Daddy Daddy: MFM Menage Romance

by Demi Donovan

  “She’s a grown woman, Cameron, and I’m a grown man. We can do whatever we want,” I say, firmly believing that.

  “Yeah? Is that so? Would your partners think the same? What about the tabloids? What would Tesla think if the founders of the company pitching them one of the core components of their new generation of cars become embroiled in a scandal like that?

  “I can see the headlines now. ‘CEOs of SCP Limited double-team eighteen-year-old, does Tesla approve?’ Keep telling yourself that this is okay, buddy. It’s not.”

  “Are you threatening me?” I ask, snarling.

  “Threatening?” Cameron laughs. “I wouldn’t do something so fucking basic. No, Sawyer. What I’m doing is blackmailing you. See, I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s a little unfair that when I trusted my kid with Parker and you, I end up with nothing for it while you two seem to be having the time of your life.

  “I mean, isn’t that sort of a pattern now? I give and I give and you take and you take. Yeah, that’s not cool anymore. I want to be paid. I want to be fucking paid what I’m owed.”

  “And what are you owed?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

  Parker’s fuming with rage and I’m surprised he hasn’t started screaming at the phone yet. My levelheaded friend is living up to his name, though at this point, I doubt either of us could restrain ourselves from physically assaulting Cameron Davis for the shit he’s saying. Trading his daughter for money? Disgusting.

  But then again, it’s not like I’d ever allow Cassie’s name to be dragged through the mud for any reason.

  “I’m owed my shares in the company. I want the same amount, a third, that you bought off of me when I went to prison for you guys, but I want what it’s worth now. As far as I can tell, that should be over half a billion dollars, which sounds pretty fucking fair to me.”

  “You fucking rat,” I hiss, finally losing my temper. “You think it’s okay to trade your daughter for fucking cash? You think so little of her that you’d be willing to sell her like that? You know fucking well that we’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Parker puts his palm on my arm, motioning for me to settle down. Cameron chuckles on the other end of the line and I don’t fucking calm down.

  “Trade? Sell? Fuck no. I don’t know what she’s told you but she’s been in on it from the beginning. She’s my little girl. She’s always been like her daddy. Hasn’t she told you? She’s a little thief like I am, growing up right in my footsteps and I couldn’t be more proud. I don’t give a shit what that ‘innocent angel’ has told you but the fact is, she’s playing you for your money just like I am.”

  “Liar!” I growl.

  “You can believe what you want. You have until Wednesday. Parker will get a similar call. If you don’t pony up, I’m going to the press. Nighty night, fuck her tight.”

  Cameron’s laughter is the last thing I hear as I hang up the line.

  Before I can say a word, I hear the front door bang shut and along with it, I feel my heart breaking in my chest.

  That had to be Cassie. My Cassie, our Cassie, just fucking running away. If that’s not an admission of guilt, I don’t know what is.

  Twenty-Five

  Cassie

  I heard every word.

  The pavement seems to rattle under my feet as I run. I’m not even sure if I’m going in the right direction, but I hope I am. Boston’s a big city and with tears clouding my eyes, all I can do is hope I’m heading the right way. So far, at least in life, I seem to always be going the wrong way instead of the right way.

  I’m getting sick and tired of being disappointed in myself and everything I stand for. I thought it would change, I thought this would be my big chance to change, to really make something of myself.

  Instead, I fell in love like a stupid girl, dragged two people who didn’t deserve it into a spiral of drama, and played into a hand my father had dealt that I wasn’t even aware that I was a part of.

  I gulp down the sobs as I reach the bus stop just in time to hop on a bus going to the central station. I stumble into the back of the bus and slump into a seat. At this hour, it’s blissfully empty, just a couple of people on the bus with me, all minding their own business. No one to notice me falling apart.

