Sweet Success
East Coast Sugar Daddies: Book 2
Austin Bates
Contents
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1. Theo
2. Quinton
3. Theo
4. Quinton
5. Theo
6. Quinton
7. Theo
8. Quinton
9. Theo
10. Quinton
11. Theo
12. Quinton
13. Theo
14. Quinton
15. Theo
16. Quinton
17. Theo
18. Quinton
Epilogue
Book 3 Sneak Peek
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Sweet Success
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1
Theo
“I hate it here!” I shouted. “I hate my life!”
“Theo, please be reasonable,” Dad said. He put his hand to his head, covering his eyes and sounding exhausted. He always sounded exhausted and I hated that, too. This stupid town drained the life out of everyone who lived here. “You’re only 21. You can’t go running off to the city on a whim like this. Especially for this?” He waved the paper he held, the letter that was kind of a huge deal, an astronomical deal, as if it was a bit of junk mail. “You expect this to get you by? That’s just not plausible.”
“Says the man who hasn’t ever taken a risk for anything ever.” I snatched the letter out of Dad’s hand. The paper tore, leaving him holding on to a sliver of corner.
Dad blinked, pain stiffened his features. “That’s not a nice thing to say. I spent my life taking care of you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe for you. But I’m not you!” My voice rose and I was shouting again. “This isn’t enough for me. I want to actually make something of my life.”
“Theo… can’t we at least discuss this? Can’t you apply for a school closer to home?”
“Do you want me to waste this chance?” I demanded. “This is the one chance I have to make something of myself and you want me to ignore it so I can stay in this shitty little town. So I can do what, Dad? Work at the McDonalds until I retire at 65 and maybe make an appearance once every year in a fucking play? Is that what you want me to do after you spent so much time taking care of me?”
I hadn’t been so angry in my entire life. This letter, this scrap of paper, was more than just that. It was a scholarship letter from NYC Dance Arts, an extremely esteemed dance academy. I’d danced my entire life, ever since I was three years old and taking tumble classes. This opportunity was immense and it was going to define my entire future. I knew that, even if I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of future that would be. It didn’t matter. What mattered was I could go out there and hone my skills and make something of myself and my talent.
I hadn’t expected Dad to act like such an ass about it.
“Your one chance?” Dad repeated. “Theo, you’re…”
“Stop!” I tossed my hands in the air. “Stop pretending you know anything about this when you don’t! Dad, most dancers have careers by now. Most dancers are almost done with their careers by now. If I don’t get to this school and finish these classes as soon as possible, I won’t ever get hired. Okay? Do you understand now?”
“I…”
I cut him off. I knew what I had to say next and it was making my heart pound in my chest. My pulse echoed in my ears. Fear and disappointment and excitement swirled together in my stomach, a mixture of hot and cold. “I’m going. I’m going to New York. And you can’t stop me.”
“Theo…”
I walked away from him, storming into my bedroom. A week later, I packed my bags and drove three hours north to the Big Apple, but it didn’t feel like a week, and it didn’t feel like three hours. I blinked and I was there, standing in a cramped, empty apartment on the top floor of a dingy apartment building, with no food, no proper dance clothes, no appliances, nothing.
Somehow, I managed to get a bunch of cheap second-hand items from pawn shops and decked out my little studio apartment until it at least resembled a home. Then, classes started and the days and weeks blew past in a flurry of motion and pain as I worked my ass off to catch up in all the areas in which I was lacking -which was all of them. Some days, I didn’t eat, and I’d have to go in to class and dance for hours, until I saw stars and my legs threatened to give out.
But, I got stronger. A lot stronger. I hadn’t even been here for a month before I was bumped up to the next level of classes, the extra expense of which was covered by my scholarship. The training got harder, more strenuous. My life turned into a pirouette of dance and sleep, a spiral of work and rest.
And then I’d slipped up and it was all coming crashing down around me, my hopes and dreams, which had seemed so close, almost within reach, now nothing more than memories drifting further and further away with each minute that passed.
Because I was pregnant.
And if there was one thing that fucked up a dancer’s life more than getting old, it was getting fat and slow.
I sat on my bed in the early hours of the morning, dawn light filtering in so strongly through the window that I didn’t even need to turn on a lamp to see what I was doing. Lucky for me, since I desperately needed to cut expenses somewhere and a lower electricity bill wouldn’t hurt any.
Normally, the view from my apartment was the one bonus to living in this shitty place. Watching the cars and people go by on the street so far below was better than any TV show. Almost, anyway. I missed TV a lot, but didn’t have the budget to even get one of the old box systems. The sunlight woke me naturally without need for an alarm clock, ensuring I never came late to a class, and the soft chirps of birds nesting on the roof and under the eaves lulled me to sleep each night. Any spare time I had, I spent in front of that window with a cup of coffee or tea.
