by Gina Gordon
Hell, no. It was fucking hilarious.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I let out a boisterous laugh—one that started in my belly and roared without hesitation. I think I may have even slapped my thigh.
“You find this amusing?” He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t look embarrassed or angry. He just watched as I moved closer and inspected the items with greater detail.
“Imagine you’re me for a minute.” He settled against one of the only wall spaces without a shelf. “Imagine the teasing I got simply because my family was in the porn industry. Imagine your best friend—in my case, Ben—finding my eighth-grade graduation diploma hanging next to a dildo.”
I continued to laugh. I couldn’t contain it.
“You’re laughing at my traumatic childhood.” He pressed his hand to his heart in offense, but it was in jest.
I was sure he’d endured his share of taunts and slutty mom jokes, but Max wasn’t the type of person who let others define him. I knew it from the very first time I’d met him; he was comfortable with who he was, and who he was going to be. Damn anyone who thought less of him. I admired that more than he could know. I had no idea who I was besides a law student and my parents’ daughter, but I was slowly figuring that out. Max was helping me do that, without even knowing it.
“I’m sorry. I just…” I stepped forward to 1996, where a picture of what I think was supposed to be a horse in oil paint was framed, next to a limited edition White Lace Productions coffee-table book.
“I was five. Pretty good, huh?”
“It’s revolutionary.”
“The icing on the cake was being down here with my grandparents.” He came up behind me and rested his chin on my head. “Picture it, thirteen-year-old Max wants to brag and show off his science fair ribbon. Once the grandparents ooh and aah, they turn to the vagina mold and begin to describe, in great detail, the art of cunnilingus.”
I laughed even harder. My stomach muscles tightened, giving my abs a great workout. This room had the potential to be so sad, so pathetically traumatizing, but now that I had gotten to know Max and the way he described his family, I saw the sincerity behind it. The pride and strength they had in their family unit.
I wiped my eyes, where the tears had accumulated.
“Laugh so hard you cry.”
I turned and he brought his thumb up, wiping away the tears under my eyes. Then he took out his copy of the bucket list and with an overexaggerated motion, drew a checkmark on the paper with his finger. “Check.”
When we’d arrived, I’d had no idea what he’d had up his sleeve. It meant a lot to me that he trusted me enough to show me this room. This was a lot of years of family history. Not to mention, a glimpse into their sweetly weird dynamic. Showing me the contents of this room meant more to me than checking off an item on that list.
I stilled. Getting serious for just a moment. He had gone to all this trouble just to help a stranger complete a frivolous bucket list because she was trying to make her dead grandmother proud. I still had no idea what he was getting out of it. I rested my hand on his shoulder, a half-smile curving the side of my lips. “Thank you.”
He grimaced, just slightly, but there was no mistaking his discomfort. Eventually, he shrugged. “Just holding up my end of the bargain.”
I stepped away to one of the shelving units and looked more closely at the Playboy magazine cover. It was autographed. She was completely naked save for fishnet stockings and a leather whip. I take it back. It was weird. This was his mother and I was looking at her naked.
“This woman is completely different than the one in that photo upstairs.”
Like night and day. Jekyll and Hyde. Lana Lane was an alter ego, not the true person.
“My mom was sweet. She never wore a lot of makeup, and dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and heavy parkas in the winter. The woman in that picture was just a version I didn’t understand.”
“Did this ever…bother you?”
“I learned pretty quickly what my parents did for a living, but I learned even quicker their opinion on the matter. As Dad says, ‘I’m in the business of making money. It just so happens that sex makes me the most.’ “
I looked around the room and it made me sad. My parents never acknowledged my accomplishments. It was always on to the next milestone.
“You should be honored. Your parents were proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Really?” He picked up the satin ribbon and held it in the air. “This is an honorable mention for a sixth grade spelling bee, for fuck’s sake.”
I walked closer, reaching out to swipe strands of his hair away from his face. “Your parents were proud of you.” I didn’t stop touching him. I let my finger graze down the side of his cheek to his jawbone. The muscles in his jaw flexed under my touch. “At least you knew they were proud of you—are proud of you.”
Unlike my parents.
My fingers found his mouth and I let the pad of my thumb caress his bottom lip.
“Your parents must be proud of you,” he mumbled, my thumb preventing him from enunciating his words.
It was his turn to touch. He grabbed a handful of my hair and twirled it in his fist. The pleasurable pain of the jerk exposed my neck. He parted his lips just enough to coax my thumb between them. I gasped, not expecting the tingle of excitement in my stomach.
“I’ve never seen anyone more driven, so intent on reaching their goal. It’s sort of inspiring.”
He sucked on my thumb, his warm tongue lapping against it in a lazy rhythm. Exactly like he would do to my lips, and my clit, like I knew he could. The thought of his face between my legs sent a shiver through me and I pulled away, just enough to grasp his face with both hands and stare into his beautiful chestnut eyes.
“Are you…” I cleared my throat. “Inspired?” I whispered.
“Since the day I met you. I’m not sure what to do about it.”
