“I didn’t do it by myself,” she answers. No, she certainly did not.
Clearing my throat, I reach for a Schlubby fry just as she does. Her fingers intermingle with mine, and she laughs. “That one was mine.”
“I’m loyal to this one.” I smirk, which makes her smile brighter until it’s gone. Hadley brushes her fingers over mine instead of the fries, and I rest my mouth against my hand, stifling a groan. I’m fucking absurd.
I swallow, watching her fingers on mine. She grabs my whole hand with hers, saying, “Rod, if you want to talk, why don’t you come over tonight?”
My hand is on fire from her touch, and it feels phenomenal. And devastating. “Um, I can’t.”
“You can help me with Finley.”
I shift, dropping my fist but not moving my other hand from hers. “As much as I love your daughter, you have a husband to help you.” That douchecanoe.
“He works later tonight. You won’t have to worry about him if you stop by after 9:00 and leave around 11:30.” Her sad smile makes me sad until I remind myself that I have an effect on the jealous fucker.
“Yeah. I don’t know.” I love getting my fix without others watching me get high, but I have to be careful of the situations I put myself into with her. I cannot kiss her again. And I’m afraid I will if given a chance. I can’t even trust myself.
Hadley releases my hand and steals the fry, ensuring to giggle as she chews. I can’t help but laugh at her. “Cheater.” She nods fast, laughing more. Sitting back in my chair, but not enough that she can see my nonstop boner, I sigh, teasing, “I sure hope you can play like that for our game. Don’t be a droopy dick. We need you to move that ass.” Something else I should not be thinking about. “No babies on the brain. You have to be present, right fielder. As the pitcher, it’s my duty to make sure all players are their best on the field.”
“Isn’t that our coach’s job?” She purses a smile, making me smile with her, even if I hate the reason.
I tuck my hands behind my neck at the top of my chair. “He’s too busy playing with himself.” She laughs, dropping the fry she just grabbed. I nod. “You know he is, Hadders.”
“I do not know that, and I’m in it to win it, Rod. I promise.” Hadley resumes picking up the Schlubby fry, and I swivel my chair away from her and to the window, avoiding watching her mouth move more. If only I had gone upstairs to her apartment that night, I might’ve watched her put other things into her mouth.
I tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling as I put my hand on my crotch. From behind me, she can’t see my hard dick, but it’s more of a move to console it over the loss that was entirely my brain’s fault.
I vaguely hear Hadley picking up bags and tossing them into the trash. Calming some, I start to swivel back, but Hadley walks behind my desk and over to the window, saying, “I’d get nothing done in this office. I think watching the cars on the interstate is mesmerizing.”
My gaze falls to her ass, and I clutch my junk tighter, wishing that would stop my resurrecting hard-on.
I watch her twist and stretch, taking in all of the scenery. If this were a porno, I’d be half-way done already.
Hadley breathily muses, “Cars travel fast in groups, it seems. And then slow. It’s like pack mentality, maybe. How weird.”
On the verge of unzipping my pants and beating off to her giving a traffic report, I swing my chair away and face my computer. Shit. Some days are clearly harder than others.
When she notices I’m looking at my computer, she says, “I’m sorry, Rod. I should let you get back to work.”
I wave her off with my free hand while I grab my stress baseball with the other, letting my dick fend for itself since she’s leaving. “You’re fine.” No kidding.
Leaning back some, I toss the ball into the air, a needed distraction, keeping my incessant blue balls from exploding like overinflated tires.
The soft baseball is suddenly snatched from me midair. Hadley giggles. She gently tosses it into the air, and I stare at her, forgetting about the necessity to hide myself. “You took my ball, Hadders. That was low.”
She holds it up, out of my reach. “I did. I told you I’d keep my eye on the ball.” I wish she would keep her eye on my balls. If we were together, I’d be all over having a quickie with her right here, only if I could lock the door. I’m not that daring, especially with bottom feeders lurking around here. I’d shove everything off my desk and fuck her right on top of it, ridding any onset of blue balls. I doubt I would ever have that problem with her. Just as he doesn’t, I’m sure.
