SLOAN
My sister is hysterical.
And I am...actually I don't know how I feel.
My father has pulled some shit in his day, but this is something on a whole other level. Even university administration is running from it. No one wants to touch this.
I'm coming home from a quick Starbucks run (caffeine is my drug of choice lately) when I notice my father's old Jaguar parked in front of my apartment.
He addresses me casually for a man in serious trouble.
"Hey, pumpkin."
My father practically has to unfold himself to get out of his car. I've always told him how his car is much too small for his six foot six body, but he loves that so-called collector's item too much to care about how it badly contorts his aging vertebrae.
"Hey, dad. This is a surprise."
"I guess you're wondering what brings me by."
Because you're a murder suspect perhaps?
"Do you want to come inside?" I offer.
My father hasn't visited me once since I've been with Cutter. There's something about him that rubs my dad the wrong way. He thinks I can "do better".
"I'd like that, Pumpkin. Thanks."
Once inside I raise some of the windows and check the cabinets for what I have on hand. I haven't eaten anything inside of my own apartment in at least three weeks. I'm always at Cutter's.
"Looks like I've got apple juice, Pepsi and diet cranapple juice. What's your preference?"
"I think I need something a little stiffer if you have it."
"Gotcha."
I fix my dad a gin and tonic, because I've been mixing my father's cocktails since I was twelve years old. I know exactly how he likes them. I pour my grande sized macchiatto inside of a clean mug, and then I sit down across from him and wait.
We both know why he's here. What he wants to talk about, but I don't want to push things. My father and I have a very fragile rapport with each other. It's best if he leads this conversation.
My dad takes a long look around my place.
"Your set up is nice here, Sloan. You've done a lot since you first moved in. I'm impressed. You've got great taste like your mother."
"Thank you."
"Is your boyfriend around?"
"No, Cutter isn't here."
"Oh, okay." He takes a swig of his cocktail. "So it's obvious why I'm here. I won't insult your intelligence with small talk."
"Appreciated."
Being Dan Pearson's daughter has never been easy. Being in this family has never been easy. It's always been a rollercoaster ride of his shenanigans and my family's emotional responses to them. I'm ready.
"The media has unnecessarily sensationalized this whole thing."
"A girl is dead, dad."
"Right, and I feel awful about that, but I swear to you I am innocent. All I wanted to do was help that girl."
I take a careful sip of my macchiatto. It's still really hot.
"Why don't you start from the beginning."
"I took the boys on a trip."
My father is the head coach of the men's basketball team at a small city university located in Philadelphia– LaNova U. They are a division two team, so they rarely receive any national sports coverage, but the job is keeping him a part of the very thing that he loves more than life itself ... basketball.
"Got that part."
"It was just a small recruiting trip. There's a a kid in Boston who's a phenom, pumpkin. A beast. Maybe the next LeBron James." My father's face becomes animated with excitement. "He could change the whole trajectory of the program if we sign him."
Honestly, I don't care about this part of the story. A girl is dead.
"He's a high school senior, so you see I really had no choice. There are dozens of other programs that have been going hard at him for a long time now. He's going to make a decision soon. I had to put our bid in."
"Let me stop you here, dad. What does any of this have to do with what happened at the party?"
"I'm trying to explain to you why LaNova doesn't have my back. It isn't because I'm guilty or that they think I'm guilty of anything, it's because of the trip. It was outside of the NCAA sanctioned contact period for student athletes. We're actually only suppose to send letters and make phone calls during this time. I think they're punishing me."
Sometimes I wonder if my dad took a few too many hard elbows to the head during his days on the court. Why would he put his job in jeopardy like this? Now look at what's happened.
"Well, duh. I'm not surprised at LaNova's reaction then."
"Universities know about these trips, Sloan. They already knew I was going to Boston."
"So if the school thinks you're innocent and they knew about the trip, why don't they have your back?"
"No university is going to be caught green lighting a blatant violation of NCAA rules."
“Especially now that the whole trip is attached to a murder."
"Even worse."
"Have they talked about suspending you?"
"Worse."
"Fired?"
My father needs his job. He's still too young to start collecting his pension, and he's too old to play ball. He's left with either coaching or commentating, and no network has shown any interest in giving him a permanent spot and at after this they never will.
"My employment is under review."
Good grief.
"So continue telling me what happened."
"The boys wanted to throw a party at the hotel. They wanted to show the recruit a good time. Show him how much of a family we are, and how much fun it can be to be on the team.
"They consumed quite a bit of beer and liquor that night, and things got out of hand midway through the party. Obviously there were girls were there, but there was this one girl in particular, a student from Boston U. Some hanger on. A party girl. She came to me, drunk, and accused one of the boys of hurting her."
"You mean raping her?"
