“So what are you doing here this morning, Marcus?” I questioned, struggling to keep my voice even, smooth. My chest was heaving under his thick, hard stare, knowing he was working hard to refrain from touching me. I couldn’t tell you how badly I wished his restraint would fail.
“I wanted to see you,” he answered without hesitation. “Like I said, I missed you most of the week. Is everything okay?”
I gulped. Did he really want to know if things were okay? Because god knew they weren’t. Things were far from okay, in fact. Everything was a mess between River’s medical issues and Reed having some problems at school. Between my two damn jobs and the Sweets offering the fucking worst health insurance plan on the planet. Sometimes I wondered if I’d be better off not even working and trying to get government assistance. But no, I had to prove something. I had to prove that a single mom could do shit herself. That she didn’t need a man to take care of her.
And I was proving that, right? I was sitting on a fucking throne, after all. What more could I want? I was torn between feeling ungrateful for what I had achieved and wanting more, more, more.
“Jolie?” When he said my name, he gripped my hand in his, and there was true concern etched into just those two short syllables. I noticed he said it like a French speaker would, with a “jzho” at the beginning. It was the way my mother pronounced it. Most other people I knew said it with a regular “J” sound, like “Joe-lie.” The way it came off Marcus’s lips made it sound like the most beautiful word in the universe.
“I’m sorry.” I glanced back up from my hand in his to his eyes. “I just have a lot going on. My makeup artist is going to be here any minute to finish me up.”
“Right.” He squeezed my hand again. “I just...wanted to spend a little time with you.”
He was the sweetest guy. No wonder I was feeling butterflies. It wasn’t just because of his ridiculous skills, but because of that deep, soft voice, that look in his eyes...that look that almost asked if he could take care of me.
Like I needed taking care of!
I straightened up, feeling the boning in my corset dig in as I filled my lungs with all the air they could hold. “Maybe we can catch up later?”
His fingertips grazed across the thick velvet fabric of my dress before his hands flew to my waist. Next thing I knew, he was pulling me onto his lap, the material of my dress swallowing up his thighs until I was solidly perched upon him. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, just used his finger to tilt my chin toward his before claiming my lips with his own. He hungrily sucked my bottom lip between his teeth before his tongue delved into my mouth, parting my lips in conquest. I felt myself swoon in his embrace, and when I caught myself, tried to straighten back up, his grip around my waist only tightened, forcing me to succumb to his advances.
The problem was, succumbing was all I wanted to do. I couldn’t fight him off. Yes, I could have pushed him off physically; that wasn’t the issue. I simply could not will myself to do so. His draw was too powerful, his lips too entrancing.
The knock came loudly on the door, almost a pounding, and my heart leapt in my chest, taking off at a gallop as though it might just burst right through my ribs and corset. “Oh, shit. You’ve gotta go.”
I jumped off his lap, amused by how disoriented he was, like he was still lost in the moment of kissing me. It took him several seconds to recover before he stood up, and there was no way he could hide his extremely visible erection making a huge tent in his khaki pants. He pulled his uniform polo out of his back pocket, where apparently the tail of it had been tucked. I hadn’t even noticed; I was too busy staring at his bare arms.
He smirked as he pulled it over his head, and fortunately it was long enough to cover up his arousal. The pounding at the door came again, followed by my assistant yelling, “Jolie? Jolie, you in there?”
“She walked in on me naked once, and now, even though she has a key, she always makes sure I’m dressed first.” As soon as I said it, I realized how frightening it made my naked body seem. And reminded me that this thing with Marcus could never go past secret trysts in my dressing room.
He just laughed, like he didn’t believe a word I was saying. “Can I come back after our shift? Please? I want to do that thing again—”
My eyebrows arched. “‘That thing?’”
“What I did the first time I was in here...” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t quite get the words out.
Wasn’t that adorable? He couldn’t just say he wanted to go down on me.
I should say no. I should say hell no. I didn’t have a session after work, but I did need to get home to get River packed up for the hospital. My mother was taking him in the morning.
“I really can’t, Marcus...”
“Just fifteen minutes,” he pleaded. “Just give me fifteen minutes, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
I couldn’t prevent a smile from lifting the corners of my mouth, but I added an eyeroll as my sole defense. “Alright, fine. But fifteen minutes tops.”
He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “I’ll see you at five, then.”
I knew I had some intel to gather before meeting Jolie back in her dressing room at five, but Colleen was getting suspicious of all my bathroom breaks.
“So, are you a smoker or something?” she asked, her head tilted like she was trying to figure me out.
“What? No,” I fired back, not able to hide my offense.
“IBS?” she guessed again.
“Huh?” I stared at her, no idea what she was talking about.
“Irritable Bowel Syndrome,” she enunciated in a whisper.
“Eww, no.” Though, now that I thought about it, going along with that would probably garner me a free hall pass for the rest of the summer. I could just say my bowels were on fire and in danger of erupting. Like Mount Vesuvius or something. But no, I didn’t want to go there.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re disappearing every few minutes, Marcus. Can you help me out here?” Her brown eyes were wide with a mixture of concern and frustration.
