Boys and Toys

by Cara Lockwood

  Liv handed the cabbie the fare, and then got out of the cab, nearly forgetting her black suitcase, which the driver wheeled after her.

  The suitcase!

  She glanced at it in horror. Nothing like walking into her parents’ house with proof their daughter is a liar and a hopeless sexual deviant! It hadn’t occurred to her what she’d do with the luggage once she got here. She had been just so concerned about getting here.

  Okay, think.

  If her mother saw it, she’d assume Liv was staying the night, which wouldn’t be the end of the world, except that she absolutely could not stay the night. She had a million things to do. Not to mention, the last thing she wanted was this suitcase sitting in her parents’ house, just waiting to be found out. She glanced hurriedly around the outside of the house for a safe place to tuck the massive thing. Shrubs? Too brambly. Potted plant by the front door?

  What if a relative came by and found it? Or a neighbor? She couldn’t risk just leaving it in the open. Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as the cab drove off, leaving her hesitating on the sidewalk. She saw her father’s garage, where he parked his Acura, and ran to tuck it away in there, back behind some old boxes of paint Dad had stashed near his workbench. It wasn’t obviously visible on quick glance, but she couldn’t forget it, she told herself. No matter what.

  Suitcase, suitcase, suitcase, she chanted to herself as she walked to the front door to ring the bell. She tucked her small cross-body bag back near her hip and held her breath.

  Her mother, Lian Lin Tanaka, swung open the door instantly. She looked as pristinely put together as ever: her bobbed, shoulder-length black hair tinged with the hint of gray was curled meticulously under, her pearl earrings and necklace in place. She hardly ever went anywhere without them. She wore one of her favorite ensembles: a black sweater set and plaid wool skirt, with a silk scarf around her neck for color. Only her mother would dress up for a barbeque. She gave Liv a swift glance and frowned.

  “Ai-yah.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disapproval as she whipped her burgundy silk scarf from around her neck and tucked it around Liv’s. “You can’t be showing so much skin, Olivia, my goodness.” Lian tied the scarf expertly as Liv stood still and didn’t bother to protest. Resistance was futile. At least she was wearing flats and no makeup. Lian squeezed Liv’s cheeks to inject some color.

  “Ow, Mom.”

  “A little color—the way nature intended. There...” Lian frowned at Liv’s head, sweeping an errant hair back into place. “Now you look presentable.”

  Liv wondered what her mom would do if she admitted she’d just lost a pair of underwear at a man’s house. She’d flip, Liv thought.

  Lian stepped backward into the entry hall, letting Liv pass. There was no hugging. Lian wasn’t a hugger. Open affection was saved only for the most dire of occasions: high fever, near—fatal car accidents and the like. Otherwise, Lian thought it was a bit of a sign of weakness, like other “tiger moms” of her generation.

  “Your father is barbecuing, and lunch is ready. Where have you been?”

  Liv thought about waking up naked in Porter’s bed and nearly blushed, giving herself away. She glanced away from her mother just in time. “Traffic was bad—I told you. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “Well, go on and say hello to your uncle. He’s been asking about you.”

  Liv scoured the room, full of cousins and some of her aunts from the burbs. The side table was full of delicious eats, as much Asian fusion as her own family was. She saw a plate of homemade sushi, some freshly rolled pot stickers, egg rolls and a bowl of Japanese rice crackers, among other mouthwatering snacks. Her stomach growled in protest. She realized she was famished. She hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before and she’d had a little bit of exercise since then. More than she was used to, if she was honest. She tried to make a sneak snack attack, but Uncle Robert saw her before she made it to the table.

  “Olivia, Olivia!” he sang, as he folded her into a big hug. The Tanaka side of the family didn’t mind bone-crushing, shirt-wrinkling hugs. Uncle Robert was a big bear of a man, with a great, cheerful face like the happy Buddha. He was always the uncle who’d tickled her mercilessly as a kid, who’d teased her with all kinds of endless, impossible dares like bet you can’t hold your breath for ten minutes.

  “Sorry I’m late...” she said into his shirtfront.

