Indebted Page 2

  Chuckling, I say, “Damn, old man, took you long enough to answer the phone.”

  “Fuck you, Sandoval. Not all of us have cushy office jobs. I happen to be out in the field doing some recon.”

  Hearing the humor in his voice, I surmise he isn’t on that serious a job. “Well, good, I’m glad I caught you in that mindset. I have a favor to ask of you—”

  He cuts me off. “I’m not fucking you, Sandoval, no matter how much you beg. If you step out of your office occasionally, you’ll see a gorgeous blonde who has her name on my dick—”

  I start laughing outright. “Whoa, dude, too much information! I hope for you, and all men who would be cringing at the thought of a tattoo there, you’re speaking figuratively.” Clearing my throat, I try to settle myself down. “Anyway, I had an interesting meeting with Asshole today….”

  After I fill him in, he is quiet on the line for a couple of minutes before saying, “You know, Liam, I’m really at a loss here. I can’t think of anyone who would be stupid enough to start a rumor like that—especially not anyone with Thomas’s ear. I’m hoping it’s Dickhead with his panties in a bunch. Just in case, though, I will of course keep my eyes and ears open for you.”

  Sighing, disappointed but not surprised, I say, “Thanks man, you’re the best.”

  Hanging up, I settle myself down to getting these reports done.

  Before I know it, Addison is buzzing me. “Mr. Sandoval, there is an Aaron Quinn here to see you.”

  Wow, he showed.

  “Yeah, Addison, I was expecting him. Go ahead and send him in.” Moving to cover up some of my paperwork, I hear the door open. I motion to him without even glancing up. “Have a seat, Aaron.”

  Once I’m satisfied nothing sensitive is out in the open, I look up and meet the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. I feel like the breath has been knocked right out of me. Well, fuck my life. This absolutely isn’t Aaron Quinn, Sr.

  Chapter 2

  AS I step onto the front stoop of my childhood home, I can’t even feel the severe cold.

  I barely remembered my coat in my haste to leave. Now that I’m out the door, though, I can’t get my brain to think of where to go. Sitting down heavily on the stairs, I try to catch my breath from the suffocating pressure in my chest. A few minutes pass, and I finally calm down a little. It’s then I feel the frigid wind hitting the tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t aware I was crying until now.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  Angrily, I wipe away the tears with the sleeve of my coat, stand up, and start toward my lifeline in a daze. My mind is all over the place as I walk to the greasy spoon where Chloe works. I can’t see any way out; I just can’t. Besides, Dad is depending on me. I’m just going to have to pull myself up by the bootstraps and do this. I have to—but I don’t want to. Just the thought of what I’m going to have to do makes my skin crawl.

  I make quick work of the twenty-minute walk to Frappy’s, a small diner popular with the locals, then pace outside, taking in deep breaths. Attempting to make myself presentable, I run my hands nervously through my hair. I don’t know why I bother, though, because when Chloe sees me, she’s going to know something is drastically wrong.

  Stepping inside, I find my usual booth in the back corner, out of the way and peer around. I don’t see her anywhere. I’m not quite sure if she’s working today, so I pull out my phone and check the calendar she’d loaded her work schedule on. Yep, six until two, right there. At least I can get something right.

  Picking up a menu from the stand, I look at it without seeing. Will Chloe think less of me? Will she be disgusted? How am I going to tell her this? Fidgety, I start picking at the loose laminate on the corner.

  I look around at the morning diners, noticing the work crowd has already thinned out. Being that the time is a little after nine, all that is left are stay-at-home parents and the retired folks.

  Glancing back down at the now-tortured menu, I notice I’ve managed to pick a fourth of the plastic away from the paper. Holy crap! Thank God I’m not running my hands through my hair like I normally do. I’d have pulled out clumps by now. Not good, not good at all! I decisively set the thing aside and put my hands flat on the table so nothing else will fall victim to Aaron “Nervous Hands” Quinn.

