Page 88 of Morally Gray Daddies

“He was distant. He really didn’t spend a lot of time with me, actually.”

Which was true, but I could still picture him—a big man, strong, arms that as a child had seemed impossibly thick, corded with muscle, colorful with tattoos. The few times I could remember him holding me, it was as if I were this tiny thing captured by a giant, held against my will.

I looked over at Sonja. “It’s funny, he never really acted like he wished I was the son he’d always wanted, like you hear some people talk about. He acted more like he just didn’t have any interest in children at all. When we did interact, he talked to me more like an adult than a kid. Honestly, a lot of times I remember he was kinda crude, and almost borderline abusive.”

“Abusive?” Sonja rose up on an elbow. “Like… physically?”

“I mean, no, not really, but… if I did something he didn’t like, he’d spank me. With his belt. That was about as physical as he got, and it was enough. Otherwise, most of the time it was just… ignoring me. Or telling me to go get him something, and once I had he’d dismiss me like I was a servant. Anytime I tried doing something nice for him, he either told me I’d done it wrong, or just brushed it off like he couldn’t be bothered to notice.”

“Wow,” she murmured, gazing at me for a long moment. “Okay, just so you know,” she continued, “you totally have Daddy issues.”

“That’s… That’s absolutely ridiculous.” I tried to sound convinced, but even I didn’t believe it. “Besides, what would you know? You have the perfect father who always treats you like a princess.”

“Exactly.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Whatever. You act like you’re getting your degree in Psych, not Chem.”

Sonja lay back down. “I don’t need to have a degree to recognize a Daddy kink when I see it.”

“I swear,” I grumbled, lying back myself, “I don’t know why I talk to you.”

Sonja’s light laughter drifted up from her chaise, and I settled on mine, silence falling between us in a gentle lull. I replayed the conversation of the past few minutes over, drifting between the question ‘what are you looking for?’ to the memory of Mr. Delgado’s fingers gently kneading my shoulders, the whisper of his voice in my ear.

‘Good girl.’

Again, the intrusive thoughts caromed around inside my brain, all of them Sonja’s fault. Which wasn’t true, but it was easier to blame her than to accept that I did, in fact, have a Daddy kink, and the current center of attention of that was the father of my best friend.

God, you are a piece of work, Aubrey.

Despite my disordered thoughts, it was peaceful by the pool, relaxing, and as the quiet grew in length, between the warmth of the sun interspersed with the cool of the passing breeze, both of us were soothed into a state of indolent drowsiness.

Until someone cleared their throat.

We both shot up, heads swiveling to see who the hell had walked up on us. We both caught sight of him at the same moment, our heads snapping to a halt. A man stood under the house’s eaves, his back to the wall, arms crossed. At first, I thought it might be Mr. Delgado, come home early, but a second went by, and I realized it wasn’t. Mr. Delgado was tall and fit but lean like a fashion model. This man was the same height, but he was stockier, with broader shoulders and waist. Antonio Delgado had an almost classic European GQ look. This man looked like one of the college football players I’d tutored one semester. Mass built for power, to grab ahold of people and take them down. There was one thing both men shared, however; they were older, easily in their forties if not older.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me!” Sonja gasped, breaking the silence that had hung like a silken spider’s web connecting all three of us.

The man pushed away from the wall, approaching slowly along the edge of the house in the shade of the patio soffit.

“My apologies, ladies. Wasn’t my intention.”

“Who are you?”

Sonja’s tone was guarded, and when I glanced over, her body language matched. I’d been startled by the man’s sudden appearance, too, but now I began to stiffen also, because if Sonja was nervous…

“I’m a friend of your father’s.” He glanced from left to right slowly. “I couldn’t find anyone inside the house. Is he here?”

“No, he’s… out right now.”

The man might not recognize it, but I did. Sonja was doing her best not to sound nervous, to keep her voice cool and collected even if she wasn’t.

“Was he expecting you?”

“I doubt it.”

For a long second there were only the sounds of the gentle lapping of the pool and the far-off drone of a city so close that somehow now felt like it was a gajillion miles away.

“How… How did you get past the front gate?” Sonja asked quietly.

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