Switch

by Megan Hart

There wasn't anything wrong with Austin's question, but it

  made my stomach twist and turn. "I don't want anything

  from you. That's the point. Isn't it?"

  "Jesus, Paige!" The doors opened and a mother holding

  two kids by the hand pushed her way through. Austin

  stepped aside to let her pass and we waited until she'd

  halfway crossed the parking lot before he spoke again.

  "Why not? Why the fuck not?"

  "I don't know!" Again, not what I thought I meant to say

  but once the words came out I had no others.

  but once the words came out I had no others.

  He stepped closer to me. Taler. Broader. I couldn't

  decide if I was intimidated or turned on.

  "What wil it take to convince you I'm different?"

  "What wil it take to convince you I'm not?"

  We weren't shouting, but my throat hurt as much as if I'd

  screamed. Austin's face worked. He stepped closer stil.

  "What do you want? Do you want me to jump through

  hoops? Is that it? Is that what you want?" He studied my

  face and must have seen something in it, because al at

  once his shoulders slumped. "What kind of man does

  that?"

  Helplessly, I thought of Eric and the mingled heat of

  shame, fury and desire mingled with despair. "Some men

  would."

  Austin tossed his hands in the air and made a noise that

  had a depth of meaning, even without words. This time,

  when he walked away, I watched him go and I didn't cal

  him back.

  him back.

  The car ride back to my dad's was quieter, thank God, as

  Tyler wound down. We made it home to a message on the

  answering machine teling us they'd be home later than

  expected. I sent Tyler upstairs to brush his teeth and get

  into bed, but I held Jeremy back. It was proof of how

  much Tyler was worn out that he barely argued.

  "Sit." I pointed at one of the bar stools pushed up against the kitchen island. "Want a soda?"

  "I'm not supposed to."

  I'd already puled out two from the fridge and pushed one

  toward him. "Yeah, yeah, save the innocent act for your

  mother."

  We both cracked the tops of our cans. From upstairs

  came the rush of water and some thudding footsteps, then

  some singing. I laughed. Jeremy roled his eyes.

  "So," I said after I took a long swig. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

  "Nothing."

  I understood sulen. "Dad says you've been giving him and

  Stela a hard time. And that you even got into trouble at

  school. What's up, dude?"

  "Did Dad tel you to interrogate me?" Jeremy sneered and

  didn't even open his soda.

  "Ooh. Mr. Vocabulary."

  He scowled and hunched over the island. "Why can't he

  just leave me alone?"

  "Because he's your dad."

  Jeremy had the same color eyes as my dad. As me. Blue

  edged with gray. Now they'd gone dark with his anger.

  "He's your dad, too!"

  Of al the things he could have said, I wasn't expecting

  something like that. "Yeah. So?"

  He shrugged violently and hunched forward again. I leaned

  on the island across from him and waited. Jeremy had

  used to be a lot like Tyler, mouth going a mile a minute. I

  could wait him out.

  "Don't you ever…hate him?"

  He'd voiced his question so low I almost missed it, but I

  didn't lean closer to hear better. I pushed back, instead,

  stunned at the vehemence in his tone. "Hate Dad?"

  Jeremy lifted watery eyes to me. "Yeah. Don't you?"

  I had absolutely no idea what any of this was about, but I

  kept my voice gentle. "Why, Jeremy? Do you?"

  He ducked his head again. Twelve was tough. Not a kid

  anymore, not a teen. I'd given my mom her first gray hairs

  when I was twelve.

  "He always tels us family is so important." He spat the last word and I heard the snurfle of snot.

  I grabbed a couple tissues from the box on the counter

  behind me and passed them over. Jeremy grabbed them

  and tucked them against his face, stil bent into the circle of

  his arms. I drank some soda while I thought of what to

  say.

  "Family is important," was al I could come up with.

  Jeremy looked at me again, though his tears had to be

  embarrassing. "He was married before my mom."

  "Yeah. I know. To Gretchen and Steven's mom. But that

  was before you were born, guy."

  "But not," Jeremy said in a voice laced thick with disgust,

  "before you were born."

  He'd only just now figured it al out. Wel, I'd known it

  younger than twelve and it hadn't made it any easier for me

  to know my father had been married to another woman

  when he had me. I was three before my dad realy started

  making an effort to see me, his first marriage already over.

  He was dating Stela by then. I never realy knew him with

  anyone else.

  "My mom…" Jeremy shuddered and swiped at angry

  tears. "She's the reason he got divorced from Gretchen

  and Steve's mom. Isn't she?"

  "I don't know, Jeremy. I never asked. It's not my business.

  And, realy, not yours." I didn't want to come off hard on

  him. I understood. But I also knew it wouldn't change

  anything for him to be angry over it.

  "If family is so important, why did he do that?"

  I sighed, at a loss. "I don't know."

  Jeremy scrubbed at his face, the tears gone. His bright

  eyes were shaped like Stela's though they were my dad's

  color, and he looked like her when he frowned that way.

  "He cheated on his first wife and had another baby, and

  then he did it again!

