Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4)

by Brandace Morrow

  When it’s Hannah’s turn, she doesn’t tell Batty about her screaming fit this morning, but does tell him they got to eat hot lunch and McDonald’s for breakfast.

  “Alright, here she is.” I blink open my eyes and take the phone back.

  “Hello,” I say hesitantly.

  “Hey, babe. What’s this about paint?”

  “I have no idea. I asked what they had for lunch and it went from apple and orange juice to paint.” I shake my head. Batty gets a good laugh out of that.

  “Well, if you want to paint the room, I don’t care. I thought they liked the pink. Don’t feel obligated, though. We can do it when I get back sometime.” I can hear by the tone of his voice he doesn’t have a lot of time for painting. There’s so much I still don’t understand.

  “Well, I’ll see how good they are. Maybe we can do it this weekend if they don’t turn into the Exorcist.”

  “Oh, come on,” Batty says through a laugh. “They can’t be that bad.”

  “No of course not!” I lie. “I was just kidding.”

  “What’s the Exorcist?” Bridgette asks. I silently point to Hannah.

  Hannah yells out an affronted, “Hey! You can’t call me that!”

  “I didn’t,” I say with a smile and narrowed eyes, then turn my attention back to the phone. “We’re at the soccer field. I have to get the minions ready.”

  “Alright, send me pictures of the game if you get a chance. I’ll try to call them before they go to bed tonight.” I press end and get the kids into their uniforms and cleats, braiding their hair again.

  I sit in the top corner of the bleachers and try to go through my emails, but the game keeps distracting me, and the parents, yelling at their kids for everything they’re doing wrong. The poor kids aren’t even paying attention to their coaches or the game, they’re so focused on doing what mom and dad say. When Hannah gets the ball and starts running for the goal, I jump up without a thought.

  “Go, Hannah, go! Yes! Yes!” Someone steals the ball away from her and her shoulders sink, but I clap and keep yelling. “Good job, Hannah. That was thirty yards! Awesome play!” I keep clapping as I sit down, Hannah smiling despite herself as she looks around absently. More than one set of parents are eyeing me. I put my sunglasses back on and straighten my back to take pictures for Batty.

  It’s hot as hell since it’s almost April and well into the eighties. I’m glad I changed into a maxi dress, but wish I wasn’t sitting in the open with a black dress on. I am a redhead and burn insanely easy. I make sure to put sunblock on my list for the store tomorrow.

  When the kids are done with the game, they lost by one goal, and have rosy cheeks from the heat. “Hey, let’s go swimming when we get home, how about that?” I offer.

  Bridgette shrugs tiredly. “Where?” I blink.

  “Pick a lake, any lake,” I deadpan. It’s her turn to blink and turn to her sister.

  “We don’t swim in the lakes.”

  “Huh? What do you do, then?”

  “We fish.” I think about the multiple bodies of water.

  “But you know how to swim, right?” They both shrug and shake their heads. I clench my teeth and feel my face flush with anger. I think of how dangerous it is for the kids to be near that much water and what could happen if they wandered off. “Do you have a bathing suit?” I don’t remember seeing any in their stuff.

  “I don’t think so, Aunt Sadie. Can we get one? Are you going to teach us?”

  “Yeah. We’re going to Target.” I swing the car in that direction and take a deep breath. If there is one thing I can do for these girls while I’m with them, it’s making them safe in the water.

  Chapter 4

  “What did you do today after soccer, baby?” Batty rumbles in my ear. I snuggle into his sheets and get comfortable. He called me immediately after I sent him the picture of me in his clothes, fresh out of the shower, sans bra.

  “We had fun, went to the store, had dinner, did homework. Same old stuff. They do hate taking a shower every day, though.” I smile when he laughs. I feel like I’m getting better at it.

  “They’re always in bed waiting for a story when I get there. I didn’t realize they didn’t get one every day.”

  “Every other day. But they’re always a mess by the end of the day, so it’s impossible not to, especially with the weather getting so hot.”

  “Tell me about it,” he mumbles. “It’s hot as fuck here. Over a hundred for sure. You walk outside and it feels like your skin shrinks over your bones immediately.” I wince.

  “Sounds miserable. I’ll keep the weather at a thousand lakes.”

  “What is that?” he asks with a smile in his voice.

  “Oh, that’s what I call your house. It’s better than Okefenokee or the swamp, isn’t it?”

  “Sadie, there’s no alligators on my property, and all the water is fresh. I’ve made sure there’s no marsh or anything. Have the girls mentioned fishing?” I’m relieved to know I can jump off of one of the docks without becoming dinner.

  “They did. We might do that this weekend, I don’t know.”

  “Well, the girls can bait a mean hook, so if you’re squeamish they can probably do it for you.” I smirk, remembering the days of sitting at the little river by our trailer and catching fish instead of being at home with my brother’s grabby friends.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Batty’s voice is noticeably lower when he asks, “Where are you at right now?”

  I breathe deep before answering. “In your bed. I love your smell, it’s all over this room but stronger against your sheets. Where are you?” He groans.

  “In a shitty hotel room that definitely doesn’t smell like you,” he complains.

