Big Daddy

Chapter 6

chapter six

winnie

He said twenty fucking minutes! Panic squeezes my throat as I snatch my bag off the chair and toss it over my shoulder. “Thank you,” I breathe, and end the call before he can say anything else.

What’s left to say, anyway?

“Just a sec,” I tell the man behind the counter as I swipe through my phone, ignoring the way he impatiently drums his fingers over the register.

Tapping Quincey’s donation, I put in my passcode and follow the next few steps until less than a minute later, five thousand dollars are transferred into my account, and even though they won’t be spendable for a few days, draining nearly everything accessible in my account for a prescription certainly feels easy now.

“Here,” I pass him my card and he hands me a white bag with a little bottle of pills inside. “Thank you.”

He swipes and taps, then hands me back my card. He doesn’t know that he just passed me the thing I’m pretty sure I’ve needed since my parents died, and that my life is seemingly out of nowhere taking a positive turn for once, and that he is somehow part of that journey. He doesn’t care. Instead of a smile, he nods to the woman behind me. “Next.”

I slip out of the pharmacy onto the street, and walk hurriedly down the sidewalk until I’m at Rise & Grind. “Hey,” my best friend greets, standing up at our usual table in the back corner. She waves, and points, as if I don’t see her, earning her a hearty eye roll.

“There’s literally no one else in here, dork,” I tell her as I shove the white bag into my purse, dragging out my wallet.

We hug before I drop my bag in my chair and hook a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna grab a muffin and some coffee,” I tell her, guilt gnawing at the corners of my cheery smile as she nods, sinking into her chair.

“Sounds good,” she beams, returning to her laptop as I make my way back to the counter.

“Hey Winnie,” Ansley greets. She’s worked here forever, and I used to work here thinking I’d be here forever, too. Until Howard. Of course, Ansley, Brielle and anyone else who has ever asked for that matter all think I left Rise & Grind to work a shitty teaching assistant job on campus.

Look, I’m no con artist. A TA job was all I could easily come up with that explained me being on my computer all the time (monitoring my account and messaging potential clients, but mostly just Howard), and also gave me a good reason to borrow Brielle’s fancy heels. I love my best friend, but she has so much shit that she has yet to notice that I’ve never even put so much as a molecule of wear on them. If I was wearing them around campus and in the classroom, why do they still look so out-of-the-box perfect? I know why, and I thank God it’s never occurred to her.

“Hey Ans,” I sigh, peering up at the menu as if I haven’t read it a million times. “Banana nut muffin, pumpkin spice latte,” I tell her, still eyeing the menu.

She punches the items into the register and hands me the terminal, letting me swipe my card. For the first time in years—literal years—I swipe my card with ease. I know it won’t put me in the hole, and I know I’m not trading this coffee and muffin for a future meal. For now, and for the foreseeable future, I can have both without a hard choice.

And I have Big Daddy to thank for that.

My stomach lurches at the thought, and I nearly jump five feet in the air when Brielle sidles up to me at the counter, her phone pressed to her ear.

“Yes, Dad, I got the groceries.” She rolls her eyes at me playfully, and I look away, not rolling them back the way I usually do because I’m utterly terrified Brielle will be able to read BACKSTABBER in my them. “That was like two days ago, Dad. Chill. I’ve been busy at the apprenticeship. You know, at the porn company I work for.”

Ansley passes me a plate with my muffin on it, and I feign starvation, beelining for our table. Quickly, I work on peeling the paper from the muffin, and Brielle follows me back to the table, eyeing me as she continues her chat with Big Daddy.

“Yeah, I said I will.” She sighs. “Yes, Dad, I will.”

She ends the call and I avoid her gaze, instead opting to stare down the top of my muffin as I shovel chunks into my mouth. If my mouth is full, I have no possible way to look or feel awkward.

As soon as I swallow my bite, Brielle reaches out, grabbing my wrist. “Hey, you’re being weird. Are you okay?”

Ansley approaches with my latte and Brielle’s coffee, smiling as she passes them to us. “Thanks, Ans.”

She smiles and disappears, and for the first time in my life, I wish she would have lingered and made small talk.

“I’m fine,” I assure Brielle, taking another bite of muffin. With my mouth stuffed I ask, “How’s it going at Crave?”

She eyes me suspiciously, her brows cinching together as lines of disbelief curve her forehead. “Do you need to borrow money again? You haven’t asked in a while but you know you can always ask, right?”

I nod. “I’m good. Just… tired. And feel kind of off today,” I admit, because that is a truth I can tell. I do feel strange today. Getting five thousand dollars randomly from your best friend’s hot dad will put you in a strange headspace. So will being violently attracted to him.

“I get that,” she says before launching into all the details about her apprenticeship at Crave & Cure. We’re both graduate school students, with me finishing my master’s in graphic design, and Brielle working toward her master’s in film and media studies. Not long ago, Brielle stopped working on documentaries about trees (yawn) in favor of an apprenticeship with a successful director. She was assigned to Augustus Moore, the top and most respected adult film movie director in the industry.

Initially, she did not want to go. She thought she was too good, and so did Big Daddy. I heard secondhand all of the things he said about Crave, and exactly how he felt.

Knowing how he felt about that, I’m starting to wonder if he didn’t want me taking foot photos out of disgust. I mean, he was really upset about Brielle being assigned to Crave.

