Dirty Daddies Page 16

  “Carrie,” he says to call me back to my senses. “You’ll be back in time for movie night, yes? Don’t let us down.”

  “I won’t,” I say. “I won’t let you down.”

  And I won’t.

  I’m never going to let him down. Nor Michael, either.

  Michael

  I slept a lousy sleep. It’s my phone that wakes me up, bleeping away on my bedside table.

  I rub my eyes before I reach for it, and realise the daylight is blazing through the crack in the curtains.

  “Wake up sleepyhead,” Jack says at the end of the line. “It’s almost midday.”

  I check my alarm clock. He’s right.

  That’s what a night pacing around your living room does for you.

  “Guess I overslept.”

  “Guess you did. You should’ve stayed over.”

  I sigh. “I hardly think that would’ve been a good idea.”

  “She loves you,” he says, just like that, and I sit bolt upright.

  “What?”

  “She loves you, she told me so. And she loves me, too.”

  A mix of relief and nausea floods through me. “She said that? Love?”

  “Uh huh, yeah. She said it. Love.”

  I can’t fight the zing of nerves. “And were you… when she said it?”

  “Was I fucking her?” He sighs. “No, Michael, I wasn’t fucking fucking her. How much of a cunt do you take me for?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and I am.

  “She did sleep in my bed though. But not like that. Just sleeping.” He groans. “Fuck, this is awkward. It’s just…”

  “Fucked up,” I say, “yes, I know.”

  “I mean, she was in nothing but a scrappy little top and knickers, and she is fucking divine, and I did have my fucking hard on pressed against her ass all night.” His laugh is low and easy. “But I didn’t stick her with it, and she didn’t ask.”

  “I’m supposed to say thank you, am I? That’s how this goes? Thank you for not fucking the eighteen-year-old girl we’re both infatuated with. Well done, have a gold star.”

  “Thank you for not fucking the eighteen-year-old girl we’re both infatuated with without me. That’s how this goes. Gold star for me.”

  I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “This isn’t happening. Forget it.”

  He laughs. “Suit yourself, but she doesn’t want to choose and I don’t want to let this go.”

  “Then I’ll back out gracefully,” I tell him.

  “And she’ll hate us both for it if you do.”

  “You’re a cock,” I say.

  “Yes, I am,” he says. “But you brought her to my doorstep, and she isn’t like other girls. She’s nothing close.”

  I lean back into the pillows. “Your point being?”

  “My point being that your concrete sense of morality is going to have to take a bashing if you want to live in Carrie’s world. Your call.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” I say.

  “You do that,” he replies. “I’ll see you later. Don’t be late for movie night.”

  He hangs up the call before I can argue.

  Carrie

  I’ve been in Gloucester city centre a thousand times, but never with a hundred quid in my pocket. I feel uneasy to have it there, like someone is going to take it from me. Someone like Eli or one of his loser mates.

  That’s why I didn’t want Jack to bring me here. I didn’t want to risk running into any of them. I didn’t want them to see me with someone. Someone they could speak to, someone they could scare off me.

  Eli is the only family who’s ever stuck by me. He ruined my life, but he came through at the other side, tracking me down when I was fourteen and telling me he was still my brother.

  He’s never even mentioned what happened all those years ago, and I was always too scared to bring it up in case he dropped me again. Sometimes he’s kind and tells me about my old mum and dad, and sister, too. He says they don’t want to see me and never will, but I still care.

  I still like hearing about them.

  I guess he knows it and that’s why he’s always used it to take things from me. Whatever he wants. Money, favours.

  Me.

  I shiver at the thought of how much I’ve given him, and I’ve never really minded before, because family’s family, even if it is fucked up, but now that I have things I’m really not willing to give up for him, I hope he just stays well away from me.

  I came to Gloucester because I don’t know my way around anywhere else, but it makes me nervous.

  I want to get my shopping as quickly as possible. I head over to the shoe store on South Street, the one with the boots I’ve always ogled, but even though they’re reduced they’re still almost sixty quid. That would leave me forty for some underwear and some other bits I need.

  But I really wanted to get Jack and Mike something, so I put a hold on the boots until I’ve done that first.

  Choosing a present for Mike is easy, I know exactly what I’m going to get him.

  I’ve only ever seen him in three ties for work, and I know he likes weird slightly zany stuff, so I head into a suit shop in one of the posher streets and choose him a nice deep green one, to match his eyes. I smile as I picture him in it, because it’ll look good on him. I know it will.

  It cost me twenty, which is a chunk of my money, but at least I can still get Jack something and get my boots. The other stuff will have to wait.

  There’s a boutique homewares shop next to the tie place, and I’ve never even looked in here before because for one I’ve never had a home, and secondly because I’ve never had any money.

  But then I see it, in the window. A big coloured glass sculpture thing with flecks of blue and green right through it.

  It’s not like the thing the crow smashed, but it’s not too dissimilar. My heart races at the thought I could replace it for him. My stomach is in knots at the thought that I can really make up for what I ruined.

