STRAYS, page 16
Then, because she’s the most spectacularly filthy-minded girl in the world, she bends over the kitchen counter and pulls her dress all the way up over her ass. She’s wearing a black thong.
Fuck yeah.
Izzy throws me a look over her shoulder. “Well?”
No further encouragement required. My zipper’s down and my dick is free.
“Hard,” she orders, gripping the counter. “You need to be quick.”
I fucking love this girl.
The thong gets pushed aside and my dick gets buried. She bears down and pushes back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can be quick.
DING DONG.
I hate that doorbell.
When I’m done here I’m going to murder that doorbell.
But now Izzy’s in a panic. She’s shooing me away and frantically pushing down her dress. She can’t have a dick inside of her when her parents are right there on the other side of the door. It’s just not okay.
She’s busy smoothing down her hair, adjusting her pearls and putting a non-sex look on her face. She’s about to move to the door because the bell keeps ringing when she turns to inspect me. Then she gasps and points. I glance down. My dick waves at me. He’s not very happy about this interruption but nothing can be done. I zip up and buckle my belt. Izzy nods with relief that I am now presentable, gives her hair one final pat and opens the door.
“There she is!” The woman who tackles Izzy with a hug could be picked out of any crowd. She’s got the same red hair, the same beautiful smile. She’s clearly overjoyed to be reunited with her child and she gives Izzy the longest, most loving look before slipping an arm around her daughter’s waist.
Then a shadow falls and Izzy shouts, “Daddy!” She throws her arms around her father’s neck and he holds her tight.
“Hey, kid.” He kisses her cheek.
She laughs and takes a step back. She is thrilled that they are here. I make a private vow to be on my best behavior. I know she really wants them to like me and vice versa.
Her mother is the one to notice me first. She approaches with her hand out.
“You’ve got to be Rafe,” she says. “I’m Jenny. I’m so excited to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I say and I really mean it.
Jenny looks at her husband. She raises an eyebrow.
Izzy grabs my hand and drags me forward. “Daddy, this is Rafe Hempstead. My boyfriend.” There’s an edge to the way she says the last two words, like she’s giving me her protection or something. Protection from what? I don’t know.
Deck Gentry is not what I expected. I assumed I’d be meeting some pinched, balding suit. This guy looks like he just rolled off the Bad Boy Biker assembly line. He’s big and he’s muscled and his black hair is a little gray around the temples but I have no doubt he’s a force to be reckoned with.
Deck shakes my hand. More accurately, he crushes my hand, or at least tries to.
“Glad to meet you,” Deck says although the flash in his dark eyes don’t match his words.
I look him straight in the eye without blinking. “Glad to meet you too.”
Our standoff doesn’t last more than three seconds because Oliver returns home. Lana and Shane say gracious hellos to Izzy’s parents but they seem eager to get out of the way. Maybe they can sense all the stress in the room.
At least Oliver is happy. Jenny has brought a shopping bag full of presents, all for him. Izzy gets her big heart from her mother; Jenny instantly treats Oliver like he’s the most important person she’s ever met. Even Deck cracks a smile when my son sticks his hand out for a grave handshake, just like I taught him.
Izzy shows her parents around the apartment. I would have liked to sit the tour out but Oliver pulls at me to join the group.
“And this is my room,” Oliver announces proudly as he stands before the open door of his bedroom.
Izzy gives him a little hug. “Oliver worked hard to get his room neat for your visit.”
Jenny pokes her head inside. “What a nice room, Oliver!”
Deck, on the other hand, has decided to fuck with me. “So where’s your room?” he wants to know with a deadpan expression.
I keep a straight face. “The living room sofa pulls out into a bed. I sleep there.”
But Oliver rats me out. “No, you don’t. You sleep with Izzy now.”
Thanks, son.
Jenny breaks the tension by laughing out loud. Deck is visibly less amused. Izzy is mortified, looking from her dad to me and back again like she’s bracing for one of us to charge.