I didn’t know what that meant. He worked hard. Incredibly hard, without even breaking a sweat. I, on the other hand, had to bust my ass twenty-two hours a day just to stay above water. In what world could I ever inspire him?
“Why me?”
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I heard his intake of breath, his mouth open, and then—
“Max, is that you down there?”
I tensed at the sound of the low voice coming from the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, Dad.” He let out a heavy breath and rested his forehead against mine. “Just showing off our accomplishments.” He raised his fingers in air quotes when he spoke the word accomplishments. “Do you want to meet my dad?” he whispered.
Did I want to meet Hirsh Levin? The man who sold sex for a living? The man responsible for bringing the sexiest man alive onto the planet? Yes, yes, I did.
Of course I downplayed my excitement. I simply nodded.
He guided me up the stairs with his hand at the small of my back. I didn’t realize the gesture would affect me so much. The graze of his hand, even when I was fully clothed, set my body on fire. Suddenly the enclosed staircase was sweltering and I struggled to breathe. But the heat was nothing compared to the excitement dancing in my stomach when my mind conjured my bank of images. Max’s lips. Those lips kissing mine. His strong hands and mouth bringing me to orgasm.
I shivered, but quickly composed myself. Although daddy dearest was probably used to girls in heat, that wasn’t the image I wanted to portray.
We walked side by side into the kitchen. Max’s dad has his nose stuck in a book when we approached, wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose. He had a strong jawline, a pointy nose, and a good head of hair for an older man, albeit almost fully gray. He wore a suit, just like his son usually did; the dark gray fabric fit nicely on his lean body.
When he looked up over the rim of his glasses, his eyes immediately locked on me and it was obvious where Max got his sly grin from. His father was giving us the same one right now. “And who is this b
eautiful lady?”
“Dad, this is Everly Parker. My…”
The two-second hesitation was enough to give me a heart attack. I didn’t know what I wanted him to say. What could he say?
“Friend.”
When the word came out of his mouth, I couldn’t help the rush of disappointment.
I extended my hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you Mr. Lev—”
“Please, call me Hirsh.” He clapped his hand over mine in a gentle gesture, then walked around the island to the fridge, where he pulled out a baking sheet with raw chicken on it.
“Maximilian, I’m so happy you’re here. You must stay for dinner.” He wafted the chicken under his nose. “I’m trying out a new recipe tonight.”
I whipped my hand to my mouth to suppress my laugh. Maximillian? His name was Maximillian?
He shot me a dirty look behind his father’s back. Although I’d managed to keep the sound from escaping, my hilarity was no doubt evident in my eyes.
“We sort of have plans, Dad.”
“Nonsense. I’d like to get to know beautiful Everly.” He turned his attention to me.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I prepared myself to meet Hirsh Levin, Porn King of Toronto. I suppose I’d expected Grecian formula hair with a thick moustache and shiny suit, not…Jason Seaver.
Despite running a business that caused the most traditional to blush then throw stones in outrage, at first glance Max and his father were just like any other family.
And it made me sad. I grew up in the typical family unit. I had parents who made it their life’s mission to see me succeed. But they didn’t know me. We conversed like strangers, like business associates ready to take on the next big case. When Hirsh looked at Max, I saw the love in his eyes. The pride. It was something definitely missing in the eyes of my parents.
I leaned over the counter and snuck a peek at the recipe. “What are you making tonight?”
With a huge grin, Max’s father extended his arms to the sides. “Then it’s settled. You’ll stay.”
Curiosity had gotten the better of me and spending a night with Hirsh seemed like a great idea. Spending an evening away from my laptop and textbooks also seemed like a great idea.
Who are you and what have you done with Everly Parker?
When I entered into this relationship with Max, I had expected to use him, check off a few items on the list, and be on my way. I never anticipated that he’d pick up where my grandmother had left off—trying to teach me to relax and come out of my shell.
The funny thing about it all, I had no idea why I was listening.
Chapter 15
Max
I knew the risk bringing Everly here, but I was strategic in my timing. My father never left the office before seven o’clock. Of course, today of all days, he decided to leave early.
“What are you doing home, Dad?”
He flashed me that look: the half-curious, half-indignant one. I knew in his head he was saying “How dare you tell me when I can come and go in my own home.” But he just smiled.
“Hoping to have some time to yourself?”
His eyebrow quirked up and he looked at me, but kept his head focused on the chicken. He was teasing. My father never teased.
“I…”
I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know how to answer that question.
“Max showed me your accomplishment room.” Everly’s voice broke my thoughts. “It’s wonderful.”
I’d brought Everly to see the accomplishment room. It had been a long time since I’d gone in there. Walking down the stairs to the basement felt like walking the green mile. My intentions were admirable, but I had no idea if she would think the room was funny, completely pathetic, or even worse, disturbing. Luckily, Everly had the sense of humor I’d expected, and she’d laughed her ass off.
“Max’s mother was big on celebrating accomplishments.”
I wondered how proud she’d be if she was here. I hadn’t done anything worth adding to the room since she’d died.