  I dash inside and ask the snooty shop assistant how much it is, then gulp as she says it’s eighty-five.

  I only have eighty.

  My heart breaks.

  I step outside defeated, not giving a shit for my boots anymore or the hairbrush I can make do without. I just need a fiver, that’s all. One measly fiver.

  Once upon a time I’d have considered stealing it, but not now. Now I only want to take what I earn and nothing more.

  I should walk away and get my boots and work out a way of getting it another time, but I can’t. I really can’t.

  I want nothing more than to see Jack’s face as I get him another sculpture, Michael’s too as he tries on his tie.

  That’s the reason I head into the backstreets to find Eli. That’s why I trek into an area that makes me shiver and knock on his front door.

  He’s not happy when he answers. His eyes are dark and angry, beard dishevelled as he yanks me inside by my wrist. He squeezes hard as he pulls me upstairs and this time I don’t fight because I don’t want to explain the bruises.

  He throws me into the living room and jabs a finger at me. “You took off!”

  “You were being a cunt to me!”

  “If I’m so much of a cunt, then why are you fucking back here, you little skank?”

  I fold my arms. “I need to borrow a fiver.”

  He laughs a mean laugh. “A fucking fiver? Why? You already fucking owe me.”

  I owe him for a fucking sandwich and not much else, but I don’t say that.

  “I need it for a friend,” I say and he sneers.

  “You don’t have any fucking friends.”

  “I have friends now,” I say proudly. “Are you gonna give me the fiver or not?”

  “Are you gonna fucking bail and ignore me again if I do?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll give it back.”

  “And the rest?”

  There is no rest, not really, but I still want the updates on how everyone is doing and I re
ally want this fiver so I nod. “Yeah, and the rest.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the note and I’m so happy my heart soars. I rush towards him, but he holds it out of reach.

  “Kiss first.”

  He stinks of weed and I hate it, but the fiver is so close I can smell the happiness more. I brace myself for it and when it comes it’s sloppy and gross and makes me feel sick.

  His hand paws my tit through my top and pinches my nipple even though I twist away. I daren’t break off the kiss before he’s ready, because then I’ll never get the fiver, so I hold my breath and let him do it, just like he always does.

  “You really wanted that fucking fiver,” he laughs when he’s finally had enough. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand then snatch the note from his fingers.

  And then I’m outta there, as fast as I can before he causes me any more shit.

  “You owe me, remember,” he calls down the stairs after me.

  “How can I fucking forget,” I yell back and flip him the finger at the bottom.

  Jack

  “She’ll be here,” I say, “she said she wouldn’t let us down.”

  Mike is pacing. Nervous as fuck.

  I’d like to say I’m not, but I’m more tightly wound than I’d like, even if I’m hiding it pretty well.

  “You gave her a hundred quid, Jack. She could be fucking anywhere right now.”

  “She won’t be,” I tell him, even though I’m not entirely sure. “We’re having movie night, she’ll be here.”

  “Or be drunk in an alleyway somewhere.”

  I sigh. “You’ve got to have some faith in her.”

  He flashes me a horrible stare. “I’ve got faith in her, Jack, it’s us I’ve got the issue with. Last night we slap her ass, today she’s taken off.”

  “She’s gone shopping, Mike.”

  “You don’t know that,” he insists, and he’s right. I don’t.

  I hope my gut is making the right call on this one. Not just on Carrie being back in time to spend the evening with us, but on this whole crazy situation we’re involved with. I thought teaching her some discipline was the right call, just as holding her tight in my bed felt the right call.

  Paying her for a job well done also seemed the right call.

  But there’s a chance I’ve been off the mark with the whole lot of it.

  The clock is ticking and she’s not back. Six p.m. and there’s no sign of her, and there isn’t another bus until gone eight.

  I’m about to call defeat at six thirty and suggest we go take a drive to look for her, but the sound of the front door has both Mike and me jumping to our feet.

  Carrie tries to catch her breath in the hallway, cheeks flushed pink as she doubles over.

  “I… I’m sorry…” she wheezes. “I lost my fucking bus ticket and I had no money for another… my phone was out of credit… and I didn’t have money to make a call…”

  I hear Mike sigh and I slap him on the back in unspoken victory.

  “How did you get home?” I ask and she holds up a finger for a moment while she catches the rest of her breath.

  “Hitchhiked,” she says, “and walked the rest.”

  I feel Michael leap up the fucking pole. “You hitchhiked?!”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, was alright.”

  “Could’ve at least put your new boots on for the walk,” I comment, gesturing to the same old pair on her feet.

  She looks so uncertain as she stares down at them. “I didn’t get any,” she admits and Mike flashes a glance at me.

  Carrie heads on through to the kitchen and we follow her, staring on in interest as she pulls a box and a little bag from her backpack.

  She hands the little bag to Mike. “For you,” she says and her smile is nervous enough to break my fucking heart.

  He opens it slowly. “For me?”

  She nods. “Yeah, for you. A present.”

  He looks so touched I can’t stop grinning. A tie. A decent one too. He runs it through his fingers.

