Possessive Baby Daddy

“Let’s fuck,” I say. “Right here, right now. We can use my cot if you don’t want to get yours all sweaty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be gross. My dad’s going to watch this.”

“I doubt it,” I say. “I bet Ryan’s watching right now and jerking off. Right, Ryan?”

“Stop,” she says, laughing. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.” I sigh. “What was the first reality show you ever watched?”

“Oh, easy. Real World.”

“Huh, the original one?”

“Yep. I was in it from the start. What about you?”

“Jersey Shore.”

She stared and laughs. “You watched that?”

“Hell, yeah. I loved that show. Those people were hilarious. The new season that came out recently was kind of awful, but that’s what happens when people become adults. They’re a lot less fun. Good for them for staying relevant though.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them relevant, but I get your meaning.”

“First crush?” I ask her.

“Bobby Timmons. You?”

“Sandra O’Claire. God, you should’ve seen her. Huge boobs at thirteen. I was deeply in love.”

She giggles. “Did you kiss her?”

“Felt her up too.”

“At thirteen?”

“I was twelve.”

“Oh my god. You’ve always been a man-whore.”

I laugh and shrug. “What can I say?”

“Okay, okay.” She sits up and looks at me. “We’ve got all night. But I’m getting hungry already, so let’s go rapid-fire, okay?”

“Sure, whatever.”

For the next hour, we ask questions, one after the other. It’s impossible to remember it all, and for a little while we start just chatting about favorite movies and music. It’s weird, talking like this. I don’t remember the last time I just sat alone in a room with a woman and discussed the things we like without any ulterior motives at all.

The more we talk, the more I realize we have similar interests and favorites. We both love old westerns. We both love old classic cars, although she thinks motorcycles are cool, and I think they’re lame. We talk about clothes, vacations, family rituals, all the stuff that made up the fabric of our lives.

Hours slipped past. We end up on a single bed together, leaning back against the headboard. I don’t care if her dad’s watching or if Ryan is, it just doesn’t matter to me. Let them see how intimate we’ve become. It just doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks right now.

“I have a hard one,” she says around four in the morning. We’re both dragging, barely staying awake.

“God, if you ask about another TV show, I swear,” I grumble.

“No, no. It’s about your dad.”

I sigh. “Okay. What about my dad? Yes, he wore suits a lot. No, I’ve never seen him in sweatpants.”

She giggles. “When did you realize your dad wasn’t perfect?”

I frown at her and tilt my head. “That’s one hell of a question.”

“I have an answer, if you want to hear mine first.”

“Go for it.”

She looks away at the sheet hanging from the ceiling. “I was eleven,” she says. “My dad brought me to a business lunch. It was nothing special at first… but then he had a few too many drinks. He got a little drunk, you know? But then he started talking too much… kind of embarrassed himself. On the walk home, he puked in some bushes, and it was right in that moment that I realized my dad was a human. I think that’s around the time his drinking picked up.”

“Huh,” he said softly. “That must’ve been hard to see. So young, too.”

“Well, yeah. It wasn’t great. I got over it, though.”

I snort. “I’m sure you did.”

“Now I’m used to him being a drunk asshole. Right, Dad?” She shouts the last part and laughs.

“I suspect he’s not watching more,” I say.

“No, you’re probably right.” She looks up at me. “So answer the question. It’s your turn. And remember, you can’t lie.”

I stare at her and sigh again. “I was maybe eight, younger, I don’t know,” I say. “It was a normal Tuesday night. We were having dinner and my dad was late to the table. He walked in like he had just woken up and my mother did this thing she does… she stood up and looked him in the eyes and was like, ‘You were busy.’ That’s all she said, just, ‘You were busy.’ And he sort of flinched away from her and melted and apologized without having been accused of anything. That was when I knew my father didn’t run the family.”

“Huh,” she says softly. “That’s… kind of odd.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I guess I understand it.”

“My family isn’t like a normal family,” I say. “We’re more like a business. Whoever runs the business has all the power. It’s not like we’re all equals and we love each other. We’re all in competition, me and my siblings, or at least we’re supposed to be. We all decided we’re not playing the game, but still.”

“What game?”

“Inheritance. We each have a trust, and that’s good, but there’s way more money to inherit. I think we’re all just… leaving it up to Mom and accepting whoever she chooses.”