me smile.

  “Fine. I’ll pay the same rate per hour as I pay you and I’ll pay in cash. I don’t want to see her or hear about her emotional crap.”

  Candy smiles and her dark eyes light up in a way that makes my dick hurt. “I’ll slap duct tape over her mouth and keep her focused on cleaning up your mess.”

  “You do that,” I say in a threatening tone for no reason besides my dick’s painful throbbing.

  The cause and possible relief stand three feet from me. She won’t fuck me today. I can see how the thought isn’t on her mind right now. No doubt she’s considered me inside her, though. Candy isn’t stupid. She’s a sexy woman, and I’m an available man.

  I think to push the topic, but something stops me. My brain might be working again because I realize she’s a stranger. I don’t know shit about her, yet I’m ready to let her see me at my most vulnerable. No one can have power over me. I won’t even give it to my sickly father or Nightmare. No way will I give such power to Candy.

  So I walk back to my office and leave the tempting blonde to play computer games. She’s only free for the time being. Once I learn her secrets and tilt our relationship in my favor, I’ll make my move.

  NINE - HAYES

  During my usual Saturday routine, I pass the office and think of Candy inside cleaning. She warned me not to visit since Honey and her kids would be running around. The thought of six children making a shitload of noise and stinking up the place fucking horrifies me. On the other hand, I can’t deal with going two days without seeing her. Candy’s crawled under my skin, and I can’t dig her out. Worse is how I’m not even sure I want to.

  Country music plays in the office when I walk through the front door with Nightmare at my side. The dog bolts inside and begins smelling the strangers. His nose makes a beeline for Honey Mayer’s crotch. I assume she’s on the rag.

  While Honey freezes in terror, Candy’s back remains to the door. Shaking her ass to the song, she’s unaware of my presence. I admire the sweet curves of her wiggling butt in a pair of khaki shorts. Before my dick can spring loose from my pants, she turns around.

  “Hey, it’s the boss man!” she cries, walking over to where Nightmare now stares at Honey. “Can I pet your tiny horse?”

  Candy kneels down and strokes Nightmare, who remains wary. The dog doesn’t know what he’s missing.

  “How much have you gotten done?” I ask.

  “Three boxes and dusting. Are you checking up on me?”

  “Yes.”

  Smiling, Candy stops petting the dog and glances at her nervous sister. Despite sharing long, blonde hair and big, dark eyes, the sisters are polar opposites personality-wise. In fact, when Nightmare shoves his nose in Candy’s crotch, she looks unfazed while pushing him away.

  “Tell your dog he needs to buy me dinner before he sniffs there.”

  Grinning, I force my gaze away from her and check out my meeting room full of kids. The smaller blond ones are watching cartoons on a tablet. Candy’s two sit in a corner playing something on their mom’s phone.

  “Don’t let them stink up the place,” I mutter.

  “Yeah, we don’t want to distract from the cigar smell.”

  “Funny,” I grunt before snapping for Nightmare to follow me.

  For a few hours, I pretend to work, but I’m mostly interested in seeing Candy. I often check on the women. Honey cleans while Candy goes through each box and sings along with songs. I suspect she knows her singing voice is terrible, making her confidence more appealing.

  Eventually, Candy tells the kids to clean up and get ready to go. Before she leaves, she appears at my office door.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No.”

  Candy grins, but I don’t know why. She’s in a good mood, and smiles come easily when she’s happy. I’ve seen her in a bad mood too, and she does very little to hide negative emotions.

  “I’ll work on the mess during the week and see about coming back next weekend.”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s the kids, isn’t it?” she asks, leaning against the door frame. “You love children so much and seeing them makes your ovaries quiver.”

  “Goodbye,” I say, despite my smirk.

  “See you Monday.”

  I only nod and watch her disappear from my doorway. The kids make a racket on their way out of the office and then the place falls silent. I look at Nightmare, who doesn’t care either way. I’m the only person who has ever interested him, and he’s too old to give a shit now.

  “What now?” I ask the dog.

  Nightmare walks into the main office and sniffs everything anyone new touched. He’s pissed about the new stink. Watching him, I realize the fee
ling I’m nursing isn’t fucking boredom. For the first time in years, I’m lonely and all because of a mouthy blonde with a horrible singing voice.

