Boy Toy

by R. R. Banks

  “And nobody's saying you have to give that up,” Caleb says. “But leaving a little room for you to enjoy your own life at the same time isn't a bad thing.”

  I give him a soft smile. “Well, maybe if I find a good guy, then I'll reconsider,” I say. “Until then though, all I need in my life is the both of you.”

  Caleb smiles back at me. “And we're lucky to have you,” he says. “But I've got some friends who might interest you –”

  “Jesus, Caleb,” I laugh. “You're starting to sound like my mother.”

  “We both obviously just want the best for you and we're just afraid you're headed down the path to crazy cat lady status,” he says. “And we both apparently want to head that train off before it gets rolling. Or rather, rolling along any farther than it already has.”

  I put my hand over Justin's eyes and shoot Caleb the finger, unable to suppress the smile. He laughs and shakes his head.

  “Honestly, Veronica,” he says. “I just want to see you happy.”

  “I am happy,” I reply. “I've got you and Justin here. What more do I need?”

  “Honestly?” he asks. “You need to get laid. Maybe worse than anybody I've ever known.”

  I burst out laughing and feel my cheeks burning – I have no doubt they're bright red.

  “Oh my God, shut up,” I howl.

  “Just making an honest observation.

  Justin giggles along with me and I'm thankful he's too young to understand what Caleb just said. He wasn't wrong – it had been a hell of a long time since I'd been with a man. So long, in fact, that I'm pretty sure I'm a virgin again.

  “I'm not even going to dignify that with a response,” I say, finally getting my laughter under control.

  “Well, when you're ready,” he says, “let me know and I can set you up with a really good guy. Somebody who will treat you right.”

  I raise my glass and tap it against his. “I'll do that.”

  Chapter Two

  “Have you found a boyfriend yet?”

  I roll my eyes – my mother is relentless about me finding a boyfriend. “How is your book club, Mom?”

  I'm rushing around the house, looking for my uniform – and not having a lot of luck. By day, I'm an administrative assistant for a small company. Which is just a fancier way of saying that I'm a secretary. I don't mind the menial office work, actually. I only wish it paid better. I make enough to keep the lights on, pay the rent, and put food on the table – but not much more than that.

  Which is why I pick up shifts down at a sports bar called The Bullpen. Yeah, the uniform isn't the most dignified around – short black shorts, a tight black and white striped shirt, black ballcap, and black knee-high socks – I call it sexy referee chic. It's a feminist's nightmare, but the guys seem to like it well enough – I never fail to leave work with less than a hundred bucks in tips.

  Which is why I don't mind the sexy referee chic and putting an extra little swish in my walk – with my hips and hourglass figure, I think I make it look damn good.

  “Our book this month is terrible,” she says. “That damn Bridget Scalia picked one she knew I'd hate. That awful, vindictive bitch.”

  “Well, you did kind of steal her man, Mom,” I say, laughing.

  Though barely fifty-five, my mother currently resides in a nice senior community back in New York – and when I say nice, I mean nice. It's like its own little city inside that community. It's got its own stores, post office, entertainment complex, bowling alley – it even has its own movie theater. Hell, if I were old enough, I'd move in there too. You have to be fifty-five though, so I've got a few years yet.

  But, if I thought I had drama in my life, it's nothing compared to what happens within the walls at the Whispering Grove Senior Community. It's amazing to me that people of their ages could be so – petty and vicious. But then, they've had a lifetime to perfect the art.

  But my mother – I never expected her to get caught up in that. And I really never expected that my mother, of all people, would have stolen somebody's man.

  “I did not steal her man,” my mother snapped. “Harold simply preferred my company to hers. And I don't blame him. That woman is not only a shrew, she's as dumb as a box of hammers. I can only imagine what trying to hold a conversation would have been like for Harold. He's a former English professor, you know.”

  I laugh. “I know,” I say. “You told me. Several times, actually. But I'm glad you found somebody to spend some time with, Mom. Even if you did steal him from somebody else.”

  “I did not –”

  “I'm teasing you,” I laugh. “Settle down, Mom. It's just jokes.”

  She huffs. “Not very funny ones.”

  “Well, we can't all be professional comedians.”

  “Speaking of men –”

  Great. It always comes back to this. My mother is like a pit bull – once she gets her teeth into that bone, she doesn't let go. It's a conversation we have every time we talk and frankly, a conversation I'm more than a little tired of.

  “Can we talk about this later, Mom?” I ask. “I'm running late for work.”

  “I just worry about you and Justin, honey,” she says. “Out there all alone –”

  “I've got friends. Good friends. We're not alone,” I say. “And Melinda is out here. She watches Justin for me all the time. So, we've got family too.”

  “It's not the same,” she says. “You need companionship, honey. Adult male companionship. We all do.”

  “Is that why you stole Harold from Bridget,” I say and laugh, desperately trying to divert the conversation.

  “I didn't steal him,” she says. “But we're talking about you now, honey.”

  “And I have to get to work.”

  “You need a man in your life –”

  I sigh, frustrated beyond belief. “I have a man in my life, Mom.”

  “You do?” her voice immediately perks up. “What's his name?”

