Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
Hey, Storm Freaks!
I know it's been a while. Most, if not all, of you will probably get lost just diving into this. I do suggest youse go back, re-read chapter 19, and possibly chapter 20 after you've read this. (This starts with the end of chapter 19, only I've fleshed out the last scene) Please enjoy. I know it's on the long side, but I had a lot of fun writing this, revisiting Sonny and Maggie's romance – the beginning stages of it, anyway.
And those of you who are waiting for other updates, please be patient. I apologize for the long wait, but please know that I intend to finish/complete ALL of my stories.
* Chapters will vary from long to short. (There are ten of them) And I have no distinct posting schedule as of yet, but it'll be quick.
Thank you for reading!
"Nine Days"
Chapter One
Tucked into my side, Maggie and I left the club without another word to anyone. The main floor of Midnight Sun had cleared out some—close to closing time.
Then we were on the sidewalk and I was watching out for cabs. The cool night air was, once again, very refreshing. Especially now. Now, after I'd been vexed to high heaven because of my brother's antics.
Having just downed half a bottle of Jack did nothing for my mood. I'd had a nice buzz going, was relaxing and enjoying Maggie's company.
But then…like always, like every-single-other-time I'd found myself content…like tonight, earlier this evening when I was extraordinarily happy, something or someone had to fuck it up.
Throw a wrench or twelve at me, a pound of salt hitting all open wounds.
My anger had won out, overriding what I'd been feeling previously.
The wind, however, was unforgiving, whipping at us and making Maggie's hair fly in the breeze.
Stepping closer, nearly hovering, I gathered her hair into my hands, keeping it off her shoulders—making sure it didn't obstruct my view of her pretty face. "Where did you want to go?"
She shrugged, her hands landing on mine to entwine our fingers. "I don't know."
"We could go to a hotel, but…" I didn't want to seem presumptuous, nor did I want to say anything that might intimidate her—give her the wrong idea.
After all, we'd already fucked, and I was fine with just cuddling, just hanging out with her for a while, needing to just fucking relax and let go. "You decide—are you hungry?" That idea came to mind. "We can hit up a diner, and then . . . by that time Kylie will be home."
"My clothes are there—"
"I can buy you new ones. I don't want you to worry about some stupid shit like that." Okay, so I really wanted to hit up a hotel here in Manhattan and stay far away from Bay Ridge, far away from anyone who knew us.
I'd take her to Barneys in the morning, spoil her ass rotten before I brought her back—whenever that would be.
I didn't give a fuck about the shit my father had said, "Have her back before Mom wakes up." He'll forget, not give a fuck by morning, I was sure. Particularly because he'll have his hands full with my drunken mother and sister, occupied by keeping an eye on Dame, too.
"What?" She thought that was funny. "You don't have to—"
"Hey." I held her tighter. "I want to, and you can't wear this tomorrow." I looked down to her skimpy outfit. "Not for nothing, I bet you're freezing." I closed my jacket that she was wearing.
"Well, Kylie said we'd be going from cars and then into places..." She turned from me to peer at the street.
Instinctively, and without warning, I pulled Maggie back into my arms to hold her close, the tightest I could. My large frame towered over her; I wanted to absorb her—her optimism, her exuberance, her joyfulness.
I wanted…
No, I craved whatever it was that made Maggie shine—had me wishing and hoping the ray of light in my arms would illuminate my ominous existence.
My hands roamed down her back, but I stopped myself from grabbing at her luscious ass, burying my schnoz into her vanilla-scented hair instead.
Maggie was relaxed, not a rigid bone in her body, and she wasn't compelled to fill the silence with idle chatter. She remained quiet and let me embrace her. Though it seemed she was sniffing me out as well; her cute little nose almost hiding between two of my shirt buttons.
That made me smile, more of her warmth encompassing me.
I didn't know what to say, or if anything needed to be said at this time.
I didn't know what had come over me.
I didn't know what the rest of tonight, tomorrow, or the next day would bring, but I wanted more...?
Uncertain of what "more" consisted of, I'd settle for a do-over to rectify what we did on the roof—redeem the night by making the rest of it momentous, as a first time should be.
Maggie said she thought what we did was special, and a part of me did, too. Scratch that, a large part of me did, as she'd stirred feelings within me that…I hadn't felt for a very long time or had never felt at all.
My qualms stemmed from the location, which had nothing to do with what occurred. All of which was so phenomenal, I can hardly wrap my head around it. I just wanted to make tonight memorable for her.
Even if I can't recollect the fine print of losing my virginity…
Allegedly—and based on what I've heard others say about it—you always remember your first fuck, but I didn't. Not really. In retrospect, it's not something I ever dwelled upon. I know whom I'd done it with, where we were, and I can recall throwing rose petals on Katie's bed. Everything else—how I'd felt, how long I'd lasted, if that bitch bled when I popped her cherry, or if she came—was lost to me.
Moreover, I didn't want tonight to escape Maggie's memory; I didn't want to be forgotten, omitted as a transgression after too many appletinis.
Consequently, there weren't any petals on a bed. Hell, there hadn't even been a bed, but that just means I have to revamp my game—treat her like the gorgeous princess she is...until it's time to say goodbye, until I bring her home.
We didn't have to fuck again if she wasn't up for it.
In fact, I'd love nothing more than to lose myself, disregard the complications of my shitty reality, let the past couple of weeks, months, and years be obliterated from my mind—forget everything, fuck it to hell.
Abandon any and all responsibilities…
Take a vacation from my miserable, everyday life.
A much-needed sabbatical where I'd dote on, spoil, and pamper the lovely brunette in my arms.
Fully commit to being her Prince Charming for the rest of our time together...
It'd be for her benefit, of course, but I had this…hunch that I'd probably enjoy it more.
Because taking a break from life was exactly what Sonny, and Sonny alone, wanted.
A brief recess was the intermission that Sonny—the respite that I—hungered for, a breather, the time-out I needed like mad to lift my spirits, or whatever-the-fuck.
We'd have to see about that.
My heart continued to swell the further my mind wandered, contemplating every-single-thing.
The unexpected epiphany, wanting a deferment from my life, knowing the short interlude would be relaxing and help get my head together. Putting some space between myself and the rest of the world, including my family, doing something for Sonny, and having the balls to say, "fuck it" and go for it…?
It truly was one helluva realization. That shit had my mind boggled, seeing that it was a logical and fairly simple solution, although I was real fucking excited.
On top of all that, what really had me thrilled like a happy-go-lucky idiot—and oversaturated with joy, my head and heart bloated with pride, greed, and lust—was what Maggie had given me.
It was the most invaluable, most special of gifts.
My precious.
At the moment, I was holding her as if someone might steal her away. Then again, I did get creepy, scary, and Gollum-like with Dame before.
My precious was worth the king's ransom...a fat motherfucker's weight in gold.
And I felt like a fucking king, too, which was her doing. Maggie had me all puffed up, had me feeling more like a man than any other broad I'd ever been with.
All joking aside, it wasn't just pussy she'd given me.
I'm used to women throwing themselves at me.
In some ways, Maggie did the same.
Though she was more like the lamb in the lion's den—coy, trusting, big-eyed, and blushing—and I dug that to no end.
Still, I don't know if she knew what she was doing, provoking and awaking the beast, the ever-possessive Gollum in me.
And in other ways…we just went with the flow, hung out, had drinks, laughed, got to know each other a little.
Neither of us was too pushy, making it easy—so fucking easy—to give in, be ourselves, and talk.
The only thing that'd been thrown tonight was caution…and we threw that to the wind.
To the moon.
Hours ago.
She wasn't overtly aggressive, and I didn't have to try that hard, not that I ever do—not when it comes to getting my cock greased. In the past, if I'd hit a bump in the road, I'd just move on to another for a smoother ride.
But I'd tried to open up, get to know her, have conversations.
Knowing that in order to fuck her, I had to open up, do something other than put the moves on her.
I think…I'm not sure, but I was probably supposed to view her as a kid? Kylie's silly friend who had a crush on Dame? The soon-to-be nun across the street who sells cookies in the spring? Someone I wasn't supposed to take seriously?
Well, she's nothing of the sort.
Earlier, on the phone with my mom and then at La Bella Italia, she was my sister's friend, and someone my brother also asked me to occupy because of his insecure girlfriend.
Little Maggie, the neighborhood Girl Scout, who'd grown into a fox of a lady, who'd always been there, seemingly right under my nose.
Innocent vixen, yes, but there was more to her.