“Oliver.” Jenny holds out her hand. “I’d love to see all of your toys. Can you show me?”
He’s delighted for the chance. Izzy shoots me another worried glance before following her mother into Oliver’s room where I can hear Cliff the stuffed cat being introduced.
Oliver’s room isn’t the largest of spaces and it would get pretty crowded if we all stuffed ourselves in there. I decide this is a good time to take a walk to the kitchen. I’ll clean something. Or whatever.
What I don’t count on is that Deck has decided to follow me.
I spray the counter and wipe it down with a dishcloth. I can feel his eyes on my back from a few feet away. I’m glad he has no idea that I was fucking his daughter on this very counter the moment he rang the doorbell.
This is not a good thing to think about right now. My dick gets hard.
Deck stays where he is while I fold the damp dishtowel. He watches every move and now I’ve had enough so I toss the towel down and level him with a stare.
If this guy wasn’t Izzy’s dad then I’d make him aware that I don’t appreciate being looked up and down like he thinks I ought to be cut from the team.
Since he is Izzy’s dad I just stare back at him and wait out the appraisal.
In the end Deck Gentry smirks with a shake of the head. “I should have known.”
There’s a lot of meaning packed into that sentence. I’m just not clear on what it is. “What?”
He takes a step closer and holds my gaze. When he can’t make me flinch he manages a grudging nod. “I should have known that my daughter, a girl with the world at her feet, would choose…”
He trails off and gestures to me in a manner that betrays a hint of disgust. Maybe more than a hint.
“YOU.”
I don’t get it. He says this like he knows me. We’ve never met before. All he knows is what his daughter has told him and Izzy’s been in a fever to get her dad to like me. She wouldn’t say anything negative.
The corner of his mouth turns up, a signal that he can guess what I’m thinking and finds my confusion entertaining.
Yeah, I don’t get this at all. But I’m pretty sure I don’t like it.
“Hey Deck, just so we can avoid any misunderstanding, why don’t you tell me exactly what kind of man you think I am?”
He rolls his eyes as if I’m a bad tempered child. “Settle down. You’ll just say something stupid.”
“Maybe. But I’m confident that my ass can handle whatever stupid shit comes out of my mouth so let’s have it.”
He suddenly laughs. It’s not a mean kind of laughter but I get the feeling that some men have good reason to be afraid of the sound. When he’s tired of laughing he grins at me. “Okay. You’ve got some spirit. That’s not a bad thing. Just don’t go pointing it in the wrong direction.”
What does the guy think he is, a fucking fortune cookie? This must be his thing, handing out non specific pieces of wisdom that can be taken any number of ways. I don’t even know what he’s talking about.
But Izzy worships her father. There’s nothing to be gained by challenging him.
“Ha. Yeah. Thanks for the advice.”
He’s not fooled. “You’ll treat her right.”
I’m aware this is not a request. It’s also not something that needs to be said. I’m nuts about Izzy. I’ve never been knocked on my ass by anyone like this. I’d break my own thumbs before I did her wrong.
“Every day.” I’m being completely honest right now. “For as long as she lets me.”
I get the feeling Deck Gentry is a man who is not easily impressed and yet the quick flicker in his dark eyes signals that something deep has shifted.
“All right, Rafe,” he says and I suppose that’s about as much enthusiasm as I can expect to receive. He doesn’t like me but he doesn’t hate me either. Good enough.
After Oliver finishes showing off his room he wants to open up his presents. Izzy’s mom went on quite a toy store shopping spree. She bought him a dump truck, a complete art set, some modeling clay, a whole series of books about a little boy who’s half frog and some stuffed kittens to keep Cliff company. I can almost see her heart dissolve when he runs to her and hugs her as thanks for the gift. He’s a little more shy with Deck, offering him a quiet ‘thank you’ and another handshake.