“Sorry, I’ve just been trying to find out more about this meeting happening next week. Everyone’s been so hush-hush. I’m trying to assimilate and infiltrate the Sweetopia culture, and you’re all shutting me down at every turn.” I crossed my hands over my chest as though I was really flummoxed about the whole thing. Maybe I could trigger her empathy switch?
“Why do you want to do that?” she pushed, and I felt the strong possibility of another anti-Sweetopia rant bubbling to the surface.
“I know you said this is a shitty—ahem, I mean, ‘bad’ place to work—” I glanced around to see if any children or, even worse, mothers heard my curse word. Fortunately, the bakery was rather empty. It was our post-lunch slump. Things would pick up again in another hour or so as kids burned off their lunches and needed more sugar to jack up their energy levels.
“I didn’t say that exactly, Marcus.” Her jaw clenched a bit tighter with each word. “I said that the Sweets have some morale issues, and it’s mostly because Corden Sweet is up there in his gold-plated office counting his billions while many of his workers struggle to pay their bills and feed their families.”
“But you do okay as a manager, right?” I pushed back. “It’s my understanding that most of the employees here are either retirees or students. Their incomes are subsidized by social security or by their parents. They don’t have families to feed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Marcus, you may be a student, and you may still be sucking at your parents’ teats, but look around. Take off the rose-colored glasses. There are plenty of park employees with families. What about your friend Jolie, for example?”
I froze. I hadn’t ever asked her about her family situation.
Taking in my bewildered expression, my boss looked like she was on the verge of having a laughing fit at my expense. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you’re sweet on her; don�
�t even try to deny it. The way you look at her when she comes in here in the morning doesn’t hide a thing.”
Okay, whatever, so she knows I have a thing for Jolie. It’s a free country.
“So, what about Jolie?” I tried to downplay the crush she was accusing me of.
“She’s a single mom,” Colleen explained in a tone that made it clear she thought I should have already known.
“Really?” That was the only word I could muster. I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. She never mentioned having a child to me...then again, I didn’t exactly ask.
“Hey, Colleen, is the coffee fresh?” came a familiar voice from the bakery entrance. It was Buster from the arcade. He was carrying an aluminum coffee mug with a hot pink Sweetopia logo, the kind of mug we offered for discounted refills. “I come seeking a caffeine hit.” He fluttered his eyelashes at her and set the mug on the counter.
“I can get it,” I offered. I needed to stay on his good side, even if it meant enduring his relentless flirting, though I didn’t think he was nearly as bad as Ellie in the gift shop.
I turned around to fill up the mug, and Colleen picked up our conversation right where we’d left off, apparently inviting Buster to weigh in. “So, Mr. Young here doesn’t think Sweetopia employees have it that bad when it comes to compensation and benefits,” she filled him in, “because he doesn’t think we’re supporting families.”
“Is that so?” Buster’s voice rose a whole octave while he waited, bouncing on one foot and then the other, for his afternoon hit.
“I just said that most of the park’s employees are either dependents of their parents or they collect social security.” It was no secret that the geriatric demographic was well represented among the staff. Employing so many senior citizens was actually something my parents prided themselves upon. Hell, they were getting pretty far up there in age themselves. No wonder they felt an obligation to help seniors out.
“That’s bullshit,” Buster didn’t mince words. “There are a lot of young parents here. Even I have a daughter.”
My eyes bugged out before I could stop them. “Really?” I exclaimed for the second time that day. How could Buster and Jolie both be...parents? The concept was so foreign to me.
Buster nodded. “Yup. Didn’t you ever read And Tango Makes Three when you were growing up?” He laughed and flicked his wrist in the air flamboyantly. “Of course, her father and I are now divorced—we have joint custody—but that makes me a single dad.” He struck a dramatic pose. “A devastatingly handsome gay single dad.”
“See?” Colleen whipped around with an artfully decorated dragon cookie sealed in a clear plastic bag that she handed to Buster. He in turn presented her with a sparkling grin and a deep, appreciative bow.
I wanted to tell them that I’d seen the staff demographics. I’d seen how much my parents spent on the payroll and on health insurance and other benefits. It was a shit ton of money. But, naturally, I couldn’t divulge any of that in my undercover role.
I was suddenly tired of debating all of this labor bullshit. I just wanted five o’clock to get here so I could go fuck Jolie. Forget this fucking undercover assignment. My parents should have sent one of my brothers. I was not the right person for the job. Clearly. All I could think about was getting laid.
“There’s also someone on staff who has a terminally ill kid,” Buster continued, wrangling my attention away from the fantasy it was creating starring one exquisite Red Velvet Queen. I was undoing the clasps on her corset and—
“Shhh,” Colleen warned, shooting Buster a glare. “I know the person you’re speaking of, and that person would want his or her privacy respected, you know?”
“It’s going to come out soon enough.” Buster ignored my boss’s admonishment. “The employee in question is having a hard time paying for medical treatment for their sick kid, and they’ve been in contact with the local media. A story is going to break really soon, not long after the meeting.”