I found her interesting, this unseen force making me ache to know her better, which would eventually make me yearn for more than her words.
Regardless of being Katie's first lay, it's only now—with Maggie and fourteen years later—that I see the severity, the sincerity, and the importance of such an act.
I'm the only man Maggie has ever been with. The only man to have seen, touched, and tasted her most treasured and private of places.
Jesus Christ.
Just knowing that…that was another thing making my head spin with various thoughts. Made my stomach jolt with the ridiculous notion of keeping it that way—that I'd be the only one allowed to touch her, allowed to have her.
Mine, someone just for me and me alone.
My pants were suddenly snug, thinking of the feast that was her pussy.
Her deliciously tight, pink cunt.
My God.
I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd done that. The two times Katie has fucked me—as of recent, in which she kept asking if I was almost finished—I just didn't do it. I had no desire to since she was rushing me, or maybe I wasn't "doing it right," because my head wasn't into it. But no one has ever asked me to hurry up before.
It's also not a habit of mine to eat strange pussy, and that makes oral sex an event few and far between…when it comes to giving, that is. Seriously. Racking my brain, I came up short, couldn't recollect the last time I'd munched a box.
Maggie was beautiful down there, delicate, small, untouched and oh-so pretty and tasty…
I deftly pulled my bottom half away, wanting my cock to soften. And with the way we'd been standing, I felt like I was thirteen and at a school dance—making sure not to poke my date while thinking of her boobies.
And just how long had we been standing here while I contemplated the complexities of life along with Maggie's pussy?
Maggie didn't seem to mind, though. "What's so funny?" She grinned up to me after removing her nose from my shirt, wanting to share my good humor.
My eyes locked on to hers, my stomach doing a somersault.
And gazing into those big, curious, and yet trusting, eyes, I silently hoped she'd take another chance with me.
'Cause I'd sure as fuck make it worth her time.
The roof, the cold wind, the crappy blanket on top of the tar, the pain she felt while I was inside of her—I'd fix that, make good, and I'd give her everything and anything I could.
It'd be just as—if not more—gratifying for me.
"Spend the rest of the night with me," I whispered, my palms resting low on her back again. "I'll bring you home tomorrow—whenever. Your parents already think you're with Kylie…" I trailed off, crossing my fingers, and feeling a little ridiculous.
For a brief second, she beamed before ducking her gaze—her face flushing crimson. "When you look at me the way you do, I just..." Maggie gulped, fanning her cheeks. "I'm not cold anymore."
I chuckled, thinking her flustered state was cute.
'Cause I did that, threw her off balance, when...I hadn't done anything.
"And you make my heart go…" She created a fast beat on her chest, looking like this adorable cartoon character, explaining the "ba-boom" of her heart.
"I do that, huh?" I pulled Maggie closer once more, seeing a taxi behind her.
Raising my hand high in the air, I looked to Maggie, imploringly. "Trust me again. Like you did before."
"I trust you." Her blush deepened, and she tried to cover her smile with her hand.
I stopped her from hiding; her giddy expression was somehow intoxicating. Less than a half hour ago, I'd been guzzling a lot of Jack—hoping to relax and let loose—and the liquor had nothing on Shaky. Or, maybe it was the combination?
Only difference…I had faith that Shaky wouldn't leave me worse for wear later on.
But, hey, you never know…
"Good. Thank you. You won't regret it." I meant that shit and helped her into the cab.
Maggie scooted into the backseat; she was agreeable with whatever I wanted to do, which made my next decision an easy one.
"Waldorf-Astoria," I told the driver.
Maggie was nestled into my side while we rode along the streets. Unlike earlier, she had no retreat, and I wasn't letting go. Tonight, being with her, was different. In and of itself, tonight was an escape for me, or maybe I could consider it an adventure—as I, too, was placing trust in myself.
I wouldn't be going home to my empty apartment, nor would I be bringing some random cooz home with me. Not that I could. Not with Katie at my place. I wouldn't be going home to argue with that bitch either, the soon-to-be mother of my child—for the inevitable shouting match that would be undoubtedly irrelevant.
And I'd never been to the Waldorf before.
When it comes to hookups, I've gone to a hotel on occasion, but the location was never important.
My father's face lights up whenever he speaks of it, and knowing it as a place where kings, queens, and presidents stay when in New York—a fairy tale-like atmosphere—it seemed appropriate for my intentions.
Riding along Park Avenue now, my stomach suddenly did a backflip, anticipation flowing through me.
Optimism eclipsed my heart when that shocking revelation came to mind again—wanting to forget my past, my present, and escape my reality—while hoping my eventual forever would start tonight.
This was a chance to rediscover what I wanted in life, to reassess everything, and I needed to learn which steps had to be taken for me to find happiness.
Fucking happiness.
Pleasure, satisfaction, the ability to focus on my well-being.
I had to start doing things that'd bring me joy.
I had to stop concerning myself with other people.
I had to start worrying about me!
No longer would I sacrifice my own enjoyment for the sake of family, friends, and associates.
And there'd be no more compromising either...when it came to personal matters.
I'd settled for less my whole life, it seems, accepting this or that as the way things were, fooling myself into thinking shit had been set in stone.
The last few hours, I've been the happiest I've been in a very long time.
I got a taste…a glimpse of what "letting go" feels like.
So, how could I go back to mediocrity?
I didn't want to be…just content anymore.
There's a huge difference between satisfaction and satisfactory, and I'd been living my life thinking the latter was gravy. But…hell no, I no longer think that way. The former is what I should be striving for—being satisfied and fulfilled, ecstatic in life and with myself.
I already knew carting Maggie off to the Waldorf was going to be a pleasing and fun experience. And I refused to deny myself this…fortunate stroke of serendipity?
Okay, so that sounds lame and corny.
Nevertheless, I wanted to seize any and all opportunities to change my life for the better. Even if it came to me via an unplanned thwack of good fortune—had stemmed from that brilliant, lightbulb moment.
Despite that, I'd meant it in an overall sense, in that broadening and eye-opening way, not necessarily because of Maggie...
She did, however, provide me with a new level of exhilaration—like another hit, more like a kick in the head—that had me in a constant state of arousal, too eager and full of enthusiasm yet nervous, and I was also happier than flies on shit.
I'd never done anything that even compared, nor have I ever experienced a night like this before. In addition, I was still in total awe of Maggie, of myself, of my actions, and my emotions...that I'm actually having some.
That series of events started during dinner, making light conversation, sharing parts of myself and being silly with my young date, doing whatever I could to make her blush, loving the way her body responded—just how responsive she was to me, the effect I had on her.
Hey, when you're used to chillin' with pigs, it's easy to assume they've seen it all and have done most. So, Maggie's blushing, her innocence that radiated from her was refreshing. I dug it; it gave me the only hard-on.
The way my body responded to her…
Forget about it.
Meanwhile, I chalked a lot of her reactions up to being sexually repressed or sexually frustrated; she was sexually supercharged and in need of stimulation.
And I was more than happy to oblige.
I just didn't expect to get keyed up, being as timid and nervous as I was with fucking butterflies up in my gut. That'd never happened to me before. In spite of all that, all those nerves, my dick hadn't failed me. Thank God, it didn't...because, yo, it was fantastic.
There was something new to tonight, something I couldn't name or put my finger on. I knew what I felt…I'd been feeling a great many things. I just couldn't categorize a damn thing.
Most importantly, it seemed the longer I was with Maggie, the more gray clouds she'd erase from my sky.
Gone was the rain—the doom and gloom in my life had taken a powder—the sun's rays replacing it.
Maggie is like the cool air that hits you when leaving a sauna…that deep, gasping breath after swimming a few laps in the pool. My stomach keeps jumping, like I'm on a roller coaster, constantly descending these never-ending, high-as-fuck hills.
Shit.
I'm letting my mind run away from me, must be buggin', my thoughts sounding all poetic. Leave it to me, Mr. Apathetic when it comes to broads. Now I'm feeling too much, and I don't even know what half this shit means. I just had to stop.
Could a vise-like, tight pussy…"deflowering" a pretty, young thing have made that much of an impact?
Maybe I was better off with the loose ones?
Not likely.
Only a fool would bounce, leave heaven, and take the elevator all the way back down to hell—where pussy has no name, you don't gotta call, and small-talk is irrelevant.
"Hey…" I tilted her chin up, my nose touching hers. "Thank you."
She searched my eyes but then dropped hers. "I—"
I leaned forward, a smirk on my lips, making her meet my gaze. "Look at me, beautiful."