  TEN - CANDY

  Between moving into the house and cleaning the office, I’m exhausted from organizing crap. At least at the house, I’m working with a blank slate. The office is a frigging mess. I have to check every slip of paper in every box. I’ve counted at least thirty boxes, but I know more are hidden behind the main stack. Half of what’s in the boxes is trash, and the half are business papers dating back a decade. I can’t believe Hayes is so successful with such a train wreck system.

  “How do you function?” I ask Hayes when he appears from his office.

  I notice he comes out every hour or so to check on me. I don’t mind since it saves me from checking on him. We’ve been playing this peeking game since the weekend.

  “I have a company that deals with payroll and the financial crap. These are my personal copies.”

  “Why is it such a mess?”

  Hayes crosses his arms and leans against a desk hiding under boxes. “Years ago, I had a real assistant. Tammie was a good woman, but her back went out, and she got behind on shit. Then she started calling in sick a lot, and the temps didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. Once she went on disability, I was stuck with morons. This is the result.”

  “Is Tammie still alive?”

  “She moved to Florida to be closer to her grandchildren.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “No.”

  Suspecting he’s lying, I smile at his bravado. “Will you miss me when I move to Florida to be closer to my grandchildren?”

  Hayes shrugs. “You’re not horrible at your job so far. Too mouthy, but most women are.”

  “So you’ll miss me then?”

  “You have your skills.”

  “Can you be more specific about my qualities? I’m feeling insecure.”

  Hayes rolls his eyes, but I catch him smile. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “I’m sure you have. A big businessman like you probably thinks all the time.”

  “I’ve been thinking about having an heir.”

  “An air?”

  “An heir like a kid that’d inherit my business.”

  “Oh. Yeah, you wouldn’t want it to end up in the hands of the government.”

  “I’d rather burn everything down than have that happen.”

  Grinning at his reaction, I nod. “I’m sure you’d make a great dad.”

  “You don’t really believe that.”

  “No, but you’re smart. You might learn how to be a great dad by the time the kid is old enough to notice.”

  “You’re healthy, right?”

  “Healthy like I eat salads?”

  “No, like you’re capable of creating and carrying a baby.”

  “Sure,” I mumble, unsure where he’s going with this line of questions.

  “You didn’t break anything having those twins?”

  “You mean my beloved children? No, I didn’t break anything. What are you getting at?”

  “I’ll need to breed with a woman capable of carrying my large kid. You carried two at once so I figure you’ll do.”

  “Well, that’s a tempting offer. Whenever you’re ready, just fill a cup with your swimmers, and I’ll pick up a turkey baster on my drive home. We’ll make you an heir.”

  “There are easier ways to make a kid.”

  “Easier?” I say, looking him over. “I’d say a turkey baster is simpler than climbing you, boss.”

  “No climbing necessary,” he says, and I realize he might actually be serious. “You lay on the bed, and I’ll do the work. I’ve heard women make boys if they get fucked in the missionary position.”

  “You heard that, huh? Where?”

  “Donna was telling some broad at the Waffle House.”

  “Well if Donna said so, I can’t really disagree. She’s the Google of diner waitresses.”

  I snicker at my joke while Hayes just watches me.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “I sense that,” I say, feeling a little overheated. “What would you name our giant baby? It wouldn’t be something stupid like Angus, would it?”

  “Said the lady with the stripper name.”

  “I didn’t pick my name.”

  “You picked your kids’ stupid names.”

  “No, their father did, and he only picked them to punish me.”

  “Punish you for what?”

  “For not having an abortion. He didn’t want kids. He nagged me constantly until I was ready to pop. When I wouldn’t give into his whiny bullshit, he chose the names,” I explain with a hint of anger and then add more casually, “The joke was on him because my kids are cool enough to walk off silly names. I’m not sure our giant baby would be, though.”

  “My kid won’t give a shit what anyone thinks.”

  “Or he’ll be very sensitive and cry easily. You never know.”

  “I know,” Hayes insists.

  “So you’re saying you’d name him something dumb like the dad in the song A Boy Named Sue?”

  “I’d name him something strong.”

