Hot Sugar

“No, no, you don’t know Jim and Rhonda,” she says in a low voice, lips pressed in a tight line. “They’re impossible, they won’t listen. Please,” she manages, purse finally located. “I’ll take you up on that ride. Can we go now?” she asks, voice trembling faintly.

I don’t bother to argue. The brunette’s in a near-frenzy, and the sooner she gets home to protect her baby sister, the quicker this panic attack will pass. Shit, Carrie probably only became a sugar baby because of her sister.

Slowly, realization dawns on me, the pieces falling into place. With deadbeat parents, Carrie’s probably the only source of income at home, the only source of support. But it’s not just financial. There’s an emotional component as well, with my sweet girl a well of stability for her younger sibling.

Oh shit.

I was never this good in my life.

Never this giving, so considerate and protective.

So nodding, I growl.

“Got it. My driver will take you, sweetheart, no problem. Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

The brunette shakes her head frantically.

“No, no, I just need to figure this out,” she gabbles, looking around wildly.

Okay, this is getting to be too much. Placing two big hands on her shoulders, I run my palms up to her neck, softly cupping that beautiful face. Big brown eyes look to me with need, trembling and slightly glassy, filled with tears. But sure enough, my touch seems to calm her somewhat.

“Take a deep breath, honey,” is my growled command. “Take a deep breath, let the oxygen into your lungs, and then let it out. You’re gonna be okay, okay? You’ll work this out, and if not, you have me on your side. Got that, sweetheart?” I ask, punctuating the question with a kiss on those soft lips. “You hear me? I’m on your side.”

Carrie’s chin trembles beneath my large palms, eyes going even more watery. But she nods, leaning into my big form for a second before breaking away and dashing towards the door.

“Thank you Mason,” is her last whisper. “Thank you so much.”

And then she’s gone.

Standing alone once more, I contemplate the silence. Holy shit, did I really just offer to intervene in a sugar baby’s family problems? Did I just pledge to be on her side, to support her through thick and thin? Shit, this is even more fucked up than I thought, and my head shakes on its own.

Get with it, a voice inside growls. You’re losing your head over a paid companion. Are you nuts?

But that’s the thing. I can’t. I can’t stop caring. Even if my brain is logical, commanding me to stop, I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. And in the next two minutes it’s decided.

Picking up the intercom, I growl, “Car.” One word, short and swift.

Because I’m not letting Carrie go over there by herself. My best girl needs me. She needs me to face down those deadbeats, to help in any way possible. So yeah, I’m headed to a bad part of town. I’m gonna stick my nose in someone else’s business, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll see what else I can stick in. Because as an influential citizen of New York, there’s a lot that can happen … and I’ll turn the world upside down if that’s what my baby needs.

CHAPTER TEN

Carrie

“Are you okay?”

I hold Nicole’s reddened face between my hands as she sobs painfully, narrow shoulders heaving. I can’t stand it. Turning furious eyes to my father, I glare like a hellcat.

“Are you insane?” is my hurled accusation, voice screeching like a car with faulty brakes.

Because I’ve seen my parents do some really crazy things over the years. They were gone for three days, but to be honest, that’s nothing new. Jim and Rhonda aren’t exactly loving, caring parental figures.

But my dad hitting my little sister is a new low for them, and the anger in my breast surges as her cheek begins to swell. I’m supposed to protect Nicole. But how can I do that when it’s our own parents causing the hurt? Frustration and helplessness make my fingers clench uselessly, white-knuckled and painful.

But my anger doesn’t even make a dent. Both Rhonda and Jim are still soused from their three day bender, lurching about here and there. As I watch, Rhonda collapses onto the couch, head tilted way back as that gaunt form slumps.

“Rhonda,” I hiss. “Wake up.”

She grunts slightly, stirring a bit.

“Mom,” comes my hiss again. “Wake up. Your child needs you.”

And by that I mean Nicole. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care what ugly things pass before my eyes, or what I have to endure.

But it’s not right for my little sister to go through this. Nicole’s not like me. She’s not tough. She’s not a street fighter. Even a cross words puts tears in her eyes, my little sister’s not cut out for this kind of deprivation.