This Is War, Baby

by K. Webster

  “Tell me all of it. Now, Warren,” Dad hisses out.

  I sigh and motion for him to follow me. “I’m going to cook breakfast. We’ll talk in the kitchen.”

  While I start pulling things out of the refrigerator, Dad respects my needs by spending a good ten minutes at the sink washing up past his elbows. It was a battle in the beginning but after passing out on several different occasions as he tested my will on the matter, he’d finally bent to my needs. And I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s left his shoes by the door as well and is donning blue surgical booties.

  “Start talking, son.”

  I begin chopping vegetables to make vegan omelets and sigh. “I’m lonely, Dad.”

  “I know this,” he says softly and begins pulling glasses out to fill with orange juice. “But you’ve been lonely since Lilah. You haven’t had one single female companion since her in fact. I’m not necessarily shocked that you’ve clearly paid a woman to entertain you but what I’m fuming about is her age. So I will ask you once again to tell me all of it.”

  My dad and I have always been close but when Mom died, we knew we only had each other after that. He expects the truth from me and I’ve never had a reason to lie. Now included.

  “I stumbled across a site online. It seemed professional and legit. And it was fucking expensive,” I say with a grumble. “I’d called ahead and spoke with the coordinator. They changed their event to a silent auction to accommodate my needs and even agreed to keep my participation anonymous. From the car, I watched them all prance across stage. But one stood out.”

  I’ve stopped chopping and I fixate on a small square tile on the backsplash. There are seven hundred and forty-six tiles on the backsplash. I’ve counted them. Five hundred and twelve are pure white and two hundred and thirty-two are slightly marred. And two have cracks near the sink. My gaze travels over to the two cracked ones. Perfect aside from the fissure that runs right down the middle. Most days, I crave to get a Dremel tool and grind them out of the backsplash. But other days, I focus on the imperfect ones as a reminder. Maybe I can find another person, like me, and we can exist in a sea of perfection—broken but still beautiful and necessary.

  “Son…”

  I blink and continue. “She counted her steps across the stage. Seventeen steps, Dad. Her mouth moved as she counted and I became fixated on her. For a brief moment, I’d hoped she’d been like me. Different. When the man delivered her to my car and she spoke, I knew I wasn’t going to let her go.”

  “Warren, I don’t think this sounds legal. There’s more to this isn’t there? What did you pay for her?”

  I groan and avoid his eye contact. “Five million.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, son!” he hisses. “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t. I was just tired of being alone.”

  “So, you paid a seventeen-year-old five million dollars to be your companion? Why is she still here?”

  “Well, it’s more complicated than that, Dad. I didn’t understand what I was doing when I bought her. It was some sort of sex ring. I swear I didn’t know,” I tell him, shame causing my voice to go husky.

  “Look at me.”

  I drag my gaze to his and frown. “I bought her from some asshole who did sadistic shit to her. Stuff that has twisted her head up. Evil bastard. And the shit he did to her against her will…” I trail off and shudder. “So incredibly sick.”

  “So you know all of this and you still kept her?”

  “I’m fucking lonely!” I roar and slam the knife down on the countertop. “I wanted to die. Again. Those thoughts were swarming me, like they often do. I was drowning in them. But then Baylee came along. She makes me forget, Dad. I actually want to touch her.”

  My dad, after having had dealt with my issues for over a decade now, softens and his brows furrow together. “You want to touch her?”

  I nod and smile sheepishly. “I kissed her. Twice.”

  His eyes widen and his brows fly to his hairline. “You kissed her? So you actually touched someone on your own free will? You didn’t force her did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. In fact, she seemed upset the first time when I pulled away and had a fucking meltdown. I had to take a long ass shower to wash her off me. But…”

  Dad is no longer angry. He seems hopeful.