  I prop my head on my hands and I feel how cold they are. My hair’s a mess, falling in my face, and I’m dressed in only a light dress I wore at ‘home’ – either at Sawyer’s or Parker’s place – and a jacket I threw over it on my way out. Thankfully my purse and shoes were by the door so I could bolt the moment the phone call ended.

  I couldn’t sleep and I got out to spend some time with Sawyer and Parker when I heard that horrible phone call. Silly me, thinking the day couldn’t get any worse after Mark showed up out of the blue. How wrong was I?

  Every horrible, nasty word my father spoke, I felt it reverberating right through me, as if it was addressing my very core. He lied, yes, but not in too many ways. I didn’t know this wretched plan of his, I didn’t know that he followed me and Sawyer and Parker, but he was right in a lot of ways, too.

  I am like him. I’ve always known it. When there’s a straight path and one that makes the journey faster or easier, I always go for the shortcut. When faced with something I don’t want to deal with, I turn my back on it, ignore it, or run away from it.

  Stifling a sob, I feel sorry for myself. It’s pathetic but at the same time, I feel like running is the only option I have right now.

  If I’m out of the picture, maybe my dad can’t go through with his evil plan. Maybe I can call him tomorrow and beg him to come to his senses. I know how much money he’s already been paid by Parker and Sawyer for no other reason than that they feel guilty and honestly, I don’t think my father has ever deserved their remorse or pity. What he did he brought on himself.

  Just like I did by doing something I knew I shouldn’t. I should have never acted on my feelings, what my body was begging me to do when my head was telling me in no uncertain terms that it would be a horrible idea. Instead of acting like the sensible adult I was striving to become, I took the shortcut again and went for something I wanted.

  Well, something I needed, too… But I have to believe there’s a way that this could have been avoided. A way in which Parker and Sawyer wouldn’t be the ones suffering.

  I don’t care about my name or having it dragged through the mud. There’s nothing to save here. I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it. All I can do is hope that if I disappear, my mom, my sister and the men I love don’t get hurt any further.

  “Last stop!” the bus driver calls and I scramble to my feet.

  As I step out of the bus, the large bus station looms over me, bustling with activity. I wipe the tears off my cheeks, stiffen my spine and walk in, determined to use my own debit card, take out what little money I have left and then grab a ticket to anywhere but home. I’m serious about disappearing and I know in my heart that it’s the right thing to do.

  I can’t make anything better by being here.

  I’m studying the tableaus with the bus routes and times, trying to calculate in my mind how far I could get so I’d still have some money for food, but before I get too far on the list, I feel two strong arms wrapping around me. I scream and twist in the embrace, coming face to face With Mark’s swollen visage.

  Then I scream harder.

  “Shut up,” he growls, but there’s no bite to him.

  I wrestle myself out of his grasp, though admittedly he isn’t holding me very tight.

  “It’s okay, I know him,” I tell a Good Samaritan who was coming to my aid.

  “Fuck, yes, you do,” Mark grumbles, looking worse for wear.

  Gone is the cocky smirk and the attitude of lording what he knows over me. He’s been reduced to nothing but a guy beaten down, who this time looks like he’s decided to stay down.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, though I think I already know the answer.

  “Waiting for a bus, same
as you, princess. What, your little romance with your two princes didn’t work out? Or should I say, the two geriatric kings?”

  He scoffs at his joke and I fail to see the humor in it. He crosses his arms over his chest, a backpack flung over his shoulder. I bet it includes just about everything he’s ever owned.

  “I don’t see how it’s any concern of yours,” I say, wiping self-consciously at my eyes again. I’ve been saying a variation of that far too often lately. “But yes, I’m waiting for a bus.”

  “We can get a ride together then,” Mark offers with a shrug. I bristle immediately, but he doesn’t seem to hold any malice with it. “I’m going home. Fuck this place and fuck these people. I should have never taken the deal. Hell, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

  He pulls a hand through his hair and I frown, trying to figure out what he means by that. Mark tugs on the strap of his backpack once, as if making sure if it’s still there.

