Page 7 of Jagger

A warm bodysnuggles closer to my side, her leg draping across my waist, small hand trailing softly up my chest.

“Jag,” Kat groans, her voice heavy laden with sleep. “Your phone.”

My phone?

Yep. Somewhere across the room my phone is indeed chiming away, the sound an increasing irritable shrill as I fully come to. Rubbing my eyes, I peel them open to a now brightly lit suite, the hotel curtains barely drowning out thick rays of sunlight threatening to burst through.

Exhausted doesn’t quite cover how I feel.

On a normal basis, I would've ignored the call and gone right back to sleep, but no one ever calls me this early. Probably ‘cause they knew better.

So who the fuck is it and what the fuck do they want?

Squeezing Kat's ass, I give it a little slap, urging her off my arm that, miraculously, isn’t a boneless blob after being slept on for hours. I manage to scoot off the bed without waking a very passed out Desi in the process, and stumble through the room, following the trail of forgotten clothes to where my pants lay in a heap on top of my Chucks.

Fishing my phone free from one of the pockets, I still at the sight of her name on my screen. It’s quite possibly the worst wake up call ever and definitely not what I want to see at 8 am. But I find myself answering anyway ‘cause if I don’t, she'd keep calling until I do.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell have you been? I've been calling your damn apartment since yesterday.”

Sighing profoundly, I drag my ass to the bathroom and shut the door with a soft click, leaning up against the vanity. “I was busy, Calla. If it was urgent, why didn't you call my cell?”

“I shouldn’t have to fucking chase you, Jagger. Your daughter wanted to speak to you, so I called only to please her. But you know, as usual, you're too busy for her.”

“The fuck?” I growl, my head rearing back as anger instantly sparked through my veins. “I'm always there to answer Mila’s calls.”

“Yeah, her calls. That's about it.”

“Seriously? That's all you fucking allow! I get to see her three times a month, if that, and even then she can't spend the night regardless of all the times both she and I have asked you to let her stay. What the hell did I ever do to deserve being kept from my daughter?”

“You made your decision, Jagger. Now deal with it,” she snarl, and my blood boils all the more.

She has some fucking nerve.

“Are you kidding me? You act like I'm gonna bring her to the club and let her watch her dad dick down the entire front row.”

Calla scoffs. “Not exactly an image I want to envision.”

“Why? Cause it's not you who's getting dicked down? Not my fault your insecurities and lack of trust lead you to walking away.”

“Don’t even go there and try pinning this shit on me! I gave you an ultimatum and you—”

“An ultimatum that never should’ve been put in place,” I interject with a snarl of my own. “If you loved me as much as you claimed, you would’ve trusted me.”

“Trusted you? You wanted me to fucking trust you after you came home talking about becoming a stripper? I was five months pregnant, Jagger! What the hell did you really expect?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a few deep breaths and will myself to calm the fuck down before opening my mouth again.

“Why are we even having this conversation again, Calla? It's history, as it should be and always will be.”

“Because you had to go and open your big, stupid mouth.”

“Me? Was it not you that... You know what,” I say, resigned, “Just forget it.”

I could’ve kept arguing, could've defended myself more assertively.

But it’s better off this way.

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