“You’ve got a point there,” he says thoughtfully. He thinks for a moment as I use tissue from the box on his desk to clean up my thighs, then he snaps his fingers.
Everett walks over to his desk and sits in his chair, then taps a few keys on the computer to bring it to life.
I wrinkle my nose, “You could have at least let me get you a towel before you plunked your ass down.”
“You’ll clean it later,” he replies dismissively.
“I will?”
“Mhm. With your tongue while I fuck you again,” he says with a smirk as he hits the backspace bar on the keyboard a few times and then begins typing again.
I roll my eyes.
Everett loves to make me do degrading things because it helps get him off faster. I’m starting to think that’s what the problem with Calista is—she’s probably way too vanilla for his real tastes, whereas I just want to be his no matter the cost to my body and soul.
I met him a couple of years back when I was on my way to the mall, feeling very grand because Miss Jean had given me a twenty dollar bill for my birthday. I thought I was on top of the world and able to buy anything my heart desired.
Of course, when I tried to take a pile of new clothes to the register and found out I was wrong, Everett swooped in to save the day. He was there alone shopping for Calista but I guess I caught his eyes.
Could have been the tears of embarrassment falling down my face, or it could have been my ass hanging out of the bottom of my too-short-skirt, but that didn’t matter to me.
Especially not when he paid for everything, told me to keep the twenty for a rainy day and have lunch with him in the food court. He told me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and in return, I blew him in his car before we parted ways.
We’ve been fucking each other ever since behind Mrs. G.’s back. But she’s been suspicious of him cheating on her lately, and we had to stop for a while. I busied myself at the shelter trying to take my mind off of him by doing menial things and playing secretary for Miss Jean, hoping that one of the phone calls would miraculously be him—even though he never knew where I lived.
I guess he’s been feeling lonely lately and that’s why he came up with this damn scheme of me babysitting his kids when I ran into him at the mall again. It kind of felt like fate wanted us to be together because when we laid eyes on each other, it felt like it was for the first time all over again, and I knew I couldn’t be without him anymore.
He turned down every potential babysitter that called and urged me to hurry up and get an interview because Calista was losing hope.
And in a way, I guess he was too.
I hate that I had to fool my way into his home, but we played our parts well and now the only thing that’s left is the ever lingering problem of his wife.
Everett finally stops typing and glances over at me. I’m standing on the other side of his desk, crumpled and used tissue in hand, and he tilts his head to the side for a moment.
His eyes travel up and down my body as he takes me in again. He loves my tattoos—hell, he paid for most of them as long as I agreed to let him sit in on the sessions because he didn’t want “some young punk” trying to steal me away from him. He was particularly pissed off about how I got the ones I got before I met him and he wanted to make sure that I’d never have to resort to that again.
“You really are a beautiful girl, Meryska. Maybe one day, you’ll see yourself the way I see you,” he says, his eyes becoming soft.
My body burns crimson from the compliment. “Yeah, well …”
Everett chuckles as he shakes his head, then reaches under his desk for the wastebasket, holding it out toward me.
After I’ve deposited the dirty tissues he places it back beneath his desk and motions for me to come sit on the arm of his chair.
“So, how’s this?” he asks as he slides an arm around my waist and rests the side of his face against me.
I lean in slightly and start reading.
Female. Thirty years old. Decent looking, already trained. Fertile, three thousand dollars or best offer.
“You’re going to sell her?” I ask him curiously.
Everett laughs and shakes his head, “How else do you think I make money?”
“But the kids—what will they say when she never comes back?” I press cautiously.
He gives my side a gentle slap, “Up.”
I get to my feet and lean against the desk while he begins typing again. As I wait for him to show me his next grand idea, I inspect my dark, red nails and sigh. He’s right—this color does make me look like a damn whore.
“Alright, I think that does it,” he finally says as he reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap.
I raise an eyebrow as I begin to read his new listing.
Female, ten years old. Male, eight years old. Dimwitted, barely able to earn their keep, spends most of their time playing board games and complaining. Unable to care for, willing to trade for a better set.
“They aren’t ours anymore, Meryska. We’ll find a pair of children that will compliment our new little family and this way, we won’t have to answer any of their questions,” he tells me as he kisses my arm.
I shake my head.
Well, he definitely knows how to handle things, I think with a chuckle as I give the top of his head a gentle kiss in appreciation and approval.
A man that’s willing to restart his entire life over to be with the woman he really wants is someone worth holding onto.
After Everett posted the listings to the Devil’s Candy website, I went about cleaning up the house.
Once everything was nice and neat, I went into Anna Leigh and Maynard’s bedrooms and started packing their belongings while they slept.
I know it won’t take long before someone decides to take up Everett on his offer of a trade—especially not after I convinced him to post their pictures to sweeten the temptation.
Whoever gets them will be good to them, because like he said, they’re simple and are happiest playing in Candy Land and ignoring the world around them.