  “Do you like it?” she asks and he nods.

  “I love it.”

  Her smile makes my heart stop.

  “That was a really nice gesture,” I say to her, but she won’t look at me. She picks up the box and hands it over to me but she won’t meet my eyes.

  “And one for you. A present, and a sorry. That’s why it’s bigger. It’s two in one.”

  “Two in one?” I repeat and she nods.

  I open the box with clammy fingers, surprised at how fucking excited I am. And I should be. I really should be.

  The glassware inside the box is no auction piece, but it doesn’t matter.

  It’s beautiful and stylish with perfectly coloured flecks of aqua and green.

  I stare at Mike and he’s staring at me, and I knew it. I was fucking right about everything.

  I was right about trusting her with money and timekeeping, I was right about how a little discipline would help her feel loved.

  It feels so fucking good to be right. Mike nods and he knows it too.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. “I’m really touched, Carrie.”

  She breathes out a sign of relief. “Phew,” she says. “I was crapping myself that you’d hate it.”

  I hold the sculpture in my hands, admiring every facet and curve of it. It may not be a one-off designer piece, but there’s no doubt about it. I love it more than I ever loved the original.

  “What did you get for you?” Michael asks and I take a step forward to see what else she bought, but she’s already dropping her backpack to the floor. Empty.

  “I didn’t,” she says. “I spent it all on you. But that’s cool. My boots are fine.”

  “Hey,” I say, and finally she looks at me. “You did good.”

  She smiles. “I did?”

  “Yes,” Mike says. “You did.”

  She shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything, but it does. It’s written all over her pretty face.

  “Shit, you guys. Getting all emo.”

  I place my new sculpture on the top of the cabinet where it belongs, before any of us get too fucking gushy and make a tit of ourselves, and then I grab the beers from the fridge.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Carrie

  I did good.

  It feels so good to do good. Buying presents for Jack and Michael was everything I hoped it would be. It’s not just in the way they say thanks over and over, and it’s not in the way I feel so proud as Jack places his present up on the cabinet where the other one used to be. It’s not even in the way Michael looks so fine as he tries his new tie on over his shirt.

  It’s in the way they smile, the way they look at me.

  The way their appreciation makes me feel so loved.

  I do feel loved here. I feel accepted and wanted and bothered enough about that they work through my shit rather than give up on me. I feel safe when I wake up in the morning, and like I belong right where I am as I walk through the fields behind the house.

  I never want to let this go, not any of it. Not this house, not this life, not Michael, and not Jack, either.

  I’ve never liked TV, not shows nor films, but after a couple of cold beers in Jack’s kitchen, laughing and joking through a load of old jokes they have to fill me in on, I think that maybe watching TV with these two guys won’t be so bad.

  They say I can choose what we watch and it takes me an age, but they don’t seem impatient. I sit between them on the big white sofa Jack spanked me on last night, and I try to stop thinking about it but I can’t. Michael’s still wearing his new tie. I like that he is. I like it a lot.

  Jack slumps back easily, his legs spread and his knee touching mine. It burns a nice burn.

  So did my ass last night.

  I try not to fidget as I scroll up and down the listings, but my jeans are stiff and need a wash and my bra is itchy where my backpack rubbed my shoulders earlier.

  “Ants in your fucking pants,” Jack laughs as I shift pos
ition for the millionth time, and I grumble about everything, about all of it, finally losing my shit as I admit that I’ve no clean clothes and I don’t know how to work his shitty washing machine.

  And then I fold my arms and say I quit film night after all. Everything can go fuck itself.

  It’s Michael who squeezes my arm and tells me to stop being so melodramatic.

  I tell him I’m not, and hope he spanks me for it all the same.

  My cheeks burn as I realise that’s what I want now.

  I want them to pull my jeans down and put me over their knee. I want to feel their hands on me and their swollen dicks against my belly.

  “Get your clothes,” Jack says. “I’ll show you how to work the machine.”

  “But then I’ll have nothing to wear,” I grumble, still acting up even though there’s no need and I know it full well.

  “I’ll find you something,” he says. “Your clothes will be clean and dry before you know it. You should have said something by now.”

  Yes, I should have. But I hate looking like a stupid idiot who can’t take care of herself.

  It’s been over a week and the machine is one of those fancy ones with a million bastard settings that make no sense whatsoever.

  Jack beckons me upstairs and I follow. I get tingles as I walk into his room after him, remembering how nice it felt to be in his arms this morning.

  He opens a drawer from the chest and pulls out a baggy white t-shirt which makes me smile.

  “Planning on dumping water on me?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Not unless you ask for it. Be good and you won’t get hosed.”

  He turns his back to me as I change, and I wish he hadn’t. I wish he was looking at me.

  I pull down my jeans and tug off my cami, unclipping my bra and dumping that down with them. I’ve only got one bra but I don’t want to say anything, so I have to go naked under his t-shirt. Luckily it’s so big on me that I don’t think it’s obvious. I’m quite possibly wrong on that.