I nod and smile as Brielle talks about her boss Augustus and his assistant Lance. The three of them bicker, but from what I understand, they have an emotional and romantic connection, too. Small, but it’s there, growing. I fix the smile on my face and work hard to hold it, timing sips of my latte to break up the forced facial expression. On the inside, I’m foolishly crumpled, fighting the urge to cry. Why? Because my best friend is telling me about her bosses and potential lovers? No, because I’m thinking of Big Daddy and his motives.

For a split second, or maybe even a short period of time, I thought that just maybe Big Daddy paid me off and told me not to take the photos anymore because he had a little crush on me.

Which would be stupid anyway because he’s my best friend’s dad. He's old, and he’s already been married and had a kid. At this point in his life, his hobbies are probably wearing an ascot by a fireplace while reading a newspaper or some shit. It was a total fantasy to think Big Daddy had a crush on me.

But I can’t deny the internal crumble at the realization that Big Daddy hates anything related to porn, and wants zero association with it. I may not go back to FeetFans , but I support those who use it. And porn? I support that too.

Having me quit FeetFans wasn’t romantic. It had everything to do with how he feels about himself, and nothing to do with how he feels about me.

Of course. I mean, duh.

Still, my gut rots as I listen to Brielle tell me about a dirty video she stumbled upon where her boss had his assistant on his knees for him.

When she’s done sharing her story, my muffin and latte are done, too.

As casually as I can, I prod a little, because I’ve had ten minutes to sit with my thoughts, and ten minutes to decide I don’t care if Big Daddy doesn’t like me. It was stupid anyway. I would never want to hurt Brielle. And my interest in him is purely physical. A good fuck with a hot older man isn’t worth my relationship with my bestie anyway.

But still, a girl is curious.

“So, what did your dad want?” I ask, pressing my fingertip into crumbs, dropping them over my plate casually.

“Oh,” she sighs, popping her back as she twists in her seat. “Just to make sure I’m using the groceries he buys me to make healthy meals. He said there was a lot of take out in my fridge and I need to watch that.”

I roll my eyes, and don’t have to force it. “I can’t believe he just comes into your apartment while you’re gone.”

She gives me dead eyes. “Really? You can’t? I mean, you know how my dad is.”

I tug on my messy hair at the top of my head, playing it all too cool as I ask, “Do you kind of like it? I mean, I know he bugs you but I don’t know. Knowing he’s up your butt all the time because he loves you, that has to feel good sometimes, right?”

Her features soften, and her hands slide over the table to capture mine when I’m done fidgeting with my bun. “I’m sorry, I think sometimes I take for granted just how adjusted and cool you are and that’s insensitive of me.” She purses her lips in one of those gross, sad smiles meant to tell me she feels bad. “I love my dad. And I’m sorry your parents aren’t around anymore. I’m sorry I’m insensitive to that.”

Oh god. I wasn’t thinking that at all. But of course, that’s where her mind went since my parents are, in fact, dead. Shit, what was I hoping she’d say after a loaded comment like that? All I wanted to know is if Big Daddy actually has a heart, but apparently, I love pain because now I’m forced to act like she hit me straight in the feels. It’s that or admit I’m asking about her dad, which I have zero logical reason to do.

“Yeah,” I sigh, tipping my head to the side as I debate snagging a second muffin on my way out. Because I have the money, after all. “It’s okay, you’re not insensitive,” I say, finding the courage (insert eyeroll here) to smile. “You’re just kind of an asshole, just like Big Daddy.”

That’s the first time I’ve used that nickname since our relationship has changed, and as soon as the name leaves my lips, the big hand of guilt bitch slaps me.

Fortunately, Brielle is on her way out, and too busy to do much but roll her eyes. “Yuck,” she says, shoving her laptop into her bag. “Wanna do dinner tonight? We haven’t caught up in a while.”

I nod to the empty plates and crumbs. “I just listened to you talk about your hot boss getting blown by his assistant and how they’ve been eyeing your tits for the last week.” I shrug. “We’re caught up.”

She puts her hands on her hips, glaring. “Do you not want to meet up with me tonight? Do you have plans?”

I snort. “Yeah, I have plans to work on my final project in bed with my headphones on to drown out the eight trillion other people that live at my place.” I make jazz hands. “Huge night for me.”

“When is your final project due?” she asks, stashing some napkins in the front pocket of her bag.

“Not for another two months but… that’s all I have left. There’s literally not even class anymore. Just to work on my thesis project.”

“I guess now it’s a good thing you don’t have a boyfriend. You have nothing but time and focus.” She pulls me into another hug before saying goodbye, and filtering out the door. I sink into the coffee house seat and sigh, letting my head fall back against the chair.

At that moment, my phone pings a very familiar noise. FeetFans . I open the app to find a message from Howard waiting.

Howard

She ended it. I need you.

I write back immediately because this breakfast with Brielle helped me squash some wild Big Daddy fantasy that I had low-key built up in my mind.

I need Howard’s money and he needs my feet, and that’s the truth of it. I can’t ask Big Daddy for more money, and for what it’s worth, I already feel the urge to pay him back, just like the therapy appointment. That way there is nothing between us that would ruin my relationship with Brielle.

I take a moment, staring at my green “ONLINE” activity status while thinking of a message. Finally, I reply.

54035forYOU

I can do a live call tonight.

A moment after hitting send, $600 hits my account, available for transfer.

There. Now I no longer need to worry or even think about Big Daddy. A few weeks with Harold and I’ll pay Quincey back and be able to afford therapy and meds.

Everything is back to normal.

Yay.