  That's not putting family first. That's not treating them like

  they're important!"

  Of al my dad's kids I'd thought Gretchen or Steven might

  have had the most to bitch about. After al, their lives had

  been turned upside down and torn apart by their dad's

  infidelity. Mine hadn't been al strawberries and cream, but

  it had been al I'd ever known. Jeremy and Tyler had lived

  the lives of princes from birth.

  "What are you worried about?" I asked him quietly. "That he'l do it again?"

  He didn't have to answer with words. I reached across the

  island and took my half brother's hand. In my pocket, my

  island and took my half brother's hand. In my pocket, my

  phone buzzed, but I didn't reach for it.

  "Your dad loves you. And he loves your mom. Crazy

  like."

  Jeremy let me hold his hand but didn't squeeze my fingers

  in return. "Did he love your mom, Paige?"

  I let go of his hand. "I don't know. That's between them."

  "And it doesn't make you mad?"

  I shrugged. "It used to, I guess. But what can I do about

  it? I'm a grown-up now, kiddo. I have to do my own thing.

  At least I know my dad, you know? Some kids never do."

  He nodded finaly and wiped at his face again with the

  grimy, shredded tissue. "It makes me so mad, though."

  "It's okay to be mad. Maybe you should talk to him about

  it, though, instead of being bad in school."

  Jeremy looked stricken. "He'd
tel Mom that I know!"

  I didn't point out that it wasn't just our dad who'd done

  wrong. Stela had known what she was doing, or at least

  I'd always assumed so since she wasn't a woman who

  ever did anything by accident. I just patted his hands and

  washed my own before I finished my soda.

  The sound of the garage door opening had us both on our

  feet. Jeremy hopped up the stairs without a word from me,

  while I dumped his can in the sink and stashed the can in

  the recycling bin. By the time my dad and Stela got in the

  house, silence reigned from upstairs and I was flipping

  through a back issue of some home-and-garden magazine.

  "How did it go?" Stela bustled into the kitchen and stuck

  an aluminum swan in the fridge. "You got our message?

  The fund-raiser had only the tiniest hors d'oeuvres and we

  were starving, and since you were here, wel, we just

  decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out."

  "No problem. I took them to Jungle Java."

  Stela raised a brow. "That junky place?"

  My dad had come in behind her and let out a long, loud

  belch. "What junky place?"

  Stela roled her eyes. "Paige took the boys to Jungle

  Java."

  Java."

  "Yeah?" He looked at the clock and yawned. "That place is stil around?"

  I got the not-so-subtle hint. "Yeah. They're upstairs, but

  I'm not sure if they're asleep."

  Stela sighed. "Did they bring home a bunch of junk?"

  I grinned unapologeticaly. "Absolutely."

  She gave me a second glance, then a smal smile. "I'm

  going up to say good-night. Are you leaving, Paige?"

  "Yeah." I glanced at my dad, who was rooting around in

  the fridge for something.

  "Vince! We just ate!"

  "I need a drink," he said and came out holding a bottle of designer water.

  "Fine. Good night, Paige. Thanks for watching the boys."

  "No problem."

  My dad and I turned to watch her head up the steps. I

  My dad and I turned to watch her head up the steps. I

  thought he'd ask me about Jeremy since that was the

  whole reason I'd come over in the first place, but he didn't.

  He drank his water with a sigh and tossed the empty bottle

  in the trash. Then he puled out his walet and handed me a

  fifty-dolar bil.

  "For watching the kids," he said.

  The paper, crisp and sharp edged, rubbed my fingers.

  "Dad, I don't need this."

  "Jungle Java isn't cheap."

  "I wanted to take them."

  "Take the money, Paige," my dad said amiably enough.

  "I'm sure you can use it."

  I straightened my shoulders and folded the bil in half, then

  shoved it in my pocket. "You don't have to pay me for

  watching the boys. I'm doing al right."

  My dad laughed. "I'm sure you are. I'm not paying you for

  anything, I'm just being your dad, okay?"

  "Wel, then. Thanks." Gratitude stuck in my throat but I

  forced it out.

  My dad had periodicaly tossed me some money over the

  years. Never enough. Never when I needed it. It would

  have been better if he'd done right by my mom and given

  her child support so I could've had the stylish jeans in

  middle school or the warmer winter coat. I'd have

  appreciated that more than the occasional twenty or even

  fifty dolars, or the sudden flurry of birthday gifts three

  weeks late and al in the wrong sizes.

  "Do you want to go to lunch with me next week?" He

  yawned again, and I started toward the front door.

  "Sure, Dad. Cal me."

  "I wil," he told me at the door and gave me a hug and a

  kiss on the cheek. "Drive safe."

  It was so fatherly it felt foreign. Driving home, my phone

  vibrated against my leg again, but I didn't pul it out until I

  got to the parking garage. Two messages waited for me.

  In bed. Not tired. What should I cal you?

  And the second, Stil not sleeping.

  I hadn't forgotten how I'd looked forward to every note.

