Jenkins and the Naughty Nurse: A Beyond Series Off-shoot

by Ashley Logan

  "Yes, Granny." Running to stack the buckets and gathering the sponges, Ryan rushes them back out to the garden shed.

  "He was two, Mom. It was my fault his trucks were on the floor. Please do not lay that guilt on his shoulders. You'll cripple him with it and he'll end up hating you."

  "Like you do?"

  Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly. "I don't hate you, mother. I don't particularly enjoy the way you speak to me, but I appreciate all you've done for me; and for Ryan. I'm sorry about your hip, and for disappointing you, but please don't take that out on Ryan. He's innocent, as you say."

  Sniffing and turning back to the door, Mom hesitates.

  "They look quite similar."

  Squinting a little, I try to make the leap her neurons have just taken. "Who, exactly?"

  "Ryan and that Mr. Jenkins. Same colors about them. Apart from your eyes," she says with some distaste. They came from my father, so no surprises there. "Even have the same hollow in their chins. I always thought your father was to blame for that, but maybe I was wrong."

  Lost again, I query further. "Excuse me?"

  "Is that man Ryan's father?"

  "No."

  "How can you be so sure? I thought you said you didn't know who his daddy is."

  Pausing a moment to make sure Ry isn't around, I turn back to Mom. "I don't."

  Her eyes turn to steel as they always do in regard to my 'promiscuity'. "When did you meet Mr. Jenkins?"

  I swallow hard. "When he was in rehabilitation."

  "In that soldier hospital? The one you came back pregnant from? Was he one of the many veterans you 'thanked' for their service?"

  Swallowing again, I don't answer. Can't answer. My insides have turned to fire and if I open my mouth, I will torch my mother in a blaze of dragon-y flames.

  I shudder to think how twisted her imagination must be. Mind warped by rumors of my father's cheating ways, she no doubt thinks the worst. Maybe she actually visualizes me stripping naked and offering myself to a ward full of men. She probably thinks Ry is the creation of some sort of mixed seminal potion made from a combination of men in the Devil's laboratory and that I was his willing test subject.

  A disgusted look on her face, she shakes her head and moves to the front door. "Your silence speaks volumes." Holding the handrail as she makes it up the low steps, she pauses. "It must be hard to know his father barely even looks at you. You must have been as unmemorable to him as he was to you. Imagine how many women he would've had to have encountered in order to forget one as pretty as you, and as willing to offer her soul."

  Blinking back my tears, I try not to let her words sink in. I don't want to think about other women with Brad, but sadly that's not my main cause for concern. Even she noticed Brad didn't seem interested in me.

  Shaking my head, I remind myself of the looks and vibes between us throughout the morning. They were real. Weren't they? He was just pretending; for her sake. I asked him to be careful. That's all it was; Brad hiding the truth for me. Exhaling roughly, I pull myself together and head indoors.

  Running upstairs to change out of my wet clothes, even though they're nearly dry, I use the excuse to check my secret phone.

  Brad: My God it was hard not to look at you. Standing there all summery and sexy with your wet top and your fucking nipples crying out to be sucked.

  Me: That your way of saying you love me?

  Brad: I already said that, as I recall. It didn't seem to resonate.

  Me: What makes you think it didn't? I'm pretty sure your dick was inside me a few seconds later.

  Brad: You raise a good point. (See what I did there?)

  Me: Hard not to.

  Brad: Hard either way. What are you doing?

  Me: Changing. You got me wet.

  Brad: Yeah I did. I'll do it again too. Just name the time and the place.

  I can't help but smile.

  Me: Tempting. You make a girl want to sneak out. I'd better not though. There are probably motion sensors on my window.

  Brad: Your Mom's a real piece of work. No wonder you're jumping at the chance of a little secret shame on the side. Your inner wild-child must be about ready to break out screaming.

  Me: Mmm, I could definitely go for some screaming. Mom said 'even Mr. Jenkins' wouldn't lower his standards to the likes of me, and she's delighted you barely seemed to notice me.

