by Amy Starling
Oops. I'd backed myself into a corner real good with that one.
“Uh...” I wriggled in my seat. God, how could my underwear be so damn wet? “You know what I mean. Firemen are hot. There's nothing hot about the manager of an apartment building.”
“Sure there is.” His voice turned husky. Gave me goosebumps. “There's lots to like about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
His gaze roved slowly over my body. It was more attention than any man had paid me in my life.
I should have told him to knock it off. Jayce was an experienced pickup artist who'd practiced his moves on me before. I always laughed and told him to take a hike.
So why, now, did I almost melt when he touched me? Why did I so eagerly soak up his sweet words?
It was just my biological clock ticking. Had to be. Right? Better start putting more effort into that dating profile of mine before it was too late.
Before Jayce convinced me to get naked for him. If he asked right now, would I resist – or would I let him tear off my clothes and have his way with me?
“Come to the club with me. You could use a few drinks in you.” He pulled me up off the couch. “You could use a man inside of you, too. And I'm gonna help you find one.”
“Christ, Jayce.” My face flushed with heat. “Don't be ridiculous.”
“How am I being ridiculous? We've been friends for years. Nothing wrong with friends helping each other score.”
“There's not?”
“Not at all. And hey, having you around's a good thing for me, too. Ladies always trust a guy more when he's got a woman with him already.”
“I don't think you need another notch on your bedpost.”
Except the idea of being one of his “notches” had an undeniable appeal...
“I'll teach you all my tricks. That's a valuable offer.”
“You're starting to sound like an infomercial. I don't need any tricks. And I'm not into the club scene.”
“Where else are you going to find a guy to screw? I never see you leave your apartment except to go grocery shopping.”
“How do you know? Are you spying on me?”
“Answer the question.”
Jayce could be very demanding sometimes. He wasn't gonna let this one go.
“I'm trying online dating. That way, I can get to know a man before going out with him.”
As expected, he burst into laughter. I kicked his shin. He laughed harder.
“Get to know? Jeez, Elle. You don't need to know a guy to take off your clothes for him.”
Once again, proof we had nothing in common. His life philosophy was to bang anybody who'd have him – which was everybody, as far as I could tell. I doubted there was ever a girl who turned him down.
“It just freaks me out. The thought of baring everything for some stranger...”
He shook his head. “You act like sex is a really big deal. It's not. Sex is for fun. Physical pleasure. That's all.”
“I don't see it that way.”
“I know you don't. You're a good girl. You wanna settle down with one guy, get married, and sleep with only him for the rest of your life.” He shuddered. “That is my worst nightmare. Why lock yourself in a cage like that? It's prison.”
“So you just plan to keep doing this – screwing strangers until you're too old to get it up anymore?”
He glanced at his crotch. Yikes. Why did I have to mention him getting it up? Wait a minute... Did he have an erection? Holy hell, that thing was huge!
“I appreciate your concern with the quality of my boners, but I can assure you there's nothing to worry about.”
“You don't need to assure me of anything.” My voice came out as a squeak.
Why did he have a hard-on? Maybe because we were talking about sex, his favorite subject. Or maybe there was something more to it than that...
The phone buzzing in my pocket was a welcome distraction from all this awkwardness. Jayce sighed as I checked the caller ID, as if he resented the interruption.
Heather? Why was she calling me now? Not a good time. I had these mental images of her near-brother seared into my head, images of him doing very naughty things to me.
“Hey, Heather. What's up?”
“This isn't good.” Her breathing was hard. Panicked. “Jayce's dad is in the lobby. He's threatening to have the building torn down this month.”
Chapter 2 - Jayce
Dad, that son of a bitch.
What the hell was he doing here? The last time I'd seen that smug prick was at the reading of Debbie's will.
He had no right to be here. Not now. The will said we had one calendar year to raise occupancy to 80 percent. Sure, we weren't doing so great on that, but we still had five months left to go.
I boarded the elevator with Elle then slammed my fist into the first-floor button so hard, I cut open my knuckle.
Blood dripped on my shoe. I ignored the pain. Used to it by now.
“You have to calm down,” Elle begged me.
“Why?”
“Because.” She shifted from foot to foot. “You can't act like a caveman in front of everyone. You're going to scare people off.”
“So what? This is my turf. My home.”
Elle touched my shoulder. I hardened even more than I already was. Not a good time for it – but telling my cock to stay down was like ordering a cat to play dead. Just wasn't gonna happen.
“I'm serious. You've already got a colorful reputation around here.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
She groaned. “It's not. The very day I moved in here, you kicked a hole through the lobby vending machine.”
“I paid almost two dollars and it didn't give me my damn chips.”
“And then last week, you punched Jacob from 111 in the nose.”
“He called his girlfriend a bitch right in front of me. What else was I supposed to do?”
“You're lucky he didn't call the cops!”
The elevator bounced as it reached the first floor, and the door rolled open with a cheerful ding. I strode around the bend toward the lobby, my hands curled into fists, little droplets of blood spattering on the linoleum in a trail behind me.