I couldn’t enjoy the view today. My sparse spare time was about to get even sparser, maybe disappear altogether, and the pressure kept me from relaxing. The next eight months suddenly seemed like nothing, like eight minutes, a dark shadow looming at my back, ready to snatch me into its embrace with cruel, hooked claws.
I was thinking about it too much. My breath started to come faster, rushing in and out of my lungs. The stars I saw so often sparkled in front of my eyes, the colors nauseating and strange.
Gasping, I leaned over and shut my eyes tightly, but the colors still pulsed behind my eyelids. I couldn’t hear anything except the rushing, oceanic roar of my panic starting to surge out of control.
This isn’t how I wanted my life to turn out. I’m supposed to be somebody.
Even if I made it through the pregnancy, a dancer’s body never came back from changes like that. I’d never be as good as I was right now.
Maybe I could be a one-hit wonder and start and finish my career in a few explosive m
onths before I started to show?
Not likely. Not likely at all. A dancer couldn’t break in to the industry like that. The hierarchies were too strict. And that was assuming I even had the good luck to get a chance at being in a big show like that so soon. Considering the luck I’d had so far, I wouldn’t have put my money on it if there was a gun to my head. The reason I was even pregnant in the first place was because of a one-night stand with an alpha who turned out to be a total asshat. He even laughed about the broken condom, blew it off like it was no big deal with some joke I couldn’t even remember now.
Yeah, it was a joke, and I was the punchline.
Dammit.
I rubbed my eyes and glanced over at my phone just in time to get jump-scared by my alarm going off. Suitably alarmed, I jumped up to my feet and grabbed up my bag in a hurry. I’d been so spaced out I didn’t even notice what time it was. I guess maybe technology was still good for something after all, because the sun sure hadn’t warned me I was about to be late to meet up with Christie.
I snatched up my keys and leaped right from my bed to the door, yanking it open and spinning myself outside. I shut the door behind me and twisted the key in the lock, and took off running down the hallway. The flooring was cheap -everything about the place was cheap- so my every footstep caused a squeak and a bouncing reverberation which could be felt two floors below. From inside one of the other apartments, I heard a picture frame fall to the floor, shaken off its hook, followed by a startled exclamation. My neighbor swore profusely and I hunched up my shoulders and ran faster to get away from the guilt I always felt when I did something to inconvenience my floormates. They were trying to live just like I was and I always tried so hard not to bother them.
Sorry, I thought, and ducked into the elevator. The doors slid shut and I collapsed against the back wall, out of breath, my stomach twisting. I hadn’t eaten since around lunchtime yesterday and I felt so hollow it hurt, so empty I could feel the bitter acidic heat of hunger pangs. I’d have to dance for hours like this, and then I didn’t know where I’d find the money for dinner.
My baby… Could it survive like this? It couldn’t be that big yet, so how much food could it possible need?
My guess was, “More than nothing.”
The elevator stopped several times and I shifted on my feet, glancing nervously at my phone with every interruption. Come on, come on… Christie wouldn’t leave me hanging, but she’d definitely get mad if I was the reason we were late to class.
The doors opened and I pushed to be the first one out, looking around the badly-lit lobby. Cobwebs clustered at the corners of the ceiling, and certain parts of the floor didn’t look as if they’d ever seen a mop, or even a broom. A smell of body odor and smoke and garlic filled the air, a changing scent with so many hidden notes it could have described as perfume.
Christie wasn’t here.
Panic rising again, clawing its way up my back to settle between my shoulder blades, I spun and looked out the front entrance. The glass doors were so dirty and gray they could rightly have been called opaque. One side seemed darker than usual and, after a moment, I realized the darkness was a shadow being cast from the outside. My heartbeat quickening with frantic hope, I hurried over to the door and pulled it open as fast as I could, unable to wait another second to see if she had waited for me.
“Holy shit!” Christie yelped, jumping away from me. She frowned, pursing her lips together, and socked me on the shoulder with her small fist. “Geez, don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me.”
I leaned around and checked behind her. “Nah, you’re good.”
My heart was still pounding, my stomach churning, and I still had every single problem I’d started the morning with, but I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t show her, or trust her to keep my secret, so I had to shove all of my concerns to the back of my mind, plaster a smile on my face, and pretend I was the same old Theo who liked to joke around.
Christie rolled her eyes and pushed me away, the muscles in her toned biceps bunching in an impressive way not many 4’9” Chinese-American girls could boast about. “You’re sick. I don’t know why I hang out with you.”
