His Father

by A. E. Murphy

  I enter the house through the back door and move to the front one. There’s a knock so I know it’s not Devon and Tempest.

  I peek through the blinds and blink at what I’m seeing.

  "What the fuck?” I breathe and yank open the door. “Absolutely fucking not. Get back in your shit car and fuck off.”

  “But I want to see my son!”

  Tempest

  Devon drops me off, walks me to the door and follows me in without invitation. I suppose if he and Sargent are as close as what he says then it’s okay. Also he seemed really disturbed when we passed an old, gray car in the long driveway.

  The second we both step inside I hear something smash and Devon curses and pushes me behind him. I watch as Sargent drags a flailing, screeching woman toward the door.

  “MY SON!” she screams, frothing at the mouth as her brown eyes scan the area and her long, pale, chubby limbs flail.

  “That’s Mad’s mum,” I whisper and the second her eyes come to me she stops flailing and screaming and drops like a dead weight.

  Sargent drops her, nobody can hang onto a dead weight if they aren’t expecting it.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” she screeches at me, coming straight for me with clawed fingers outstretched. Devon pulls me back out of her grasp, literally lifting me off the ground and turning us both. “WHO IS SHE, SARGENT?”

  “She high?” Devon asks Sargent as he wrestles with her again.

  I see three angry scratch marks down his neck and rage bubbles in my gut.

  “Help me toss her out,” Sargent says as the woman hisses, spits, and sobs.

  “Who the fuck is she?” she screams, clearly off her head.

  “She is none of your business, you psychotic bitch,” Devon yells, grabbing her kicking ankles as Sargent grabs her arms.

  Unfortunately, in her haste to escape, she brings her booted foot into Devon’s groin and he goes down like a sack of potatoes off a shelf.

  “Oooh,” I hiss, cringing with him as he tries not to vomit from the pain.

  I rush to him, ready to help when a stench I can’t describe fills my nostrils and a blur of graying, brown hair is in my face. We tumble to the ground and I push against her, trying to find leverage.

  I feel her teeth sink into my shoulder and scream. This bitch really is crazy!

  “I will end you! You homewrecking whore!” she screeches at me, her wild eyes enraged.

  “Get her off me or I’m going to lose my shit!” I yell, pushing at her face with my hand as my knee goes to her belly.

  “ENOUGH!” Sargent bellows, grabbing her and literally throwing her into the door. “Call the cops, she is cracked out of her fucking mind.” He slams her onto the ground and pins her with both arms behind her back as I fumble with the phone in the hall. Ignoring the pain in my arm as I dial and speak to the dispatcher.

  They can hear her wailing like a banshee.

  Everybody this side of the world can likely hear her wailing like a banshee.

  “I thought you were clean, Kelly.” Sargent sighs, frowning at the woman who was once his wife. It’s hard to imagine a man like him ever being with a woman like her. She’s a mess. She looks bloated, sickly, her hair is graying and patchy. She has cuts up and down her bare arms from where she’s been picking them and scratching.

  When I hang up the phone I race to grab Devon a bag of ice from the freezer. He accepts it gratefully, still in agony. I’m wondering if I should have called an ambulance too.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Sargent as she finally stills and just sobs beneath him.

  He nods and smiles at me gently. “Are you?”

  I look at my arm, the skin isn’t broken but I go in search of some peroxide anyway. When I find it, I clean the wound and open the door for the cops to come in.

  “I’ll just…” Devon carries himself to the sofa and collapses onto it. Poor bloke.

  “I’ll get you some pain killers.” I look at Sargent as the local sheriffs handcuff the bitch in question. “You got this?”

  He nods and deals with that while I deal with his friend.

  There are stools on the ground and a broken glass is scattered around the far wall as though it has been thrown.

  An hour passes, the cops take our statements and leave, Devon hobbles to his car, and I finish clearing away any glass. I can’t believe that just happened. That was insane.

  I’m still in shock I think.

  The bitch bit me. She hasn’t been with Sargent since Maddox was fourteen. Maddox said so himself.

  So why did she feel territorial? Was it the drugs? I knew she was a heavy addict but I didn’t know to what extent. Now I’m wondering if Maddox knows to what extent.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Sarge says softly as he sinks onto the sofa and covers his face with his hands.

  “I don’t mind,” I reply, wiping the mark off the white wall where the liquid from inside the glass splattered. “It’s probably going to need repainting.”

  “If only you could paint over bad memories,” he mutters and looks at me through hooded eyes. “Come here.”

  I drop the rag and move to him, taking his outstretched hand in mine.

  He pulls me onto his lap until I’m straddling him and gently touches the bite mark which mars a blank space of my tattoo.

  “She’s a fucking bitch,” he growls, kissing the space beside the mark gently as though his touch will make it all better. I’m surprised when it does.

  I thread my fingers together behind his neck and kiss him softly.

  We don’t ever kiss softly. We fuck each other’s mouths. We don’t make out like passionate lovers. What we do is brutal and painful in the best way, but right now this is sweet and calm in a new way.