  Thankfully, Chloe appears and clunks down into the booth. I watch her out of the corner of my eye while still looking at my traitorous hands. Her expression is critical.

  Biting the bullet, I peer up at her and plaster on my best fake smile. “Um… hey, Chloe. How’s your work day been so far?”

  I watch her tilt her head slightly and cross her arms in the classic “don’t bullshit me” pose. Yeah, I didn’t think she’d buy that. Glancing back down at my hands, I swallow a couple of times, trying to control the sudden lump in my throat.

  She sighs and reaches across the table, putting one of her tiny hands on top of mine. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  It’s all I can do to not start sobbing like a baby.

  I look up at her with my eyes brimming with tears, and whimper out, “Not really, but I’m going to have to.” Running a hand through my hair, I pull it hard to get control of myself, and say, “I really need my best friend right now.”

  She pats my hand and nods sadly. “Okay, baby, let me go talk to my boss, and I’ll be right out.”

  With that, she gets up and heads into the kitchen.

  Folding my arms on the table, I lay my head down. I try to think of how I’m going to broach this with her. It’s not like they have Hallmark cards for this kind of shit. All I know is I can’t lose her too. I would never recover.

  Chloe has been my best friend since grade school. I remember meeting her like it was yesterday….

  It was the first day of first grade at a brand-new school for me. Dad had moved Mom and me to Chicago, in the hopes the job market would open up new possibilities for him. Until then, we had lived in a small town in Wyoming.

  Not being the outgoing type, I stayed at my desk when the teacher said we would have recess indoors. I didn’t really focus on anything, just traced the scratches in the desktop with my nail.

  All of a sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped slightly and turned around to see this tiny girl with short, dark hair, mischievous brown eyes, and a big smile.

  Giggling, she said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I glanced around the room, then back at her. “Um… that’s okay. I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”

  With a loud huff, she rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I didn’t, silly.” Then she did something I had never seen outside of a movie. Grabbing her little skirt, she curtsied. “My name is Chloe Donaldson. What’s yours?”

  Since she was being so formal, I stood up and draped a hand around my waist as I bowed. “I’m Aaron Quinn, Jr.”

  She dramatically fluttered her hand over her heart. “I do declare it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Quinn.” Then, glancing up, the girl gasped. “You have pretty hair. Can I braid it?”

  I’d been so desperate for a friend, so I made maybe not the most macho choice for a six-year-old boy, and nodded.

  We’ve been inseparable ever since.

  Chloe has been there for me through everything. My coming out to my parents at fifteen, getting accepted to the University of Chicago for premed, and most of all, she was there for me when I got the desolating news.

  I hear her calling out her good-byes, so I go to meet her. Reaching out, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. Without saying a word, we head to her car.

  The ride to her house is quiet. Not one for silence, she turns the radio on. I see her peeking over at me from time to time, but I don’t say anything. We’ll get to her place soon enough, and there will be no more avoiding it.

  I feel my chest tighten as she pulls into the driveway of her little bungalow. Putting the car in park, she gets out, and I just sit there.

  After a moment, she comes around to my s
ide and opens the door. “Come on, Junior, let’s go inside.”

  “Don’t call me that!” I snap at her, but seeing the hurt in her eyes, I quickly change my attitude. “Oh God, Chloe, I’m so sorry.”

  Then I break and start to cry.

  Reaching over, she hugs me to her chest as she comforts me. “Shhh, I know. Let’s go inside so you can tell me what the hell is going on. I can’t take this waiting anymore.”

  When we get inside, she sits me down on the couch and leaves to quickly change out of her uniform.

  She sits facing me when she returns. “Alright, Aaron, I’ve had enough, out with it. What’s going on?”

  I decide to man up and jump right in, so I tell her about this morning….

  Dad called me early, asking me to come over. When I got there, he was a mess, and it appeared he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. He told me he was so desperate for money, he’d gotten an advance from some loan shark called “The Machine.”

