Page 108 of Friend Zoned

“No buts. Your wrist is broken, and I had to hear about it from your mother! I never said anything about this life before? Isn’t it obvious, Jeannie? Well, let me tell it to you now. You need a bodyguard from now on. Just like Vickie and Tara. Do you get it now?”

She pulls her hand from mine and crosses her arms. She winces. I catch it, but she masks her face and does her best to hide her discomfort, but I see it anyway, and my blood boils. The only reason I’m not out scouring the city for Quintin Gardner is because Jeannie needs me now.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me. You act like I have a problem with the bodyguard, which I don’t.”

I turn and cup her face. “I know, baby. I know. And I’m not mad. I’m seething. You should have called me right away.”

She stares into my eyes, but there’s a loud knock on the door, and her mother walks in. “I have dinner,” she says. “And you might need to take a pain pill. Come.”

“You stay here. I’ll bring your dinner to you,” I tell Jeannie. I hop out of the bed and walk downstairs hoping that my anger will cool by the time I reach the kitchen. It doesn’t. Myra follows behind me and starts to fix a tray for Jeannie.

While she does that, I grab my phone and call Lincoln.

I tell him what happened with Jeannie and give him an abridged version of her history with Quintin and Camille. He puts me on hold to call one of his contacts at the New York County criminal court.

“She’s already out,” he says a few minutes later. He tells me about a law in New York that allows her to get out without a bail hearing.

“Unbelievable,” I say to him. “I’m going to ruin her.” I end the call and call my father.

“My boy,” he says. “How’s Denver.”

I give him a quick update on what’s happened. For once, he stays quiet until I get to the point of my call. “I need you to call every New York County criminal court judge you know and make sure they throw the book at her. Nothing less than a felony conviction, preferably with jail time.”

I can’t remember the last time I asked my dad for anything, and part of me expects him to tell me to fuck off. “Done.” I wait for the quid pro quo, but it doesn’t come. “I’ll take care of that. She’ll be out of a job before sunrise. Don’t worry about it. Tell Jeannie me and your mom will come take her to lunch tomorrow.” We end the call and I walk to the island. Despite the warm June weather, Myra has made soup. My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

“Myra, I’m going to take this to Jeannie, and then I’m going to step out for a moment. Can you stay with her while I’m gone.” She looks down and shakes her head. Then she calls her husband and orders him to bring the tray to Jeannie.

“Sit,” she says to me, pointing at the kitchen table. “I know where you’re going, and it’s not going to happen.”

I scoff and walk to my office. She follows me into the room just as I pull out a set of car keys. “Did you not hear me?” she asks. “I said sit.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“I said you’re not going.” She snatches the keys from me. “Come with me.” I follow her back to the kitchen. “Your mother is not here right now, so I’m going to mother you tonight. Sit down, and I’ll fix you food. Then, you’re going upstairs and you’re going to stay with my daughter. If you don’t, I have no problems spanking you. Now sit,” she says with a little bit more force in her voice.

She turns her back to me and starts putting the soup in a bowl. “Just so you know, Myra, my mother would never spank me or fix me food.”

“Well, this is the way I mother. You’re not sitting yet,” she says without bothering to turn around. I open my mouth to argue with her, but she puts up a hand and says, “Don’t even think of talking back to me. Sit.” She finally turns and points to a chair. I take it, then a thought occurs to me.

“Did you spank Jeannie as a child?”

She sighs and puts a big bowl of soup in front of me. It smells good, but I have no idea what it is.

“Squash soup,” she says. I hate squash, but I keep that to myself and pick up my spoon. “I would never want my daughter to think it’s okay for anyone to put their hands on her. I raised her with love, and I raised her not to accept any disrespect.” My stomach growls and I take a spoonful of soup. Maybe it’s my hunger, but that’s about the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Myra sits across from me and rests her hand on mine. It’s warm, and I find that I like it. “You are a public man,” she says. “You can’t go make a scene. You have your job, and my daughter needs you. I think a man like you can think of other ways to hurt people besides his fists.”

“Myra, you told me you wanted me to fight him, remember?”

She waves her hand as if my words have no meaning.

“We joke about it to make ourselves feel better. We don’t do it. You eat and then you rest. You look tired.” She stands, walks around the table, and grabs my face. “You need sleep.” She drops her hands and walks away. I guess that’s her way of telling me I look awful. “You ready to win the Superbowl?” she asks.

“We’re going to spend some time watching basketball this summer, Myra, and next season, you’re coming to some games. Got it?”

“Got it.

“Baby, you’re supposed to be resting. Your wrist is hurt.” She slides her good hand down my boxers and grabs my stiff dick.

“Yeah, but you’re not going to fuck my wrist. You’re going to fuck my pussy. I’m not going to beg for what belongs to me, Aiden. Take that dick out.” She straddles me and pulls down my boxers to my mid-thigh. She kisses and licks the side of my neck, and I sigh in defeat.

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