Stay(29)

I’ll pick Eli up in the morning and let him see the place.

Another pause, signs of texting. Don’t tell him why. I’m still deciding.

I’ll show him the room.

Nothing more.

Leaning back in my chair, I grin. I won.

Problem solved.

For now.



* * *



Miss Con-Cleaneality on a Monday morning is worse than Grand Central Station. “Push the pull door?” I read the sign as I wait for Emmy to finish with a customer.

“It’s existential.” She doesn’t look up.

Her hair is piled on top of her head again, and she’s wearing blue denim cutoffs and a black tank under her neon vest. As I wait, I let my eyes travel down her body, remembering how it felt against mine.

I remember pulling her hair down, letting it tumble around us in soft, flower-scented waves. I remember burying my face between those smooth thighs. I remember the sounds she made when she came for me, when I sank my cock into her tight little pussy…

Shit. Must stop that train of thought before I get a semi.

Several more minutes pass while Emmy writes the woman’s special instructions on a small pad. With a pen. It takes forever.

“Have you ever considered automation?” My tone is impatient. “A computer system would save a lot of time and money.”

Emmy rips off the claim ticket and passes it to the customer then drops a net bag of suits in a large bin. “Good luck convincing Lulabell to modernize.”

“I could convince her.”

She disappears into the back room, and I prop my elbow against the counter, waiting. Vintage pinup girls are painted on the cinder block walls. The entire place has a fun, 1950s vibe going.

“Here are your suits.” She hands me a stack of hangers with plastic-covered clothes on them. “And here’s Eli.”

“Black Bart!” The boy grins and points at me, squinting one eye.

It’s cute. I smile and return his point. “You’re John Roberts. I’m Howell Davis. I captured you and turned you into the most successful pirate of your generation.”

Eli nods. “Okay!”

The blue backpack on his shoulders is almost as big as he is, and I take it off him. “Let me help you with that.”

Lulabell watches me from behind an ancient cash register. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Hey, beautiful.” I wink at her, and she shakes her bright red head. Just as fast her eyes go round. “I’ve got it!” She points at me. “A young David Gandy!”

“Eli, you left these.” Emmy holds out a prescription bottle, and the boy groans. “Don’t give me that. If I’m late, take your pill.”

She looks up at me, and it’s the first time we’ve faced each other all morning. It’s the first time I’ve met her eyes since I was covering her with kisses. Shadows are beneath them, and she looks like she hasn’t slept.

Now I’m concerned. “Are you okay?”

She cuts away from my gaze and Lou sidles up beside her. “Gandy, yes?”

“What?” Emmy frowns. “Oh.” She doesn’t sound playful. “Sure. He’s way more Gandy than Bond.”

“Girls are weird.” Eli complains at my side, and I decide to let it go for now.

She’s not giving me anything.

“You have no idea.” I drape my suits over my shoulder. “Let’s go. Car’s waiting.”

Emmy ducks under the counter, and quickly pulls her son into a long hug.

“He’s not joining the Foreign Legion,” I groan impatiently.

She cuts me a look before turning back to Eli, with whom she’s all softness. “Don’t let this guy make you a mean old cynic, okay?”

Eli’s got my back. “I think he’s alright.”

I hold out my fist, and he bumps it.

She stands and gives me a look that’s pure mamma bear. “Take care of him.”

“You have my word.”

With that, we’re in my car headed uptown. Eli leans against the window, looking out at the changing scenery.

“Your neighborhood’s called Turtle Bay? Are there a lot of turtles or something?”

He’s cute with that blond hair and his mother’s big blue eyes. “The East River curves around creating a cove. Apparently, it looked like a turtle to the Dutch settlers.”

“Oh.” He nods and returns to the window.

“My house is close to the United Nations building.”

“Okay.” He lifts his small eyebrows and nods. It makes me chuckle. I guess the UN building isn’t super exciting to a kid.

“How old are you? Eight? Nine?”

“I’ll be eight in a couple months.” I can tell this is a point of pride. I don’t point out it means he’s still only seven.

“You’re a young man. That’s a lot of responsibility.”

He squints up at me. “Do you remember being seven?”

“I do. It was about two years before all the other guys started being assholes.”

Eli coughs a laugh and nods. “You’ll get in trouble if Mom hears you.”

Leaning closer, I impart some wisdom. “It’s not a bad word if it’s true.”

He only laughs more. “Mom says when they’re mean, I have to shake it off.”