by Frost, E J
“Okay. Let’s hope she keeps it to the internet. I want to step up your physical security, though. You’re not wearing your panic button.” I nod at his wrist, which only has a smart watch on it and not the metal wristlet I had custom-made for him. “Why not?”
“’Cause I’m with you. Why would I wear a panic button to work out with my goddamn bodyguard? C’mon, man, don’t you go all tool on me, too.”
“Wear it, Rick. All the time. It’s waterproof. You never need to take it off.”
“It turns my wrist green.”
He can be so fucking petulant. Guess that’s what comes from having people hang all over you all the time. I’ve never been one of those people, and Rick seems to value my disinterest. He’s about to get an earful of it.
“It does not. It’s titanium, not copper. Stop your whining and get the damn thing on. I’ll brief your building security. I know they know the drill but it doesn’t hurt to remind them. Have Glory give Manny your schedule a week in advance. Take him with you whenever you’re in public. You’ve got a party coming up, don’t you?”
“Yeah, next Friday. Emily already RSVPed for you.”
“That’s fine. I’ll still bring her, but I’ll be working instead of playing. Me, Manny, and another guy I want to bring in for the night as well.”
“Christ, man, this is going to run into six figures before you ever find the bitch. Give me a break.”
I sit back and cross my right ankle over my left knee. Give him a moment to see how serious I am. “I’m telling you what I need to do to keep you safe, Rick. Now I’ll tell you why. In the past five years I’ve dealt with over a dozen stalking cases. Every single one of them has escalated into a physical confrontation, if not violence, Rick. Every single one. You might be the exception, but I’m not hopeful. You said you met this girl on Fire Island? She could live right around the fucking corner. You think I’m wrong? That she won’t come after you in person if we manage to shut down this online shit? After she’s gotten a taste of revenge? Fine. It’s your life, your decision. I’ve given you my advice.”
“I hate when you try to top me, man, you know that? Save it for Emily.” He waves his hands around his head the way he always does right before he capitulates. “Just make sure you send an estimate to Glory.”
“I will. Get me that list today, huh? And don’t step out of your door again without your panic button. I’ll tell Manny he’s on you for public events. I know you already do most of your shopping online, but now’s not the time to develop a sudden interest in bloody boutiqueing.” I check the time on my phone. “I’ve got to run.” Particularly if I’m going to do a cost estimate for Rick’s manager and call my IT guy before I take Emily to the park.
“You don’t have time for lunch? I figured I’d order in.”
“Sorry, mate, not today.” I don’t have time, and I’m not really in the mood to hang with him right now. But it’s probably been hard for him to admit this to me, so I throw him a line. “You got plans for the Yankees game on Sunday?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Come over and watch it with us. I’ll invite Manny and Jen and a couple of the subs from Blunts. Emily can make you a wheat grass margarita.”
“Fuck that. I’ll bring what I want to drink. And make sure Lucy’s there. I still can’t believe you blew it with Rachel, but blondie’s a close second, even if she won’t let me fuck her yet.”
She won’t? Lucy has a hard limit on anal, I know, but I’ve never known her to refuse other types of sex. I’ll have to ask her what her concerns about Rick are and see if they give me any insight into this situation.
“Sure. I’ll text you a time. Bring ice cream.”
“Ice cream? Emily’ll have my nuts. I thought you weren’t allowed anything but kale and shit.”
I chuckle. “I’m not. That’s why you’re bringing it. She won’t yell at you. See you Sunday, mate. And try to chill out. We’ll get on top of this.” I rise and clap him on the shoulder.
I double-check his house system as he shows me out. Everything’s working as it should, but I still wonder if I shouldn’t include some upgrades in my estimate for Glory. Rick’ll probably think I’m overreacting. Maybe I am. I was a paranoid bastard before I got my head bashed in. But something about this has my Spidey-sense tingling, and I’ve learned over the years not to ignore its warning. If that means Rick’s got to live at DefCon One for a while, so be it. My last client who didn’t take their stalker seriously ended up with permanent burn scars, and she was fucking lucky. Rick may not be my favorite person right now, but I don’t want that to be him.