  “Aww, poor Finnigan. Do you want me to spray my perfume on a pillowcase and send it to you?” I ask jokingly.

  “Would that make me a total pussy?”

  “Are you serious?” I ask in surprise.

  “Never mind, it was a joke. I’m fine,” he grumbles. Aww!

  “It’s not if you don’t want it to be. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

  “Really, I’m just fucking horny and seeing you in my clothes, knowing you’re in my bed is doing things to me.” I roll my eyes and bite my lip.

  “It’s not messing with your head?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You aren’t freaking out that I’m all over your shit?”

  “Baby, I wish you were all over my shit right now,” he growls.

  “You are horny. Does your phone not get the internet? What’s your favorite porn site?”

  “I’m thirty fucking one years old. I don’t look at porn to get off,” he scoffs.

  “I don’t think the age for that expires, Finn,” I tell him.

  “Whatever.” He sighs. “I usually just think about our Sundays, but talking to you every day is messing me up.” I shiver.

  “Where do you jack off when you’re here?”

  His voice is incredulous when he asks, “You really want to know that?” I nod and start breathing faster, thinking about him getting off to the memories of our time together.

  “Oh yeah,” I breathe.

  “Mmm, I love your voice. You could make me come just by talking, baby. You have no idea.”

  “Where,” I demand. I hear him swallow loudly and take a breath swiftly.

  “Sometimes in the shower, sometimes in the bed,” he says quietly and I think he’s touching himself.

  “Which side of the bed?”

  “Left.” That’s the side I’ve been sleeping on because it smells the strongest of his spicy scent.

  “What do you use?”

  “I— Christ, Sadie. It’s in the nightstand.” His breathing is picking up and I double check to make sure the door to the bedroom is closed before reaching for the drawer. Inside is a pad of paper, a pen, some receipts, and a half-empty bottle of lube. I smile as I grab it and pop the top. “What are you doing?” he asks.


  I bite my lip as I use what he uses, smear it across my fingers down to my mound and slip inside. Maybe it’s totally fucked up to think it’s hot, but shit we’ve been having sex on Sunday’s only for over five months. Knowing that he wanted me when he was away has me shaking with need. I gasp.

  “I’m using what you use, Batty.” I add another finger on a moan and close my eyes.

  “There’s my girl. You haven’t called me Batty in forever. Is your pussy all slippery, baby?” His breath hitches and I imagine him picking up the pace.

  “I’m so wet, Batty.”

  “You didn’t need the lube, did you?”

  “No.”

  “But it makes you hot thinking about me getting off to you doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I whimper, moving my fingers faster. I put the phone in between my cheek and shoulder so that I can use my other hand to work my clit.

  “God, I wish you were coming all over my dick, Sadie. Only you can squeeze me that tight.”

  “Ah!” I squeak as I explode and hear from a distance that Batty is groaning, doing the same. The line is quiet except for our panted breathing. I grab tissues from a box on the table and clean up, then burrow back under the covers and close my eyes.

  “Goodnight, baby,” he says into the quiet.

  “Goodnight, Finnigan,” I mumble. I hear him sigh before he ends the call and I dream of Sundays.

  Chapter 5

  FRIDAY

  We’ve made it an entire week and all three of us are still alive! I choose to celebrate. Batty’s dad is recuperating, but still extremely tired and in a lot of pain. Batty works from his room, or the hotel room, and calls at what feels like the most inconvenient times possible. Well, except for bedtime, my bedtime, that is. He actually sent me a dick picture last night and it had me spiraling out of control in no time.

  The kids are enrolled in jazz and archery in addition to ballet and soccer. After each lesson, we go to the YMCA where I got a monthly membership and swim until they can’t stand it anymore. By the time we get home to a magically cooked meal in the crockpot, everyone is too exhausted and starving to fight.

  Today is different, though. Batty’s office has been calling me to set up an appointment to go over papers in my lawsuit against my brother and sister for embezzling all of my money. Because I’m two hours away, I have no choice but to bring the kids with me. After talking to Batty’s secretary, as well as my assistant Jacque, they coordinate a flight to Los Angeles that cuts the commute down to twenty minutes without killing my bank account.

  As soon as I pick the kids up, they notice their bumblebee and ladybug suitcases in the passenger seat.

  “What is that?”

  “Are we going somewhere?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Are we flying?”

  “I bet we’re driving.”

  “Nuh uh! We’re gonna fly.” I decide to interrupt.

  “Hey! We’re flying to L.A. Now how was school?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes. I sure hope they teach them something, because I would never know it. At the airport, the kids want to pull their luggage themselves, so we go at a snail’s pace and it takes ten minutes to get out to the plane, but their smiles are contagious, so I decide not to be annoyed. Things have been getting slowly better between us.

  A seemingly easy twenty-minute flight turns into twenty minutes of pure hell. Apparently, Hannah has sensitive ears that never pop. Trying to comfort her screaming her head off and sobbing the whole time has me about to jump out with her just to get her on the ground again. Eating ice seems to take the pain from excruciating sobs to big fat silent tears. Too bad we figured that out in the last five minutes of the trip.