  He grips my hips and sits up so our bodies are flush together and my groin is against him. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and he lifts me and presses my back to the couch. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more to help. I didn’t have an opening.”

  “When she’s like that she’s strong. I’m sorry I let her get close enough to do this to begin with,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder again. He rests his body on mine and looks down at me with a gaze so soft but so tired. He looks older than he ever has, but that’s not to say he looks old because he doesn’t, he just looks like a man who carries so many burdens. “You didn’t say you weren’t mine. If you’d have said you were Maddox’s she’d have probably started hugging you, not biting you.”

  “I didn’t have an opening.”

  “You did. You just didn’t take it.”

  I wince. He’s right. I had thought about saying that I wasn’t even with him but I don’t like lying, I’ve done enough of that in my lifetime. I figured just not saying anything would be better. “I’ll deny it if anyone asks… unless you want to tell Maddox?”

  He blows out a breath. “You’ve also been thinking about it?”

  “I’m just worried he’ll find out before we get to tell him ourselves.”

  He presses his groin into me. “Let’s not talk about this now.”

  I reach between us for his belt and undo it quickly as he tugs my shorts down to my knees and I manage to wriggle one foot free.

  He doesn’t wait, the second I palm him with my hand he nudges inside, filling me completely. I sigh happily, never feeling more aroused than when I’m with him.

  His lips touch mine gently as he slowly glides in and out. Pushing himself to the hilt and withdrawing to the tip so slowly it’s all I can do to stop myself from mounting him and riding him in a way I know he loves.

  Unfortunately, despite the fact I’m enjoying every second, a greater reasoning falls over me when I realize what’s happening.

  “You forgot to suit up,” I whisper in his ear as his breathing quickens in mine.

  “I know,” he murmurs. “I’ll pull out.”

  “That doesn’t exactly work.” I smile, shivering when he jabs his cock into me to get me to be quiet.


  He hooks my leg over his arm and circles his hips, pressing the base of his throbbing cock against my clit. I’m going to lose it soon, I can feel myself spiraling. It’s so good. It always is with him but this is different.

  I orgasm, gripping his body with my limbs and my sex and he joins me, thrusting inside despite the fact he said he’d pull out.

  It’s okay, I tell myself, the chances of me getting pregnant are really slim. It’s rare that it happens in a month. It takes years for some people. We’ll be fine.

  “I know I always said I’d never ask you for anything,” I whisper against his neck, swallowing my pride as his body twitches on mine and in mine.

  “Go on,” he says gruffly, leaning up so he can see my face in the dark. The sun set sometime during the police interrogation.

  “Can you please replace the underwear you’ve ruined?”

  “Done,” he replies easily, kissing me again.

  When he climbs off my body I feel cold. He walks away, leaving me alone to my thoughts and I watch him ascend the wide staircase that leads to his room.

  That’s it?

  I had thought for a moment there that he might actually stay with me for longer than a minute after finishing. How foolish am I?

  For a moment there I thought he might have come to care for me. Does that mean I’ve come to care for him?

  Shit.

  What am I doing here?

  Sargent

  “She’s fine,” I say to my son on the phone. “Your mother isn’t. She’s probably going to jail and I’m not dropping the charges this time, not even for you and if you ask Tempest to I’ll kick your ass myself.”

  “No, she can’t keep doing this,” Maddox replies, sighing heavily. Why couldn’t I have given him a better mother? “What happened to rehab?”

  “Who knows? I haven’t heard from her since before you left for your travels.”

  “Throw the book at her.” Maddox has never said such a thing about his mother. He has always defended her because of his unconditional love for her, and the shit she has done to him still makes my blood boil. “Are you sure, Pest is okay?”

  “She’s fine, she’s sleeping.”

  He clears his throat and exhales sharply. “I saw Mom last week.”

  I’ve always tried to protect him from his mother, even when he was little and we all lived together. She never had the patience to be a mother. One could say she was lacking that maternal instinct required. Saying that, when he got old enough, I never stopped him from finding her, until the last few times she broke into our home and stole our things under the guise of motherhood.

  Last I heard of her was a few months before he left when he said goodbye and she seemed to be genuinely doing well.

  I fucking hate her.

  She’s the type of person that should never have money. She couldn’t handle it when our income became disposable.

  After that abusive relationship ended I promised myself I’d never get into another one again. Seeing the way it affected my son as he grew was enough to put me off ever trusting another person with my child.

  “On purpose or…?”

  “I called her to see how she was doing, I left a voicemail but she didn’t answer, so I went to her old place.” He bites on his lip looking nervous and uncomfortable. “She wasn’t there, they told me where she’d be. She looked good, Dad. She was staying with a friend, I saw the apartment, it was nice. She needed a deposit to get her own place…”

  I close my eyes and turn away from him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Shit.” I turn back to him and shake my head. “Don’t ever apologize for trying to help your mother.”

  “I’m the reason…”

  I slam my hand on the table and demand, “And don’t ever, I mean ever, blame yourself for your mother and her demons. Her choices are her own.”

  He nods but still looks sad. “I can’t believe she attacked Pest.”

  “And Devon.”

  “He probably deserved it.”