  “I’m not going home,” I say in response, as the rest of his comment starts filtering through my brain. “And it’s okay, Sawyer and Parker aren’t anywhere around. I’m sorry it came to this, Mark, but… You shouldn’t have come.”

  I sigh, facing the physical representation of my fuck-ups. He wouldn’t have gotten punched and Parker wouldn’t have had to defend my honor if I’d just explained myself better. If I told Mark how I felt in terms he understood, explained why I didn’t want to steal ever again… I don’t want to be like my dad and I feel like if I keep repeating his mistake, I could never be better than that shadow I’m trying to leap over.

  “I don’t mean them,” Mark says, shaking his head.

  He glances around us and then takes me by the elbow, leading me toward a seat nestled behind a corner. The bus station isn’t too busy at this time, but there are still people around.

  “Hey, what are you-“

  “Look, I’m trying to do the right thing here and tell you what I know, okay?” he answers, frustrated. “It hasn’t been a great day for me and I don’t think it’s been that good for you either, so maybe we can just sit down and talk, all right? But I don’t want to be standing in the middle of a room where anyone can listen in on us or recognize us, you understand?”

  I relax slightly, nodding. As much as his behavior over the last few weeks has come as a surprise, I still think I know this man. I know that though he’s misguided and lying to himself and the world, that there’s a good heart in him yet. Besides, after getting him punched, ruining his face for at least now – I know how much he loves his face – then it should be the least I could do for him, right?

  “Okay,” I say, slumping into a seat by the window, a small table nestled between me and the seat Mark chooses.

  He sits down gingerly, grabbing his backpack to keep it on his lap. He leans forward like we’re part of some great conspiracy and I’m sure he’d be glancing around for spies or something if one of his eyes wasn’t partially swollen shut.

  It looks like it needs some ice on it, honestly.

  “I’ve been following you.”

  “What?” I ask, my mouth lolling open.

  The hits just keep coming today.

  “I’ve been following you around with those… I dunno, ‘older executives’ of yours. I’ve been taking pictures. I have a ton of them. You and the fucker who punched me at the forest, you and the other one at a club – great choice by the way, I loved that one - the three of you going home together… I have it all.”

  “How?” I stammer, asking the only question that pops into my mind, followed by: “Why?”

  “I was paid to do it. I got an anonymous phone call and then some courier brought me a bus ticket and as soon as I got to Boston, there was a car waiting for me at the rental agency and a hotel room booked in my name and a list of addresses and places where you could be. I was getting paid a thousand bucks a day just to follow you and take those pictures.

  “Every couple of days, I got a phone call, asking about the pictures. I didn’t send any of them yet because I figured, fuck it, I can ask for more, and the money kept showing up.”

  Mark shrugs and even though his face is badly swollen, I can see something akin to guilt flitting over it. The realization hits me in the face like a slap.

  “Is that why you came to talk to me today?”

  My tone is urgent. I assumed the worst and he didn’t exactly make himself likable when he showed up, but after hearing my dad’s phone call to Sawyer tonight, it feels like peanuts in comparison.

  “Basically. I figured I’d warn you. And, honestly, I was going to see if your sugar daddies wanted to pay me more for my work.”

  He looks down at his shoes, sullen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mark properly ashamed but this must be it then. I would be far more invested in reveling in this notion if I wasn’t hanging off the edge of my seat, trying to catch and absorb his every word.

  “I might have not served it the best I could… Shit, I don’t know, Cassie. I think I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Hell, I know there are some things I don’t want people to know about me.”

  He slicks a hand through his hair and cringes a little when it gets a bit too close to his mauled face. His face is twisted in pain and I don’t think it’s only because of his black eye and bruised nose. I think he’s actually, truly sorry, maybe it just took a punch in the face for all those emotions to coalesce.

