The Maid Page 12

  “Uhh…Yeah, okay. I’m sorry to have dragged you all the way here.” I fidget with the lose string on the bottom of my shorts. “But thank you so much.” I turn and practically sprint to my car.

  “Daddy! What the heck—” I hear Charlie begin to reprimand her father for being a dick—even though she’d never call him a dick. As I close the door and am putting on my seatbelt a tap on my window startles me.

  It’s Mr. Edwards, so I open my window. “Don’t ever wanna see you sittin’ on the hood of your car, in the middle of the street, dressed like that. Thought you were smarter than that, little girl,” he says and turns and walks away. For a split second, I thought he was coming to apologize. Boy, was I wrong. And why had I never noticed his green eyes before? Or the fact that Mr. Edwards is an asshole? Or the fact that when he gets close to me my nipples get so fucking hard it feels as if they can cut right through my t-shirt?

  I start my car, and all the way home I think about how Mr. Edwards is a sexy-as-fuck asshole.

  LINC

  “What’s wrong with you, Dad?” Charlie asks, and I loosen the tight grip I have on the steering wheel.

  “Nothing, honey. Just tired.” I lie because I can’t possibly tell her the truth. The truth is that I’m so fucking horny it hurts. Driving up and seeing Lily’s tight little body on display by the side of the road threw me for a loop. I’ve seen my daughter’s best friend a million times. I’ve known her since she was practically in diapers. I may not have been around a lot, since I was always working, but I definitely watched her grow up. The response I’m having towards her makes me feel disgusting. Like a dirty old man.

  And, to top it off, I must be going crazy, because every time I turned around, I could’ve sworn she was looking at me, checking me out. I couldn’t exactly tell because of the glasses she wore, but her head was definitely turned my way. And those fucking lips, those thick, cherry lips that she kept licking, or the way she continued to pull on the loose strings on the ratty shorts, Jesus Christ, that girl had sex written all over her, and it had my dick hardening to inappropriate levels. I am, after all, just a man. Even now I can’t stop thinking about her black hair and pale skin, those toned legs, from years of being on the track team, and that flat stomach—fuck, I’m a fucking pervert.

  “…and Randy said we’d be back Monday morning. His entire family—” God, I love my daughter more than any person in the world but, damn, she could talk.

  “Are we still talking about the Hamptons? I already said no.”

  “Daddy!” she screeches. “I’m eighteen. I’m a grown woman. I am not asking for permission.”

  “You’re a grown woman who needs her daddy to pay for her car, her credit cards, her room and board, and whatever else she wants. So, no, I’m not going to sit back and watch you screw up your life, Charlotte.”

  “How’s going away for one weekend going to do that?”

  “First, you think his parents are going to think highly of you, after going on an overnight trip with your little boyfriend?”

  “Oh my God,” she whines. “You sound just like Mom.”

  I’m surprised her mother put her foot down about this, being that she was the kind of woman who’d want precisely this: her daughter dating a wealthy spoiled brat with a summer home in the Hamptons. A perfect prospective husband for Charlotte.

  “Second, you’re too young to be—” I don’t finish the sentence, instead closing my eyes for a moment. I don’t even want to think about my baby girl having…having…

  “Having sex, Daddy?” She has her arms crossed over her chest and is pouting. “I’m a grown woman. Sex is a part of life.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you.” I say, gripping the wheel tighter again. “You are not going and that’s final.”

  “You know what…” She hesitates for a moment. “Maybe you’re the one that needs to…You need a date. Unwind. Something. Your entire focus can’t be me and Randy.”

  I snort. “Trust me, honey. My focus is absolutely not Randy.”

  “Well, maybe getting back out there and dating is still something to think about.”

  What she doesn’t know is that I have been dating. Well, I wouldn’t call it dating, but I have been fucking. A lot. Before my wife and I divorced she and I barely had sex, so now that I’m a free man, I have to get it somehow. But I never, ever strayed. Not ever.

  But that’s none of her business. She’s my daughter, and my sexual needs are not something I’m going to discuss with her.

  “You need to focus on school.”