  “But then, as soon as I came back to her, I wanted her again. She’s addicting. I want to hear her voice, see her smiles, and bask in her warmth. For the past few weeks, I’ve wondered if I have a chance at healing my fucked up head. That maybe she is my answer.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “If you have faith that she can, then it’s most certainly possible. Promise me one thing though, War. Promise me you won’t touch her until after her birthday. You’re a good man and I don’t want this underage thing weighing on your conscience or sending my only son to jail. You’re not like the man who hurt her. You’re my son and we’ve got morals.”

  I go back to chopping when he speaks again.

  “So she’s a millionaire at seventeen,” he says, astonished.

  “Well, not exactly.”

  He grunts. “But you just said—”

  “Gabe has the money. The man I bought her from.”

  Risking a glance at my dad, my shoulders slump at his furious stare. “After all those things he did and…”

  I huff. “I know. But what am I supposed to do about it?”

  “I don’t know, call the goddamned cops on him!”

  “Dad, it’s not that easy!” I snap and immediately feel guilty for yelling at him. “Besides,” I soften my tone, “I’m in contact with a detective in Oakland. I’ve been giving her information that won’t lead back to me in hopes they’ll catch Gabe. Her parents never filed a missing person’s report. Something is going on and I’m not about to send her back to the lion’s den where that asshole will come back for her. She’s safe here. Besides, we worked out another deal.”

  He waits expectantly.

  “I’ve been sending money to help her mom. She’s sick.”

  A groan rumbles from his chest and he turns away from me. His gaze falls to the windows that overlook the Pacific Ocean. I know he’s thinking about Mom. Our thoughts always drag back to her. She’s the reason I am who I am today.

  “So you’re dumping more money just to keep this girl? You do understand you’ll be broke and heartbroken before it’s all said and done.” His voice cracks and I wish I could hug him. I’ve not been able to do that since I was a teenager.

  “What else can I do? I was desperate. With Baylee, life is different. Less lonely. I know you may not understand all of my reasoning but trust that I’ll be smart. I’m not going to hurt her but I’m also not going to let her go. I can’t. Not now.”

  I hear someone clear their throat from behind me. “Am I interrupting?”

  Whipping around, I smile at her. She’s freshly showered, her blonde hair pulled into a messy wet bun on top of her head. The dark jeans she’s wearing hug her figure and the baby blue sweater does nothing to hide her gorgeous tits. My cock reacts to seeing her, and I quickly turn back to my task of cooking to hide my erection. “No, we were just talking about how I came to acquire you.”

  “You told him?” she questions as if she’s shocked.

  My heart speeds up to see her from the corner of my eye beginning her hand washing ritual. She doesn’t have to count. I’ll count for her. But after today, neither of us will have to. Another gift for her should arrive at some point this afternoon. I ordered it not long after she arrived but it was being custom made to my specifications.

  “Why wouldn’t I tell him?” I say with a chuckle. “He’s my father. I tell him everything. Didn’t you tell your dad everything?”

  Dad leans against the counter and watches our exchange with interest.

  “Well,” she says slowly and starts to turn off the water, “not everything.”

  Her cheeks blaze red with embarrassment and I laugh. But when she turns of
f the sink, my laughter dies in my throat.

  “Not done. Forty-eight more seconds,” I bark out a little more harshly than I intended. Dad grumbles behind me but doesn’t say any more on the subject.

  The water turns back on and she continues to scrub her hands. “Now?”

  I start frying the vegan omelets and sigh. “Not yet.”

  The seconds pass by but I don’t tell her when the time is up. A few more moments of washing never hurt anyone.

  “Baylee,” Dad says in a soft voice. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. You’re a victim. And if you decide you want to leave, you call me. I’ll drive you home myself.”

  She shuts off the water this time and I don’t stop her. “I’m okay right now. Thank you, Mr. McPherson.”

  “Please, call me Land. You’re strong and you’re brave. Thank you for attempting to help my son, no matter what your motives are for doing it. That means the entire world to me and I’ll do whatever I can to return that favor.”