She swallowed and wet her lips. "Why are you thanking me?"
Reluctant to break our stare, I thought about my answer.
Because I feel awake for the first time in years.
Because you make me feel like anything's possible.
Because simply being with you is unlike anything I've ever known.
"Because I—I had such a good time tonight." I did my best not to laugh at myself.
Pussy.
Fuck you, I told my psyche.
Who the fuck was he to judge me? He's the pussy for being all…mushy, talking about that refreshingly beautiful sauna of a roller coaster garbage.
With the optimism, the clouds, and the butterflies...
How many broads have my psyche and I bagged over the years? Sure, I plan to go the gusto, try to match what she's given me by giving her what I could. But this is still a hookup, two people going to a hotel, no matter the pretense, to fuck.
I know we'll fuck again, which will be an added bonus.
But let's call a spade a spade.
At the end of the day, it's just sex, as she knows. Maggie's been well informed. She knows from talking to Kylie and me that I'm not to be taken seriously, which is essentially no different than times prior, every other experience.
Leave me outta this! That'd be your dick, asshole. Your dick has bagged broads from here to Miami, from here to Vegas. This is different and you know it.
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes as the cab came to a stop. "Thank you for spending time with me," I whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead.
Maggie let out a short giggle that made me smile wider as I reached into my pocket for some cash. After I paid the driver, I helped Maggie out of the taxi.
She gasped, looking heavenward, her eyes bright, dancing with amusement and surprise. "Wow."
"You're so cute." I placed my arm around her. "Take a quick walk with me first." I ushered us toward the corner.
"Okay." She pulled my jacket tighter around herself.
I squeezed her to my side, hoping to warm her the best I could during our very short walk. Truth be told, I was sure the concierge could provide what I was about to buy—for a small fortune that'd really be small potatoes—but just in case Maggie needed anything, we walked into Duane Reade.
"Do you need anything?" I asked.
Her face blazed red again, but her expression told me it was serious. "Um…" She got on her toes, pulling me down to her. "Condoms," she whispered. "We should get more."
"Really?" I feigned surprise.
"I mean…that's why we're here." Her tone was barely audible, but I heard it.
"Hey…" I widened my arms. "That's not really why we're here." I selfishly just wanted more time with you without interruptions, the world intruding. "But…you want it. You got it. I won't protest, say no or otherwise. I'll buy as many condoms as you see fit."
She giggled. "Santino, shhh." Maggie grasped my hand, looking around us.
"I'll get them." I kissed her hair, not wanting to admit it was a purchase I'd intended to make anyway—just in case. "But this is still your show. I just wanted to go someplace where we could hang out alone. Where it'd be warm, quiet…just you and me." A bed, Jacuzzi, fluffy robes, and room service.
"For that, we can go have coffee, or to some…regular hotel." She shrugged. "I don't mind. I've never been here before, have only heard of it… Santino, we're at the Waldorf," she whispered that last part as if I didn't know where we were.
My lips lingered on her cheek. "We could watch TV, take a nap—whatever you wanna do. I've never been here either, but I wanted…" to make tonight special, memorable, a night you'll never forget "—to take you somewhere nice, better than the roof."
Her breath hitched. "I loved the roof, everything about it."
My stomach knotted while I agreed with her inwardly. "I've heard good things about this hotel. Excellent service, nice rooms…the works. You're a girl who deserves the works—to be treated like a princess." I pulled her into my arms again, wanting to say something that brought me down a notch, off that cloud I'd been floating on. "Never go on a roof with some guy—no matter what, no matter the phase of the moon—ever again." I didn't realize how…odd that'd sound until it left my mouth.
Despite popping her cherry, I'm not delusional; I know I have no real claim to this chick.
What the fuck was I saying?
And why couldn't I snap back into the suave fucker I usually am? Over here tripping on my words, rambling like some nutjob. I shouldn't have said anything, left it alone. Since when do I need to, and/or have to, explain a goddamn thing?
Yet, as I paused to backtrack, Maggie spoke up. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "I won't—I—I mean, not if you don't want me to." Maggie furrowed her brow, only to groan. "That came out wrong. It's not like you'd…encourage me to go on a roof with someone, for whichever purpose. I probably won't see you again after tonight. I meant—"
"I'm sure you'll see me." I palmed her cheek. "I'd bet money on it."
God, she's beautiful.
An exaggerated sigh escaped me, and I ended it with a groan—to mask it as something more manly.
"Make that sound again." Maggie pushed her tits into me, her hands running up and down my biceps, her eyes dancing on my chest—a new, more relaxed playfulness burning bright. "You're so sexy… Oh gosh. I can't believe I said that," she giggled.
Her demeanor calmed me as well, but I didn't make a sound. As I stared at her lips, my only thought was to claim those fuckers again.
Closing the distance, Maggie said, "Good Lord in heaven," while her hands explored my back. "You're solid—all muscle."
"I work out." I smirked.
"Clearly." She rasped, licking her lips. "I'm crazy thirsty."
Looking around, I escorted her over to the refrigerators. "You want water or a soda?"
"Water's fine."
I grabbed a Fiji, took the cap off, and handed it over.
She gulped, drinking rapidly—making noises as she swallowed.
When she was through, she panted, and I noticed the tiniest droplet trailing down her neck. I bent low to get it, grunting when my lips touched her skin.
"Oh…" She fisted my hair, holding me there.
My nose skimmed her jaw and cheek, my mouth going for hers.
"Evening." The cashier interrupted. "Or, should I say morning?" He was talking to Maggie since his eyes were on her.
I got the hint, and I didn't appreciate the way he eyed Maggie. Open twenty-four hours or not, lingering in a pharmacy wasn't my intention when arriving, and I still had something on the tip of my tongue.
With her hand in mine, I went in search of another item on my mental shopping list. Knowing we'd both had quite a few drinks, and that Maggie might still be sore from our rooftop excursion, I looked for ibuprofen.
I decided to finish our conversation. "Before, what I meant was…You deserve so much more than that. You're worth a lot more than a quick fuck. In the future, don't let your boyfriend get off cheap." I winked down to her, trying to smile. "You make him work for it, too. They act cheap by treating you cheap, or pressure you in any way, or…mistreat you, do something you dislike, or if you need guy advice, like a dude's perspective, you tell me, call me, whatever the case may be. Doesn't matter." I nodded. "I'll give you my numbers. That way, you have any trouble with anything and you need help, I'll be a call away. Or…" I was rambling, got off track "…you could call just to say hello."
"My boyfriends." She found that funny.
I raised a brow, knowing that I'd more than likely see her in the future with some gangly teenager that I'd yearn to kill—or, at the very least, maim, nonetheless strike the fear of God into him—either in my travels or with Kylie.
"I'm the social pariah of Bishop Ford High School, Santino. A geek to the core." She obviously didn't see herself clearly. "They call me Virgin Mary."
We'd finally made it to the headache aisle. "Not anymore, remember?" I joked.
She smiled, sighing. "Nope. Not anymore."
I waved my finger, another thought provoking my verbal diarrhea.
Where's the Imodium?
"That's also no excuse to, you know, to sleep around." I brought my voice down, getting closer. "It's dangerous—you could get sick, crabs, or pregnant." I cleared my throat. "And we both know a baby isn't the worst ramification of sex."
I wanted to stop, but I couldn't, knowing I kinda sounded like my mother in this moment. "Maggie, baby…" I landed a quick smooch on her cheek. "Since you did it, you might feel compelled to do it again…" I blew out a breath "—with someone else." I shrugged, staring at the floor. "And just because you're no longer a virgin, doesn't mean you…rest on your laurels, think it's okay to do it again, or because you like some little fucker. Putting out will only get you used or hurt, not a boyfriend. So, I mean—" I just shut the fuck up because I was about to say that after tonight, she should pretend she's still a virgin, to fight off temptation, and wait 'til she's married.
"You have an itch to scratch in the future, you can call me for that, too." I pointed to myself, feeling like a douchebag. "Wait, that didn't—"
Maggie blinked. "Really? Like…really?" She stepped toward me. "We could…again? After tonight?"
Surprised, I nodded. "Yes. Most def-definitely. Life is complicated and I…can't do anything in the form of an actual commitment."
"I know. Kylie told me…You know that Kylie told me." She rolled her eyes.
"I'm single…" Once again, I wanted to stop talking, but she needed to know. "I think I would…commit to you, if I could because you deserve that. You deserve so much more than I can give you." I wasn't sure about anything, or if what I'd just said made sense.
