Finding Carson Lee (Oh Captain, My Captain 3)

“Are you offering, sweetheart?”

I stop and stare at him. Is he serious?

“Absolutely not. You’re not my type.”

I continue to my car and use my remote to unlock it. I whip open the door, but before I can get in, Carson blocks my path.

“Do you have a type or do you automatically say no to everyone? You’re too focused on your career, right? Too focused to get laid?”

I take a small step back. How can he say something like that? That’s low. He’s not too far off base, but it stings my heart a little. “I got married young, okay?” I don’t know why I said it or why I continue. “I made a mistake. And you don’t need to worry about with who or when I have sex. Be sure to look for our meetings that will be coming up soon.”

I push past him, get in my car, and drive away.

Chapter Six

Carson

The last thing I was expecting to do when I made my last comment to Kinley was hit a nerve, but I did. Her relationship status is a touchy subject, I guess. I was honestly just trying to tease her and piss her off. That’s why I approached her and that’s why I stayed for dinner. I told her she’d see the jerk soon, so sooner rather than later, right? Meetings with her should be really fun.

I was beyond relieved when the dinner was finally over, though. Her mother was strangely, politely nosy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was trying to be charismatic with them, largely to annoy Kinley, I would feel bad about lying to them about my parents and visiting them. I don’t have a family and haven’t for a long time, but I can only imagine the questions Mrs. Wright would fire at me had I been honest.

The best part of the meal, I think, was my little side conversation with Kinley. Having someone not impressed or someone who disapproves with my habits isn’t new. However, having someone so openly blunt about it is. The only other person who does that is Mike and he’s nicer about it.

Tonight, I’m going home alone. The reminder of my family or lack thereof puts me in no mood to deal with company, even for sex. I walk into the large, quiet house. My keys make a loud clinking sound as I drop them onto the glass table by the door. The emptiness seems so vast. It’s annoying. Maybe I should have gone to the bar. I go to my bedroom to change, being careful not to aggravate the fresh tattoo on my arm. It’s mixed in with everything else already there, but it has a soft, cursive-like font that simply reads Gracie. Once I finish changing, I lay down on the couch, turning on the TV.

The house seems too big for me. Maybe I should get a dog. Nah, the damn thing would probably run away or die on me. I don’t want to have to deal with that. My grandmother used to tell me that I’d share my life with someone, that I’d want to. I called bullshit then and still do. The only part of her ramblings that really stuck with me, that I remember and follow, is that I should be happy.

Sitting on the couch in my house with me, myself, and I, I realize I can’t get any happier than this.

~

I tilt my head at the screen of my laptop. There’s an email from Kinley, telling me when the initial meeting is. A small grin rises as I read the very end of her message:

Do not be late. Or I’ll make sure everyone knows just how small your penis is.

I click reply:

No one would believe you. They all know better. I can’t make the meeting, by the way.

That ought to piss her off, especially when she finds out I’m lying. Within two minutes, my phone is ringing.

“Well, hello, sweetheart.” If my smile gets any bigger, it’ll jump off my face.

“Don’t sweetheart me. What do you mean you can’t make it? Do you not understand what a contract means?” She’s livid. It’s way too much fun to piss her off.

“Actually, if you remember correctly, you pushed me into signing the contract right away, so I only glanced over it.”

“Carson, Mike looked over them, so don’t play me like I’m some dumb blonde that falls at your feet. You need to be at this meeting. We need to go over the campaign.” Her voice is stern and adamant. I should probably let her know before she blows a gasket.

“Calm down, sweetheart. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. I was messing with you. The time for the meeting is fine. However, I do need to ask for a favor.”

“Oh my word, I’m not giving you any sexual favors,” she says it like it would actually be a bad thing.

“I wouldn’t need to ask for that. I need you to come over to the house. I have practice, and then I’m meeting someone to go over some work I’m doing to my house. So, I would really appreciate it if you would meet me here,” I tell her as sincerely as I can possibly manage.

She’s quiet for a moment before agreeing. “Well, okay. I need your address or should I backtrack the trail of tears that leave your house nightly?” And there’s the Kinley I know.

“No one leaves this house as anything other than extremely satisfied. But I’ll email you the address.”