  “No apologies necessary, my favorite niece.” He released her and grinned. “Your dad tells me you’re the big marketing maven, now?”

  “Uh...that’s right...I guess.” Liv shrugged, tucking strands of hair behind her ear as she avoided eye contact. She didn’t like lying to her parents, but she really hated lying to Uncle Robert. He’d never been as uptight as her dad, always playing the part of the cool, younger uncle. If she fessed up, she somehow thought he’d probably understand. But she couldn’t risk it, not when he might feel obligated to tell her parents. So she had to keep up the pretense. “I’m just happy to have a job,” she said, and that much was true.

  “Your dad couldn’t be prouder, you know. Bet you’ll be CEO some day. You’ll make more than all of us!”

  Liv wriggled, uncomfortable with the praise, especially since she knew he wouldn’t be so proud if he ever found out the truth. Just then, Liv’s father bounced in through the sliding glass patio back doors, wearing a tomato-red apron and matching oven mitts, carrying a plate of grilled teriyaki beef kabobs on metal skewers.

  “Liv! Come here and give your old man a hand.” Her dad nodded to the side table, which was already full of edibles. He had no place to put the platter. Liv went to help, picking up bowls of snacks and moving them to the nearby coffee table. Dad plopped the tray down. “I’ve got more on the grill. Come outside with me.”

  It wasn’t a request so much as a demand. Liv followed her dad to the back deck, complete with railing and stairs that led to a decent-size lawn. The cool autumn breeze felt good on her face. It wasn’t too cold yet to be outside, but the turning leaves in the yard told her winter was coming soon. A couple of cousins were drinking Cokes and sitting on patio furniture not too far away. There was no beer or wine in the house. Neither of her parents drank and didn’t see why anyone else should, either.

  “So, how’s the job?” Dad was all business at the moment, as he opened the grill and carefully turned over sizzling kabobs with metal tongs.

  “Good.” Liv’s stomach rumbled. If she was going to get an interrogation, she really needed some food. She spotted a cooler with Cokes nearby and grabbed one. Corn syrup was better than nothing. A cool wind rustled the amber leaves in the trees nearby, even as a few fluttered to the grass below.

  “You sure everything is all right there?” Dad stopped focusing on the meat and stared at Liv, his face unreadable as usual. Dad had the best poker face on the planet. She could never tell what he was thinking. He had the kind of unnerving stare that made her want to confess to things she didn’t even do. His cool, unnerving calm was legendary: boys used to not want to come by her house for that very reason.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Liv felt her heart rate double, even as cold sweat popped up on her lower back. Did he know? Had Porter speed-dialed him after she left? Liv swallowed a swig of Coke, so she could keep her hands busy.

  “Big firms often take advantage of young workers,” her dad said, shrugging, as he rolled over another kabob on the grill. Liv instantly felt relief: he hadn’t been fishing for a confession after all. Of course Porter wouldn’t tell. Surely he’d know that would put an abrupt end to their sleeping together.

  He grabbed a bowl full of sticky brown teriyaki sauce and painted it on the meat with a big brush. Some of it dribbled on the white-hot coals, sending up a burst of sweet-smelling smoke. Liv inhaled and it only made her more ravenous.

  “I’m fine, Dad, really.”

&
nbsp; “Are they compensating you for overtime? Have they given you credit for the work you’ve done so far?”

  The last thing Liv wanted to do was get into specifics. “I’m fine, Dad. Really.”

  He slung some more barbecue on a platter. “Well, you let me know if you’re not. I’m not afraid to write a letter.”

  Liv sighed. She appreciated the concern, but at the same time it hadn’t been easy having a Dad who was an expert at writing sternly worded legalese letters on imposing law firm letterhead. It’s how she got reinstated into summer camp the one year they tried to send her home for refusing to paddle in a canoe. Annoying Charlie Jenner had threatened to capsize the boat, which was why she wasn’t going to get in.