"Like I said before." I pushed her hair off her shoulder. "But it doesn't have to be sex." I shook my head. "If you're ever in the need of assistance, I'd be more than happy to help you in other ways, ways that you would be using me—it'd be about you, not me." I almost swallowed my tongue, feeling desperate in the moment. "I'd…use my mouth." I stared at hers.
She let out a large breath, her fingers lightly pressing to my lips. "Your mouth," she repeated.
"My fingers." My hand spanned her ass.
"Your…" She clamped her eyes closed and banged her forehead into my chest.
"Anything you want." I rested my lips to her hair, wishing I could fuck her right now—right in the pharmacy. "I—" I had to clear my throat "—I'd be servicing you."
"What am I? A Chevy or something?" She looked up at me with innocent eyes. "Servicing?"
I threw my head back and laughed. She'd caught me by surprise, as I didn't see that one coming. "Smart-ass." I yoked her into my side, ushering her down the aisle a few feet.
Maggie giggled. "It can be our secret code. I'll call you and ask you for an oil change."
I opened my mouth, tempted to tell her more about my dipstick. But I just smiled; my thoughts trailed back to our conversation, thinking about…after tonight, thinking about the competitive market that's automotive repairs, mechanics, and the other dipsticks.
No, I can't be Maggie's boyfriend, and there's a list of reasons why, which have nothing to do with another broad. Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess a teeny, tiny broad—my future daughter. But it'd be sweet, fucking ideal, if amongst all the shit in my life, Maggie and I could be friends, friends who fuck on occasion...until life calmed. She doesn't need some fucker, a boyfriend, to tie her down anyway; she's so young, gonna be going to college soon.
I can't carry on with my current lifestyle since I'll have my kid half the week, but there's no way I could live like a monk or some shit.
Maggie's a good person, someone I wouldn't mind being around my child.
We could be friends with benefits.
We could have so much fun, but toying with her heart, knowing she'd likely catch feelings, being so young...
"Never settle for less." My tone was serious again.
That's what I'd be giving her by being casual—less. But she's already slept with me. If she needs to fuck again—I know people have needs—I'd fuck her in a heartbeat. Plus, it's safer, and it'd be more enjoyable. I know how to fuck, how to make her feel good, and I used to be a teenage boy…and I know they don't know a damn thing when it comes to pleasure.
"Besides…dating as a teenager?" I grimaced down to her. "My advice would be to wait until you're in college. Women mature sooner than boys." I perused the shelf, looking for Advil, just plain fucking Advil. And there were so many selections; it pissed me off along with the can of worms I'd spilled, the current conversation. "High school boys are no good. For example, I hope to be as mature as you in the near future, and I'm twenty-seven."
That made her laugh. "I don't have boyfriends. I've never had a boyfriend, obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Nor can I even think of…doing that." She studied her nails.
"I predict that you'll break a few dozen hearts in the coming years." I didn't need a crystal ball to figure that one out. "You will have boyfriends." I found it hard to believe she wasn't the most sought after to fuck, date, to be with at her school. "A beauty like you." I nodded, an odd thought coming to me. "And I'll wanna meet him, make sure he's an OK guy."
She laughed, shaking her head.
"I'm serious." And I was, although my reasoning would be a mixture of sorts. "We're friends. Friends look out for each other."
And I finally found some no-frills Advil.
"Do you have a headache?" she asked.
Turning to answer her, I peeped some dude behind us. He was shopping, his hand resting on some kind of medicine while his eyes raked down Maggie's body, stopping at her legs.
"Can I help you?" There was a tightness in my chest, my teeth gnashing together, as I did not appreciate his ogling. "'The fuck you lookin' at?" I stepped toward him, pushing Maggie behind me at the same time.
He shook his head and scurried away before Maggie could see him.
"What happened?" Worried, she leaned into me.
My hand snaked down to palm her ass, pulling her flush against me. "No, I don't have a headache," but my buzz was disappearing "—and homeboy had a staring problem."
Maggie giggled. "You are awfully handsome, and this is Manhattan."
I grinned. "He wasn't looking at me."
"Oh." Her brows knit together.
I kissed her temple, directing her farther from the scene, and that's when she reminded me of the condoms again.
"You really haven't had enough, huh?" I teased. "That just proves what I was saying before. As a virgin, you didn't know what'chu was missing. Now…? Hey." I shrugged. "You know."
All I knew was that once I'd started having sex, that's all I wanted to do, and fourteen years later…not much has changed. "Now it'll be something you want, quite possibly something you need and crave."
"Santino," she admonished, looking hella cute again. "I can definitely see myself craving you, but... No, I mean—" She scoffed, palming her face.
"Ditto, baby." I winked, not wanting her to be embarrassed about what she said if it was the truth. "Me too."
She sighed, all kinds of adorable, which made me smile wider.
I wanted to take her gorgeous face, her cute nose and her big eyes and place them in my pocket…if it were possible.
My other instinct was to bite her red cheek as my stomach started with its gymnastics again.
Then I shook my head of those thoughts, thinking myself a weirdo.
Who thinks that shit?
Get it together, Santino!
I reached for the condoms I always use.
"You remembered," she murmured.
Was she kidding?
"How could I forget?" I chuckled. "I shouldn't get the three-pack either, right?" I raised a brow, and I already had the dirty dozen in my sweaty paw. "I'll get the twelve-pack 'cause you have plans? And not of the water balloon variety."
Knowing I was just teasing, she giggled, biting her lips together. "My big plans…" She held her stomach, blowing out a breath—and her bravado, her next words would leave me speechless. "If…I mean, we go by what's in here—" she tapped her temple "—you'd need more than twelve."
A low growl escaped me, rumbled my chest as my cock sprang to life.
That innuendo…how could it not?
"Santino?" Maggie was under my nose now, close. "I was just kidding. Um…We don't, uh, have to do anything." She was nervous again, and I wanted to squash those nerves.
The scent of her hair invaded my senses, and I grabbed a handful, bringing it to my nose, my other hand sliding down her back. And words failed me when I looked into her eyes. Really looked.
Drug stores aren't known for their flattering, dull light, but Maggie looked absolutely stunning in this moment. And accompanied by how I was feeling—the air around us seemed too thin to breathe, but was thick with enough tension you could cut it with a knife—I was afraid I'd maul her in Duane Reade.
"I was just teasing, too," she said, her face red.
"Baby…" I cleared my throat for the hundredth time, like I'd done a mound of yak. "You…you can have any part of me…for as long as you want, as many times as you want." I pulled her into my arms, pushing my erection onto her, needing her to know what she does to me, how she had me feeling—the degree of my attraction, my want, my…need.
"Oh, I…" Maggie was contemplative, but she knew—squirming as she pushed into me, too.
I bit my bottom lip, my hands exploring her body, and I caught my groan before I let it slip.
"Joking about condoms aside, I just want you—to hang out with me." Her arms went around my neck, and she kissed my chin. "Just you, Santino."
"You have me." I blurted, which came as a surprise to me, but that didn't mean my words untrue. They were the absolute truth, however, I mulled over the meaning of my statement—feeling the need to either tone it down or elaborate, lest I hurt her sometime in the future.
"I'm yours…tonight." I'd gone with the former, because, while I yearned to forget my reality, my real life and everything it entails, it was unforgettable. And I did not—under any circumstances—want to hurt her.
Maggie knows tonight is tonight…although I already asked her to dinner.
Shit.
I lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Can I have you tonight, too? Just you."
"You already do," she whispered, a sly smirk on those lips. "And you've already had me. And my parents would kill me if they ever found out. Consider me yours until we get to Bay Ridge, Santino. I know the deal…After talking with Kylie about you," she giggled "—and you've been nothing but truthful."
I had to kiss her—right then and there, my mouth attacked hers. She moaned into the kiss when I deepened it, my arms holding her impossibly closer and tighter—so tight she squeaked, which made me ease up. Meanwhile, my tongue and lips were unrelenting.
I got carried away.
A kiss so sloppy, so full of passion…
I'd never kissed anyone quite like this before.
I dropped the Advil, and Maggie pulled away panting when it hit the floor. "Wow," she sighed. "I'm dizzy." She fisted my shirt, holding on.
I'd never admit that I was, too—the store suffocating in this moment.
Worried about my hard cock, I was grateful my shirt was already untucked—hiding my Glock.