  I rack my brain, desperately trying to come up with a name for my fictitious boyfriend. “Caleb,” I say. “My boyfriend's name is Caleb.”

  “Boyfriend?” she says. “Why is this the first I'm hearing of him?”

  “Because – I – I didn't want to mention it until I knew we were a serious thing.”

  “Oh?” she asks. “And how serious is this thing?”

  I glance at my watch and feel my anxiety shooting through the roof. I'm going to be late if I don't get her off the phone and get out the door soon – I've still got to drop Justin off at Melinda's before I go to work.

  “Serious enough,” I say. “Look, Mom –”

  “Are we talking marriage serious, honey?”

  I sigh and feel like screaming. I can feel the seconds ticking away – and every second I continue to stand there, the later I'm going to be. My boss is completely anal-retentive and has a serious thing about punctuality – and I really need to keep this job.

  “Yeah, Mom,” I say, trying to figure out the quickest way to get her off the phone. “He's already proposed and everything.”

  The screech that followed would have burst my ear drums if I hadn't held the phone away from my head.

  “Details,” my mother nearly screamed when she could finally breathe again. “I need details, honey.”

  “I'd love to give you all the details, but I really need to get to work,” I say. “I'm going to be late.”

  “Later then.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Swear it?”

  “Mom, seriously,” I say, exasperated. “I have to go.”

  “Oh, fine,” she sighs. “But I expect a full story when we talk next. I want all the details, Veronica. I can't believe you've kept this secret from me this long.”

  “Fine,” I say. “I'll tell you everything. Later. I have to go.”

  “Love you, peanut,” she says, using the nickname she'd given me back when I was a kid.

  “Love you too, Mom,” I say, smiling despite myself.

  I clic
k off the call and sigh loudly. What in the hell had I just done? It's bad enough that I'd made up a fictitious boyfriend – but making up a fictitious fiancé is ten times worse. A hundred times. I want to scream and pull my hair out. My mother has me so wrapped up in knots about this whole needing a boyfriend thing that I'd just made my life a thousand times harder than it needs to be.

  But, I don't have time to dwell on it. I need to drop Justin off and get to work so a crowd of drunk, horny men can ogle my ass all night.

  It's not glamorous, but it pays the bills.

  Chapter Three

  “You did what?” he asks.

  I look at Caleb sheepishly and feel my cheeks flush with heat. I had him over for dinner a few days after telling my mother about my fake fiancé. Justin is sitting in my lap, squirming around. He looks up at me with those stunning eyes of his.

  “Go play, mama?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  I give him a smile and set him on the floor, watching him toddle off to play with his toys. I hear him go into the living room and start to pull out his Legos. I cringe at the sound of hundreds of pieces of plastic cascading down on the hardwood floor.

  “Yeah, you're going to want to watch where you step,” I say. “Stepping on those things hurts like a bitch. Trust me on that.”

  He takes a sip of his beer and sets the glass back down on the table. “So, you and I are engaged, huh?”

  I laugh and roll my eyes. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I say. “She put me on the spot and I didn't know what else to say.”

  He shrugs, still chuckling. “I can think of worse things.”

  “Yeah, like having to deal with my mother.”

  Caleb is still chuckling to himself when he gets up and starts to clear the table and I wave him off.

  “Leave it,” I say. “I'll get to those later.”

  He shakes his head. “You cook, I clean,” I say. “That's the deal. That's always been the deal. You just sit down, relax, and enjoy your beer.”

  I smile and shake my head. “You know, when we get married and all, I expect this little arrangement to continue,” I say. “That little ring legally makes you my maid.”

  “Yeah, you wish.”

  I step into the kitchen and sit on the counter, holding my beer. It doesn't take him long to finish up the dishes and when he does, he leans against the counter next to me and plucks the bottle from my hand, and takes a long swallow.

  “So, how was work today?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing real exciting,” he replies. “I don't have any appearances scheduled for the next week, so I drew up a couple of wills for people.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun.”

  “It was riveting.”

  I look at the clock and see that it's eight. Time to put Justin to bed, so I hop down off the counter and walk into the living room. I smile when I see that he's already cleaned up most of his toys – though experience has taught me that in the middle of the night, I'm going to find the one Lego brick he missed.

  “Bed time, sweetheart,” I say. “Go brush your teeth.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  He scurries down the hallway, making me smile. Watching my little boy grow up is one of the biggest joys of my life. And it makes all of the shit I had to endure in my life all worth it. Sensing his presence behind me, I turn around and find Caleb leaning against the archway that separates the kitchen area from the living room. I snag the bottle of beer and take a swallow of it.

  “He's a good kid,” Caleb says. “And he's lucky to have such a great mom.”

  “I'm lucky to have such a great kid,” I say and punch him playfully in the arm. “And such great friends in my life.”

  A shadow passes across his face. But like a fish just below the surface of the water, it's there one moment and gone the next – as if it had never been there to begin with. I look at him curiously.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he replies. “Of course. Just thinking about a case coming up.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay,” I say. “I'm going to go put the little man to bed, so I'll be right back.”