* * *
Emily’s in the kitchen when I get back. Juicing me a damn kale and carrot smoothie.
Her eyes light up when I walk in, and she offers me a shy smile along with a sheaf of papers on which she’s written out her lines in glittery, purple ink. Good girl. While she finishes making the smoothie, I check over her lines, counting the sets of her five-line mantra.
I came up with the mantra while we were on the train back from San Diego. I was still on heavy painkillers, sleeping more than I was awake, and Emily was having to deal with so much on her own. Even though she had support from Maude and Javier, I could see her struggling, so I gave her the mantra to remind her that even when I wasn’t awake, I was with her. It worked a treat. She settled immediately, and I’ve heard her whisper it to herself during stressful moments since we’ve been back. She made a poster of it: big, curling letters and little pictures around each word, flowers and birds and rainbows. I got it framed and we put it up on the wall in my old bedroom, then renovated the room around it into her little room: repainting and bringing her day bed, desk, puzzle table, puppet theater, books, comics, stuffies, and cushions down from Syracuse. I like her mantra so much I occasionally go into her little room even when she’s not in there to read it and smile to myself.
I belong to my daddy.
Every inch of me.
My daddy holds me in his hands.
I am safe with my daddy.
Always and forever.
She’s written it out one hundred and ten times, which is so Emily. She always gives me that little bit more. I’m so proud of her, and so proud to be her daddy.
Even when she’s making me drink bloody kale. I gulp the disgusting goop down when she gives it to me, put the empty glass in the sink, pull her into my arms, and kiss her forehead. “I love you, little girl.”
She snuggles into me. “I love you, too, Daddy. Is Rick okay?”
“Uh-huh. Emmy, why don’t you call him Master Rick? He’s a Dom, just like Niall and Javier. You call them Master.”
She shrugs. “I know, but he doesn’t act very domly. I mean, it’s all about him, isn’t it?”
Interesting that she sees him that way. I flick the tip of her nose. “What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t be mad? I know he’s your friend.”
“I’ll never be mad at you for being honest with me, little love. I’m curious. Tell me what you think.”
“He’s a narcissist, Daddy. My ex was, too. They act the same. Me-me-me, all the time. Maybe he’s a good Dom, I don’t know, but it just seems like he wouldn’t care very much about his subbie. He’s just about getting his.”
I trace my fingertips down her soft cheek. “Have you known other Doms like that?”
She nods.
“Mmm, he mentioned Lucy won’t agree to sex with him. Do you know why?”
She shakes her head. “She hasn’t said anything to me. I know she’s happy to play with him. I don’t know why she’d say ‘no’ to sex. Maybe it’s because he’s not a Blunts Dom?”
“Maybe.” Something in her expression catches me. “Baby doll, you don’t think the house subs have to have sex with the members, do you? They don’t.”
“But all of them do,” she says, voice small and a ton of doubt in her big eyes.
“By choice. We’ve had house subs who were just topped. No sex. They worked out fine.”
“Why did they leave?”
“They found Doms of their own. Some of them in the club. Some outside of it. Ryan’s wife was a house sub. Although, I think she was a house sub for about five minutes before Ry snapped her up.”
“I didn’t know that. Are all the house subs looking for Doms of their own? Lucy doesn’t seem to be.”
“I don’t know about Lucy; I didn’t train her. She’s one of Ryan’s trainees.” I don’t think I’ve ever looked at her goal sheet. “All the subs I trained wanted a Dom, or two, of their own, except Austin. He’s a bit of a special case.”
She nods. “I know about Austin.”
“You do?” I haven’t seen Emily and Austin in the same room for more than ten minutes, and I was with them every time. But Blunts has a busier rumor-mill than even the Navy, so maybe someone told her. “Have you been gossiping?”
“No, Daddy. Austin told me about Rex.”