  Brad: I fucking noticed, believe me.

  Me: Thank you. She... also seems to think you might be Ry's dad. I did my usual thing where I don't deny it to avoid opening up more cans of worms. Sorry. Although on the bright side she didn't appear that upset by her conclusion. I think you may have made a good impression.

  Brad: That's good, right?

  Me: I don't know what is 'good' in my mother's eyes. Certainly nothing I do. You are higher on the scale than her own daughter.

  Brad: Keep doing me. I'll rub off on you.

  Me: You are a perverted man, Mr. Jenkins.

  Brad: I sure am. When does my naughty nurse get another chance to go wild? Maybe we can get you out of that house sooner and we can have all night for you to go bananas on me while I cover you in ice-cream.

  He has a way of making me ache for him at the same time as craving something sweet and sinful.

  Me: You make me hungry.

  Brad: Good. I'm fucking starving. I was starting to think that maybe it was one-sided, or that you were only into sneaking around with me for an adrenaline rush.

  Me: You're also fixing my car :P

  But seriously, I can't wait for our next steamy rendezvous. I'm not going to lie and say I don't get a kick out of sneaking around with you, but after watching you today with Ry, and your tools and that grease, and you with no shirt on, I really want your sweet cock inside me. I want to forget about anything except that for any window of time that we can steal.

  Brad: Whoa! How the fuck am I meant to concentrate on your car when my dick is so hard it hurts? Your scorching-hot naughty streak is going to be the end of me.

  Me: For your safety and well-being, I'd better go. I've already spent too long in my room. I'll be raising suspicions.

  Brad: Take care, wet 'n' wild.

  Me: You too, rock-solid.

  It takes me a few minutes to get myself under control, but just as I'm slipping my phone back into its hiding place, I see it light up through the lining of my bag. Biting my lip, I fish it back out again, unable to resist.

  Brad: I had a really nice time today, Stace. Ry's a great kid. I wouldn't mind being his 'big bro' if you wanted me to teach him a few more 'guy' things.

  Me: What kind of 'guy' things? Scratching his balls and spitting?

  Brad: Oh. I wasn't expecting you to respond. I thought you had to leave your room?

  Me: You caught me on the way out and I was too curious to resist.

  Brad: I like that. And Ry probably already scratches his balls just fine. I was thinking about other stuff. Man stuff. Modern day equivalents of hunting/providing/protecting. If you think I'd be up to it. He mentioned learning about painting, I could help him with that while we talk man crap.

  Me: You want me to subject my child to man crap?

  Brad: I like the kid, but he's definitely lacking in exposure to man crap. I promise I won't let him get hurt.

  Gritting my teeth, I think about how much cotton wool I've had to wrap around Ry to ensure that Mom deems me a safe parent.

  Me: It's more complicated than that, Brad.

  Brad: Is it that you don't trust me, or that you don't think I'm man enough? I could pretend. Or I know some other guys. Better than me on probably every level. You want one of them to help? Does it matter if one has no hands? We could work as a manly support team. Surely we'd be able to teach Ry how to play sport and goof around and love his mama.

  Me: He already loves his mama, and I don't think he'd need No-Handsky and Jackson if he had you. I like the idea, I just need to think about it.

  Brad: Okay. If it needs to be secret, I
can do that. I know I'm not a stellar role-model given the last few years of my life, but I've turned a corner Stace. You don't have to worry about me.

  Me: I trust you. Shut up already. I know you said your Sundays are full, but Ry and I will be spending Monday about town, if we happen to run into you sometime.

  Brad: I would love that. You could bring Ry to see some of our artwork if you like. Keep me posted.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BRAD

  "Why do you keep looking at your watch?" Bruno asks quietly, not taking his eyes off the tree he's painting on the other side of the river. Looking up, I find myself right below his paint palette.

  "You're lucky I know you're a total clean freak and that your paints will be well contained. If you dropped that shit on me, I'd push your ladder over."

  "No you wouldn't, because you haven't been an asshole for several months now. So what's with the watch? Meeting Stace or something?"