  “It’s not necessary, Dad.” Liv tried to help with the platter, even as she tried to fight the urge to grab a hot skewer and dig in. Her stomach growled relentlessly. Inside her small cross-body bag, her phone dinged, announcing an incoming message. She dug it out of her purse and saw a text from Porter:

  Hey, sexy.

  Liv’s cheeks burned crimson. She was standing next to her dad. She wanted to drop the phone straight back into her purse, but while she was holding it, one more message came in:

  You are so incredibly gorgeous. The hottest, best sex I’ve had, maybe ever. I have to see you again.

  “Who’s that?” her dad asked, glancing up. In a panic, Liv folded the phone to her chest, a reflexive act since high school.

  “No one,” she said, her voice sounded a bit stressed. “Just...uh...Jordan.”

  “She should have come,” her dad said, suddenly being magnanimous. “Tell her to come if she wants to.”

  “Okay.”

  Her phone dinged again with another message from Porter:

  Wish you were in my bed right now.

  Liv felt her whole body flush, from her cheeks all the way down her spine. She could not believe he was all but sexting her and she was standing next to her dad. She took a cautionary step away from the grill, even as she felt a little rush of naughtiness. Quickly, she texted back: Who said our best sex was in the bed?

  Porter’s message zinged instantly to her screen: Ha! You’re right. There were so many places. The couch...the stairs...the shower.

  “Is Jordan coming?” her dad asked, nodding at the phone.

  “Jordan?” Liv echoed, and then quickly remembered her lie. “Oh, uh, looks like she has to work and can’t make it. And, anyway, I thought it was just supposed to be family?”

  Liv sent Porter another message. I don’t think there’s a room we didn’t use.

  Her dad flipped the skewers on the grill and then wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “Mostly family, but we invited some neighbors, and a few people from work are going to stop by.”

  At his words, Liv’s fingers froze and she nearly dropped her phone. She caught it just before it slipped out of her fingers.

  “What people from work?” She glanced anxiously around, as if Porter might jump out of one of her dad’s shrubs.

  “Oh, John and Scott.”

  “The partners, then?” As in, hopefully only the partners.

  “And a few others,” her dad said, being infuriatingly vague. She couldn’t very well ask about Porter, because that would scream suspicion. She pulled up her phone again and asked Porter what he planned to do for the afternoon. Maybe he’d fess up if he was on his way. Then she remembered what he’d said.

  Oh, God. Had he meant...at her dad’s house?

  No, she told herself firmly. She was being crazy and paranoid. Surely he had enough good sense not to show up at her parents’ house mere hours after their little carnal sex toy party. It was just her guilt talking, she told herself, nothing more. Still, she couldn’t help feel uneasy when he didn’t text her back, when he didn’t tell her his afternoon plans.

  A burst of laughter from her cousins drew Liv’s attention for a moment, and then she saw bustling in her mother’s living room as the crowd gathered around the front door. A new guest had arrived. Probably one of her mother’s sisters from the far-flung western burbs, all strip malls and acres of new construction. Still, she stretched, trying to see who it was.

  Her dad slathered on more teriyaki and the grill sizzled. He shut it and then handed Liv a plate full of more skewers.

  “Would you take those inside? I’ve got to watch these for just a few seconds more.” Liv nodded as she put down her can of Coke on the deck railing and took them, heading back toward the sliding glass door. She nudged it open with one hand, her eyes on the mouthwatering kebabs even as she stepped inside. She saw one of her dad’s law partners near the door, and saw her uncle clasping hands with him, introducing himself.

  Liv’s heart thumped, thinking for a split second she saw Porter’s thick dark brown hair in the crowd. But she looked again, and couldn’t see with more cousins in the way.

  The crowd inside naturally parted, and Liv tried her best to move through the guests to the side table, but it was precarious and she was distracted by the commotion by the door. She had one close call with a small cherry tomato that threatened to roll of the end of one skewer. Liv only just caught it with the tip of her finger, when she crashed straight into Porter Benjamin.

  Chapter Seven

  The tray of teriyaki kabobs went flying and spinning, almost in slow motion. Liv watched them in paralyzed horror as they toppled onto Porter’s pristine V-neck sweater, smudging brown sauce down the front, while they others landed gooiest side down on her mother’s expensive Oriental rug.