When was this? Austin was a frequent visitor when we first got back from San Diego, but I honestly don’t remember him spending any time alone with Emily. Then again, I was still pretty out of it when we got back, so maybe they had long heart-to-hearts while I was asleep. “Someone else who spilled their life story to you? Little girl, you’re amazing.”
She offers me an uncertain smile. “Austin’s story’s really sad, Daddy.”
“His Dom rented him out, I know. But he’s safe at Blunts now. No one will abuse him again.”
“How can you be sure, though? What if he meets someone like Rex away from Blunts and they hurt him again? Austin’s really, really sweet, but he told me himself that he can’t set limits. Rex was good to him at first. They were together for months before Rex gave him to other people.”
“Believe me, baby girl, we know. We’re working on it with him. We wouldn’t let someone take Austin away without making sure he was safe and cared for. Remember I told you about my bottom, Luisa? I interviewed her new Dom several times and I checked up on her for over a year after she went to him to make sure he was treating her well. We’d never abandon a bottom. The Blunts house subs aren’t fuck-toys, they’re our friends and lovers.”
That gets me a real smile.
“You ready for some lunch before we go to the park, little girl?”
“Yes, Daddy. I have a treat for you.”
“You do?” I love her treats. Emily’s a great cook, even if the veggie smoothies are foul. “What does Daddy get?”
“Bacon sandwiches. And a salad because you still need your greens.”
I kiss her forehead. “I’ll happily eat a salad if I get bacon butties. Thank you, sweetie. Give me twenty minutes to make some calls and do a quote and I’ll be back in to have lunch with you. You doing okay, little girl?” I tip her face up and look straight into her eyes as I ask, because she seems subdued and, sometimes, with Emily that’s the sign of a problem. Not always. Emily spends a lot of time in her own head. She’s a writer and there are times when she gets immersed in what she’s writing. When she does, she can seem withdrawn. I’m learning to tell the difference, but it’s not always obvious. Her eyes are the best indicator.
Right now, they’re clouded. Could be she’s still thinking about Austin. Could be she’s worried about something bigger.
“I’m okay, Daddy. Just thinking.”
It doesn’t ping as a lie, and Emily’s wholly honest with me. But I don’t like even the faint cloud in her eyes.
“I’ll let that go for now, baby doll, but we’re going to have Knee Time tonight and I want to know what’s on your mind.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I free her with another kiss on the forehead and head toward my office to call Max, former Navy comms officer and my go-to IT guy.
* * *
Max’s phone rings to voice mail so I send him an email with a quick summary of the job, asking for costs. He emails me back and I’m just putting his fees into my estimate for Glory when my phone goes off.
“Porn star, eh?” Max’s voice always sounds like a badly tuned engine and I could recognize it anywhere. Have recognized it anywhere, since he never says hello, and launches into conversations like they’ve been going on for ten minutes.
“Uh-huh. Any problem with that?”
“No. He the one who does the parties?”
I’ve invited Max to several of Rick’s parties, because I have a long-standing belief that Max is a Dom, even if he tells me women are fragile flowers who need tending, not pruning with canes and whips. I’ve tried to explain that dominance doesn’t have to involve impact, and that he would see that if he’d come to a party or two. He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads every time I mention it. But I still keep trying.
“Yup. He’s got one coming up next week. Wanna come?”
“Fuck no. I see a man hitting a woman at one of those things and the guy will be exiting the building through a window. I still don’t believe you do that shit to Emily. You must outweigh her by a hundred pounds. She’d break the first time you hit her. You’re bullshitting me.”
“First of all, I’d never bullshit you. Second, Emily’s stronger than fucking Kevlar. If you’d ever let me show you what it means to top someone, you’d understand.”
“Ain’t. Gonna. Happen.” I hear tapping in the background. “This is some ugly shit, bro.”
He must be looking up Rick’s online accounts, or maybe EvonneBringsTheTruth’s webpage.
“Agreed.”
“Any of it true?”