“My parents are good at pushing me to accomplish things.” Everly stared at the counter when she spoke, her shoulders tense, slowly making their way to her ears. “But they aren’t as good at recognizing them.”
I had spent my entire life being praised for the smallest of accomplishments. Looking back, it was overkill, and a therapist would probably say it’s the source of my arrogance. My mommy told me I was great, so I believed it¸ but since she’s been gone, I have this sinking feeling that she was terribly, horribly wrong.
My father bounced from one end of the kitchen to the other, placing pots and pans on the stove and chopping herbs. I’d never seen him like this. Like he had been revived from a conscious slumber. It was exciting, yet troublesome at the same time.
“Everly, dear, will you hand me that bottle of olive oil?”
With a sweet smile, she handed it over. My father counted as he circled the bottle three times above a frying pan on the stove.
I knew my father had been experimenting in the kitchen. He’d told me about his new recipes, often bringing in leftovers for Barb, who’d moan with delight at the taste. But seeing him in action, his eyes lighting up at the sight of raw chicken, was fucking weird.
Although someone finally making use of the kitchen as it should be was probably a good thing. While my mother tried her best, gourmet cooking wasn’t her forte.
“I’ve been watching the Food Network,” he said as he slid some chopped garlic from a cutting board into the pan. “They make it look so easy.”
“You’re making it look pretty easy, Mr. Levin.”
“Call me Hirsh.” He moved the garlic around with a wooden spoon.
“The more you watch, the more you learn.” He looked up from the pan. “The less you need a recipe.”
So this is what my father was doing to pass the time. Watching the Food Network? Maybe it was an indication I needed to visit more often.
“So, how did you two meet?” He threw the chicken, along with several other ingredients, into a Ziploc bag.
“Through friends.” Everly looked over at me. “They met with Max about signing with your company.”
Squishing the bag, he stopped abruptly. “The escorts?”
She nodded. “They’re my roommates.”
He nodded and placed the bag on the counter. The next thing he did was put rice into a cooker. “And what do you do, Everly?”
Was this his diplomatic way of finding out if she was an escort, too? Smooth, Dad.
“I’m studying to become a lawyer.”
My father was usually harmless, but I hadn’t really given him much opportunity to interrogate a girlfriend. Hadn’t brought a girl home since high school. I was a little worried that he’d take the liberty of commenting on my love life—sex life—though. Everly didn’t need to hear that, even if I knew deep down she didn’t fit into the same category as every other woman I’d ever been with.
“Knowing a lawyer always comes in handy.”
“Dad, really. It’s illegal for Everly to give any advice, and that’s not the reason…” I rubbed the back of my neck. She was probably asked for legal advice all the time, but that didn’t mean I wanted to contribute to that.
I looked over and she looked at me with the smallest grin. Her eyes fixated on mine. It was at that moment I realized I was nervous. I wanted to make a good impression, and although I knew my dad could be charming as hell and was, for real, a good man, that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared she wouldn’t like him. I wanted her to like everything about me. My family. My job. My…everything.
“You know this is the first time he’s brought home a girl since he was in high school?” He shook his hands in the sink after giving them a good wash. “You must be special.”
Fucking hell. Who was this man?
My hand fisted on the granite counter. Embarrassment. It was a strange feeling, only because I hadn’t felt it in so long. Not since I’d learned to let other peop
le’s comments roll off my shoulders. But it was back. In full force. And my father was getting his jollies at my expense.
“Max, why don’t you open some wine?” He gestured to the dining room, where he kept a good selection of bottles. “Start the grill for me, too.”
I had just wanted a quiet space to check off another item. I hadn’t been expecting a family dinner and casual conversation about my life. There were certain things I wanted to keep private. Like everything but running. But I found myself unraveling just a little every day that I spent with her. Now my father was going to unroll the entire spool and leave me vulnerable and open to her scrutiny. Which wasn’t what I needed or wanted, at this point.
When my father was satisfied with his culinary masterpiece, he plated everything on the kitchen island and we helped ourselves. I was impressed with the selection of blackened chicken and cilantro-lime rice. I’d opened the perfect bottle of pinot grigio to go with the meal, but I had grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge for myself.
At the dinner table, my father gave Everly the history of White Lace. How he and my mother moved from Silicon Valley back to Canada, where they were both born, to start their own production company.
After years of hard work, White Lace became the largest producer of porn in the country. Since Canada was severely lacking in homegrown content, he banked on that. It sparked the idea for our Canadian, Eh! serial, which featured spoofs of stereotypical Canadianisms. Like the poutine food truck owner who bangs one of his hot regular customers. Or the maple syrup manufacturer who uses his product to tempt women into his bed. I had a great time coming up with ideas for the line. It was one of my favorites.
“So tell me about Max when he was young.”
My knife made a clanking sound when it hit my plate. Nothing good could come from this question.
“He was a troublemaker. Always climbing trees. One time, he climbed the side of the house and couldn’t get down. We had to call the fire department.”
She laughed. So did I. I remembered that as if it were yesterday. I wasn’t even scared. More annoyed that I was missing out on valuable videogame hours.