  While working with him at Quinn Advertising, I had watched my dad begin to unravel slowly. The last few weeks had been the worst. I was still shocked, though. I never thought he would do something like this.

  Talking to me in a cold, detached tone, he said, “Aaron, I don’t have the money to pay him back. I tried to reason with him, but he just laughed at me. Mr. Sandoval said if I don’t have his payment by twelve today, he’s going to hurt me—possibly kill me.”

  I gasped. “Dad, what are you going to do? Are we going to—”

  He raised his hand to stop me. “Let me finish. As I was saying, I’m running out of options and time. I heard from a reliable source this Sandoval fellow is gay like you. So I’ve decided you are going to go over there at noon and offer your services to him for the weekend as this month’s payment.”

  Stumbling backward, I caught my shoe on the coffee table leg and fell onto the sofa, shaking my head. “No, Dad, there’s no way I can do that. How can you even ask that of me?”

  He slammed his fist on the table. “You have the audacity to tell me no! I’m not asking you, boy, I’m telling you. You’re going to do this. This is all your fuckin’ fault. I wouldn’t even be in this position if you hadn’t had to go to that fancy, expensive medical school. Then you had the nerve to flunk out. No… nuh-uh… you’re doing it. End of discussion.”

  Sitting there, shaking, I’d felt the guilt overwhelm me. In a fog, I’d replied tightly, “Okay, Dad, I’ll do it.”

  A huge pressure formed in my chest with those words. I’d felt like the room was closing in on me, and I vaguely heard him tell me to take the note he handed me to the appointment with this guy.

  I jumped up, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door, desperate for air.

  Focusing back on Chloe, I see she looks madder than hell.

  She stands up and shouts, “You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me! How can he possibly blame his bad financial planning and stupidity on you?”

  Sighing, I reply, “If I hadn’t gone to med school, this wouldn’t be happening. Then I washed out, to boot. It was a huge waste of money, that’s how. I owe him this. He’s right.”

  “I can’t believe you’re buying his shit,” she snaps. “You know the only reason you didn’t make it was because you were devastated by your mother’s death. I remember those times. You could barely function, let alone keep up with classes.”

  She’s right about that. It had been Mom’s dream for me to be a doctor—my dream was to make her happy. Ava Quinn had been so proud, she’d told complete strangers walking down the street of my acceptance to such a prestigious medical school. I thrived in the college environment, until I got the call saying my mom, my champion in all things and best friend, had died suddenly of an aneurysm.

  My whole world imploded at that moment.

  The funeral was a blur, and somehow I’d ended up at Chloe’s afterward. She just held me while I cried. I hardly moved off her couch for two weeks, but eventually I went back to classes. It was different, though; my fire had gone out, buried with my mom.

  At twenty-two, I’d given up and gone to work with my dad. Never that close to begin with, we’d broken apart when the glue that bound us was gone.

  Still, I feel I have an obligation. “If it’s my fault, I have to do this. I can’t let my dad get hurt.”

  She looks resigned as she slumps back down on the sofa. “What if it doesn’t work? What if you do this and he still hurts your dad? For that matter, he may not even be gay, and hurt you for suggesting it.”

  I haven’t thought of those things—now I’m even more scared. She could be right on either account.

  I still don’t see any other option, though. “I’m just going to have to try to hope for the best.”

  Grabbing my hand, she anchors me. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared this is going to get you hurt. Have you ever even been with a guy?”

  Yet another thing I haven’t thought of. If she keeps pointing them out, I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

  “Well….” Reaching up, I scratch the back of my neck and start bouncing my knee, feeling myself start to blush. “No, you know better than that. I haven’t been hiding some secret love affair from you.”