  “Like Bullet?” I ask, snickering again. “Shotgun maybe?”

  “Buckaroo Banzai actually.”

  “It has a nice ring to it.”

  Hayes frowns. “It’s a movie title. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t watch movies.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Fine, Marvel and Pixar movies. That Banzai thing isn’t one of those, so it doesn’t exist to me.”

  Hayes crosses his arms and glares super ugly at me. I love when he does that shit. He’s especially hot when he tries to intimidate me. I especially like how his lips get pouty like a really grumpy baby. I smile at his expression and wonder if he’s messing with me with all of this heir talk.

  “Not everything is a fucking joke,” he grumbles when I don’t stop smiling at him.

  “See this from my point of view, boss. You always seem full of shit. How can I tell when you’re not?”

  “Pay attention.”

  “Or you could talk differently when you’re not full of shit,” I suggest.

  “No.”

  “Have you interviewed any other wide-hipped women for this great heir-making opportunity?”

  Hayes gives me his junkyard dog expression, and I should be scared. He’s a scary guy, but he won’t do anything besides yell at me. When I think of all the effort he goes through to terrify me, I begin laughing.

  “Idiot,” he grumbles, walking back to his office.

  “I’ll think about it. I mean, giant babies are a lot of responsibility.”

  I see him shake his head in irritation, but I can’t believe he actually thought I’d agree.

  Leaning back in my chair, I consider breeding with another rich guy. With Toby, I felt no emotional connection to my baby daddy. It’s why his nagging about an abortion never affected me. He could have said anything, and I wouldn’t falter. He was simply a means to an end. Of course, Hayes isn’t Toby.

  ELEVEN - CANDY

  On the kids’ first day of school, I’m a basket case of mommy's nerves. I walk them to their separate third-grade classes and admit they won’t have fun today. No doubt Cricket will spend the day comparing everything to her old class while Chipper will disappear into the crowd. They’ll meet up at recess and recharge their twin powers. I promise to take them out to dinner and let them complain about everything they hated.

  By the time I reach the office, I want to cry. It’s a mommy reaction. I know they’ll be fine, but I feel guilty for giving them a bad day. It’s my job to hurt for my babies, and I see no reason to deny the feeling.

  “What’s your problem?” Hayes asks, walking out of his office when I arrive.

  “My babies started school today.”

  “You should homeschool them,” he says casually. “Schools today are failures.”

  “You told m
e to put them in school so they wouldn’t become morons,” I mutter.

  “Well, that was before you started moping around the office.”

  “How can I homeschool when I’m working? Also, how in the hell does someone homeschool?”

  “I don’t know. Google it.”

  “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “I wasn’t trying,” he says, smirking. “I could hug you, but I can’t imagine that would do anything except get you moist.”

  “You’re in a weird mood today.”

  “Not really. I have been thinking, though.”

  “About what?” I ask, walking into the mini-kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee.

  “I want to trust you with more responsibilities.”

  “Okay, but these new responsibilities aren’t gross, are they?” I ask, thinking about his heir offer.

  “No, but they involve me trusting you. Can I? You’re not bailing on this job if I don’t baby you during your next period, are you?”

  “I’m on my period now, and I don’t want you babying me,” I lie while returning to my desk. “Staying away from me would be helpful, though.”

  “No alone time today, babe. In fact, don’t waste time logging in. We’re running errands today.”

  I study him and find my smile. He’s in a good mood and the damn thing’s infectious.

  Once outside, Hayes helps me climb into his giant truck by grabbing my ass and pushing up. I grunt at his version of chivalry. At least, I was smart enough to wear jeans today, so his hand doesn’t encounter a warm greeting from the spot between my legs.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as soon as he pulls out of the parking lot.

  “My father has caregivers who handle him and his house, but I need you to check up on them. You need to make sure they’re keeping the place clean, feeding his cat, and giving him meds and food.”

  “Are you overly cautious or is there something you’re specifically concerned about?”

  “Overly cautious,” he says, honking at a car full of senior citizens. “Balthazar has a full-time caregiver named Lizzy Anne. There’s also a nurse who visits once a week to make sure he’s getting his meds. The setup is solid, but I don’t trust anyone.”