  I chuckle because he’s right, he probably did. I should send him a text to see how he is. I pull my phone out to do just that, cringing when he reminds me about the commitment we have tonight.

  “Morning.” Tempest enters the kitchen looking no worse for wear.

  I smile at the sight of her before I can stop myself and Maddox, seeing my reaction, smiles too. He moves to her and envelops her in a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. His eyes meet mine as they sway from foot to foot and he whispers his apologies into her hair.

  When she pulls back, he gently touches the bite mark and frowns, shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers and I can’t look away from their private moment. I can’t look away as she reassures him it isn’t his fault and his eyes soften. He looks devastated that she’s hurt and I’m panicking inside. Is he in love with her and just doesn’t know it yet?

  “I have people coming over tonight,” I say, breaking up their intimate moment. “Devon and a few acquaintances. Poker night.”

  “Poker night?” Maddox looks intrigued but I nip it in the bud.

  “Not for you, Son, as much as I enjoy your company this is a meeting I have to focus on.”

  “Anything interesting?” Tempest smiles kindly at me.

  I nod and reply, “Trying to break out of a contract. It’s unlikely but if I can get him to make the bet and I win…”

  “What contract?” Maddox looks equal parts curious and nervous. “Anything I can help with?”

  “No.” I look at Tempest and contemplate telling her about the setup in the yard.

  I’ve been thinking about it nonstop, hoping she’ll stumble upon it but I’m also terrified she and Maddox will read into it.

  “There’s something for you in the yard, by the barrier wall,” I say, looking at my phone.

  “What?” Maddox asks, looking excited.

  “Not for you,” I reply and his eyebrows hit his hairline and Tempest’s lips part with surprise. “For her.”

  “What?” Maddox repeats but his tone is darker this time.

  I walk away, taking the stairs three at a time as they race each other to the garden.

  I move into my bedroom but because of the gazebo I can’t see her reaction. I can see Maddox’s though as he slowly makes his way to the area she beat him to and then, at the edge of the roof, he stops and looks up at me.

  His eyes curious, his mouth flat. Until she grabs his arm, squealing with glee, and yanks him out of my sight.

  I should have thought about the roof getting in the way of my view of her.

  Fuck. I didn’t want the sun to burn her as she painted. Maddox said she could stand at an easel for hours at a time and not even realize it.

  At least she sounds happy.

  Tempest

  All day I’ve been aching at work to go home and paint but by the time I’ve finished, the sun is setting and Devon is dressed in a tailored suit, ready for the evening of poker.

  “You look dapper.” I grin at him as he walks me to his car.

  “You look sweaty.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, rolling my eyes but I haven’t lost my smile. “I hope you win.”

  “If I win, I’ll take you to that new dessert shop you and Fidget were squawking about all day today to anyone who will listen,” he promises.

  Fidget is another really sweet woman who works for him, she’s obsessed with anything chocolate and anything cake. I’m more obsessed with ice cream but I’m extremely careful when I eat it; I get the worst brain freeze and the biggest thighs. I don’t know her real name, just that everybody calls her Fidget because she can’t sit still. She’s the only person exempt from working at the checkout for this very reason.

  “Heck, seeing you smile like that, I’ll take you anyway.” He chuckles and I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything.

  He turns on the radio and we begin the journey home.

  As promised, when we get the
re, I go straight to my room and frown when I see paper bags, from a multitude of stores sitting on the bed.

  There’s a note propped up against them which I unfold carefully and read:

  “Dad’s personal shopper picked out a few things for you. Anything you don’t like/doesn’t fit we can return.

  X

  Mad”

  Maddox bought me new clothes?

  He said he would but I had assumed we’d go to a local bargain store and I’d dig through their messy racks until I found something wearable. The clothing in these bags cost more than I could earn in a year.

  I’m equal parts annoyed and happy. I try to push the annoyance down but I don’t want to feel indebted to him more than I am already. It’s bad enough his father just bought me all of those expensive paints and pencils and books and canvases…

  Now this?

  I feel like such a charity case.

  Tempest: Thank you for the clothes but they’re too much. We have to take them back and we’ll go to Target or something…

  Maddox: My dad insisted. The washing machine turned half of your shit pink. Take it while he’s in a good mood and then hock them for spending money when we go to England.

  I laugh at that and shake my head as I dare to peek into bag number one. I can’t help but squeal as a flutter of excitement crashed through my veins as I pull out a gorgeous, gray, lace summer dress. I try it on and when I know it fits, I hang it up in my closet and move on.

  The next bag has more summer outfits, denim shorts, waist high and hip huggers, T-Shirts, vests, all things I already wear, just fancier versions. He hasn’t tried to change my look. He’s only given me a variety and I love that.

  Except the last few boxes and bags which are full of at least five different sets of underwear.

  I dive into the shower and scrub my body before daring to don a black, lace, satin thong-bra-stockings set with matching suspenders that sits on the waist.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, biting my lip as I take in my appearance.

  I feel incredible. It fits so well and looks amazing. I’ve never had a bra that fits better than this. I don’t ever want to take it off.