I thought for sure Elle would yell at me to clean the mess up. Surprisingly, she didn't.
She grabbed my arm and took my injured hand in her own. Christ, if I didn't have to deal with my asshole father, I would have been enjoying her touch a lot more.
“You're hurt.”
I didn't like to be babied. But I did like how soft her fingers felt against my own rough skin.
“I'm fine. I got bigger problems right now.”
She pulled a packet of tissues from her pocket and dabbed the wound with one. I slowed my pace for a moment, allowing her to fuss over me and put pressure on the cut.
That wasn't the only thing she could put pressure on. My dick tented the cloth of my shorts, and there was no way she couldn't tell. I caught her staring at me on the couch upstairs. Had she ever taken a cock as big as mine?
What would it be like to have her naked in my bed? I imagined it in very explicit detail.
Okay, enough perverted thoughts. Had to focus here.
As we neared the main entrance, Elle's phone buzzed again, this time with a text message.
“It's from the emergency line.” She frowned. “Unit 219. Something about the shower being broken.”
“How's that an emergency? Have Stan deal with it.”
She frowned harder. “He quit. We're the only ones left.”
“Oh.”
“I'll go check it out – but promise not to cause a scene if I leave you alone.”
I was a lot of nasty things, but usually not a liar. I couldn't promise anything when it came to dad, though, given what a royal dick he was to me.
But to make her happy, and so she wouldn't worry so damn much, I told her I'd be good.
I watched her cute little ass jiggle as she ran toward
the stairs. If anything could calm me down right now, it'd be getting a piece of that.
Dad was waiting for me in the lobby, just like Heather said. She was hiding behind her computer, a look of total panic on her face until she spotted me. Then, relief. She knew I'd take care of this.
Dad hummed to himself and flipped through a magazine, then brushed some imaginary lint from the arm of his fancy suit.
Pompous piece of...
“Ah, son. There you are.”
He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I ignored it. He kept right on smiling.
“What are you doing here? Thought you'd be busy greasing palms and rubbing elbows with the upper class these days.”
He chuckled and ran his fingers through thinning hair. I felt like socking him in the jaw. But I made a promise to Elle – and for some odd reason, I didn't want to let her down. Not this time.
“What's wrong? Can't a father enjoy spending some quality time with his boy?”
“We haven't had 'quality time' since I was in elementary school.”
He waved off the remark. “Nonsense. I dropped by to see how your little project was coming along.”
I gritted my teeth. My face got all hot, like it always did before I lost control and let my rage out to destroy whoever dared to stupidly provoke it.
Heather noticed. She mouthed the words silently to me. “Calm down,” she said.
Yeah, that's what Elle told me too. Dad was lucky I gave a damn what they thought, or else he'd have a bloody nose and a couple missing teeth right about now.
“My... little project?”
He nodded. “You know, I was angry at first when Debbie handed over the property to you two. After all, it's not as if you're her real child – and I did take such good care of her over the years.”
“If I were you, I'd watch what you say from here on out.”
With a laugh meant to mock me, he threw the magazine down. It slid off the table and onto the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up.
“It's all right, though. From the way things are looking, you're losing occupants, not gaining them. Tell me, how many do you have these days?”
“That is none of your business.”
He paced around me like a shark searching for weakness. Well, I had news for him. He wasn't gonna find any.
“The occupancy rate isn't the only thing you have to worry about. Remember, the will had a few other stipulations you're to abide by, or Shady Acres and the land become mine.”
What stipulations? I hadn't really been paying attention at the will reading. Could anyone blame me? The only woman who really loved me, who cared for me after my own mother abandoned me when I was a little boy, had just died less than a week prior.
Only I never told her how I felt about her. Always bottled up my feelings. Never called her “mom.” Never said I loved her back.
Elle was right. I was an asshole.
“I'm guessing that stupefied look means you've no clue what I'm talking about.” He patted my shoulder. “I suggest you get your head in the game, son, or you'll end up losing it soon enough.”
“Is that a threat?” I paced toward him, ready to swing.
He held up his hands. “Just a friendly warning from one businessman to another.”
He was no businessman; he was a scam artist. I knew he was always up to no good. Just couldn't put my finger on why or how.
Dad pulled a packet of papers out of the folder he'd set on the table. He scanned the words, then thrust the sheet in my face.
“Line 49: Occupancy must continue to rise or hold steady each month until August 31st, 2016. If during any month Shady Acres loses more than five percent of its total residents, ownership will revert automatically to David Reinhard.”
I threw the papers back at him. “What the hell is this? Debbie would never have put this in her will. The whole 80 percent thing is bullshit enough as it is.”
He grinned even wider. If Heather hadn't been watching me, I would have taken him to the ground and wiped that stupid smile off his face.
“So tell me again how it's 'not my business.'”
Heather furiously typed on her keyboard. She looked like she was gonna puke. Then, after a few more clicks and keystrokes, her mood brightened.
“Only six people moved out this month. Our total occupancy currently stands at 349.”