I slung my arm around her shoulders. “It’s my charm and good looks.”
“What does that have to do with my lesbian ass?” Christie laughed.
“Hey, you can appreciate my aesthetic without wanting this.” I gestured down at my body and smirked.
She patted my stomach affectionately. “Okay, quit showing off. I think our instructor’s seen your stomach enough not to be fazed by it when we show up late.”
I grimaced and fell into step beside her. It was already shaping up to be one of those classic New York days outside, warm air with a sticky gasoline tinge and an unnamable aftertaste. I felt gross within seconds and already looked forward to getting to the NYCDA academy to feel air-conditioning on my skin, drying the wet, muggy grime to a more acceptable state. Feeling gross was one thing. Looking gross was another. I wanted to uphold some standards while I still had time for it.
“I’m sorry I was late,” I said. “I lost track of time.”
“You?” Christie glanced at me, looking me up and down. “You do look a little off. You feeling okay?”
For a moment, a heart-wrenching moment, my secrets crammed to the tip of my tongue and started to force their way out. The pressure was enormous and I knew I was going to crawl out of my skin if I didn’t let off some steam soon, somehow. I could tell her. I didn’t have to say how or why or give too many details, but I could…
Are you stupid?
I clamped my mouth shut, pressed my lips together, fighting against the enormous urge to spill everything. Christie and I were friends, we’d been practicing together since the start of the semester and we hung out together outside of classes, and I knew a lot about her because she would talk to anyone about anything. We bantered, and shit, could she banter. She was smart as a whip and had a tongue that could cut you straight through, and enough compassion to recognize when she’d gone too far, although she’d call you a pussy about it. I could use some compassion right now. I could use a bit of biting sarcasm to put me in my place, some well-meant mockery to give me a better look at my situation.
I could tell her for those reasons and I wanted to so badly, but I still had all the reasons from earlier to keep my mouth shut. For now. Keeping this a secret was only going to get harder and harder.
“Theo? You’re pale.” Christie grabbed my arm, stared up at my face. “Do you really feel okay?”
I shook her off my arm and summoned a smile from nowhere, knowing it didn’t meet my eyes and also knowing I had no choice but to pretend anyway. “Of course I’m okay. I got distracted this morning, is all. My apartment has this amazing window…”
She groaned and started walking again. “Please, spare me more talk of your window. You never shut up about it.”
My breath shuddered a little in my throat at the close call. Thank goodness she hadn’t kept pressing or I would have cracked right away. “What can I say? I see some pretty interesting things from up there.”
“This is New York City. You can see interesting things anywhere.”
I laughed. “I guess you’re right.”
We crossed a crosswalk together and turned down the next street, past a string of fast food joints and bakeries. My stomach rumbled like a furious lion at the savory and sweet scents. I grimaced, saliva flooding my mouth, and hoped the sound of traffic was enough to cover up my body’s incessant whining.
“Can you see Damien from that window of yours?”
I missed a step, tripped over my own feet, and almost fell. My heart lurched, my veins tingling with a pulse of adrenaline. Throwing my arm out, I caught myself on a McDonald’s sign and managed to stay upright.
Christie stared at me, her lips curved in an entertained smirk. “Did I hit a sore spot?”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
Shit. Shitshitshit.
I s
lapped my hand over my mouth, too late to keep the words in.
“You guys seemed like you were having such a good time at the club,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “That was what, two weeks ago?”
“Three,” I muttered, rubbing my face with my hand. The muggier air seemed heavier than usual, weighing hard on me, sapping my strength. “Almost four. And he, uh… He ghosted me. Left right after and I haven’t seen him since.”
“That sucks.” Christie took off again, walking a little faster than before, and I hurried to catch up. At this rate, we were going to be subjected to extra exercises as punishment for our tardiness. “Hey, you want this?” She held a granola bar in her hand, offering it to me. “You said you lost track of time and from the way you sounded like a whale back there, I’m going to guess that means you didn’t eat.”
I turned my head away, blushing. The sight of food, any food, was enough to flood my mouth again, and my stomach grumbled with anticipation. “I, uh, I didn’t.”
“Then take it. You should know better than that by now, Theo. Take better care of yourself.”
I accepted the granola bar, my fingers shaking as I undid the wrapper. The first bite was like heaven, a salty-and-sweet explosion that had my tongue cramping with near-orgasmic pleasure. There were chocolate chips and peanuts in it, too. Holy shit, food was good.
I finished the bar in record time and immediately regretted it. I should have savored it, stretched it out because who knew when I was going to get to eat again.
Sweet Success: East Coast Sugar Daddies: Book 2 Page 1