  I'd imagined the sender, my secret commander, crafting

  each word with the intent of forcing me one more step

  along a path so curved I couldn't see the end. I'd never

  thought about how difficult it would be to come up with

  detailed lists every time, or how it felt to hold someone so

  firmly in my command.

  There were limits. There had to be. I'm sure I'd have found

  them had the notes kept coming, pushing me harder, or if

  they'd ordered me to do something so foreign to me I

  couldn't manage it. I didn't think I'd have committed a

  crime or done something against my personal code, like

  have bareback sex with a stranger, or taken drugs.

  I didn't know Eric's limits, or how far I wanted to push

  him, but the thought sifted heat al through me. I thought for

  another few moments, then got out of my car. It wasn't

  terribly late, not for a Saturday, but the parking garage

  was quiet. Across the street I could see a few lights on in

  apartments, though many windows were dark. Most of the

  Manor residents would be out and about until much later.

  By the time I got to the front doors, I was already tapping

  out a message. Grinning, I tucked my phone, set to silent,

  back in my pocket. It was a risk that might not play out the

  way I'd planned, but it was a good risk.

  If you're not sleeping, you should put your time to good

  use. Go to the lobby. Greet the first person you see. If it's

  a man, you wil engage him in whatever conversation you

  want. But if it's a woman, you wil find a way to serve her.

  Not to please her, and not to please yourself. To please

  me.

  It was a lot of typing, but the fact it took longer meant he

  had to wait longer for it. I was already in the lobby, which

  was stil empty. Al I had to do was wait.

  I caught sight of my face in the mirror above the fireplace

  nobody ever lit. Blond hair slicked back in a high ponytail,

  blue eyes smudged with gray liner. The sun had brought

  out some freckles and my lips stil could've used some

  gloss, but overal, it wasn't a bad picture.

  I turned my face from side to side, envisioning heavier

  makeup and a leather suit replacing my workout clothes. A

  whip in my hand. Spike-heeled boots. None of that

  appealed to me any more than being on my knees with my

  appealed to me any more than being on my knees with my

  hands tied had ever turned me on. I swiped a hand over

  my hair to take care of the wisps faling over my face. I

  didn't look like a dominatrix. Was that what I was?

  It was too soon to be insulted Eric hadn't even asked for

  my phone number. We'd had two pseudodates but no

  indication he had any sort of sexual attraction to me. So

  far, al I knew was that he got off on being ordered around

  by someone he didn't know, and that I liked him very

  much.

  And that I could make him like me.

  Chapter 25

  "Paige. Hey."

  I'd tried to time my "entrance" just right, grateful nobody else was coming in or out of the building so they coul
dn't

  see me lurking by the front door trying to catch a glimpse

  of the elevators. I'd managed to linger long enough I was

  the only person in the lobby just as Eric came out of the

  elevator. He looked around and lit up when he saw me.

  Relief, maybe. Gratitude.

  I wanted it to be desire.

  "Eric. Hi." I'm no actress, so I didn't bother pretending I wasn't happy to see him. "What's up?"

  "Oh, just…" He didn't quite stammer, but he did trail off

  with a shrug and a smile. "I have the night off. Couldn't

  sleep."

  I looked at the big clock on the wal opposite the fireplace.

  "It's only eleven-thirty. It's stil early."

  "Yeah. Wel, I have to work early, so I was trying to be

  good."

  I'd never been afraid to go after what I wanted, and I'd

  decided I wanted him. "Were you?"

  I watched his throat convulse as he swalowed, and I

  drank in the sudden gleam from his gaze. I knew what he'd

  been told to do, but now I was watching it happen and my

  body reacted. My nipples went tight and I sighed silently at

  the friction of my panties against me.

  "I was trying," he said.

  Flirting is a dance, even when you're standing stil.

  "But not succeeding?"

  His smal smile caled my attention to his perfectly ful

  lower lip. "I guess not."

  "Bad boy." I didn't coo or purr the words. I didn't have to.

  Eric's dark eyes flashed. "I guess I am."

  The difference in how he looked at me was subtle, but I'd

  been watching for it. I knew what he was supposed to do

  and wondered how he meant to do it. But just then I also

  and wondered how he meant to do it. But just then I also

  wished I hadn't pushed him toward it. Me.

  "Wel, it's late," I said to tease. "I'd better go upstairs. I'm starving."

  Eric dogged my steps toward the elevator. "What are you

  hungry for?"

  I let his question turn me. "Ice-cream sundaes."

  "I have ice cream. And hot fudge. And I even have those

  disgusting cherries."

  I smiled at the good luck. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." Eric nodded slowly, his glance going over my

  shoulder when the elevator doors opened. "Want to come

  up to my place? I'l make you one."

  I back-stepped toward the elevator and he folowed as

  though I puled him on a string. Or a leash. "Now, why

  would I do that?"

  "Because ice cream's more fun when eaten in pairs?"

  I laughed at his answer. "Al right. Al I have is diet fudge

  I laughed at his answer. "Al right. Al I have is diet fudge