"Yes," he agrees a bit too dismissively for my taste. "And the girl was hysterical. Yelling, knocking stuff over. I was trying to calm her down."
I sit silently for a moment and take a few deep breaths. I love my father to death, but I think he has always been a boy cloaked in a grown man's body. He’s never truly embraced the responsibilities of a husband and a father. I can see why he always hired security back in the old days. He needed babysitters, because he makes such poor choices.
"Why were you at the party?"
My father hangs his head.
"It was a poor decision."
Exactly.
SLOAN
I take another deep cleansing breath.
"Were you partying with those kids, dad?"
"Some of them were being too noisy in the hallway. I had to get them inside of the room before someone complained and I stayed. I figured I'd keep an eye on things. Plus, I guess I was a little bored in my room by myself."
Stupid.
"So go on. What happened after she made the accusations."
"Like I said she was screaming. Making a scene. I asked her numerous times to calm down. She said she couldn't. That she'd just been attacked and she wanted to know what I was going to do about it."
"Who did it?"
"She said it was Bobby Thornton, Tommy Newton and Chris Speedwell."
"A gang bang?!"
"Yes."
"And did you believe her?"
My father rubs his jaw sternly.
"Being a collegiate athlete comes with it's pros and cons. There's a lot of pressure put on you to perform, to win, to keep up your grades, to never make a mistake. It's a really heavy load for a young man."
I've heard this speech my entire life.
Over it.
"Dad, let me cut you off there. I don't care if that girl was drunk and rubbing her naked hoohah in that guy's face. That doesn't ever excuse having sex with a woman without her consent."
"That's not what I'm saying, Sloan."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that sometimes the lines get muddled. Those boys get a yes so much and so often, that sometimes they think they've got a green light to go ahead when they really don't. Especially when you mix it with drugs and alcohol."
"They thought they had a green light to a gang bang?"
"A lot of these girls do consent to group sex."
"In porno movies maybe, but please continue with your story."
My father lets out an exasperated sigh.
"The boys started getting loud with her when they noticed what she was saying to me. There was name calling and raised voices. A few threats. It was getting out of hand and that's probably when I should have called for some help, but I didn't. I didn't want anyone finding out about the party, the attack, or the fact that I was there.
"Anyway, the girl and her friend felt like they were being ganged up on. They were scared. There were all these six and seven foot tall ball players, drunk, yelling at her. Threatening her. So her and her girlfriend started swinging. Like they were cornered animals. Teeth snarling and everything.
"It all happened so fast. I remember having my hands up in a defensive pose. Trying to calm her and the boys down at the same time, but somehow in the melee, she got hit. She fell and hit her head on the corner of the coffee table and that was it. I saw the light go out of her eyes instantly. I knew immediately that she was gone."
I am quiet for a moment. Thinking about that girl's last hour on earth. How frightened she must have been. How sad. Thinking about the many times my father had a chance to make a different decision.
"You don't know who hit her?"
"No one is stepping up and saying that they did it."
"Yes, but do you know who hit her."
"No, there were too many people. I can't say for sure."
I shake my head in disgust. Only my father would find himself in such a fucked up situation.
"I don't know what to say, dad."
"I just thought I should let you know the truth of what's going on. I haven't been brought in on any formal charges yet, but things aren't looking good. That girl's family is looking for blood...and money. So you know, just be careful about what you post on social media and all that for a while. Keep a low profile."
My father finishes the last swig of his drink and slowly gets up. Grimacing a little as he rises on his arthritic knees and a battle worn lower back. All in all, my father is pretty calm, and saying all the right things, but I can tell that he's stressed and that there may be something else he isn't saying.
"Is there anything else?"
"I just...well I think my lawyer may need some help."
"What kind of help?"
“Like finding out who actually is responsible may be my only chance. It's hard though. I don't just want to go around asking my kids to rat on each other."
"This is your life though.”
"I know. It's just...maybe someone else should do the asking."
"Yeah, like the police or your lawyer."
"Listen I know that you are in the middle of planning your wedding, and that I haven't been the most supportive father of your relationship, but I need Cutter's help. Without it I think the police have already made their decision on who the murderer is. Me."
Shit.
"I know this is a big ask, but I'm desperate, Sloan."
I'm conflicted. I don't want my father to go to jail, but I also don't want to ask Cutter to do this. I've been reluctant to make a commitment to the apartment, to the wedding date, but then I ask him to take my father on as a fix? Not cool. Not fair.
"I'll let you know, dad."
My father startles me by kissing me on the cheek. Something he hasn't done probably since the day I graduated from college.
"Thank you, pumpkin."
That's how I know, that he’s desperate. I at least have to ask.
SLOAN
Cutter looks just like a little boy when he sleeps. An angelic boy. His limbs are full extended but relaxed at the same time. I watch as his chest rises and falls quietly. Counting his breaths. It's at moments like these that I know for sure that I love this man, because if he ever stopped breathing, I want would want to stop breathing too.