Fuck him.
“What’s wrong?”
I look from my desk to her, somewhat dazed. “Huh?”
“You went somewhere just now. Maybe I should be lecturing you about keeping your eye on the ball.”
I glower at my desk again, sulking. “Shit. I just got that speech from Vaughn.”
“He thinks there’s a problem with you?”
“Some.” A lot. And it’s not me. It’s you. “He says I’m not paying attention to shit.”
Placing the stress ball on my desk, stretching past me to do it, I see her black bra through the opening of her blouse while her perfume raids me for Round Two. Bloody hell.
Hadley then surprises me by spinning my chair to face her. She puts her hands on the arms of my chair, practically straddling me with her upper body. I don’t like this. After the parking lot incident, she sat on my desk, teasing me near my crotch with her foot as retribution for turning her down. She doesn’t understand how much I still hate myself for that. Or how I jacked off to her picture twice that night in between drinking and breaking shit. I no longer have a TV in my bedroom.
With her hanging over me right now, I eyeball the opening of her blouse, seeing the swell of her breasts underneath her bra, picturing how engorged her nipples are and probably begging for relief, as I am at the moment. I’d also be into spraying each other because, in our own ways, we’re both cocked and loaded.
I try my best to be casual, covering my dick with my hand, when I whisper, “What?”
She licks her lip, and I have to clench my free hand into a fist to not pull her to my mouth. Any part of her is up for grabs.
“You’re not telling me something. I told you that I will help you. If you just want to talk—”
I immediately shake my head, desperate for her to leave or fuck me. Jesus Christ, I wish she would do either one this second. “I don’t right now, Hadley.”
“You have to at some point. Amos is right about you not being present. I want to help you with whatever it is that’s on your mind.”
“You can’t.” Unless you leave your husband and pick me.
“Why not? If you can’t tell your best friend, then who can you tell?” Definitely not you.
“I don’t know.” Just as she would never tell me, I’ll never tell Hadley that I’m in love with her. I’ll take that to my grave, unlike my sister who’s now haunting me from hers.
“Greg...” The way she calls me that wraps around my soul and my dick. I totally know how her husband feels when she does it to him. I’d die happy if I could hear her call me Greg while banging her from behind. From any position, really. Shit. I’d even be downright content if she called me Rod while fucking me. A hand job, at least. I’ll take anything.
Hadley shifts, bringing her hands up to my face, whispering, “You have to talk to me.” Her fingernails lightly scratch at my cheeks as she looks at me. “I’m worried about you.”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Only for me to worry.
“You’ve been acting weird since...” She furrows her eyebrows, thinking, and then asserting, “You became a father.” Her small sigh is kind of sympathetic and gloomy.
Not thinking or maybe not caring, I move my hands to her hips, holding onto her plaid skirt. It feels like the natural thing to do. We often dance together at parties or when we used to go out for fun. I’ve held her in all kinds of positions with her clo
thes on. Hell. I’ve made Hadley come and have eaten her secondhand for Christ’s sake. This is nothing close to that. Also beyond reason, I accidentally slip, “Hadley, it was way before then.” I’ve been fucked up since meeting her, but the parking lot was when I totally lost my mind. And maybe my heart.
“What is it then? What’s going on with you?”
Hearing the door open, I swiftly look to it. Amos.
Hell.
Since I don’t give a shit what he thinks, I don’t move. And maybe not registering we now have an audience, Hadley’s hands don’t move from my face as she looks toward Amos, giving him the ammunition he needs in his argument of me having my attention...and dick...where they're not supposed to be. From his viewpoint, I’d totally think Hadley, and I are fucking on the side too.
Two seconds later, Hadley finally jumps back, our hands dropping from each other and her bumping into the desk. She nervously smiles and sounds guilty as fuck. “Uh, hi, Amos.”
“Hadley.” He slowly closes the door to the hallway, holding onto his forced smiled for her but then flicking his beady eyes my way, proving either I’m preoccupied because I’m screwing Hadley or because she’s in love with me. Asshat. If only those were true.