  Pathetically, yes, I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin. I mean, I’ve fooled around, of course, and I’ve even done a little toy play. As far as the actual act, though, I haven’t. I want my first time to be special, a gift to my partner. On top of that, I had been so focused on my premed classes and trying to make my mom proud, I never had the time. Now I feel grossly unprepared for what I am going to do today. The pressure in my chest builds again, and I can feel myself tearing up.

  Chloe reaches over and stops my knee from bouncing. “Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?”

  I sigh as I steel myself. “Yes, there’s no other way, and I owe it to Dad. I just wish…. I wish this wasn’t going to be my first time. You know how I feel about that.”

  With a mischievous glint in her eye, she tilts her head and says, “Well, think of it this way: not many people can say their first time saved someone’s life. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  I glance at her to make sure she hasn’t lost her mind, but then the ridiculousness of this discussion suddenly hits me and I bust up laughing.

  I laugh so hard I can barely breathe. “Well—” more laughing, “—there is that.” Calming down, but still smiling, I conclude, “Leave it to you to find the silver lining in this.”

  “There’s my Aaron. All this crying just isn’t you. Now, if you’re so determined to do this, you’re going to have to get you into the right mindset.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?” With that statement, I see her go into what I call “Chloe mode.”

  Hopping out of her seat, she starts pacing while chewing her thumbnail, and then suddenly stops. “You have to walk in there like you know every man on the planet wants you. I’ve read that confidence is a big attracting factor for most people. Plus you’re absolutely gorgeous, so that won’t be a problem. The only thing left is clothes. We have to make you look like sex on a stick.”

  I hate to break into her delusions, but I’m going to have to remind her this is her dorky virgin friend she’s talking about. Unless I suddenly get a lobotomy, there is no way I am going to be able to pull this off. “Chloe, there is—”

  “Oh, don’t you even say it! You are gorgeous, smart, funny, and you have a very big heart. I don’t know where you get the idea no one could ever be attracted to you. I wish you would get it out of your head. In fact, you’re going to have to, if we’re going to get this right.” She reaches down and pulls me off the couch, leading me into her bedroom.

  Sitting me down in the seat at her dressing table, she walks to her closet and pulls out two large bags of clothes. Lord, the woman has been shopping again! She always manages to pick up a few things for me as well, while out “spoiling herself.” I don’t know where she gets the energy or money. I silently watch her flit around, setting out s
everal outfits. Walking back and forth, tapping her finger on her chin, she scans them with an analytical eye.

  She apparently makes a decision and picks one up. “Here, go put these on and then we’ll work on your attitude.”

  Mindlessly following her directions, I go change.

  When I return from the bathroom, I walk over to where she is standing. She grabs my arm and turns me, making me look at myself in the full-length mirror.

  In an authoritative voice, she says, “You are Aaron Quinn. Every man wants you or wants to be you. Now, you say it.”

  Struggling not to laugh, I try to get the words out, but nothing will come. Seeing her looking so stern at me in the reflection makes me crack. I start giggling, which turns into full-out laughing when she stomps her foot and grunts angrily.

  “Aaron Quinn! You will not laugh at me—be serious! We don’t have much time if you have to be there by twelve.”

  With that, all humor leaves me.

  She clears her throat. “Now, since you won’t listen to motivational techniques, let’s go over your outfit. I picked out these black slacks because I know they will make your butt look good.” Any other time, I would have been disturbed at the thought of her looking at my butt. Instead, I just focus on her words. “I chose this merlot-colored sweater to make your eyes pop. It also fits you really well in the chest, tight in all the right places.”

  Turning me back around to face her, she starts running her fingers through my hair, trying to tame it. She should know this is a lost cause by now, so I know she is nervous for me.

  I try to comfort her by putting my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry, after this weekend, this will just be a crazy side note in one of the chapters of our lives.”

  I try to say that with as much conviction as I can.

  Sniffling, she reaches out and hugs me. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? I can’t believe you’re trying to comfort me when you’re the one going through all this.” She lets me go and steps back. “Do you need me to drive you there?”