  “Ai-yee!” cried her mother in horror. “Olivia!”

  All eyes in the room turned to her, and for a second, she felt as if she were an awkward thirteen-year-old again wearing braces and blunt-cut bangs. She wished, as she had then, that her life was a DVR, complete with pause and rewind buttons.

  “Oh...no,” Liv said, as she dove to the floor to retrieve the ruined kabobs. Porter went, too, and they smacked heads, hard.

  “Ow!” they cried in unison, even as her mother bustled over and pulled Liv up.

  “Get Mr. Benjamin cleaned up this instant,” her mother ordered, pointing Liv in the direction of the bungalow’s kitchen. “I’ll clean this up. Ai-yee.” She looked at the ground and made a disappointed tsking sound.

  The last thing she wanted to do was be alone with Porter Benjamin, but then again, maybe it was the only way to convince him he had to leave immediately.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” she managed to hiss, as she hurried him off to the kitchen. She kept her voice low, eyes darting about the room, as if her guilt were a neon sign hanging above her head for all to see.

  “I was invited.” His smile grew bigger, showing off his dimple. He was enjoying this, she thought—watching her squirm. “Besides, I wanted to give you these.” He held up her sexy black lace underwear.

  Liv grabbed it out of the air, eyeing the kitchen door with fear. What if her mom came in and found him giving her underwear? How would she explain that?

  “Where did you find them?” Liv whispered, looking for a place to stash the pair. She had no pockets. And it’s not as if she could just slip them in the tea towel drawer! She wadded them up in her palm.

  “Underneath the couch.” Porter’s lip curled into a sly smile. “Remember what we did on the couch?”

  “Porter...” The wheels in Liv’s mind whirled. He was invited? Which meant, even this morning, he knew exactly where she was headed. “You knew you were coming here and you didn’t bother to mention it to me?”

  Porter shrugged, his dark eyes sparkling with glee. “You were in such a hurry.”

  They’d walked through the swinging doors of the kitchen, and Liv gave Porter a hard punch to the arm. He deserved it, and yet his hard biceps absorbed the blow as though it was nothing. He chuckled, deep in his throat.
“Hey, you ruin my favorite sweater and assault me? That’s not fair.”

  “It’s not ruined.” Liv swung open the stainless steel fridge door and grabbed a bottle of soda water. She dumped some unceremoniously on a white dish towel and started patting him down. It was an expensive sweater, a nice one, and as she patted the stain, she could feel his perfectly hard abs beneath the fabric. She had the sudden urge to rip off the sweater right there, but in the very next second she realized how truly ridiculous that thought was: Porter was at her parents’ house.... And that meant... Trouble.

  She kept her eyes focused on the stain, even as she felt him staring.

  “What?” she demanded. “Why are you staring?”

  “You look beautiful, that’s what.” Liv glanced up, surprised. Porter’s expression was all seriousness, not a bit of teasing in it. “I mean it.... You...look good enough to eat.”

  At his words, Liv had a flashback to his living room, and his very flexible, very talented tongue. She blushed bright pink, even as she felt her belly grow warm from the memory. Porter drew Liv closer, and she could feel his body pressed to hers. Her mother’s kitchen faded to the background almost instantly as she focused on his lips. All she wanted to do was kiss him. Her brain went on autopilot; all rational thought fled. Porter drew closer to her, their noses nearly touching, when all of a sudden, the kitchen door swung open with a bang.

  “Honestly, Liv. I just don’t see how you are so clumsy.” Her mother came bustling in carrying the tray of ruined kabobs and Liv sprang away from Porter, madly swiping at his shirt as if she’d been doing that all along. Liv kept her underwear tightly wrapped in her fist, hoping her mother didn’t see them.

  “Sorry, Mom, I...”

  “Mr. Benjamin, I’m so very sorry,” her mom continued. “Liv, don’t rub the stain in and make it permanent! Blot it. Like this.”