  “That’s all I am focused on,” she whines.

  “Bullshit. Randy distracts you. That’s all I hear…Randy this. Randy that. And what kind of douche name is Randy anyway?”

  “Daddy!” she shrieks as I pull up into our driveway. Momentarily distracted, I see Lily in the rearview mirror, turning into her driveway next door. “I’m going to the Hamptons and you can’t stop me! I’m calling Mom,” she yells and slams the door behind her, marching into the house.

  Annoyed by her tantrum, I run my palm down my face. My formerly sweet, obedient daughter is driving me fucking crazy. I hop out of my truck and lower my sunglasses a little to look at Lily climb out of her car. She bends over and retrieves a bag from her passenger seat, and her shorts ride up her ass. It’s a gorgeous ass, toned and tight. Painfully, my cock digs into the zipper of my jeans, but I can’t stop looking. She stands up and uses her hip to shut the door, her eyes wandering over her shoulder towards my house as if she feels my eyes burning a hole through her.

  Our eyes lock for a brief moment when she lowers her glasses. Her tits heave up and down as her breath quickens and I see that little tongue again, darting out and licking those cherry lips. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening, but there’s an almost palpable electrical charge between us. I know for a fact that if I cross my lawn to get to her, she’d let me slide my hand into the front of her shorts to find her wet little cunt.

  “Daddy!” Charlie yells from somewhere inside the house. “Mom’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”

  Between my daughter’s tantrum and the inappropriate hard-on I’ve got over my daughter’s best friend, I think I’m going crazy.

  Without losing eye contact with Lily, I holler back, “I’m coming.” And fuck, if that’s not exactly what I want to be doing with Lily. Coming. Hard.

  LILY

  Something just happened. Something big, and I can’t wrap my head around it. The way Linc, or Mr. Edwards (how I’ve always addressed him), was looking at me was different. It was hot and hungry and damn…I can’t stop picturing his mouth, and that beard, rubbing against me.

  When he breaks the spell by stalking after Charlie, I take a deep breath to calm the insane hormones running rampant and head inside my parents’ house.

  “Mom, Dad! I’m home!” I yell from the front door, which was left wide open apparently so they could load things into the U-Haul truck parked outside.

  “Upstairs, honey,” my mom says. I take two steps at a time and am completely taken aback at how empty the house looks. I didn’t think moving would hit me so hard, but seeing the only home I’ve ever known practically empty, my throat closes up.

  With a box in his hands, my dad walks over to me. “Hi, pumpkin,” he says, placing it down and pulling me in for a tight hug. “You took long getting here. You leave school late?”

  “Hi, Dad,” I say, squeezing him a little longer. They’re going to be so far away now, I think, suddenly feeling the reality of the move. “I had a flat,” I say through a lump in my throat.

  “You didn’t call?”

  “Charlie and her dad came to help. No worries,” I say. “Wow, everything’s gone.”

  He looks around and shakes his head, slowly, as if he’s just realizing it, too. “Most of it, yeah.”

  “Hi, honey,” Mom chirps from behind me, and I turn.

  “Hey, Mom.” We hug, and then I take her in. My mom is dressed in perfectly
pressed khaki pants, a mauve-colored cardigan twin-set, and Keds. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her face beautifully made up. Not exactly moving attire. But that’s my mother. She’s pretty conservative when it comes to her looks and views, and very old-fashioned from her ideals to her taste in furniture, clothes, and fun. But she’s also the best. I’ve never, ever, questioned her love for me. All she’s ever done is dote on me and spoil me. In her eyes, I can do no wrong. And I love that, but it was also a lot to live up to. So while we might dress differently, I’ve also never wanted to disappoint her.

  “So where do I start?” I ask, as I drop my small bag by my bedroom door.