  “I'll be here,” he says and flashes me that million-watt smile of his.

  I head down the hallway to say goodnight and tuck Justin in. After our nightly ritual, I turn on his nightlight and smile. His steady breathing tells me that he's already out cold, so I close the door gently behind me and head back down to the living room.

  Dropping down onto the couch, Caleb hands me a fresh beer. He's watching the highlights of the day's games on ESPN. And as I sit there beside him, I laugh to myself.

  “What?” he asks, turning to me.

  “I was just thinking about how much we actually seem like an old married couple sitting here.”

  He smiles and nods his head. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

  We watch for a few more minutes while talking about the minutiae of our days. It's one thing I really enjoyed about hanging out with Caleb – we can talk about the smallest, most insignificant details of life with each other and never grow bored. It's a great quality to have in a friend – a quality I found all too seldom growing up. Needless to say, I never had a lot of friends as a kid. Mostly because I couldn't deal with the petty, selfish bullshit that came with adolescence.

  I jump when there's a knock at the door and turn to Caleb.

  “What are you looking at me for? Not my house, it's not my booty calls stopping by,” he grins.

  “Booty calls, right,” I say. “Because I've got 'em lined up around the block.”

  “Who knows what you do when I'm not around.”

  I glance at my watch and see that it's coming up on nine. Kind of late for kids selling newspapers or candy. The knock sounds again, this time a little louder and forceful. Getting up off the couch, I walk over to the door and look out the peephole – and see nothing but darkness. I've been on the landlord for the last month about getting the lights outside fixed and he always says he'll get around to it – and never does.

  Sighing, I open the door and immediately feel my heart drop into my shoes. “What in the hell are you doing here?” I ask, my voice tight with tension. “How in the hell did you even find me?”

  I hear Caleb get up off the couch and feel his presence behind me – it's a reassuring presence that I take comfort in.

  “Did you really think you could hide from me?” he says. “Hide my kid from me?”

  Standing on the porch is none other than my ex – Glenn McSwain. I'm shocked to see him standing there. Mostly because he was supposed to be in prison for another year and a half. He looks the same as the last day I saw him – tall, muscular, thick goatee, and a shaved head. He looks every bit the member of the biker gang I remember him to be.

  “How are you out?” I asked. “I thought you –”

  “Early parole,” he says. “Overcrowding. Lucky me, huh? Now, you gonna let me in?”

  My eyes are wide and I feel adrenaline surging through my body. I'm terrified of Glenn – mostly because I know what he's capable of. He's capable of doing terrible things – the bruises have all healed, but I've still got a few scars that prove it.

  When I was with him, I lived in a constant state of terror. He has a bad temper and when he's set off, he can be downright vicious. I stand rooted to my spot, terrified, unable to move. I thought that by moving across the country, I'd be free of Glenn. That I'd never have to see him again. That I'd never have to live in that kind of fear ever again.

  But there he is, standing on my doorstep.

  “H – how did you find us?” I ask, my voice coming out a meek little whisper.

  “Doesn't matter,” he replies. “I found you. That's all that matters. Now, we can be a family again. So, let me in.”

  I hear Caleb take a step forward behind me and it breaks the paralysis that gripped me. He's still out of Glenn's sight and I want to keep it that way.

  “N – no, Glenn,” I say, trying to put some steel behind my words. “I'm n
ot going to let you in. And we're not going to be a family. We're over. We've been over.”

  “Baby, come on,” he says, giving me a smile that used to melt my heart – used to. “Don't be like that. I made a few mistakes but I'm a new man. Give me a chance.”

  I shake my head. “You need to go, Glenn,” I say. “Now.”

  His eyes narrow, his jaw sets, and his face darkens – all warning signs of an impending explosion I got to know well when I was with him. Like a storm gathering strength, when he finally let loose, I usually ended up with bruises somewhere on my body – but never anywhere anybody could see them. He was usually smart about that.

  “You don't get it, Veronica,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “I'm out now. We're gonna to be together – you, me, and Justin. We're gonna be a family again. Just like old times.”

  “No, we're not, Glenn –”

  The cracking of him punching the wall beside the door made me jump and as if it was an automatic response, tears welled in my eyes and my body started to tremble.

  “Let me in this goddamn apartment, Veronica,” he spits. “You ain't gonna keep me from my boy.”

  “Actually,” Caleb says, suddenly stepping up beside me in the doorway. “She can keep him from you – given that you're a convicted felon and all –”

  Glenn's face grows even darker and the air of tension that surrounds us already, is suddenly filled with an anticipation of violence. Caleb doesn't know what Glenn is capable of. Doesn't know of the terrible things he's done. The last thing I want is for Caleb to get hurt.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Glenn snaps.

  Caleb takes another step forward – intentionally putting himself between me and Glenn. I want to grab him, pull him back, get him out of harm's way. Knowing Glenn, the way I do, I'm reasonably sure he's got a gun on him and is just looking for an excuse to hurt somebody. That's who he is. Who he's always been. He enjoys inflicting pain on people.

  “An attorney,” Caleb says, his voice firm and strong. “And I can tell you that your criminal background will make it hard for you to ever get custody of Justin –”