The visit from my father put a lot of things in perspective. My reluctance to commit has clearly stemmed from the fact that I've had a life long reluctance to trust. Especially trusting men. I used to think that men were only good for some things. To look at. To sleep with. To fix things around the house. But to share a life with? Hell, no.
Even though I've been going through the motions of being in a relationship, up until this moment, I've always had one foot in and one foot out the door. It's only now that I understand why Elizabeth has been pushing me with both hands into this wedding. I needed the push, and I didn't even realize it or why. Now I do.
I'm not being fair to my man or to myself. Unlike my father, I have to commit. That's why today I've made two decisions for the sake of our relationship.
1. We're going to set a wedding date.
2. I'm not going to ask him to help my father.
The weather has been growing a bit more humid lately, so last night Cutter and I slept with the windows up under a light cover and in the nude. I lift the cover to take a peek. What a magnificent man. My man.
Even though he’s sound asleep, it’s just too tempting, so I slide my hand under the sheet and begin to slowly bring Cutter's cock to life.
"Good morning to you too," he says with his eyes still closed and a smile on his face.
"Good morning, lover."
"What did I do to deserve this delightful morning greeting?”
"Exist."
All of a sudden Cutter roughly rips the cover off of us. Sending it sailing through the air and onto the floor. He yanks me up and pulls me on top of him.
"You're saying all the right shit this morning. Ride my face. Now!” he growls.
My palms slap against the wall behind the bed as Cutter works my pussy in the most delicious way. The sensations of his warm morning mouth all over my sex are almost unbearable in the best way.
"Cutter," I moan from deep within.
He lightly slaps each of my butt cheeks as I continue to writhe in agony and grind my pelvis against his face.
"That's a good girl," he praises. The vibrations of his words bouncing against my skin and every one of my clitoral nerve endings. "Work that pussy for me, Princess."
Something indiscernible leaves my mouth.
Something primal.
Something dominant.
I flip myself around. Still allowing him to eat me out, but positioning me to pleasure him as well. The perfect sixty-nine position, and it looks like it was a good decision. His dick is practically weeping.
I hear guttural noises coming from deep in Cutter’s chest as I work my mouth up and down his shaft. He's going to come quickly. Maybe even before I do. I almost feel like it's a race. To see who can finish first or rather who can last the longest.
"You ready to come?" he says into my skin.
"Are you?" I respond with a mouth full of him.
"Keep sassing me, and I'm getting the rope."
"Get it,” I challenge.
“Hey, I just got a text. Something's up with the little hobbit. I'm going to need to head over to Penn Hospital in a few,” Cutter says as we lay post coital in the bed.
"Is Jade ok?"
“The text didn’t sound like he was about to choke anyone, so it can't be all that bad. We're probably just going to have the meeting at the hospital instead of the restaurant. He's definitely not going to set one foot outside of the hospital until that woman is back in tip top condition."
True.
"You want eggs or a bagel with your bacon?"
"Eggs and make my bacon crispy."
"Okay, bossy, I know how you like your bacon."
"I know you do, but I'm just making sure."
"Stop topping from the bottom, Sloan."
"What are you my mast
er now?"
"In all things and in every way. Don't ever forget it, darlin’.”
I laugh although he's definitely right about one thing. Cutter King is the master of my body. He literally made me feel like I was floating outside of it this morning. I should try taking charge in bed more often. It drives him nuts. He always has to "punish" me afterwards, yet somehow it always feels like a reward.
"So I'd like to us to set an August date."
Cutter lays the last slice of bacon in the frying pan then turns towards me in disbelief.
"August?"
"For the wedding," I say casually.
"To me?”
“Cutter.”
"Is this about your father? You think he's going to jail, so you’re in a hurry to get down the aisle?”
"What? No.“
"You haven't brought up his situation to me since you found out about it. That tells me something, Sloan. You’re not dealing with it well. You’re pretending like it’s all going to magically work out. Like your not worried when I know that you have to be.”
“There's nothing to talk about. My father has a gang of well paid lawyers and the truth on his side. He'll get himself out of this mess. I'm sure this won't even be an issue in another week or so."
"You're sure that you’re ok?”
"Me wanting to get married in August has nothing to do with his case and everything to do with the fact that I just pulled my head out of my ass.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m engaged to the only man on this earth who I trust with my life. A man who never makes a stupid decision (well at least most of the time). The one man who has my back. The only man I love or will ever love. "
I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.
"Marry me, Cutter."
He bends over. Hanging his head low by my ear.
"In August?" he whispers.
"Whenever you want, my liege." I rub my hands over his freshly shorn head. A sound emits from his chest similar to the purring of a cat. "Just tell me when and where, and I'll be there."
Promised to a King Page 6