I picked up the ibuprofen. "Do you want candy, soda, chips? Anything to pig out on when we watch a movie?" I had no idea if a movie was in our future.
In truth, and overall, I enjoyed being in her presence, her company, which was the reason why we'd ducked out and away from my family—stealing her to come farther uptown.
If I wanted to hit it and just hit it, we coulda hit up Jasper's office, which has a lock.
Again, Maggie was agreeable and browsed the candy selections.
While she did that, I walked about four feet away, something having caught my eye. Leaving our embrace felt foreign, although having her in my arms was very new—something I enjoyed very much.
Nevertheless, I thumbed through the selection in front of me, and settled on a pair of black sweatpants. They had "NYC" and a red apple on the ass. They seemed young, something Maggie might like?
"Put these on." I handed them to her.
She looked around us. "Now?"
They actually didn't have one of those security ink things, and I tore the tag off for the cashier, taking the candy from Maggie's grasp. "Yeah. Put 'em on. It's cold out." It's Halloween, and anyone could see she's wearing a costume, and my jacket for warmth. But still.
No one else would get a gander at those gams.
Maggie giggled, slipping off her heels to shimmy into the pants. "I'll look silly."
"That's impossible." I placed my hand on the small of her back, making sure she was steady.
Once they were on, and with my very large jacket covering her torso, I backed away to admire her while she stepped into her shoes.
Those wings she had on made her shoulders look bulky, her small frame still swimming in my jacket, and then the loose sweats on her bottom—with the tapered ankles and her stilettoed feet on the ground.
I thought she was adorable...and sexy, both, if it's possible.
Also, I swore on my life that no one else on this earth could rock that outfit and look as scandalous as she did.
Maggie stared down to her feet. "I look ridiculous. Oh, this is so embarrassing." She actually reached to take the pants off.
I stopped her. "It's cold out."
"We're just going up the street, to the hotel—"
"Exactly." I wished we'd grabbed a basket, wanting my hands and arms back, wanting to hold her. "We're going right to the hotel."
She nodded. "This is cool." Maggie peered into her small purse. "Maybe I should get the matching sweater. I can wear it home tomorrow." She produced a twenty.
"Put that away," I said.
"You gotta let me pay for some of this…I do have a job now," she said, her eyes widening. "I got my first paycheck yesterday." Maggie seemed proud of herself.
"Good. You save your money." I jerked my head toward the exit.
"But I think I should get the sweater."
I gestured that she could, and that didn't mean I'd changed my mind about taking her shopping—in a manner of speaking.
Maggie complained some more about paying, and I ignored her.
It was the opposite of what I'm used to. Usually, when I'm in a store with a young lady—the only other young lady in my life, Kylie—there's begging and whining for things all the way to the register. Never has anyone pled with me to pay for some shit.
All in all, we truly weren't in there for that long, it only felt like an eternity. With the plastic bags in one hand, I held Maggie's in the other as we strolled up the long avenue—back to the Waldorf.
I was surprised to see how dark it still was, darker than earlier, the darkest before dawn at around four a.m.
The hotel lobby wasn't empty. It wasn't packed with people either. I'd been here for weddings, special occasions, and whatnot. I've just never been a guest here, but I took in the sights with new eyes—loving the décor, how grand, classy, and fucking elegant it was.
Maggie did, too. Her eyes were huge and her head whipped every which way. "I feel like I'm in a movie." She looked down to her clothes. "Ugh. Look at me."
I had been gawking at her.
"I'm the Waldorf Hobo."
"Shut up. You're gorgeous." I approached the counter, placing my arm over Maggie.
Getting a room was easy; they had vacancies, but having some knowledge about the place, I had some specifications.
Maggie had since backed away to give me privacy during the transaction, and I brought my voice down even lower. "I'd like one of the presidential suites—up in the towers." I opened my wallet and then plopped a black Amex down, and I had to do a double take, make sure it was mine—said Santino A. Cullen on the bottom.
"Oh." The clerk seemed taken aback. "Yes, sir." She typed away on her computer. "One bedroom—" she glanced at Maggie "—or?" turning back to glare at me before her judgmental stare had gone to Maggie again.
"One bedroom." I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the fuck her problem was. "Overlooking Park Avenue, please."
"Excellent." She nodded at her computer. "And how long will you be staying with us?"
I sighed, turning to Maggie, contemplative, and that's when I realized why that cunt behind the counter was being a bitch with the looks.
From my kisses and our activities, almost all of Maggie's makeup was gone, making her look fresh-faced and even younger than she was.
What the fuck was I doing? Who was I? Humbert, fucking Herbert-the-Pervert or whatever, and Maggie was my Lolita?
No, I've never read that book, but I googled it after watching a Lolita-inspired porn flick.
My thoughts made me cringe and hiss, as a vision of Maggie in pigtails rapidly flashed in my brain.
"Sir…?"
"This wasn't planned…" I explained, taking another hurried peek at Maggie "—a spur of the moment whim-type thing. We were at a club, celebrating Halloween, already uptown, and it's late." I had no idea why I was talking.
Maggie had taken my glance as an invitation. She nestled into my side again, which was welcomed. The simple gesture—her coming to stand by my side—filled me with something and it was comforting. It felt...familiar in the best way.
"Sir, will you just be staying for the day, or…? "
I cleared my throat. "I'd rather play it by ear, but I know youse need that information. How 'bout…book it 'til Wednesday. If my stay is longer, I'll let you know before then." With or without Maggie, I still needed that leave of absence, and some time away from Katie would be good—would be fucking spectacular. I'd definitely be using my time here to clear my head.
Yeah, clear my head without people buzzing in my ears.
It's not like I'm on the lam, legit running away or traveling far.
I'm in Midtown, which is a joke in itself, and it ain't no vacation.
"Okay." She reached to take my Amex and driver's license off the counter. Since my plans for tonight or otherwise weren't untoward, she got my real credentials. "You said you'd like to pay cash. This is just so we have it on file—"
"You don't have to explain," I said, knowing the deal.
"Before check-out, we can print the bill and go over it with you."
"Whichever." If it ended up on my credit card, it wouldn't be a big deal. That flashy thing would actually get a good workout since I hardly use it, yet pay the associated fees for the fringe benefits. But guessing that my stay might end in the ten-grand ballpark, I thought about my taxes and shit.
Wiseguy rule number one: you can't live beyond your means, your taxable means.
Cash leaves less of a trail, no trail in most cases, and I needed to be audited by the IRS like I needed a hole in my head.
I exchanged another glance with Maggie, which reminded me. "Uh, can I place a room service order here?"
By the expression on…Cathy's face, I didn't think so, but she agreed anyway.
"Hungry?" I asked Maggie.
She gave me a short nod.
We ordered two grilled cheese sandwiches with fries, sodas—I'd insisted on something simple. Sure, we could have gotten a four-course meal. And while I wanted to spoil Maggie, I didn't want to intimidate her with some shit.
I ordered us some champagne, though.
It's classy…good manners and shit.
Before we turned for the elevators, Cathy asked, "Do you need a wake-up call?"
I thought about that as I took in Maggie's attire, and the thought of shopping made me grimace. I love shopping, but time is of the essence. I didn't wanna spend what little we have at some boutique or department store.
Yes, I'd said I'd buy her new clothes. I know she won't hold me to it, and she'd wear her costume home if not for the sweats, but…I did say I'd get her new clothes, and I also said I'd take her out to dinner.
There's a swanky Japanese sushi joint not far from here that I haven't tried yet.
"Youse have those personal shoppers here, right?"
"We provide an array of services, yes." She looked from Maggie to me.
"Cool. That can be our wake-up call." I grinned down to Maggie. "Have someone come…with some casual wear and evening wear—something suitable for Kuruma Zushi—and have them bring other things." I turned back to the clerk. "We obviously have no luggage…use your imagination."
Cathy continued to type, a grin pulling at the side of her mouth. "Sir, usually…It's customary the stylist meets with the client first."
"Current fashions," I said. "She's young, twenty-two," I lied about her age but was glad I could fit it into the transaction. "What size are you?"
"What?" Maggie hissed.
"What size?" I asked again.
"I'd need to know all of your measurements. Shoe size to bra size, to relay it to the shopper, ma'am." Cathy smiled at her.
Maggie had wide eyes. "Santino, this—I don't understand."
"This is Manhattan, and we're wealthy…darrrling," I drawled, trying not to laugh as I teased her, but she didn't think my words funny.
Maggie gaped at me, and I realized that maybe she didn't understand.