  In a surprising move, she hurries over to him and throws herself into his arms. He hugs her tight—like I wish I could—and strokes her back in a way that always comforted me as a child. I’m jealous of both of them. That they can hold each other and I can’t hold either of them.

  He murmurs whispered assurances and I finish the food up, careful to make each omelet the same size with equal portions of vegetables and tofu in them. Once I’ve added some sliced bananas to the side, I carry the plates to the table. She finally breaks away from his embrace and flashes me a shy smile.

  “So tell me about yourself, Baylee. If you’re someone special to my son, then you’re someone special to me,” Dad says after we settle at the table and begin eating.

  She sighs and her eyes focus past him at the ocean as if she’s recalling happy memories. “I run track and am pretty good at it. My parents Tony and Lynn are good to me, and we live in a modest home in Oakland. I plan on going to Berkley next fall. Well, I did plan to go there.”

  My father and I both frown. Guilt slices through me and I stuff another bite into my mouth as she continues.

  “I love to read. Swimming is something I enjoy, especially in the ocean. Um, that’s all I guess.”

  “Did you know War used to surf?”

  Her eyes widen in surprise and she darts her gaze over to me. I grunt my confirmation and she smiles.

  “I didn’t know that. I don’t know much about your son, I’m afraid. I mean,” she says with hesitation, “besides the obvious. He doesn’t tell me anything.”

  Dad glances at me, sadness and fatigue marring his features. “There’s a lot to my boy. His sickness plagues him but he’s still in there. I see him fighting to the surface sometimes. I’m glad that you’re able to break through to him some.”

  “I’m right here,” I complain and stab at a banana. “She’s not my shrink.”

  He frowns and I wince. I shouldn’t have said that. My father has only tried to help me ever since I lost my shit. It’s not his fault I’m the way I am. He’s only done everything he can to provide for me, accommodate my issues, and love me enough for two parents.

  “What do you want to do when you, um,” Dad says with a grunt, “grow up?”

  I groan at his word choice but she doesn’t seem to be affected.

  “If you mean after high school,” she says with a grin, “then I’d hoped to go to school on a track scholarship. I was always intrigued with medicine because of my mom. But now…”

  I lift my gaze and meet her compassionate one.

  “Now I’d like to get into psychology.”

  Her words are genuine and not meant to cut me. She’s curious about my condition and it has sparked a desire to learn more. I should feel irritated that yet another person wants inside of my black brain.

  But with Baylee?

  I want her there.

  “Have you been down to the ocean yet?” Dad asks as he stands and carries his plate to the sink.

  She shakes her head. “It’s the middle of winter. The water’s probably cold…” she trails off, her sadness not letting her finish the argument.

  He turns to me but speaks to her. “Nonsense. It’s almost seventy degrees today. Sure, the water’ll be a little chilly but you’d do well to get some sunshine. If it’s okay with you,” he says and his eyes meet mine, “I’d like to take her for a walk along the beach.”

  “Dad, I don’t know if—”

  “Really? I would love that. May I, War?” Her pretty blue eyes glitter with an excitement I’ve yet to witness. She’s beautiful. And so deserving. How could I ever tell her no?

  But the sand.

  The salt from the water.

  The wind blowing debris all around her, into her mouth and hair.

  “Uh,” I start and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  She could bathe after.

  Imagine how cute her nose would be with a little pink on the tip from the sun.

  And she’d smell like memories that aren’t tainted.

  “Of course, Bay. I’ll clean up while you two enjoy yourselves. But I can’t promise I won’t go fucking nuts if you track sand into my house. In fact, I’ll have a broom waiting for you on the front porch. Make sure you hose off, too.”

  Her delighted squeal as she rises from her chair makes it all worth it and I find myself grinning.

  I CAN’T BELIEVE he let me out of the house, especially after my running away attempt. I’m nervous, fearing that Gabe could be lurking anywhere, but with Land within reach, I’m comforted. He makes me feel safe, like my dad always did.

  “My son’s a good man, you know.”