My ears perked up. Oh, the meeting. This conversation may be fruitful, after all. “So, why not just let me come to the meeting, and I can see for myself how bad the situation is?”
“The meeting is for full-time Sweetopia employees,” Buster reminded me. “Not temps.”
I shot Colleen a look that wasn’t too far off from Buster’s cajoling caffeine plea from mere moments ago.
“I still don’t know why you’re so keen on getting a full-time position here,” she said with a sigh. “I mean, you didn’t even know how to use a mop two weeks ago. And now all the sudden you like manual labor?”
“I feel like I have what it takes for advancement.” I flashed her my trademark smile and adjusted my glasses on my face. Yup, I was going to advance right into the corporate offices after this little undercover mission, with an office right between Clem and Carson’s. “Plus, I want to stay in the States. As long as I’m working, I should be able to stay here...”
“What, you think you’re going to marry The Red Velvet Queen, get your Green Card and ride off into the sunset?” Colleen asked with a chuckle. Buster clearly saw the amusement too and burst into raucous laughter. “You really do belong in a fairytale theme park!”
“Just let me come to the meeting,” I brought the conversation full circle. “If this place sucks that bad, then fine. I don’t know why you’re so adamant I not work here...”
“We’re just trying to save you from a lifetime of misery,” Buster retorted, then glanced over at Colleen for confirmation. She hung her head a bit and nodded. All her earlier mirth had vanished.
“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.” Geez, my parents weren’t going to be too happy to hear about this discussion.
“Let me check with a few people,” Colleen said, her eyes traveling to the entrance of the bakery, where a family was headed inside as soon as they figured out how to maneuver their double stroller through the door. “If they say it’s okay, I’ll give you the location.”
My smile brightened. I was finally getting somewhere.
Eight
“Hello, beautiful!” I tapped on the edge of her dressing room door before letting myself inside. Jolie had collapsed in the dark green wingback chair in the corner of the room, her face buried in her hands. A mess of black curls covered her like a veil. The contrast of her red velvet dress and the green chair made her look like she was posing for a Christmas card.
“What’s wrong?” I headed in her direction, noting how my heart took a swift dive toward the bottom of my gut when I saw her frazzled appearance.
She glanced up at me, her usually glittering eyes looking dull, tired. “Sorry, I forgot you were coming.” She straightened herself in the chair and appeared to force a smile. It wasn’t the kind that made her eyes crinkle that I was used to seeing. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
I shook my head as I stopped directly in front of her chair. “No, forget that. What is wrong, Jolie? Why don’t you change out of your costume?”
She echoed my head shake. “The Sweets insist I stay in full costume any time I’m in the park. They don’t want anyone to accidentally see me partially in or out of costume. So I have to get dressed and put on my wig at home. I do most of my makeup there, and then the makeup artist finishes the rest when I get here—”
“Wig?” That is the only word she spoke that I was able to fixate on. “That’s a wig?”
She squinted at me, her brows almost meeting as she let out a huff and ran her fingers through her raven curls. “You thought this was real?”
I shrugged. Well, I’d hoped it was. “So what does your real hair look like?”
She stood and crossed to the other side of the room, putting her curvy backside on display. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was wringing her hands in front of her. I was getting such a stressful vibe from her that it was beginning to put me on edge too. I wasn’t used to people’s emotions bleeding over onto my own. Normally I didn’t give a single fuck how other people felt as long as they weren�
��t interfering with me. But the distress radiating off her was leaving me with a sick feeling deep in my gut, a new and entirely unwelcome sensation.
All I could think was that I truly wanted to help her.
But I didn’t know how to go about it. Wanting to help anyone was a totally new thing for me. I was a virgin when it came to helping people.
“Jolie?” I pressed. “Talk to me, please?”
Please? I didn’t beg people to talk to me, especially not women. What the hell was going on with me? It was like an alien from Planet Give a Fuck had taken over my mouth, my brain. Totally unacceptable.
When she turned around, she wore a muddled expression on her face. It looked like a mixture of regret and disappointment.
“I can’t do this, Marcus,” she said, her voice low and even. “I’m just not the person you think I am—”
“Because that’s not your real hair?” I laughed as I reached out for her hand. She backed away, folding her arms across her chest, but she couldn’t cover the ample cleavage spilling out the top of her corset. Truth be told, I was less interested in that than how I could make her smile again.
What the actual fuck? I, Cy Sweet, was more interested in a woman’s smile than her tits? This was a fucking momentous occasion right here. Like Neil Armstrong walking on the moon or, you know, the alien usurping my brain theory I shared moments ago. Either way, there was some serious space shit going down right now.
“I’m not really The Red Velvet Queen, you know,” she revealed with the start of a smile, though her tone had a slight patronizing tint to it.
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Uh, duh, I know that, Jolie.”
“You might not like the person I am out of this costume.” She fixed her amethyst gaze on me, testing me.
“You mean the fact that you’re a mom?” Well, I wasn’t planning to let that slip, but now that it was out there, it wasn’t exactly like I could take it back...
Sugar & Spice (Spicetopia Book 1) Page 7