  I reach my hand across the table and put it on his, squeezing his fingers. For what it’s worth, a part of me is rejoicing with relief, knowing that I wasn’t completely wrong about Mark. So maybe it wasn’t just the bad boy image he’s been trying to cultivate and maintain that drew me to him. Maybe I knew he was more than that underneath the eyeliner and the mood swings.

  “That’s okay, Mark. I should have told you when I left. I don’t think you were really upset about me leaving but I shouldn’t assume things about people. It’s unfair. For that, I apologize. And thank you for telling me the truth now… At least that’s what I hope this is.”

  “Hey, I’m done with getting into other people’s bullshit now. I’m taking the cash I got and I’m running. As far as I’m concerned, whoever the dick was that hired me can swallow a loss of a couple grand. I won’t feel guilty at all for it.”

  My insides twist.

  I know who that dick who hired him is. I’m related to him.

  “Do you think I could get the pictures? Could you send them to me and promise to delete your copies?” I ask tentatively, hoping I’m not pushing my luck. “I think I can get the, um, ‘employer’ off your back.”

  “You know who it is?”

  “I have a hunch,” I say, deciding not to reveal my hand further.

  “Shit, sure. Sounds good to me,” Mark says with a shrug, whipping out his phone.

  A couple minutes later, I have the pictures on my phone and I’m waving goodbye as Mark gets on the bus, headed back home.

  I make my decision right there and then. I think I knew this before, but it took a push from Mark to make me open my eyes. If I want to change things, I can’t run anymore.

  This time, I have a fighting chance and I’m going to fight for what is important to me.

  Twenty-Six

  Parker

  She can’t be gone.

  How could she be gone?

  My brain should be a little hazy from the whiskey I’ve essentially inhaled in the early hours of this evening, but I’ve never felt more sober. I stand, dumbfounded, staring at the door with Sawyer for a moment too long. He’s the one to react first, tearing the door open and going for the stairs, hoping to catch her before she can get out of the elevator.

  I know he won’t catch her.

  I hear his footsteps racing down the stairs and I run a hand over my face, the onslaught of information I’ve learned tonight vying for a spot in me next to the alcohol and the confusion. How could she run? Was Cameron right? Was she in on it the whole time?

  The thought is too bitter to process and I brush it
aside, though not as forcefully as I would like. I shuffle around in my pockets and pull out my smartphone, dialing her number. The tone’s dead, the phone’s shut off. We did it for her the moment we got to the apartment, so her little friend couldn’t call her and harass her further. If she’s serious about getting away, she’ll keep it off, too.

  Groaning, I walk to the windows of the living room and look down on Boston, bustling around beneath me. The headlights of cars flash as they go by and I see bodies milling back and forth. In a couple of minutes, I see Sawyer bursting out into the street, looking both ways, but I never saw Cassie leave. She’s a smart girl, she probably slipped out a side exit.

  I have to wonder if she had her exit route planned as well.

  Bitterness is too easy to come and it settles like an old friend in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never been the one to get hurt too badly in a relationship, I’ve been stung but I don’t think it’s left a mark. The time was just never right.

  This one? This one already stings.

  I’m faintly aware that I should be out there, running down the street like Sawyer is, but I also think it would be a waste of energy. Cassie, regardless of what else she might be – like the love of my life – is a whip-smart young lady who has figured out everything life has thrown at her. She might not be at home in Boston, but I’m sure she can think rationally and find the safest, fastest way wherever she’s going. We just need to figure out where it is that she’s going.

  Or do we?

  I ponder that as Sawyer finally makes his way back some twenty minutes later, breathless and disheveled.

  “I couldn’t find her,” he says, slamming the front door shut behind him.

  “I figured you wouldn’t,” I nod as he walks into the living room.

  He paces back and forth nervously, reminding me of my own pattern of concentration when I caught Cassie and him together for the first time.

  “Do you think he’s right?” I ask Sawyer, wishing I had my whiskey in my hand again.