  Our feet squeak in the white sand as we trudge toward the crashing waves. I’d changed into a summer dress that billows in the wind and I realize this is the freest I’ve felt in weeks. I owe Land for that.

  “Yeah,” I say, probably not as convincing as he likes.

  “There’s a reason for the way he is, Baylee. And he’s been,” he chokes out, “so lonely for so long.”

  Tears well in my eyes. Despite having been stolen by Gabe and then sold to War, things feel different here. War doesn’t hurt me. The only times my feelings get hurt are when I want him to touch me and he won’t.

  Well, he can’t.

  His mind won’t allow him to.

  But I don’t miss the unmasked desire. Desire that ignites a flame inside of me. Shame courses over me as I consider what Mom and Dad would think about my sexual infatuation with a man I was sold to. What they would think of how I crave to make normal love with him.

  And Brandon?

  The boy I loved with my whole heart?

  He’s becoming more of a distant memory rather than a reality of someone I’ll ever be with.

  “It’s pretty here,” I say with a sigh, hoping to change the subject. Trotting off ahead of him, I grab the hem of my dress and run into the sudsy surf. The water is like ice but I welcome the way it envelops my ankles. Feeling braver, I wade out to my knees.

  “Shit,” Land curses, “that’s cold!”

  I laugh and turn to see him tip toeing toward me. “Big baby,” I tease.

  His chuckle warms me and he wraps an arm around me. Land is affectionate and it slices my heart thinking about how he’ll never have that with his son again. I lean into his hug and let him hold me for a while.

  “He had a girlfriend once,” he says slowly, almost wistfully. “Of course, I didn’t care too much for her. Lilah was rough around the edges. I suppose it wasn’t her fault. Her dad was a damn idiot, but still. It grated on my nerves that they were together. Warren had potential. He was extremely smart and technical. But around her, he sort of walked around with hearts in his eyes.”

  I try to imagine a younger War. A War who was in love with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

  “At the time, I’d been selfish. Tried to subtly push him in other directions—directions that she could be no part of. My Paula was not impressed with my actions. She’d reminded me of a time we�
�d been young, dumb, and in love.”

  “She sounds like a lovely lady. You speak fondly of her.”

  His grip around my waist tightens and his voice becomes hoarse as if he might cry. “She got pregnant, my Paula. At forty-four years of age. It was a miracle and a blessing.”

  I smile at his words.

  But then he goes on to tell a horrifying story that roils my breakfast in my belly. A story that paints a vivid image of how War became the man he is today. The story of the loss of his pregnant wife causes Land to choke on his emotion.

  A huge wave crashes toward us and if Land hadn’t have gripped on to me at the right time, it would have knocked me over. My dress, now wet, clings to my thighs and I shiver.

  “Come on,” Land says gruffly and guides me out of the water and onto the warm sand. Together we sit and stretch our legs in the sun.

  “What did you have?” I shouldn’t ask but I’m curious.

  He swallows and doesn’t speak for a few moments. “A little girl. Constance was her name.”

  Was.

  Tears brim in my eyes and I drop my gaze to my toes that are dusted with white sand and still dripping with ocean water.

  A tear rolls out and I sniffle. He seems to sense my sadness for him and his wife because he pulls me against him again in a side hug. I like Land and am grateful for his presence.

  “Poor War. My boy, my sweet boy.”

  His words are hollow and sad as he replays scenes so horrific involving War that I’m not sure I’ll ever get them out of my brain. I try to quiet my sobs after hearing the details but they won’t quit.

  “After…after we lost them,” he chokes out finally, the worst part of his words over, and I reach for his hand to grip it. “I lost War too. Not like I’d lost them but he’d become a shell of himself. And then, he turned into this person I was unsure how to help.”

  Something tells me he doesn’t tell this story often—if at all. We both grow silent aside from our sniffling.

  “Why couldn’t the doctors help him?” My question is almost a whisper getting lost in the wind. I shiver and he hugs me tighter, rubbing his arm up and down my bicep that’s covered in goosebumps.