We’ll get the perfect children that will suit us just fine until I can give him some of his very own.
Everything we deserve will happen in due time because we’re smarter than everyone around us, we love each other, and nothing can stop us from being together now that there’s no one left to try.
About Yolanda Olson
Yolanda Olson is USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.
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More Books by Yolanda
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Blurb
I lie to everyone my entire life.
Hiding.
Lonely.
Loveless.
Then he came along.
The light to reveal me, casting my shadows away.
The partner to be here for me, who never allows me to be lonely again.
The man to prove I'm worthy, promising to show me I'm not loveless after all.
My little prince.
My savior.
My happy ending.
Mine.
Chapter One
TEXAS
We all stumble at some point.
That’s not a dance reference but a life one.
Whether you’re rich, somewhere in-between, or like me—dirt poor and homeless—we all experience a low. It may be really shallow and pure squalor, even less than the bottom of the barrel, or just a setback that makes your life temporary feel unstable. Either way, we all stumble, mi
sstep, or trip at some point.
That’s exactly what has happened to me.
My dad, Bert Silver, a hard-ass for all intents and purposes, is an ex-Navy Commander. He lived his life serving his country and met Mom when he was stationed at Everett. They fell madly in love, but I never experienced that side of him. Not that memories trigger, at least.
Mom died when I was five. Cholangiocarcinoma. A cancer that kills you swiftly from the inside of your liver, swallowing your life wholly.
My mom was our middle ground. She loved me endlessly and made sure I’d never felt alone or helpless. Dad only loved me because she did. Since forever, my dad and I butted heads. I like color. He likes formation. Music is my addiction. Reading the Washington Post is his. Flavor is a necessity, but steak and potatoes could be his singular palette for life. One is up, while the other is down. We never see eye-to-eye, but I did the best I could. The problem is, my best and his best are opposites of one another. Mine is sub-par to his idea of exceptional, which means I’ll never make him truly happy.
I’ve known since I was fifteen that I’m into guys. It was also the first time I tried and failed to sleep with a girl. She understood and believed me when I lied about drinking too much. Patty Sinclair, the first and only girl to ever kiss and touch me. Luckily for me, we went to different schools, and I never saw her again, but I will always remember her name, the eyes that seemed to know it all, and the smile she left with.
It wasn’t until today, when I’m twenty-one years of age, that I finally got caught with my pants down.
Literally.
I’d been jerking it to porn on my cell. Nothing abnormal. It’s all I can do being in a small-as-fuck town with as many gay people as there are gas stations. Five. That’s a total of five. There’s no one I could spend time with that won’t get back to my dad somehow. I live at home while going to Valley West University. Living with Dad is all I can afford, and he allows it, claims it’s the only way I won’t be a sad excuse to his name, especially since I didn’t go into the Navy. He wants me to be a huge businessman, while I want to be happy. That’s right… happy. Doesn’t seem so taboo, does it? Well, it is. Happy means being open about my attraction to dicks. In Valley West, dicks are only allowed to be inside pussies. Guess happiness won’t happen after all.
The guy on the screen pounds into another lither one. They’re both athletic and built, just how I like them, but the bottom is smaller like me. There’s something addicting about muscles, wide shoulders, and the sheer voracity of how a man can pound into another’s ass like it’s their last shag. My hand grips my shaft greedily, wishing to be the man taking it, being pushed into like no one else could possibly get the top off like me. Right as I’m about to bust a nut, my dad comes in. I’m so lost in the moment that it takes me a huge breath to grasp the fucking situation I’ve gotten myself into.
The horror on his face only lasts a second before he witnesses the two dudes fucking on my screen. Perfect timing too, the top exclaims, “That’s right, you little cumslut. Take my seed.”
“What the fuck?” Dad’s voice booms, and I’ve finally gathered my wits to pull up my boxers. “You’re a fucking faggot!”
My whole body heats in shame and fear. That vein in his forehead I rarely see pops and pulses along with my raging heart rate, and I’m scared shitless.
“Dad—”
“Don’t. Just get your shit and leave, Texas. Queers aren’t welcome here.”
It comes out softer than I expected, almost too calm with a touch of disappointment. He slams the bathroom door as he leaves, and I clean up, shut down my porn app, and get my grab bag.
When you live in a home with a military man, you always have a go-bag. It’s something that holds essentials. Passport. ID. Clothes. First Aid kit. Dad was huge into planning for the end of the world. He even has an underground bunker in the Sevier Mountains a half hour east of our home. It’s just in case.
I grab the picture of my mom and me as a kid, my bottle cap collection from friends that went around the world while I stayed in this Podunk town, and my bag. It takes me five seconds to breathe and to text Prim, my best friend.
Who is a girl.
Who doesn’t know I’m gay.