"We don't gotta go shopping." I thumbed her bottom lip. "The stores can come to us."
I had no idea if that was true for other people, but I'm used to getting my way right away. If you throw enough money around anything is possible and the sky's the limit—no matter your location. If Cathy the concierge couldn't make it happen, I'd call my suit guy who knows mad heads in the fashion industry.
Maggie was still puzzled, and I sighed, turning to the counter. "Can you make us a reservation for Kuruma Zushi, too?"
"Yes, sir," Cathy said. "What time would you prefer?"
"Santino—" Maggie pulled on my sleeve.
I put up a finger to silence her. "Seven…You like sushi, right?" I asked Maggie.
Her cheeks were turning pink. "I—"
"Seven'll be perfect," I answered Cathy and ushered Maggie a few feet away. "Shut up." My tone was soft but assertive. "You can either give homegirl your sizes, or let me guess, and then the clothes won't fit. You pick." I wondered what was difficult to understand. "I said I'd take you shopping for new clothes. You're getting them." I pointed at her.
Never in my life had I argued over something as trivial.
Well, Maggie didn't exactly protest, but I got the impression she would.
I thought it best to stop her while she was ahead.
Because I wasn't budging.
Since when do broads say no when you wanna buy them something?
Most of my buddies—who are married or otherwise, or married and otherwise—complain about their chicks and money, how expensive it is to keep a woman happy.
My sister tells me all the time about the things she wants, wishing Gio was loaded. Amelia's giving Dame a run for his money, too—always going here and there, insisting they go to expensive restaurants. My father spends an obscene amount of money on my mother, and sometimes for no reason at all. It's the same with Uncle Carlisle when it comes to Aunt Alex.
Back in the day, while with Katie, I was in high school and broke. But when I hit sixteen, I was already hustling here and there. And I'd always done a lot around the house for Mom, doing whatever-the-fuck for Dad. I'd also babysit, earning myself a decent allowance. Katie always got something for holidays and on her birthday...and if I was ever a dick to her.
Alas, that was some puppy-love shit. I think I've come a long way from buying a stuffed animal with hopes I'd get to second base.
Now, as a man…I could afford a great deal more than a fucking Beanie Baby.
I don't wine and dine women on the reg. And I've never done anything like this; I knew I might have been going overboard, but it felt good.
I rarely travel or take real vacations. Especially during the last couple of years because I've been busier, doing more for Dad, having more responsibilities. Even so, I still manage to make it out to Vegas once a year for business and pleasure.
However, I never do anything elaborate or luxurious, and I never spend money on myself. My father owns the building I live in. Therefore, I don't pay any rent for the apartment. Every vehicle I own is paid for, and my hard work has paid off, excessively well. I have money hidden everywhere, could probably retire now and live a very modest, but happy, life if I wanted to, having saved my money since I started earning.
And making capo…forget about it.
What's the point of having money if you can't enjoy it sometimes?
I've been responsible my whole life, my whole fucking life I've done the right things, the sensible and logical things, what's best for others and those around me. I've sacrificed my own happiness more times than I can count to appease others.
Again, I always do the right thing, and I'm tired of it.
Not that what I'm doing now is wrong…although a tinge irresponsible.
Fuck that. I'mma be a father in a couple months. And then I won't be able to do this, get away, nothing. My life will no longer be my own; meanwhile, it's become very clear in this moment that I haven't really been living…huh?
Clubbing, partying, all the women—yeah, that's living, but it got old a couple years ago. And my plans to settle down, marry Katie, didn't work out.
I wanted nothing with the woman I'd planned to share forever with.
Fuck her and fuck it all.
I felt good in this moment, and I felt silly foregoing a filet mignon for grilled cheese.
And I had a beautiful woman who'd be spending some time with me.
"This is ridiculous. I don't understand why you're…" At a loss, Maggie continued to stare at me, her furrowed brow adorable. "Santino—"
Any irritation I'd had about the possible squabble flew out the window. I'd placed my fingers in my ears. "Like I said, some day I'll be as mature as you. La, la, la, la, la."
She wasn't amused.
I didn't give a fuck and pointed to Cathy.
Maggie huffed and then gave the clerk the detailed information. Then, since I needed a suit, I jotted down my measurements as well, uttering one word: Armani.
I'd asked Maggie to dinner, and I was taking her, and I wanted to look good, knowing she'd look delectable on my arm. But I totally forgot about needing to take her home and all that, not knowing how much time we actually had together.
"Have them arrive around three this afternoon?" I asked. "And that's the only interruption…I'm not taking any calls or visitors unless otherwise announced."
"Very good, sir." She handed me a brochure. "Here's a list of our spa treatments and packages."
"Thank you."
"Enjoy your stay." She slid the keycards across the counter.
I held them tightly, gave them a squeeze before grabbing a c-note from my pocket. "I definitely will... Thank you."
The large tip didn't seem to faze her, but I didn't give a fuck. "Let's go." I smiled, pushing Maggie toward the elevators.
"You gave her a hundred dollars." Maggie's tone was breathy.
"You want one, too?" Yeah, I was in that great a mood, ready to give money away.
"No!" She snorted. "I'm just—"
Luck was on our side as an elevator arrived right away.
Maggie was quiet during the ride, and I wondered what happened. She hadn't pulled away from me by any means. She just stopped talking, making an uncomfortable silence loom.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing." She turned to stare up at me. "You didn't have to do all that, don't have to do all this…or…is this what you do with…with women?" She made it sound like I have a different one every week.
"If I did, I'd be broke," I said. "No…I know I've said this a few times tonight. But complicated can only begin to describe some aspects of my life...and all I wanna do is have fun with you. Just let me."
The last thing I wanted to do was tell her how I'd been Katie's yo-yo, her schmuck for years—tell her about the joy I'd felt when finding out I was having a baby girl, how ecstatic I was when Katie decided she'd be leaving her husband and moving in with me . . .
Divulging all of that would lead to telling her about the fighting, the shouting, the fucking tears, and all the anxiety—the fact that nothing really changed with the new developments; I was still fucking unhappy and dejected.
Revealing how stupid I was, that my dumb ass was still willing to marry her despite it all, sign myself up for a lifetime of misery. Whatta idiot I was. For the sake of "doing the right thing."
I was over the moon when my mother threatened bodily harm, disownment, and dismemberment. That she'd beat me senseless if I married Katie but didn't love her.
And then having to admit that I'm utterly indifferent now, that my willingness to tolerate Katie and be amicable was only because of our child.
Confess that—if not for the baby—I'd sooner push Katie off a bridge than make sweet love to her.
No, I can't tell that last one to anyone. Stranger things have happened. What if Katie…was suddenly propelled from some high point? I'd be suspect number one.
But I also yearned to tell Maggie—tell her everything that makes my life fucked-up.
Because, regardless of complications, I was here—present and accounted for, mind, body, and soul—with her right now. She should know that I don't do this with every woman, and then maybe she'd feel special? As special as she made me feel?
Maybe she'd understand the complexities in my life, know that I'm more than just some broody brute with a cash flow who's a decent lay…?
That tonight, for the first time in a while, I don't feel dragged down in the dumps, morose, or pessimistic? Let her know how light, hopeful, and happy she made me feel? That it's her who's been encouraging my carefree demeanor?
No. I'd only tell her about my life, let her in, but all that stuff about her and how she made me feel…? I'd sound insane. Maggie would think I was crazy. I know I would if some chick confessed something like that, rambling like a nut.
Before I managed stop myself, I started to explain. I felt I owed it to Maggie, after hearing that "complicated" excuse more than once.
Who was she going to tell?
And I wanted us to be friends, too.
Our trip to the thirtieth floor wasn't a lengthy ride. Though it was long enough for me to tell her about Katie and more about myself—provided I didn't go into too many details.
I wanted it all—all that bullshit out of the way before we entered the suite.
"Kylie told me a lot." Maggie nodded, solemnly, refusing to look up at me. "She's angry with Katie for hurting you."
"My sister loves her gossip." If it ain't illegal activities, they're all blabbermouths—my whole family.
Maggie may know some about Katie, about me, and my family. But unless she's seen my mug in the paper, or heard my name on the news, she has no idea what I do for a living, who I allegedly am. So far, she's given me no indication that she did.
"I can't believe her, though. When Kylie told me, I was shocked…Katie knew the baby was yours for a whole month and didn't tell you?" She frowned, taking my hand.
I kissed her palm. "Yeah…but that's…water under the bridge." The bell dinged, we'd arrived at our floor. "Ready?" I gestured for her to leave.
