Their Boy (The Game 2)

I passed an ice cream shop and hesitated for a minute. Why had I not suggested we meet here? Oh, yikes. I stepped closer and read the price list in the window, and I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Three dollars for one scoop! Without toppings! An ice cream had to have two scoops and toppings—this wasn’t news. And in that case…my allowance would be gone in three ice creams.

I’d felt so inspired this morning, sitting there at the kitchen island with a crisp twenty-dollar bill. I was going to use some of it for ice cream, and I was going to save some to show I was a good boy, and maybe I’d buy something for my Daddies. Abel had told me he surprised Madigan like that sometimes. But he wasn’t useless with money like I was. I’d never learned to budget!

This was madness.

Sticking my hands down in the pockets of my new cargo shorts, I continued along the sidewalk and tried to come to terms with the fact that there would be less ice cream in my future. Because impressing my Daddies and showing them I could learn how to handle money was more important. It was just… I was a little verklempt.

Vincent was waiting outside the coffee shop I’d found on Yelp, and my nerves made a swift return as he spotted me.

“Who pissed in your cereal?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Hi. I’m sorry. I just found out how expensive ice cream is. Can you imagine? Three dollars for one scoop?”

He gave me the strangest look, for which I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Firstly, where the hell is this coming from? Secondly, the place you like in Georgetown is easily six bucks a scoop.”

“Holy shit,” I cursed. “I wonder if they set me up to fail.”

Vincent stiffened at that. “What did they do?”

“No, no. Not like that.” I blew out a breath and glanced around me. “Can we…?” I gestured to the door.

He nodded curtly, and I strode forward to get the door before he could. Because this was the point of today. I didn’t want him opening more doors for me. He was done driving me around. No more serving.

Ironically, it was thanks to my Daddies intervening in my life and taking control that I was learning how to stand on my own two feet.

The coffee shop reminded me of a Starbucks, with the exception of another color scheme, white and red, and their specials centered around milk shakes. Milk shakes were not ice cream. Therefore, I didn’t have to use my allowance.

“What can I get you?” I took out my wallet and retrieved my regular card. The one that had kept me from ever grasping the concept of money.

Vincent frowned. “I can buy my own damn coffee, Kit.”

I suppressed a sigh. “Can you please let me do this?” I hated seeing him so rigid around me, and I prayed I could make it better. I wanted him in my life—on terms that were better for both of us.

“Fine,” Vincent muttered and rolled his eyes. “Regular coffee—black.”

Okay, well, I was getting a triple swirl chocolate milk shake with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate brownie chunks.

It spoke to me from the menu.

After paying for and receiving our orders, we found a table in the back and took our seats. I fidgeted with my straw. It had a little scoop at the bottom of it.

“What’s this money thing about?” Vincent leaned back in his chair. Even in July, he wore his leather jacket.

“Well…what would you say is a normal allowance?” I asked. “I know you think it’s weird, but it’s a kink thing. Colt and Lucas are helping me learn the value of money, so they’re giving me an allowance for my ice cream addiction. Their words, not mine. You know I’m not addicted.”

He snorted and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “The only thing you gotta cover with the allowance is ice cream?”

I nodded and fished out a chunk of brownie from my shake.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d say ten bucks to most people, but they don’t have what you have. And the ice cream you get is pricey as shit.”

Fuck, then. So, they weren’t setting me up to fail.

“I didn’t know it was expensive,” I mumbled in my defense.

Vincent slanted a little smirk. “Because you never had to look at a price tag, buddy.”

“I do now.” I jutted my chin slightly. “I’m trying to learn.”

“I can see that.” His gaze softened ever so slightly. “Learnin’ ’bout money, getting a job, taking the Metro… Shit’s sure as hell changed.”

I chewed on my lip, uncertain. Then I remembered my note, and I quickly dug it out of my pocket. “I wrote down some thoughts. May I read them to you?”

“Sure.” He straightened in his seat again, and I could tell he was on edge.