She’s my escape. Her fruity-colored hair and passionate vegetarianism brings me peace. I’m a carnivore, but she’s practically a rabbit. Somehow, it works.
Dad kicked me out. Meet at Grounders? It’s not our normal day to meet, but she’ll keep me from having a full mental breakdown.
Grounders is our favorite coffee shop in the center of town. It’s small, family-owned, and makes the best coffee. She’s more of a tea girl, but luckily, they serve both.
I leave before my dad can come back inside and decide to beat some straightness into me. I’ve seen it happen on the shows he watches. It wouldn’t be a surprise if that ends up being the route he takes. If you witness the way he talks about gay people, you would be disgusted.
I’ve given him excuses over the years because he’s my dad. No more.
Sure thing, jelly bean. See you in ten.
Her text has me smiling. She never second-guesses me, just goes with the flow no matter how hard it may be for her.
I grab my car keys from the dangling wood plaque Mom made and rush outside. Dad can’t keep my car. It’s my only home from now on until I can get a job. Plus he didn’t pay for it. Why I haven’t had a job since high school was my first mistake. Dad told me to focus on school, and I didn’t realize I wouldn’t have anything to keep me afloat if he decided to finally disown me. Poor planning on my part.
Staring at the text message, I think of Prim. Primrose Loveless. We met at Grounders one day. Her hair back then had been a bright blue, almost still blonde but not, a glowing soft turquoise shade that made her seem angelic.
I would find out later, she was, in fact, an angel.
“Earl Gray with a dash of honey, whip cream, and sprinkles!” the barista yells out the finished order.
From around the aisle, a dainty little woman hops to the counter—literally skips—for her disgusting-sounding concoction. As the lady said, there is, in fact, whip cream and sprinkles. Even from several feet away, the rainbow diabetes drink is visible. My dark heart bleeds a little here for the unicorn in front of me. She has these piggy tail buns on her head, and there are stray hairs curled to make her seem even more charming. She’s vivacious, full of life, the exact opposite of my dark self.
She’s wearing white skinny jeans because she’s insane with rips up and down the legs, bright blue leggings underneath them, and a soft pink crop top that’s a little too baggy for her small frame. It hangs off the shoulder a little, and there’s a small tattoo there. Meow. It says meow.
It takes everything not to chuckle at her, but a slight one slips out anyhow, and her eyes collide with mine. They’re an orange-y color, almost feline. She offers me a raised eyebrow, and I smile.
I have no room to talk with my pitch-black outfit, gauged ears, seafoam green hair, lip piercing, and tattooed arms.
If not for already being called a delinquent waste of space by my dad, my ink would definitely garner the same reaction from him. It’s why I didn’t second-guess every line, inch, or image on my body. Not even the piercings.
After I order my shotgun coffee, which wasn’t something I chose for flavor, I find myself watching her from afar. Our eyes constantly meet in silent conversation. What would it be like to be that bright and comfortable with myself?
To be free and unbothered.
To live simply for the sake of living…
We became friends that day and spend every Wednesday getting drinks to talk about nothing. It’s almost meaningless conversation. It’s telling a stranger why you want to die or finding peace in another human because they just listen.
She’s my human.
I listen.
She talks.
We live.
Even if it’s not romantic, it’s peaceful. It’s platonic and safe,
and she doesn’t ask for anything in return but my ears and Wednesday afternoons.
The small distance drive to Grounders goes by quickly, and as soon as my car rounds the corner, her Tesla is already visible. Yes, a fucking Tesla. It stands out like a sore thumb, making it the most noticeable vehicle in town.
Prim is environmentally aware, so no gas guzzler for her. She definitely teases me from time to time for my 2005 Nissan Altima. It’s not the worst carbon footprint offender, but it isn’t as green as she is.
Oh, and she’s a vegetarian. Go meatless! Inside joke. Sorry.
After parking, I lock my entire life in my car and head to the front.
“Tex!” Prim’s exhaustingly exuberant voice beams from outside the door. Her pink cotton candy hair is down today, flowing in loose waves to her midback. In the few years we’ve known each other, she’s refused to cut it.
Today, she’s sporting shorts and a crop top. In this miserable foggy weather? No thanks. I’ll stick with my black hoodie, black jeans, and combat boots. Her clothes are as bright as her, though, and it never ceases to make me smile.
The pain from earlier is the last thing on my mind as she brings me in for a hug. She’s not fazed about my random invite at all. It’s such a different response than all my other friends, none of which are in Washington anymore. The difference between Prim and them is astronomical. She’s colorful, and they’re dull. It’s a perfect contrast. Everyone needs a little brightness to challenge their dark.
“I missed you,” she hums into my chest.
Her arms tighten around me, begging for me to return the hug. I’m not much for embraces or touching. Any human contact is a restriction, a straitjacket to my soul, something that brings awareness and pain. It’s why affection makes me uncomfortable.
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