Maggie didn't know if she should go right or left.
Assessing the few suite numbers rapidly, I led her to our right. "This way…"
She stopped, turning to face me. "You must be heartbroken."
I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't know what to say.
Yeah, I've been a motherfucker with my attitude lately, but that's attributed to my trying to be Katie's friend, the anxieties of being an expectant father, being crazy busy with work, and…my living arrangement…and being depressed in general, which I was before Katie and I got back together.
But…was I truly heartbroken?
Or just a sad asshole?
After realizing that separating was for the best, taking in all that was logical, I honestly felt as though . . .
Even in this moment, I couldn't accurately describe it.
"I was disappointed, but heartbroken...?" I had to think on that some more.
I'd had it in my head for years, in my heart, that if Katie and I just got back together, all of my problems would disappear. I'd finally have my girl, the one and only woman I'd ever loved—the one that got away, the one.
We could get married, finally start having babies…I'd have all those things I thought I'd lost when we'd broken up. I'd be whole again. Matrimony, domestic bliss, yadda yadda, and I'd stop it with the petty tit-and-ass garbage. I'd have everything I'd need in Katie.
Again, I've come a long way from my teenage self.
Katie was my high school sweetheart; she'd yet to be my woman.
No matter the initial, empty joy of getting back together with Katie, there was still a void. Nothing changed. I still existed without having lived.
Not drowning but wading the water with tired arms, waiting for a lifesaver or a boat to row by; meanwhile, the shore was on the horizon. I could have swum to it and saved myself.
For whatever reason, while banking on Katie, I never fucking tried to date other women. Broads would use me, and I'd use them for what I wanted, what I needed from them, which was companionship, a date to some engagement, or…what's between their legs.
I'm the type of dude ladies can have fun with.
Not even companionship. None of them knew me. Case in point, over the summer, I had a short fling with this chick from down the Jersey shore. I'd stayed at my parents' place a few weekends, was seeing this blonde…and she thought my name was Tony and I was a stockbroker from Queens. The sex was decent. I took her to Joe's Crab Shack a few times, but none of it mattered.
I never gave anyone a chance to know me.
It all seems…inconsequential.
I honestly didn't give a fuck, but it also seemed silly now, dumb.
What the fuck was I hiding from?
Sometimes, I think waiting on Katie was all an excuse.
The truth might be that I was having too much fun, living fast, doing what I wanted, until it became mundane and unfulfilling.
I'm not that deep, nor am I a complex individual.
Fucking around was fun, and I never saw the point of settling if I still planned on being a…connoisseur of pussy.
And that's also something Katie couldn't or wouldn't understand.
I'm a lot of things, but I respect the sanctity of marriage. That's the way I was raised, shit my father's drilled into me for a long time, since I was a kid. He warned me when becoming wrapped up in the lifestyle. There are a few aspects he'd never accept from me.
Notwithstanding what others do, he told me it's one or the other—single or married—there's no in-between. I could either stay single and get mine, sleep with whoever the fuck, or settle down, and the two worlds don't intertwine; I can't have or do both, which is dishonorable in his eyes.
Granted, what happens behind closed doors isn't his business, like what others do. But that man's been in my business since I got my first dick hair.
It was gonna kill me to keep this—Maggie—a secret from him. No, I already told him we'd fucked. But I know, just like I knew last night, he didn't approve—equating Maggie to Kylie, seeing them both as children.
I'd been groomed into becoming his closest confidant and business associate.
And if I could cheat on my wife, a woman I'd sworn to love and honor to death in front of God and a church full of people, what's to say I won't betray him?
If I can't stay loyal to a woman, how can I be loyal in other facets of life?
It made sense.
It all went back to that age-old saying, "A man is only as good as his word."
And actions speak louder…
"I don't think so…I haven't loved Katie, nor have I legit been in love with her in a long, long time," I admitted. "Not since I was in high school, and…" My shoulders drooped, hoping to drop the subject because I didn't feel comfortable telling her the ugly truth.
Even during our best days, back when I was a teen and even as a preteen, I never fell in love with Katie, nor had I ever been in love with her. I'd grown to love and care for her, and there's a difference. And I couldn't believe how blinded I was, how fucking stupid…
Self-discoveries are a motherfucker and a half!
"But still." That frown marred her pretty face. "Your head must be filled to the max…upset about all that stuff." She trailed off in a whisper.
"I'm okay." I grabbed Maggie's hand, thinking her concern cute. "That's why I left everything—" I waved my free hand "—I left all that crap down in the lobby. Metaphorically speaking." I grinned, stepping closer to hover. "Let's go have some fun…"
She was still stuck in her own head, not smiling but not frowning.
"This isn't something I do ever, certainly not often. Maggie, I haven't taken a woman out to dinner, on a 'date' in months," I explained, although I wasn't sure what more she wanted from me.
She stared, quite the skeptic. "I find that hard to believe. You…?" Her tone was disbelieving.
"I don't even know what a 'date' entails, really. Small talk, hopes to get laid...?" I'd hoped to make her laugh, but I had no such luck.
If this was any other broad, and with the amount of money I'd already spent, I'd earned the right to sex—pussy—without needing to talk any more.
She finally smiled, albeit sadly, placing her hand flat on my chest. "I'm young."
I nodded.
"I've never done anything like this before." Her eyes were instantly glassy, and I wanted to vomit—anything but fucking tears.
"Relax." I hugged her tightly. "Just relax. What is it that's bothering you?" The elevator sounded again, another one, and I knew it was our food. "You were fine before…less than an hour ago." For the life of me, I didn't know what'd changed.
We stood in front of the room now, and I was adamant about not bringing any drama into the suite. We might have looked crazy, camping out in the hall, but I showed the waiter our keycard, signed for the food, and tipped him before he left.
If Maggie changed her mind and wanted to go home, I'd take her.
It was never my intention to make her unhappy.
"Hmmm?" With privacy, I gathered her into my arms again. "You wanna go home?"
She moved out of my embrace, not answering my question. "I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were." I furrowed my brow. "Maggie, if I've done something to offend you…" Not sure how to continue, I shut up, hoping she'd tell me what the problem was.
If it was the hotel, my spending money, I'd take it all back. We could hit up a Super 8. I'd take her to fucking IHOP via mass transit, and then I'd try to hit it on the subway…if slumming it was her thing.
Maggie remained silent as the seconds ticked by, ticking me off.
"Fuck that. What's wrong?" Immediately, I regretted my hostile tone. "I'm sorry. We're just so close." I jerked my head to the room, hoping she understood my meaning.
She bit her quivering lip, and I knew she was trying to her hardest not to cry. "I know things are complicated…in here." She pointed to her head. "I know you don't love me, we're not gonna get married. Like, I know that tonight is just tonight. That come Monday…" she laughed without humor "—despite what happened last night, and what happens today, I'll go home. I'll be Virgin Mary again."
"But you're not a virgin," I whispered.
Her eyes widened as though she'd made some sort of revelation. "My coach will turn into a pumpkin. My Prince Charming…he'll disappear, too. My fairy tale will be over, and that's—that's incredibly disappointing, and I can't help it…that I'm thinking about that." Her face crumpled for the briefest of seconds. "You can…you can hurt me, break me without even knowing it. I don't know if you'd care, either, and that bothers me."
I nodded, understanding everything she'd said, but I didn't have an answer.
Oh, to be a teenager again…when everything's so fucking dramatic.
I cringed, hoping she didn't see it.
"Tonight's been overwhelming." She blinked at the ceiling. "You overwhelm me, Santino…In all senses."
I wiped whatever remained of her tears away with my thumbs. "I'd never hurt you…not intentionally. I'd never want to do you harm." That was the last thing I'd ever want to do, and I hoped she believed me. "I can't make promises, and I never would if I couldn't keep them."
Maggie gave me a small nod but wouldn't look me in the eyes.
I slouched low, needing to see those peepers. "We did what we did at Midnight Sun, but I need this." I widened my arms. "Whether you chill with me or I take you home…I honestly got the room for myself. This is my getaway that I hoped to share with you."
"Really?" she sniffled, her nose pink.
"Really." With a small grin, I nodded and touched my knuckle to her lips. "Maggie, having you with me…it's an added bonus, the best bonus I can think of. I'm offering you friendship, since we've known each other all of…" I tried to think back "—eight hours, and just let me spoil you." I pulled her into my arms. "Let me care for you. Let me please you," I whispered. "Let me try to make up for all that you've given me…and all I want in return is your friendship."