A well-known pang hits me as my eyes follow my son. Twice a week I’ve been taking him to therapy sessions in the hopes of helping him deal with the trauma of his mother’s death. His therapist’s name is Nicole and she’s young but he seems to like her. I sit outside in the waiting room with other nervous parents and then at the end of the session she calls me in to talk about whatever progress they’ve made. So far he’s been drawing a lot of pictures. He likes to draw pictures of Izzy. And Cliff. And the pool in the backyard. Sometimes I get included in the pictures too. Nicole told me that once he drew a picture of Dana but then promptly ripped it up into tiny pieces. When she asked him why he did that he became angry and said, “She’s gone so she can’t have a picture.”
I’d take all his pain on myself if I could. I’d take on the pain times ten if it would spare him even a little bit.
While I watch Oliver so closely I kind of lose track of what else is going on in the room. It’s only when all eyes are on me that I realize Izzy’s been saying my name.
“Sorry, what?”
She moves over to where I’m leaning against the wall and hooks her arm through mine. “My folks are going to go check into their hotel now and they want to take us all out to dinner later. Does that sound good to you?”
“Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.” I try to smile.
Oliver crashes his dump truck into the coffee table while Jenny laughs.
Izzy holds my arm closer and rests her head against my shoulder.
Deck is staring right at me and I’m expecting to see some disapproval on his face but there’s none to be found. I can’t shake the sense that he’s far more perceptive than most people and that the whole time I was preoccupied with watching my son, he was watching me.
16
Izzy
There’s something surreal about seeing the people you love most, the people who know completely different versions of you, meet each other for the first time. My parents think of me as their little girl, forever a child no matter how old I get. Rafe knows me as his sexy girlfriend, a grown woman he can share his life with. My friends are familiar with both my stubbornness and my soft side.
All of these things are true.
“Something on your mind, baby girl?” My mother winks at me, noting that I’ve stopped tossing the salad in favor of staring dreamily into space.
“Nothing critical. I was just thinking about how I spent a few sleepless nights worrying about the clash of Rafe and Daddy. I guess I worried for nothing.”
She laughs and continues to prettily arrange the chicken in a glass baking dish. Their flight back to Phoenix leaves early tomorrow and tonight my mom offered to cook a homemade dinner for us all. I would have argued that she shouldn’t feel obligated to prepare meals when this trip is supposed to be a vacation for her but I know how happy she is being in the kitchen. Besides, someone should get some use out of the oven. Rafe and I use the stovetop often and we’re masters of the microwave but anything requiring more persistence is usually off the menu.
At the moment it’s just my mom and me. My father ran out to pay a quick visit to a friend because of course he has a friend in Hutton. There’s probably an outpost of Deck Gentry’s friends in just about every square of land on the world map. And Rafe took Oliver to the store to pick out a new pair of sneakers. I can’t imagine what happens on that kindergarten playground but Oliver has already managed to wear out the pair I bought him at the beginning of the school year.
I’m enjoying this brief time alone with my mother. When she cooks she frequently hums to herself and the sound is as old as my memory. As a little girl I spent countless hours in the kitchen of our Arizona home, watching her capable hands shape loaves of bread dough or slice vegetables with impressive speed. After so many years of watching her one might think I’d be a star in the kitchen but that’s far from the truth. I lack her serenity and her attention to detail. It’s not unusual for me to wander away in order to do something more exciting and then become exasperated when I return to find burned cookies or scorched rice. I’ve concluded that both my self confidence and the smoke detectors are better served when I keep my kitchen ambitions within reason.
“Time for this to get cooking.” She lifts the prepared dish in both hands and I abandon the salad bowl in order to open the oven door so she can slide the chicken right in.
She taps a finger against her chin. “Shoot. I forgot to get some Dijon for the vinaigrette dressing.”
I reach for my phone. “Rafe is out and about. I’ll ask him to stop at the grocery store and pick some up.”
“Oh, no need for that. He’s got Oliver with him. We’ll just improvise.” She begins raiding my pantry. She’ll likely be disappointed with what she discovers.
