Exposed King (Boys of Brisley 2)

Chapter Fourteen:

Risky Business

Mia

Another long day after another long week. Being a waitress wasn’t as hard as plenty of other jobs, but it damn sure wasn’t an easy one. Customer service alone was constantly a challenge, but when you added the fact that nearly all of them were hangry and expected perfection, the job became very taxing.

Luckily, I got along with most of my customers. I always kept a smile on my face when I greeted them, even when I didn’t want to, and I tried my hardest to always get their orders right. I wrote them down most of the time to be sure, double-checking it before delivering it whether I remembered it from memory or not. I knew how it felt to be hungry, truly hungry, and I didn’t want to be the reason anyone had to feel that if I had it in my power.

Today was different though. I was off my game after a missed call from the prison, I messed up two orders by not double-checking, and after a man yelled at me for spilling water on the carpet next to his shoe, I was done with the whole entire day.

I apologized anyway and took my lunch, but when my phone began vibrating again, I knew I couldn’t put off this call any longer. “Pinche pendejo,” I muttered, answering the call and then slowly making my way through the restaurant. I made it outside by the time the whole “do you accept this call” bullshit was done and rolled my eyes as his voice filled the other end. “What do you want, Anthony?”

“Is that how you greet your favorite man, huh?”

He wasn’t my favorite man, not by a long shot. In fact, I even liked the man that yelled at me this morning more than I liked Anthony, and I didn’t even fucking know him. “Still hilarious,” I lied. “Really, why did you call me, Menso?”

I could tell he moved the phone away from his mouth to call me a bitch but I chose to ignore it. “I’m getting out, that’s why. I want to see you.”

“No, you want to get your dick wet and it’s not happening here. Go call one of your other little putas for that shit.” The thought of him touching me in any way shape or form had me feeling nauseous. “Look, I don’t care if you get out or not, we’re not going down that road any more. I told you that the last time, and of course, you went right back to jail without seeing your son once. When’s the last time you even thought about him?” I could feel that familiar anger bubbling in my chest again, the anger only a mother could feel at the thought of someone hurting their child.

“Fuck you, Mia. I think about him all the time.”

“Do you? Then why did I bring him up? Why isn’t he the first thing that comes out of your stupid, lying, egotistical mouth? You don’t care about him, you don’t even know what he fucking looks like.”

Anthony scoffed. “Maybe if his bitch-of-a-mother would send me a photo sometimes, I would.”

My hands began to shake as I turned away from the parking lot and fought the urge to throw my phone. “Anthony, you have never once asked me about him. I tried so hard to make you give a fuck, I sent you photos every week the first time you got locked up and you never once said a word. You don’t ask about him; you’ve never given a fucking dime to help take care of him. You’ve hardly even held him. He knows who you are because I told him about you, but if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t know you from any other skinny white dude on the street and fuck you for putting that on me. That’s on you and your conscience, not mine. If you gave a fuck, you would have been there. ¡Vete pa’l carajo, cabrón!”

I hung up with an exasperated groan and took some deep, calming breaths before I turned around, only I wasn’t alone anymore. “Ollie,” I said, trying my hardest to sound normal. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

“I heard yelling. Are you okay?” he asked, eyes soft and hand outstretched just enough to let me know he was reaching for me. “Did something happen?”

I went to him. I didn’t have the power to fight the pull in that moment, and deep down I didn’t even want to. “I’m okay. Normally just need a moment to breathe after I speak to him. Was I yelling loud?” I cringed when I thought of everyone around hearing me tell my deadbeat baby daddy to go to hell.

“It’s just me out here, Mia. No one else heard.” He kissed the top of my head and held me silently for a moment, then prompted, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I hesitated for a moment, the urge to hide Rio from any person that could potentially hurt him building up in my chest, but I knew I could trust Ollie here. Even if we never became anything more than this, I knew he was nothing like Anthony. He sparked a friendship with my son without even knowing he was mine, and Rio’s face when I handed him those coloring books made the whole world brighter that day. I just hated the thought of another man letting my Rio down. “Okay, can we go sit in your car or something? I’m still on lunch.”

“Of course.” He took my hand and led me there, and his wide, attentive eyes as we climbed in had me feeling better before I even opened my mouth. But once I did, I couldn’t seem to stop.

“That was about my son. His dad is a piece of shit who never gave a fuck about him. Never even made it to one of his birthday parties — including his birth. I’ve done all of it, and you know what? I’ve done fucking well for us. I don’t need his help and I know I should feel fucked up to say this, but I don’t — the fact that he’s always locked up makes my life easier. I take care of what’s mine, and I don’t need him showing his stupid face once every three years to fuck with Rio’s emotions. He’s an emotional kid, and he’s at the age where he realizes other kids have dads and he doesn’t. If he wanted to truly be there, I’d let him. I’m not just some bitch like he says. But getting someone pregnant and then years later buying that kid a McDonald’s cheeseburger once doesn’t make someone a father.” I watched him closely, wondering if this would finally be the moment he’d realize I wasn’t worth the trouble and run for the hills, but all I saw on his face was understanding.

“I’ve seen how hard you work, Mia. You’re not fucked up. Whatever he said about you, I promise it’s coming from a place of insecurity. He knows he doesn’t deserve you or your son, and he’s mad you know it, too.”

Where did this man come from?I stared at him in awe for a long moment before taking initiative and reaching for his hand. “I just don’t always feel like I’m doing the right thing, but the older he gets the more I realize that’s probably how all parents feel, no matter how many they have or if they have a partner to help them. I just want him happy. You mentioned you don’t have any kids?”

For the first time since I’d met him, I saw real pain in his eyes. Not the sadness that always lingered there, but pain. “Nah. I don’t, but I still think you’re right. Parenthood isn’t something anyone’s ever ready for.”

I wanted to push, to ask him why that question was a sore spot and whether he wanted kids one day, it just didn’t feel like the right time. Instead, I squeezed a little tighter to show him I was there. “Dating when you have kids is revolú, Ollie. Messy. I didn’t want to seem like I was dropping some family in your lap because you wanted to have some fun, but I do want to apologize for not telling you about Rio sooner. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t apologize. I’m a hot fucking mess and you were just trying to protect yourself and your kid. Honestly, it was probably the smartest move you’ve made recently,” he said quietly. “It’s not exactly like you know all my dirty little secrets.”

“You keeping secrets from me, Papí?” I leaned over toward him knowing I shouldn’t, knowing this was the time where we should talk and share those dirty little secrets, but my hand was palming his crotch before I could stop myself. Dating was something that scared me, but this? Just being with Ollie and talking about our pains and raw feelings scared me even more.

Falling for this man would be too fucking easy.

To avoid that route, I started working to get his dick out because I may not be ready to go on a date with Mr. Bishop yet, but he damn sure deserved a blow job.