  “As you know, your mother and I leave on Sunday. That means you have two days to clear out as many things as possible. Everything you don’t need we’ll pack it into the U-Haul or drag it off to the dump.” Even though I don’t live with my parents any more, they made sure their new house in Florida had a room for me, and will be buying new furniture when they move down. My room here still has my full-sized bed, but the new owners requested it and a few other pieces to stay, and since we didn’t care it’s one less thing to pack. All my accumulated bedroom knick-knacks and memorabilia, things that I can’t fit in my dorm, will go down with them to Florida in the U-Haul. I’ll try to take as many clothes back to school as possible and send the rest with them.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone for two weeks?” My spring break is two-weeks long, and I thought after packing up this weekend I’d hang out with Charlie for those two weeks, since they’d be gone. They’ve been worried senseless about this for months. But I’m not.

  “Mom, I’ll be fine. I have a lot of studying to do,” I say, thinking about chemistry. “And, Dad, I’ll start on the packing right away.”

  They both leave me to sort through my room as they finish loading up the truck.

  It’s nine o’clock when I hear a knock on my window, which scares the shit out of me.

  “Open up, Lilybear.”

  “Holy shit, Charlie. You’re too old for the window. Why didn’t you come through the front door or call me?”

  “Nostalgia,” she says, hauling one leg, then the other, through the window. Thank God the trellis against the house is sturdy—it’s a long way down, I think as I close my window and sit back on the bed.

  “God, this brings back memories,” she says.

  “It does.”

  “What do you need? Where can I start?” She sits down on the floor, cross-legged, and ready to work. I push a big box toward her.

  “Here, go through that. No idea what’s in there.”

  She starts rummaging through the box as I neatly fold some of my clothes into another box.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God,” she squeals. “It’s our old yearbooks.”

  “Relax there, Charlie,” I laugh at her excitement. “It’s only been a few months since we graduated.”

  “No, silly. The ones from elementary and middle school.” She opens them up. “Oh my gosh. We look terrible. How’d we ever think those bangs worked?” She goes through it page by page. We stay up all night going through the entire box of yearbooks and packing almost nothing, since Charlie stops every few minutes to text Randy. Nevertheless, it’s the best night I’ve had in a long time. Also, it makes me realize that by not living here anymore, I won’t see Charlie very much, and that makes me unbelievably sad.

  The next morning, Charlie’s foot is on my face as I open an eye. I look down the bed, and she’s fast asleep opposite me. Moving her leg away, I carefully get out of bed, do my morning routine, and go downstairs.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say and kiss her cheek.

  “Hi, honey. You two were giggling up a storm last night. Have fun?”

  “We did. We went through yearbooks and pictures until we passed out. I’m going to miss her.”

  “You’re still pretty close by, at least for the next four years. You’ll visit each other.”

  “I know, but still. It’s not the same.”

  She gives me a reassuring smile and moves to the coffee pot to pour me a cup. There’s a knock at the door, but it’s not even nine, so my mom and I look at each other questioningly.

  I pad to the door and look through the peep hole. “Oh, it’s just Mr. Edwards. He’s probably looking for Charlotte,” I holler to my mom as I open the door.

  “Mornin’,” I say, adjusting my eyes to the sun that is now on my face. “Charlie’s asleep, we were—”

  “She texted, I know,” he says, dark glasses covering his eyes. Maybe it’s the short sentences or the arms crossed over his chest or the lack of a good morning smile. Whatever the reason, Mr. Edwards looks pissed off again.

  “Okay?” I sing-song.

  He puts his palm out. “Need the keys to your car.”

  “Why?”

  “Got the tire. Need to put it on.”

  “You got me a tire?” I say, relaxing against the door, but he doesn’t say anything and I notice a twitch in his jaw and his nostrils flaring.

  “Keys, Lily,” he barks out.

  I’d like it to be known that I’m not an ungrateful snot. I think that his driving thirty minutes to my rescue and then buying me a tire is something I should be very thankful for. And I am. But I didn’t ask him to do it. He volunteered. And now he’s acting like a jackass again, and I don’t know why. For a brief moment yesterday, the air shifted between us, but shifted to what? Anger? Because, hell, he looks mad.

  I think through my memories that include the old Mr. Edwards, and, though I don’t recall having that many one-on-one conversations with him, when we did talk, he wasn’t a dick. He was serious and had a tendency to curse more than my parents appreciated but was always courteous. Now he’s just curt.