“I asked the same thing.” I shift the phone to my other ear so I can rub my hand over my face. “In the interests of not bullshitting you, I’ll admit I’m not sure. I’ve heard Rick’s version and it’s very different from what you’re seeing. But I’ve learned over the years that almost nothing is black and white. When it comes to he-said-she-said, there are a lotta shades of gray, mate.”
“Fifty fucking shades on this one. What’s the deal with the belt?”
“He says he didn’t use it to drag her into the room, but he admits he hit her with it. He says she asked him to. There was another guy with them that she doesn’t mention at all. He used the belt to choke her. Rick says he told the guy to stop when it was too much for her.”
“He’s a lying sack of shit. No girl wants to be hit and choked with a belt.”
“Hold on just a tick.” I stand up from my desk, walk to my office door, open it, and call Emily. She appears a moment later, looking quizzical. Cutie. I hold my phone out to her. “This is Max.”
She grins and takes the phone. “Hi, Max. How are you?”
I can’t hear his response, but she smiles as he speaks, then giggles. “No way. If they resurrect Jean Grey one more time I’m going to puke.”
Before I lose them, because both Max and Emily are huge X-Men fans and when they get together, they descend quickly into incomprehensible discussions of alternative timelines, Earth-295, and the shortcomings of the recent movies, I say, “Little love, can you please explain to Max why you like being belted?”
She gives me very big eyes but says into the phone, “It’s kind of hard to explain.” She chews on her lip, and I hear Max make encouraging noises. “I’ve always thought of it as a crossed wire in my brain. I still feel the pain, but somehow when Logan hits me it becomes a good hurt. It’s cleansing, and affirming, and exciting, um, I don’t know how to say it. It connects us. I’m not saying it right.”
I stroke her cheek encouragingly.
She listens to Max for a moment, then says, “Yes, it hurts. But it’s not a random hurt. Like bumping into a sharp corner or catching my fingers in the door. It’s nothing like that. There’s a purpose to it. It binds us together. It makes me feel safe. It’s really hard to explain, Max.” She pulls the phone away from her ear and holds it out to me. “Couldn’t we show him, Daddy? I’m not explaining it right.”
“You’re doing great. Invite Max over to watch the game on Sunday and maybe we can convince him to stay to watch a scene.”
She sm
iles and nods before she pulls the phone back and invites Max to what’s rapidly becoming a play party. Good thing I have a big basement.
When it sounds like they’re done discussing the details, I take the phone back and tell Emily I’ll be another five minutes. She goes up on her toes to kiss my cheek before she pads back towards the kitchen.
“I’m not watching you hit her, you fucker,” Max growls as soon as I put the phone to my ear.
“No, you’re not,” I agree. “I’ve told you topping doesn’t have to involve impact. There are plenty of other things that will drive her right out of her head without me ever laying a hand on her. I’ll show you.”
“That makes no fucking sense, but I’ll reserve judgment until I see it. I gotta admit, her calling you ‘Daddy’ is hot. Shocked the hell out of me when I first heard her do it, but I can see why you’re into it.”
And it clicks. Max is a daddy. That’s why he can’t cope with the idea of me hitting Emily. He wants to protect my little girl.
“We’ll talk about it after the scene, mate, but I’ve got a hunch this is going to open up a whole new world for you.”
“Whatever. I’ve got the info on the server that’s hosting EvonneBringsTheTruth’s site. Want me to send them a take-down notice now or you want to wait until the fucker approves my hourly?”
“Do it now. Rick’ll go along with what I recommend. He just likes to whine.”
“All right.”
We spend another minute shooting the shit about England’s chances in the upcoming test match, since Max is a fellow cricket fan. As we’re wrapping up, he says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kind of looking forward to Sunday.”
“Just come to it with an open mind.”
“I’ll try. Let me know when you’ve got the green-light from the Porn King and I’ll launch a DDoS attack on this site to bring it down while we’re waiting for the host to pull it.”
“No idea what you just said but will do.”
Max chuckles. “Emily has got to bring you into the twenty-first century, buddy. How can you wire CCTV systems for a living and not understand the first thing about the internet?”