  "Maybe. She might swing by with Ryan before we finish up. We might be going to the park or something."

  "Maybe?" he asks, coming down the ladder to top up his supplies. "You didn't actually ask or confirm anything? How do you live like that?"

  "Like what?"

  "Not knowing. I need to be sure about shit otherwise it eats away at me. Wouldn't you rather know what you're doing?"

  Shrugging I move out of his way and roll over to the scissor-lift. Checking my supplies, I lock myself into place and hit the switch that takes me up to the same level Bruno was at. The lift has been a great investment. I was so sick of painting the bottom half of everything Bruno painted. Now I have the freedom to paint as he does.

  "I kind of like not knowing what to expect. Living in suspense is exciting."

  "Whatever, dude. Living in suspense would give me a shorter life. I believe a heart only has a certain amount of beats before it craps out. Living on the edge makes my heart beat too fast, wasting too many."

  "You learn that at yoga-lates for tightening your vagina?" I ask with a laugh. "What about when you're with Scarlett? Bet she gets your heart pumping. How is that any different?"

  "It's the good kind of pumping," he says with a grin. "The kind that makes you feel like you'll live forever."

  "Good pumping and bad pumping. That's what this conversation is about?"

  "I don't know. I was just saying I like planning shit, while you like winging it. It was just an observation. We already know that shit works in our favor, because while I plan more for these paintings, your fly by the seat of your pants additions make them really pop."

  "Sometimes you can't see what's needed until you step back and see the whole picture," I explain, adding the touch of shading the trees need to make them appear more real. "That's just part of the plan you can't predict until the foundations are done. And yes, I am amazing. Thank you for noticing."

  "Amazingly full of yourself," Bruno mutters, making me chuckle.

  Coming back down in the lift, I find Bruno waiting for me.

  "I know you were joking, but you are pretty amazing Jenkins."

  I can feel my smile fading, but I force myself to keep it as I shift in my chair. "You coming on to me Jackson?"

  "Don't down-grade what I'm saying by making another joke, bitch. I know what it was like living in a chair, and you're rocking that thing better than I ever would have. You've got it all sorted. You even do flips and shit."

  Avoiding his eyes, I pay more attention to the paint on my hands. "You can do flips."

  "Not in a wheelchair I couldn't, turd-breath."

  I rub at the paint, smearing it into more of a mess before wiping it away. "Well if you'd been stuck in your chair long enough, I'm sure you'd have been great at them. Excuse me," I mumble, making to roll through him.

  Bruno stands his ground.

  I ram into his legs. "You like having bruised legs to show the ladies when you dance?"

  "Admit that you're amazing and I'll move."

  "Fuck you." I ram him again, but he's a fucking brick wall.

  "Just say the words," he says, smiling like he's already won.

  "What words, asshat? I'm the best fucking cripple that ever lived. Happy? Get out of my way."

  "No. You said it wrong."

  "You're right. There's heaps of cripples out there that are better than me. They haven't sent me my official rank yet, so I thought I'd lie. You caught me."

  "Can you stop being a dick for five seconds? I'm not beefing you. I just want to hear that you're proud of yourself for coming as far as you have."

  "Well I don't want to kill myself these days, so I guess I'm doing okay. That what you want to hear?"

  "No." Folding his arms firmly over his chest, Bruno makes himself more comfortable.

  "Can we just get back to work? I'm sure Stone doesn't want to pay for this shit."

  "Actually it's quite entertaining," says the man himself as he approaches from the silent elevators behind me. Only rich jerks have silent fucking elevators. Too cool for 'dings'.

  Sighing, I lower my face to my palm. "Isn't this workplace bullying or some shit? Horizontal violence and all that?"

  "Nothing horizontal about looking down at your short ass," Bruno says in a flat tone.

  "Dude, I'm the same height as you!" I cry, before slumping backwards in my chair. "When I'm lying down. Fuck you. Move, or I'll deaden your legs."

  "Say you're awesome."