He loudly clears his throat, avoiding looking at Hadley as if she’s getting dressed. Amos shoves his hands into his pockets. “Brandon wants a meeting in the conference room with everyone in five.”
“Whatever,” I say, grinning at his embarrassment. This kind of petty shit makes my days easier to stomach here.
When he disappears into his office, closing the door, but not all the way, Hadley releases several deep breaths with quiet laughs. “He scared me.”
“Serial killer,” I whisper, joking, as I put my ankle on my knee. I clasp my ankle, creating a barrier, needing her to stay away from me for now. I’ve been tortured enough for today. It’s going to be a long night for me.
Hadley starts to leave but then stops, pivoting to me. “You coming?” She has no fucking idea.
“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay. I’ll save you a seat.” She smiles, and I smile in return, but when she leaves the room, I lean back, closing my eyes and groaning toward the ceiling.
From his office, Amos says, “You’d better not be doing what I think you are.”
Keeping my eyes closed, I ask the ceiling, “What? Praying for my demise?”
“I see you’re not taking any of my advice to heart.” His voice closer, I sit up, seeing Amos now in the doorway of his office, squinting his eyes at me.
I reach for my stress baseball, rolling it beneath my hand on the desk. “I didn’t call Hadley in here. We had lunch.”
“If you want to call it that, right?” Amos crosses his arms, glaring at me, reminding me of my middle school principal, Mr. Shizmeyer. Old Shitsfire hated me for some reason. But he still kept me close to him, continually making me sit in his office.
I loudly sigh. “Okay, Amos. I heard you.”
“Did you talk to her?” He nods at the door, not having to say her name out loud.
This time, I smirk. “No. We sat here like statues, letting birds shit on our heads.” My mother would’ve smacked me in the mouth for that remark. I’d deserve it, though.
“That’s enough. You know what I mean.”
“Then, no.”
“You need to. It’s your future, Rod. She needs to be helping you. Remember that. But now, conference room.”
When he leaves for the conference room, I throw the stress baseball at the wall. It bounces, landing on the floor with a sluggish thump. Lifeless, as I feel.
After a stop at the restroom for a piss break and to see if my balls are still present and accounted for, I go to the conference room, which is next to the kitchen. Passing the kitchen, I see Shasta, who glares at me. I want to flip her the bird but with my recent nonactions regarding my kid, I can’t. Pussy.
Entering the conference room, I see everyone filling in around the enormous rectangle table. From behind, someone shoves me, and I’m not shocked to see Shasta as she goes to her seat next to Betsy, who is not subtle in eyeing my arms and junk. Christ. Seeing that look paired with the toy she keeps in her office, I’ll never get another hard-on, no matter how much I jerk it while conjuring an image of Hadley’s naked body. It’s probably for the best before I end up breaking it off myself. But if it hasn’t shriveled up from shame by now, I guess my dick isn’t going anywhere.
I notice Amos in the corner of the room on his phone, talking to the windows. He even sounds like a freakshow on the phone.
Irritably yanking out the empty chair next to Hadley, I sit, dodging the daggers Shasta throws at me. I’m a moron for fucking her. Mentally, she’s not who I had sex with, and Shasta knew that.
Amos is right. Some people here definitely think I’m fucking Hadley.
Whatever. I hope they enjoy hell.
Grant and Sylvie sit next to each other, across from Hadley. Sylvie smiles at me and her eyes stay on me. All over me, it seems. She’s not bad looking. Hot, actually. But I feel nothing whenever I see her. Apparently, Grant does. That fucker is a smartass and not the delightful kind. He’s a know-it-all lawyer who likes to promote himself by putting others down. He doesn’t like me much. Feeling’s mutual.
The empty seat next to Hadley’s is usually Val’s, who I have yet to see today.