I never was good at math, but even I knew that was way less than five percent. Now it was my turn to gloat.
“You happy now? Piss off and don't come back here again.”
He didn't seem fazed in the least. “This month, son. But next month will be here soon enough. It's just a matter of time before these people get fed up with your God-awful management and leave for greener pastures.”
I picked up the sheet and read it over myself, just to be sure he wasn't lying to me. He'd done plenty of truth-bending over the years; never could trust the old man.
But he was right. How? Why? This wasn't like Debbie at all. She wouldn't have given us the property just to set us up for failure.
Something more was behind this. This whole thing stunk of dad's scheming and manipulation. Too bad my head was so clouded with fury that I hadn't a prayer of figuring it out.
“Are you done yet? I said get out.”
“Actually, no. I'm not.” He snatched the papers and leafed through, humming that annoying song again. “I have one more thing for you here. Brace yourself; it's going to be quite the surprise.”
My stomach churned as I waited for his “surprise.” My dad wasn't like other fathers. His surprises didn't involve love or caring. Everything he did, he did it for himself.
“Ah, here it is. This is it, my trump card.”
He handed me the paper and pointed to the highlighted line. As I read, he recited it aloud.
“Regardless of occupancy status, final ownership of Shady Acres depends on the marital status of Jayce C. Reinhard.”
Marital...?
“If Jayce has not married by the end of this term, ownership is transferred to David Reinhard.”
Me, married?
“What the fuck?”
Heather and I screamed it at the same time. Well, maybe she used less profanity – or maybe not. She looked as sick as I felt.
“Language, son. How can you expect a good woman to marry you with a mouth like that?”
“This is complete and total bullshit. Why wasn't I made aware of this months ago? Why now?” I crumpled the papers up and threw the lot in the wastebasket. “You're making it up. That's just like you.”
“Ah, good. You've made things so much easier, then. Shall I have my lawyer send over the paperwork?”
This couldn't be happening. He couldn't force me to get married! Could he? Why would Debbie's will say this? Was it her idea? His?
I was so confused. It didn't help that my head still throbbed from drinking too much the night before.
“This must be a mistake. A typo or something.” Heather, luckily, came to bat for me. “Jayce can't get married. I mean, look at him.”
I scoffed. “Gee, thanks, sis.”
Our parents had never married, so she wasn't technically my sister, and she claimed to hate it when I called her that. Even though she rolled her eyes now, I knew better.
We had always been a family – me, her, and Debbie. Elle, too. If not for them, my world would have been a hell of a lot darker.
And now, Debbie was trying to make me start a family of my own. Well, guess what? Even if this was her will, it wasn't happening.
“I promise you it's no mistake. I was with your mother when she made her final testament.” He pulled the wrinkled papers out of the bin. “She was quite sick of you whoring yourself around to any girl who'd accept. Wanted you to grow up for once.”
“No. She'd never force me to do anything I didn't want to. This whole thing has you written all over it.”
“I'll be honest. When she came up with the idea, I thought it a great plan. After all, I knew you would never
find a woman willing to accept your sorry self. Which means no matter what you do to this apartment, you're done for – unless you get yourself a wife.”
Knew I shouldn't have promised Elle I wouldn't cause a scene. Hey, I didn't actually start anything. My father was the one who did that; I was only going to finish it. Real men didn't just let shit like this go without a fight.
“Get out, or you'll be leaving here in an ambulance.”
He laughed at me. That cocky ass was laughing at me! I charged at him, ready to throw the first punch. Not even Heather screaming could stop me now.
“Uh, is everything okay here?”
Shit. Some dude had come in through the front door and I hadn't even noticed. I pulled my fist back and stuffed it in my pocket. Dad sneered at me.
“Everything's fine,” I growled.
Heather shoved me out of the way to greet the man. “Welcome to Shady Acres. How can I help you today?”
I was about to take dad outside and finish what we'd started, but then my phone came to life with a text. Elle?
“HELP! Water everywhere, hurry!”
Elle needed me. That mattered more to me than this dipshit.
“I suppose that means we're done here.” Dad turned for the exit. “Don't forget, son. I'll be checking in on your progress monthly. And if I were you, I'd start looking for a bride today. Lord knows it'll be a long time before anyone wants you.”
His words echoed in my brain as I took the stairs three at a time. Nobody wants me? Yeah, right. The girls who came home with me every other night said otherwise.
I quickly forgot about it when I reached unit 219. The door was open, and two women shouted over the sound of rushing water. What was going on in there? Sounded like a waterfall.
Squish.
Frigid wetness soaked into my sneaker and through my sock. I dared to look down.
The entire living room was filled with six inches of water. More was gushing from the bathroom, where the screaming ladies were freaking out like somebody had died.
“Oh my God, Lord Jesus, help us...”
Someone hadn't died, had they?
“Elle, you in there?”
She emerged from the bathroom, completely drenched as if she'd jumped into the pool with her clothes on. Her hair was a wreck; what little makeup she wore streamed down her face in black and green rivulets.