  When I stagger down the stairs with her hand held firmly in mine, I decide we’re driving home. Fuck that. At the rental car kiosk, I pick up the keys reserved for me and find a Dodge Charger in the lot. After the booster seats are installed again, I secure the kids and wipe the hair sticking to Hannah’s forehead from where she sweated on the flight.

  I think we’re both startled when I kiss her temple, but I quickly shut the door and get in the driver’s seat. I’m pleasantly surprised at the rumble of the engine after I turn the key, and how fast it accelerates out of the parking lot. I make the decision to rent the car for the rest of my stay in Farmville and that I’m driving back.

  I call Jacque on the way to In-N-Out, since I know the kids will be hungry soon, and I don’t know how long my meeting will run.

  “Natasha from the Triple Threat team keeps calling. They need to set up Fandy’s home auditions and I guess they have a new idea for the show that they need to add to your contract. Where are you?” he asks.

  “I’m in L.A. for the weekend.”

  “And you have the . . .” he trails off.

  “Yes,” I say shortly.

  “Okay. I’ll see if they can get you in tonight after your meeting at Brennick Records. I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. Later.” A glance in the rearview mirror, which shows ketchup covered faces, and I pass out more napkins. At least this is a rental.

  When we get to the studio, I guide the girls into an elevator.

  “Is this where you work?” Bridgette asks. I look at the sign on the back wall with her last name and shake my head.

  “Sometimes. I just have to sign some papers then we can go. If you two are super good, I’ll take you for ice cream.” Their eyes light up and they start to bounce in excitement. I’m relieved that Hannah looks to be feeling better. In reception, I’m directed straight back to a conference room, since we’re late.

  I get the kids some paper and look around for something to write with.

  “Do you have some crayons or something?” I ask the lawyer shuffling paper at the other end of the table. She looks at me blankly until I give up waiting for an answer and she goes back to shuffling. I find pens on a side table.

  “Here. Draw me a pretty picture and we’ll hang it up on the fridge, okay?”

  “What should we draw?” Hannah asks.

  “Draw me your favorite animal in the whole world.”

  “Okay,” they respond in unison.

  I move down the table and sit across from a middle-aged woman in a pantsuit that looks as uncomfortable as hell.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were bringing children. I would have been better prepared had I known.” I wave that away.

  “It’s fine, but I don’t know how long they’ll stay still.”

  She eyes the kids and turns back to me, asking hesitantly, “Are they Mr. Brennick’s . . .” My eyes narrow.

  “I can’t say.” She obviously knows that there are children in the picture, but her curiosity is uncomfortable since Batty has obviously kept them away from here.

  “Right, well. I wanted to let you know how the case was going against Brian and Patricia Dinah. They are being wholly unresponsive, not returning calls, and not returning any documents that are sent to them or their lawyers. We’ve taken action in regard to the documents, sort of how a subpoena is verified as delivered. We use an exclusive messenger service that will hold up in court and have sufficient evidence that they at least received the documents.”

  “Is that normal for a lawyer to turn information away? I thought they always wanted to know as much as possible.” The woman nods. I never did get her name.

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen this tact in a case. It only set us back a few weeks, so you don’t need to worry about that. They’re lack of cooperation, however, is what is concerning.” She sighs and leans back in her leather rolly chair. “Should they choose to be difficult, they can drag this out for years. Have you been in contact with them at all?” I shake my head.

  “No.”

  “That’s good. Any he said she said isn’t going to go in your favor.”

  “What do you mean? They stole from me.”

  “You have a record of drug abuse, alcohol addicti
on, several arrests, a history of violence documented by the world. They can say anything and hardly anyone would believe you at this point.”

  It’s amazing how easy it is to forget your past when your present is so overwhelming. I sit back in my leather chair and look at the girls drawing silently and think about the damage it would cause Batty if it got out I’m taking care of his kids. I’m not a person a lot of people want to be associated with.

  I nod my head slightly since she seems to require some response.

  “Alright.” She pushes a stack of papers toward me. “These are the statements we got from your bank, your cell phone company that paid for Mr. and Ms. Dinah’s work cell phones showing incriminating text messages. Since the phones were in your name, we are able to get the specific messages and not just times and dates. This helps your case exponentially.”

  “Is there any question that they took the money?” I ask shortly.

  She shakes her head. “No, but to get restitution above the monetary value they stole, we have to prove malicious intent. It’s not just skimming the books, but wiping you out. If we prove this, it can mean you getting more than they took to start, but to do this to a minor is an even bigger offense.”

  “Right.” My phone is vibrating in my pocket, the girls are fidgeting in their seats looking bored and about to bolt. I can’t blame them. “Is there anything else I need to do?”

  The woman raises her eyebrows in surprise but shakes her head. “No. I just needed you to sign these and warn you to have no contact with the Dinahs.”

  “The other Dinahs,” I point out.

  “What?”

  “I’m a Dinah, too.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  I sigh and stand. “Come on, minions.”

  ~

  “Oh my gosh, is this your house?”

  “You live by the beach?”

  “Can we stay here forever?”

  “Can I hang up my picture on your refrigerator instead of the one at home?” I put my purse on the island of my house in Malibu to the tune of the inquisition.