Maggie was hesitant, rigid within the embrace. "Um…all of that is misleading. I thought we'd have a one-night stand, like in movies?" She peered up to me. "Then…we'd go our separate ways, never see each other again." Maggie had a plan, too, it seemed. "You doing all that other stuff…?" She actually frowned only to gulp, her face draining of some color. "You overwhelm me." I'd barely heard her. "That's the only way I can describe…all this."
"You live across the street from my parents' house. It's not like we'll never see each other again." I chuckled. She's silly if she thought that. "It's not like I'd let you get away."
As it was…I felt strange, as if I couldn't possibly continue without acknowledging that she was a part of my life? I didn't know how to un-know Maggie? It was weird.
"Just trust me...like you did earlier." Whether she wanted it or not, I placed my lips to hers. It only took a second for her to deepen it, to moan into my mouth, to writhe against me...which was an unexpected surprise. The way she'd been talking, I expected a slap or something.
Pinning her to the door, I still needed an answer. "Be my friend." I kissed her hair and her forehead and then each eyebrow before going back to her lips. "My beautiful friend I can spend money on…just say yes."
She giggled. "I can be your friend, but..." She scrunched her nose. "Everything downstairs, giving that lady my sizes for some personal shopper…? Santino, that was weird and unnecessary."
"It was something I wanted to do." I haven't been around my parents' place in a while. Katie was doing her best to be needy, keep me from my family. But from what I remembered, Maggie wore clothes that weren't very ladylike? I knew they weren't flattering, and maybe her parents were doing their best to make sure she resembled a little girl for a while longer. I just wanted to see her dressed to the nines, have her feeling beautiful in case she doesn't in her normal garb.
I also remembered last night, Maggie talking about how Kylie wanted to transform her into this hottie, and Maggie mentioning she'd been borrowing my sister's clothes. That's crap. She should and would have her own.
"You'll learn to deal with it." I smirked. "I can't propose marriage, or promise you a…whirlwind romance like one of your movies—" that made her giggle and me smile wider. "I can't promise everyday, but I can promise you sometimes. We'll keep in touch, you know? We can meet, chill, have dinners…" That was something I could definitely agree to since I enjoyed her company so much.
It was something new to look forward to as well. "I'm always busy, Maggie, and that's not something people fully grasp; they never get it. They say they understand, understand that my work comes first—because my work will always come first—but inevitably there's always a problem. But, I can promise that…" I thought about my next words wisely, mulling them over, wondering if I should promise such a thing.
If she agreed to it as well, it would be an appealing thought; it'd be worth it. "As long as you're, that we're sleeping together—" I gestured between us "—I won't sleep with anyone else, provided you don't. You'd only be fucking me, no one else, and I'd extend you the same courtesy."
That didn't come out as smoothly as I'd hoped.
And Maggie…fuck, she looked confused.
"That's called safe sex." I swallowed, my mouth dry. "Unless you had plans to be…promiscuous." Letting that hang there was awkward, but I was pleased with my word choice.
"No!" She rushed out. "I don't. Not at all."
"Okay." My head whipped to and fro, taking in our surroundings, the fucking hallway. And I wondered what I'd have to say to get her into the room.
Maggie was about to say something, but I cut her off.
"I need time…to figure a whole mess of shit out before I commit to any one person, and it wouldn't be fair for me to promise you something…when we don't even know what's up. We don't even know each other." I hated that a chuckle escaped, but this was getting a little ridiculous.
"Agreeing to be exclusive sexually—that I can promise. It's a little early to…" I knew what her reluctance was, as I was able to understand. And I know I talk a good game, continuing with my words when they were unnecessary. "You don't even know me," I laughed, remembering her age, the roof...
What the fuck? My brain was shouting at me.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. You are young, and you probably just don't understand…When you're older, you'll learn to understand that men and women…can be casual, that after a few years…sex is just sex, and it has little to do with love and a lot more to do with lust—it's just a release, not so much about desire but fulfilling sexual urges." I took a deep breath.
"They say everyone remembers their first, but trust me…Maggie, baby—" I grabbed her hand "—in a couple weeks, months, it'll just be a memory, and in a couple years…you won't even remember me." It really was laughable if I thought about it—how we grow up and evolve, and there's no magic to a damn thing.
Maggie took her hand back, wiping her palm on the sweats, and her expression was unreadable.
What the fuck was I thinking? Taking her here? What did I hope to accomplish? No, deep down, I just wanted to sleep with her again, and doing all this…it's because I know she's young, might have been impressed, think herself special, let me do whatever I wanted with her, and every outlandish gesture might just soften the blow when I dropped her off at home with an empty promise to call.
"Things seem serious now…so serious. Because it's new and you're young. But…Maggie, I'm not Prince Charming, and this is no fairy tale. You—"
When I noticed her head was down, saw her tears falling onto the carpet, her arms around her body in a self-hug, I stopped talking.
And I felt as though I'd just told her that Santa wasn't real, the Easter Bunny was a hack, the stepsisters had a threesome with the Prince behind Cinderella's back, Sleeping Beauty never woke up, the dwarves ran a train on Snow White—you name it, I felt like I'd just shit on any hope or idea of love this poor girl had in her head.
"I'm not saying I wanna be your girlfriend," she whispered. "I never said that, and I don't…wanna be your girlfriend."
"Oh…" I nodded. "So, what's the problem?"
"I don't have one." She turned away from me to wipe her eyes. "Maybe I'm getting my period."
I smiled at her back, because that's the best fallback, foolproof, and bullshit excuse for getting emotional. "Okay," I rasped. "I'm sorry for saying what I did." I wanted to tell her I didn't mean a word of it, that despite being jaded and bitter, and after being hurt, very disappointed and betrayed, I still believed in love. "Maggie, I—"
"No." She sniffled, turning to face me. "No, you're right. Kylie told me…you were…easy, and I wanted to lose my virginity." Maggie stood a little taller but wouldn't look at me again. "I should be apologizing for using you, or…thanking you for the opportunity?"
My brows rose and I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut, which was an odd turn of events. "Yeah…You can always count on Santino for a good time," I joked and let out a short sigh. "No need to apologize or thank me. The pleasure was all mine." I forced a smile.
If she felt the need, if I took her home, and I wanted to get laid in my glorious hotel suite, I could make a phone call. Pay someone to blow me and be my friend. I could have also said just about anything to make her stay, promised Maggie the world just so I could have my way—drop her off at home, and then never contact her again.
In all honesty, if she was a little older, if she had a better comprehension of how shit worked…if she wasn't Maggie, the irresistible, perfect…possibly the girl of my dreams, that'd probably happen.
Any other broad would get flowers the following day and a promise to call, or I'd possibly give her the wrong phone number on purpose.
I've done that before. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's happened, and yet I kept telling myself this was different.
Or…did I just want it to be different? Fabricating feelings, emotions, because I'm tired of the emptiness, the meaningless crap?
No, this had to be different, since I feel different. It's unlike every time before, and I've been nothing but truthful. And everything I've done, I did because I wanted to—for her. To give her a whole lot more than what she'd get just from spending the night with me.
Because I was ready to beg Maggie to enter that room with me.
The thought of her leaving…without us chillin' a little while longer…I didn't wanna think about it.
While her admission of using me to lose her virginity stung a little, I felt better about the situation. Maybe neither one of us would be hurt in the long run? There's a mutual understanding?
"You don't want me to be your boyfriend. You just said it." I shrugged, unaware of what we were still talking about. "We don't have to fuck either." That was the last time I'd say that shit, though. "We're friends."
I put the keycard into the slot, granting us entrance. "You've got nothin' to lose, baby…You were lookin' to lose your cherry, and you did. That'll be the last thing you lose." I pushed the food cart into the room, deciding I wouldn't be taking no for an answer.
We'll eat, chill, take a nap, who cares?
"I promise…I'll behave." I grabbed her hand, pulling her into the room to close the door with my foot. "I'll be on my best behavior." My nose touched hers. "Just spend the day with me. That's it. I'll let you go…I promise." I grinned, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Same rules apply. I do something you dislike—except when it comes to spending my money—you speak up. It'd never be my intention to hurt you or disrespect you, baby." I wanted to kiss her so badly, but her company was worth more than that…the physical garbage, which is anything but garbage.
Thank you for reading.
Please leave me your thoughts
I know it was long, but I fleshed out a lot of Sonny's feelings...because I didn't during Riders and it's a refresher.