  "I'm awesome."

  "With a bit more feeling. I want to know you believe it."

  Taking a deep breath, I wave my hands in the air. "I'm fucking awesome. I can do flips in a chair and break my leg without feeling it. Yay!"

  Bruno fakes a yawn and looks at his naked wrist as if it holds a watch.

  "I am seriously going to give you three seconds to move before I thump the ability to stand right out of you," I warn through gritted teeth.

  "I'm actually surprised you haven't done it already. You've really grown, man. Can't you see that?"

  "Yeah. Since I pulled my head out of my ass, I can see a whole lot better. Is that what you want to hear? That I've joined the world again instead of sulking in my dark little hole?"

  "Yeah, kinda."

  "Fine. I said it. I climbed out of that pit and I don't want to fall back into it. Onward and upward and all that. I've got shit I want to do. Starting with this."

  Bruno jumps out of the way, but not fast enough. My fist connects squarely with his ass and he hobbles away laughing.

  "I had to poke the bear!"

  "That'll learn you."

  Stone disappears back into his office, barely containing the smile that threatens to split his ultra-serious face.

  Bruno is still hopping around holding his ass when the elevator doors open and Stace walks out with Ryan. My face almost hurts from the breadth of my smile.

  "Hey guys!"

  Wearing a sun-dress, Stace looks good enough to eat and when she returns my smile, I can literally hear my heart respond as the pounding in my ears reflects the acceleration in my chest. Ry drops her hand and runs past me to the wall we've been painting.

  "Whoa!" He stands there, eyes bugging as he takes it all in.

  Wheeling up next to him, I take a moment just to enjoy the look on his face as Stace comes to do the same. "If you like this one, you should see the finished one around the corner," I say, giving him a smile as I nudge him in the right direction.

  Breaking into a run, he heads out of sight and I pull Stace into my lap.

  "Hey beautiful," I whisper into her ear as I breathe her in. "Got time for a kiss?"

  Her eyes fly to the corner where Ry disappeared and her lips brush lightly over mine. "Not really," she says, pushing out of my lap just before Ry comes back into view.

  "Mom! Come and look! It's a whole galaxy!" he cries, before disappearing again.

  Following her son, she sends an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

  When they get back, I've organized a section of wall and some paints for Ry to play with. Taking
off my painting shirt, I sling it over his shoulder.

  "Wear it backwards. It should be big enough to keep the paint off all of your clothes," I say, pointing to the paint station I've created for him.

  "I can paint?"

  "Sure. Anything you want. We might have to paint over it later, but that shouldn't stop you from having some fun now, right?"

  The kid practically runs wherever he's going, and this is no exception. Shrugging into my backwards shirt, he runs back to get Stace to roll up his sleeves. She buttons the collar at the back to keep it in place and sends him on his way again.

  "That was a nice idea. I wasn't expecting you to let him paint on your job," she says, sitting next to me on Bruno's stool.

  "Well if he's anything like me and every guy I know except for Bruno over there, I figured he'd jump at the chance to get messy."

  Stacey observes Bruno quietly and leans in close. "He doesn't have a speck of paint on him," she whispers.

  "I know," I whisper back, before clearing my throat and speaking up so he can hear. "Bruno likes everything about him to appear clean and calm because he doesn't want the world to know that inside he's as big of a mess as the rest of us."

  Turning slowly, one eyebrow raised, Bruno stares at me a moment, blows me a kiss and returns his attention to his work without a word.

  "The rest of us?" Stace asks, laughing quietly. "You saying I'm messed up?"

  "Oh, you're definitely messed up," I tease, making sure Ryan's consumed by his activities. "You get your kicks riding cripples in dark parking lots."

  Quiet a moment, Stace tugs at the hem of her dress. "You complaining?"

  "No. Not exactly. I mean I'd like to see how you ride a cripple in a bedroom sometime, but I'm equally open to a grassy meadow with the sun on my back, if you have the time. Mainly I'd like some more time with you."

  "I don't really have it to give just now."