My mother and I are exactly the same height, although right now I have the benefit of a few additional inches thanks to my heels. Now and then people mistake us for sisters and they’re not just being polite. She looks young and she stays in shape.
It’s decided that plain yellow mustard mixed with honey will be an adequate substitute and she measures out the dressing ingredients from memory while chatting about her latest conversation with Aunt Promise. Then she switches topics and speaks of my cousin Derek’s upcoming wedding in December.
“Aunt Stephanie was worried you might not be able to make it now that you’re in Texas.”
As if there’s any danger of that. I’m a Gentry. We don’t miss family events like weddings. This truism was ingrained in me from infancy. “Of course I’ll be there. My finals end two days before the wedding.”
“Any you’ll be bringing Rafe, right?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him yet. I guess it depends on whether he can get the time off from work. And then there’s Oliver to consider as well.”
She whisks ingredients in a bowl with the style of a pro chef. “You know how our family is. Oliver will be more than welcome and there will be other children there. Bring him too. He’s already won your dad over completely. Did you see the picture Oliver drew for him? Last night at the hotel Deck kept going on and on about what a delightful child he is.”
I believe her when she says this. When it comes to adults outside the family, my father is difficult to impress. Children are a different story. He adores children, always has. “I think a person would have to be missing a heart not to adore Oliver.”
“And your dad definitely isn’t missing a heart.” She stops stirring and her expression becomes sad. “How are Oliver’s therapy sessions going?”
“Well, he hasn’t been in anymore fights so it’s a step in the right direction. He’s hopefully learning how to channel his anger into something more positive.”
“And he still won’t talk about his mother?”
“No, he doesn’t really talk about her at all.”
She grimaces. “He’s so young. It must be hard for him to understand. You said she died very suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Was he at home when it happened?”
“I don’t know.” I’ve never thought of the possibility before. I’m not even sure whether Rafe knows the answer to that question. “That would be a terrible memory for him to suffer with.”
My mother nods. “People always say that children are resilient and I suppose that’s true. But still. Terrible memories leave a scar on the soul, no matter how young you are.”
With a sinking sensation I understand that she’s speaking from experience. She was only sixteen when her parents forced her to marry one of the religion’s elders. And what kind of terrible things might she have witnessed long before that, when she was a young girl living under the brutal thumb of cultist leaders in a place where no outside help was available? My mother’s personality is so sunny and upbeat that sometimes I forget what she must have endured. When I think about this now I’m awestruck by her. And there’s also a swell of gratitude toward my father. For being her prince. For giving her the kind of happiness that she had every right to expect.
I’m made from them both. This will always and forever be a source of pride.
Once the salad is finished it occurs to me that we don’t have a table large enough for us all to sit down. The only solution in sight is the patio table. Shane and Lana aren’t even home so there’s no reason not to have our little dinner party out there.
I’m in the process of setting the table when Oliver comes sprinting into the backyard, eager to break in his new Batman sneakers.
“Step back from the pool edge,” Rafe bellows an instant before he appears from around the corner of the house.
Oliver takes a tiny step backwards but he still leans over the water. Just the other day Lana and I were discussing the need to place a fence around the pool. I make a mental note to bring this up again.
Rafe plants a kiss on my lips then checks out his son’s position. “Oliver, come on. Why don’t you go get your football? We’ll play catch.”
Oliver runs inside the house and I hook one finger into Rafe’s belt, reeling him in. Being close to him does things to me, always, and now is no exception even with my mother possibly watching from the kitchen window. I tilt my head back in search of a real kiss and he obliges. Rafe knows how to put his whole body into a kiss. While our mouths are locked he lifts me up and slides me down slowly, deliberately, so I’ll feel the hard swell of his cock through the layers of my skirt and his jeans. I hear the low sound of my moan and I’m honestly embarrassed for me. Rafe has the power to break down the walls of my common sense with one touch and I love it.
