Page 35 of Island Daddy

“Oh my God, kiddo,” I say emphatically. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The boy attempts to turn around, but it isn’t without an obvious struggle. “What happened?” He asks with a grimace, grabbing his backside in the process. “Are you okay?”

My jaw drops to the floor, astounded that he’s worried about my own wellbeing. “Am Iokay?” I reply, shooting him a concerned look. “You’re the one I found passed out on this bathroom floor,” I add, combing my fingers through his dense locks. “Is your back hurting?”

He nods. “And I have a pounding headache,” he admits, painting my naked torso with his shapely palm. “Don’t you have that important meeting this morning?” He asks. “I wouldn’t want you to be late.”

He doesn’t remember the fucktastic day we’ve just endured? Does he not recall the abundance of electricity thudding deep into his dick merely half an hour ago? Have I caused him some permanent cognitive impairment? Fuck fuck fuck—this is bad.

As much as I feel Kragen needs checked out by a doctor, I can’t take him to a public facility. There’s way too much opportunity for paparazzi to catch wind of the injured young boy‘who appears hardly old enough to vote.’Especially not with all the thick schmear in and around his asshole like it’s a fucking everything bagel.

“Oh Kragen,” I mutter softly. “I think my company can wait for its most important chairman to arrive whenever he damn well pleases,” I add, pushing myself up off the granite floor. “You need to see a doctor like right now.”

Kragen remains in the position which seems most comfortable to him. Meanwhile, I hurry out to the sitting room for my phone. First to summon my driver, instructing him to put pedal to the metal. Second, to Veronica advising her that I’m taking‘a close friend’to Kaka’ako Terrace, a private medical facility North of here. And lastly, hoping against all fuck that the boy remembers at least one of his mom’s phone numbers.

Not exactly the first impression I’d expect, should our dynamic evolve past this situationship. “Hey Candace—Tuti—I’ve fucked your kid into submission. Poured hot candlewax all over his cock. Rushed half the required energy to power a string of Christmas lights in that same hole. Oh and I’m that narcissistic fucking asshole you’ve seen in all those hotel commercials. So very nice to meet you.”

I shake my head indignantly at the mere thought of what I’ll say to Kragen’s lesbian mothers. One thing is for sure, however. It most definitely won’t be in the presence of their young boy smelling of a sweaty gym sock with a hint of coconut oil. I raise my phone to dial my chauffer, Gordon. Though a strike of anxiety accosts me instead, when I see a text from an old friend. Wade starred in a premium cable network show with Shane Hansen called, Tolerable Chaos.

Hey R, I’m headed to the islands this weekend to shoot an ad campaign for the new Manx Du Jour fragrance. I know you and Wade are on the outs. But we’re still friends, right? Wanna have dinner and hit reunite with Keone at the club?

No, technically I’ve dissociated myself from most of the friends I knew through Wade. Shane hasn’t spoken to me since I caught Wade red-dicked in the separate bedroom he used on occasion. Up until now apparently, I figured he chose the little bastard’s side over mine. There’s no way I have the time to mollify Shane’s curiosity. Kragen’s condition ranks way higher on this Daddy’s list of priorities.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

KRAGEN

If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d probably have nothing at all. Or at least that’s precisely how it feels. Why I’m waking up in a hospital seems to be a mystery. Though strange as it may seem, this almost resembles the dream I just woke from. To save me from some long winded explanation, I’ll leave the dramatics to those worthy of such high esteem. Such as Judy Garland when she woke up from her dream,“and you were there, and you were there…”

Daddy Reid sits patiently by my bedside, glancing up at me every few seconds. I’m still drowsy, so I doubt he can tell a difference in my alertness because my eyes open then close in a rapid succession. And both of my lesbian mothers seem to be taking the similar appearance as they did in the dream. Only Tuti is hunched over in the corner chair, awash with total worry. Whereas Candace leans up against the wall, shooting Reid a cagey look above crossed arms.What a way for them to meet Reid. Actually, how did they get to Maui from Oahu in the first place?

Try as I might, my memory can’t seem to recall introducing anyone from my family to Reid Fairchild. Not yet. We’ve only just met. A wild day of fucking and getting tipsy at his friend’s club seemed to occur over a span of merely ten hours. Only then followed by one hot afternoon, to show him what community service really feels like.

That’s basically all I’ve had to gauge him by.How could I hold him to his pretty boy image which is falsely highlighted by the media?What I can measure him by, is the monster cock in those board shorts of his. Then there’s his party side.Speaking of, we’re missing that party he mentioned on the boat.

As for the dream, there are only two people absent from it. One doctor, a well-built foreign man who appeared to be a fish out of water. And a younger doctor looking similar to a guy my publication ran a story on last month—something to the effect of dying only a week after his famous husband. So perhaps my subconscious is playing tricks with me through dreams.

Reid stands when a doctor enters the room.Wait a hot minute! You were there too.Now I’m beginning to think my dream must be some drug induced half-awareness, where everything feels like a brief fantasy.I only hope they didn’t give me painkillers, because my head and back hurt like a motherfucker.For a hospital, I must say he’s dressed incredibly casually for someone in the medical profession. Dark brown shorts reach just below his knees, and a Hawaiian shirt with bears and palm trees.

The doctor speaks in the faintest foreign accent. “Kragen,” he says. “We have reviewed your scans,” he adds, getting a rise from Tuti and Candace in the process. “You have several pulled muscles in your lumbar region, which is why it hurts incredibly so.”

Candace clears her throat to speak. “Doctor, will he be okay?”

Reid takes hold of my left hand, which instigates a sour reaction from Mimi. Meanwhile, the light bounces off the doctor’s badge enough to where I can make out his name—Dr. Dale Davis, M.D.Tuti joins me to my right, taking the other hand as if I’m about to receive some fucking death sentence. Though the look on Dr. Davis’ face isn’t necessarily too grave.

“I am certain your boy will be fine,” he assures everyone. “To that end, Idothink he has experienced a mild form of post-traumatic amnesia from his fall in the bathroom,” he adds, gesturing a hand over to my Island Daddy.

Glancing up into Reid’s eyes, I can tell that he’s remorseful about something. Yet at the same time, according to what the doctor’s just advised us, I couldn’t begin to comprehend exactly what has him troubled. The last thing I remember him saying to me is his eagerness to continue a relationship after I’ve returned home.Home. Why do I feel hesitant to return? How did I respond to Daddy Reid’s suggestion?

Dr. Davis continues explaining his analysis. “In a usual instance, this type of condition is extremely temporary—not lasting beyond forty-eight hours or such.”

Candace pats an emotional Tuti on her backside, appearing relieved that this doesn’t seem to be anything super serious. “So he can fly back home on Wednesday morning?” She asks.

Reid’s grip tightens at Dr. Davis’ response. “Not necessarily,” he replies, digging a forefinger into his chin. “It might be prudent to wait at least two full days before any air travel.”

A cavernous sigh falls from Tuti’s mouth, nervous as all get out. “Ugh, what are we gonna do?” She asks, tossing out her arms. “Our tickets are non-refundable.”

Daddy Reid’s soothing voice cloaks whatever possible worry may reside within him.

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