  I step out of my house, forcing him to move back as I close the door behind me and ask, just as tersely, “What the hell is your problem?

  His eyes roam my body causing goosebumps to dance across my skin. “Don’t curse, little girl,” he begins. “Get your ass inside, change, and then come back and give me sass if that’s what you intend on doin’.” It’s the most he’s said to me. “But don’t do it with your nipples in my face.”

  My mouth is hanging open. This is inappropriate, right? Him saying the word “nipple” when it’s in relation to me? I look down and damn it—I’m not dressed appropriately. I’m in a cami with no bra and boxer shorts, rolled up on top. I cross my arms over my breasts.

  “You’re just Charlotte’s dad. And it’s not like you haven’t seen boobs before, no big deal.” But it is a big deal because I can’t seem to get past the thought of him say ‘nipple’, noticing said ‘nipples’ and the way my pussy immediately got hot and wet when he said those words. “Tell me what your problem is. Is it me? Are you mad at me? Or are you just normally this way?”

  He takes a step toward me, but I hold my own and don’t retreat. “I may be Charlotte’s dad, but I’m also a man. Get dressed, little girl.”

  “I’m eighteen, Linc,” I spit out. “I’m not a little girl.”

  He takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you just go bring me your goddamn keys? And don’t call me that. It’s Mr. Edwards.”

  “Not until you tell me what I did to piss you off.”

  We’re at a standoff when the door opens behind me. I practically jump at the noise. “Good morning, Lincoln, how are you?” I turn, and my mother is standing there with a mug of coffee, which she hands to Mr. Edwards. “Thank you for helping Lily out yesterday with the car. Would you like to come in?”

  “No, thank you, Marie. I was just asking Lily here for the keys to her car so that I can replace the tire.”

  “And I was just telling Mr. Edwards, being as he was already kind enough to change my tire yesterday, that Daddy would help me with the new one today. I don’t want to put Mr. Edwards out again. Don’t you agree, Mom?” I send him an acid smile and wonder if my mother can see the intense tick in his jaw. I don’t understand where this back and fo
rth anger is coming from, but now I’m angry too. This is no longer Mr. Edwards and Little Lily arguing. This is Lincoln and Lilian, two adults, about to go at it. And the reason? I have no clue.

  The problem is that I’m unsure as to whether I want to choke him or strip him naked and ride his cock right here, right on the steps outside my childhood home.

  “Linc, dear, don’t you worry. Bob’ll get to it. Lily’s right, you’ve done enough. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of things to do. And Lily, go put on a robe for goodness’ sake.”

  He looks between me and my mom and takes a sip of his coffee.

  “You want to stay for breakfast?” my mother adds.

  He takes another sip and hands my mother back her mug. “Nah, but thanks for the coffee.”

  “Come on, honey,” my mother says to me and turns and walks inside. I linger a little too long by the door. My eyes focus on Mr. Edwards, who is still standing there shooting daggers at me. I shake my head and follow, closing the door behind me, still confused as to what the hell is going on with him and I.

  Later that night, I have a quiet dinner with my parents at our favorite restaurant in town. It’s the last time we’ll probably ever eat here as a family, since there’s not really a reason for them to come back. I spent the rest of the morning actually packing with Charlie’s help. Then she left midday, and I finished on my own. The only things left are the boxes I’m taking back with me to school. Charlotte and Randy are going out to the Rusty Nail tonight, a local bar that didn’t really card, and she convinced me to go. Truth be told, it didn’t take much convincing, I really need a night of fun. When my parents pull up to the house, I notice Mr. Edwards walking back to his. It looks like he’d been crouching by my car, but I couldn’t tell.

  “Dad, is my new tire on?”

  “Sure is, pumpkin,” he says, getting out of the car. I glance towards Mr. Edwards house as I walk inside my own, wondering what he’s up to.

  “You told me she couldn’t play,” Lars, Randy’s friend, says to Charlie. We're at the Rusty Nail where they have two pool tables, stale beer, dim fluorescent lighting that flickers constantly, and greasy bar food. But I don't care about any of it, because I've just swindled the guys at pool.