Gloria ambles in, hobbling, which is her usual pace. Without a noticeable neck, pudgy arms and legs, and with a droopy face to top it all off, the woman is an ice cream cone in the Mohave Desert. She’s the oldest law firm partner by a century. All that and she’s still fucking a high school kid. Maybe freshman in college. Is he blind? Majoring in mortuary science? A homeless male prostitute paying his way through college or for her services rendered? I bet she’s like fucking a rotting corpse. Jesus Christ on a cracker, just the thought of the possibilities of her love life and of Gloria Charleton humping anything that breathes makes me wish I were a brain-dead eunuch.
“Did you hear me?”
Looking around the room and then to Hadley, I ask, “Huh? What?”
“I said Val hasn’t been in today at all. She never said anything about not being here.”
The new intern, Audrey, sitting on the other side of Sylvie, says, “No note. No call. I hope she’s okay.”
I shrug. “Val’s a tough chick.” And my second favorite person here. Crick’s third, especially after this morning’s bathroom debacle. And speaking of the devil, the assclown takes the empty seat on my left. “Crock, where you been? You’re holding us all up,” I tease.
Panicked, he looks to everyone at the table like we’re his judge, jury, and executioner. “Oh. I thought I had time. I apologize. I was on a phone call.”
Shuffling her folders or bones at the far end of the table near the windows, Gloria shakes the table and all of us leaning onto it. “Shut the yap, Rodwell. You’re fine, Mr. Scanlon.”
I glower at Gloria but not from this galaxy, she’s immune to human feelings, so it’s pointless.
Hadley giggles next to me and I lightly elbow her arm. Unexpectedly, her hand goes to my leg, and she whispers, “Can you pass me a bottle of water?” Her hand stays there for I don’t know how long. Seconds. Eternity. They’re the same. Definitely long enough for my dick to be at full attention in our fucking conference room in front of an audience. Goddamn it to hell. Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to me? The torture isn’t always that sweet. Sometimes I want to go ahead and douse myself with gasoline. I’m positive Hadley could set me ablaze just by touching me, ending this misery.
“Rod?”
Again, I find myself daydreaming, and I turn to her, confused. “What?”
“Water? Please?”
“Oh, shit. Right.” Reaching for one, I notice Shasta still killing me with dirty looks. Obviously noticing, too, Hadley squeezes my leg, nearly making me openly beg her in front of everyone to just do me already. Christ. I’m never going to make it through
this day. I’ll have to pull over on I-64 just to jerk one off on my way home.
Practically tossing the bottle to Hadley, I move my leg away from her, hoping she gets the message. Thank fuck she does, and she moves, opening her water, but still keeping her arm against mine, which is somewhat safer. Hearing Shasta whisper, I side-eye her, catching her glaring at me, knowing she’s even more pissed off, seeing Hadley close to me.
I’m still looking for someone to decapitate me. Maybe I’ll post an ad on Craigslist.
Amos walks behind me on his way to his chair next to Brandon’s and grabs my shoulder as he passes. Just from that, I know he’s telling me to watch myself with Hadley around everyone. He can fuck off.
Brandon finally graces us with his presence, and it’s my turn to scrutinize Shasta’s actions. She suddenly grins at him, becoming fidgety. For an old fart, he’s still a handsome guy. I can see how maybe 40 years ago he was the shit with the ladies, but now? I mean, Shasta is younger than me. Hadley’s older than me but only by about seven years.
Patrice joins us, finding a seat near Gloria. Fully expecting Gloria to feed on the weak, I have to commend Patrice for lasting as long as she did here. But that’s how it works with natural selection, the weak get picked off first.
Laughter from the doorway makes all of us look. Val enters, carrying her usual load of books, folders, and a canvas bag of more books and folders. That woman works harder than any pack mule. Following closely behind her is a blonde woman with her hair piled on top of her head. Something about her is familiar. The makeup may be throwing me off—
“Rhonda!” Hadley pushes away from the table to hug her before anyone else realizes who she is.
Rhonda. Our former receptionist, who up and hit the road for some unknown reason last summer or fall. Who knows exactly? I honestly didn’t pay much attention to her. She blended into the wallpaper more than Scanlon. And apparently, she had a massive crush on me, and I never noticed. I must’ve been preoccupied with someone else.
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