Page 17 of Peaches

She stares at me for a moment, a mixture of shock and insecurity rests in her eyes. She goes to speak, and I almost get nervous for the both of us, almost feel like she is going to resort back to the girl I find so damn irresistible and tell me like it is, making myself have to be the one who caves and gives her what she really wants, blush red ass cheeks if she’s not careful, but she doesn’t. She starts to walk my way, head hung low, no fight left to give, and pulls her purse up higher on her shoulder while cradling the stack of papers in her arms.

I almost give in. Almost break and tell her I’m only kidding, and I want her to stay. But as she’s passing through the doors, she knocks me on my ass, metaphorically speaking, and stops me from having any form of comeback to what she says next and ultimately winds up changing every way I feel about her, except one. That tempting, habit forming, one.

“It’s for my brother,” she says quickly as she turns my way with tears in her eyes.

The truth.

Finally.

And I was almost convinced she didn’t have it in her.

“He has autism. I know it shouldn’t be my concern, really, but my father left when we were young, and my mom works two jobs. She doesn’t have medical insurance, and between my brother’s daycare and medical bills, I promised her I’d take care of it…”

My hand releases the door, and it slowly starts to fall back on its hinge, closing us once again inside my office. I want to say something, anything, but I have no words. Just a certain feeling in my gut that if I don’t help her, if I don’t give her what she needs, I’m no better than the asshole I’m supposed to call my father.

Besides, I fucking know how it is to live with a disability. All my habitual rituals proof of just how much it sucks. To say it doesn’t pull on my heart strings more than it should would be a lie, one I won’t indulge in as I watch the sadness fill her eyes.

But just as I’m finding myself getting too emotional over something my very tempting new habit confessed, the thought of my father sneaks back into my mind, as does the thought of his reason behind his very non-anticipated phone call, and all three quickly build and propose a solution I know neither one of us ever saw coming.

She keeps her head trained towards the floor and hides her eyes from view. But I see all that I need to as a tear falls, and she wipes it away quickly with her hand.

Don’t cry Peaches. For heaven’s sake, don’t cry, because I’ll move more than every mountain in the damn world to never see a tear fall from your eyes again. Just watch me.

Hell, wasn’t I supposed to stop myself from getting so damn emotional when I hardly even know this girl? Grabbing my balls, not my real ones this time, I swallow hard and focus back on Grace and what she needs because if I can help a little, I’m going to try.

“I told my mother to move closer, where I can help her, ya know, while she’s at work,” she continues as I give her my complete attention while I’m silently searching my brain for any way I can help. “My father is out of the picture, left when we were small kids. He doesn’t help, and I never really got the chance to ever know him. Not that I wanted to. But, Archie… if you know anything about autism you’d already realize that moving here is out of the question. A lost cause. Archie doesn’t deal well with change. I’m not going to lie Mr. Beckett,” she whispers, standing up a little straighter but still not looking me in the eye. “I’ve spent all of my advance money.”

Well, shit!

“My mom and Archie were going to lose the house if I didn’t, and I couldn’t let that happen to them. Plus, I owed back rent on my apartment after helping them and sorting out what bills could be taken care of so my brother could still receive the care he needs. That left me exactly seventy-five dollars in my bank account. Five of which I spent this morning on coffee, as you may very well know…”

If she doesn’t stop talking, I’m not going to have the balls I need to make her the proposition suddenly running through my brain. So, like a selfish prick, I cut her off when I should really be more worried about how I can help her, like I just promised myself I would, but my brain stops right there as I realize with this little arrangement maybe I can up the ante and make it sweeter for the both of us.

“What are you doing this evening, Ms. Presley?”

Her eyes flash up and hold my own. A startled expression mixes with the red sorrow in her eyes and almost has me backing down and changing my mind. But then she says…

“Why?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a step back and take one large breath before I lose my nerve and chicken out. What I need, and what she needs, is staring us both right in the face, that is if we can both put away the daggers and stop throwing knifes at one another for more than five minutes.

“A business proposition,” I stammer slightly. “One I think you might be interested in.”

* * *

GRACE

Business proposition?

Oh crap Momma, your baby grew up to be a whore after all, even though I swear I tried to fight it. But as I push the sad thoughts of Archie and my mom away, I think, if I had to let go, he’s one hell of a way to do it. This man’s delicious in every sense of the word. I’m surprised myself really, because after all, I didn’t even have to hit the streets. The offer came to me like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Delivered in one tempting, expensive, wealthy package making it hard to ignore.

“I, uhhh…”

“Not like that,” he quickly interjects as he takes my elbow and gestures back towards the area we were sitting in only moments before. “As much as I’d enjoy claiming your peach, I don’t mix business with pleasure, Grace. Ever!”

Well, there goes what I planned on asking Santa for Christmas next year!

With uncertain steps, I allow him to walk me back to my chair. Still stunned for words, I wait to sit until he takes his seat once again behind the massive CEO style desk and stares me down. Quickly plopping in the seat I had just recently vacated, I stare at him still very confused and wait for him to explain further.

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