Calling Card Page 3

  The all familiar feeling of my balls drawing tight consumes me. The gag’s still in play and I’m at the finish line. Mentally high-fiving myself, I give it my all, even being gentlemanly enough to reach down and massage her clit.

  Through the tie, Janelle cries out, her pussy pulsing around my cock, her thighs shaking against mine. Another long, drug out moan from her, a groan from me and I’m spilling into the latex.

  Mission. Complete.

  Allowing her a few minutes to come down, I wait before I move her off my lap. Pulling up my boxers and pants without buttoning them, I walk down the hall and into the bathroom to clean up; she’s quick on my heels.

  “Wanna go another round?” she purrs, climbing up on the counter, rubbing her fingers through her just fucked, swollen pussy.

  “You wore me out, Twix. Next time?” Tossing the used condom in the trash, I grab the washcloth on the rack and wipe myself down.

  On my way back to the living room, I pass by a table in the hallway with pictures on the top. The first one I see is Janelle in a hospital gown holding a brand new baby. The kid’s still covered in that white shit and blood. Kinda fucking nasty, but not my place to judge.

  It suddenly makes sense why she’s gained a little weight and her hips are wider.

  “Congrats,” I say, pointing to the picture as she walks past me.

  “Thanks. He’s at my mom’s tonight,” she mutters. Alright. I didn’t ask, but thanks for the info? For the record, though, I did try to be nice and not treat her like the hit and run she is, but of course she has an attitude and offers me more than I asked for. Never mind. My issue, not hers.

  “You know he’s yours, right?” Well, wait just a fucking minute.

  “Excuse me?”

  “My son. Well, I guess he’s ours. You have a child,” she says, smiling.

  Smirking, I shake my head as I button my shirt and drape my tie around my neck. I wonder if I should give her a little time before I kill her happy little family bubble.

  Nope. I’ve never been one for sugar coating. Now’s not the time to start.

  “Sorry, Janelle, I don’t have any children.” Even though I’m not going to coddle her, I try really hard to not be a dick. I figure I should give her a little dignity before I leave. Her scowl leads me to believe that she’s going to drag this out and it’s going to end messy. I promise.

  “His name’s Tony and he’s your son. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after we were together last year. There’s nobody else it can be. You’re his father.” That smug look on her face, like she has me cornered, is almost enough to make me slap her, but I don’t.

  This is about to play out like on those daytime talk shows. Woman screams “It’s your baby. You’re the only one.” Man hollers “Ain’t no way.” Paternity test determines that you are not the father. Woman loses her shit. Man jumps around for joy. This shit’s about to blow up in her face just the same.

  The fuse is lit, explosion in three … two … one.

  “Sorry to break it to ya, Twix, but there’s absolutely no way he’s mine. I’m not his father, or anyone else’s.”

  “The condom must have broken.”

  I’m going to break something.

  Slipping into my shoes and tying my tie, she must have thrown something at me, but missed, as glass splatters at my feet. Not only can she not peg the right guy as her kid’s dad, but she can’t hit a stationary object.

  “You calling me a whore?” If the shoe fits? No, too soon.

  “No, Janelle, not a whore. Just a bit delusional. I can’t be his dad. I had a vasectomy over six years ago.”

  The blush creeping up her chest into her face makes me feel a little bad, but I did warn her. I tried to give her every reason to stop this conversation, but she pushed. And now, she probably feels as stupid as she looks, standing there clutching her shirt to her breasts, trying to cover as much of herself as she can. My guilty feeling fades as an ashtray comes flying toward my head, but smashes against the wall about a foot from my face.

  “Just get out! Get the fuck out of my house! I never want to see you again!” she screams, looking for more stuff to not hit me with.

  “So, I should call you next time I’m in town?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “I’ll take that as a maybe. Have a good night, Twix. Sleep well. And, hey, don’t lose any weight. You’re tits are fucking amazing.”

  “Out!”

  Slamming the door behind me, I’m to my car and headed home. I’ll fill Nicholas in on this tomorrow. There’s gonna be no way he’s going to want to miss this story. This one rivals all the rest. Well, almost.

  This one’s going down as the weirdest night … ever.

  Me a dad? She probably though I’d be good for a hefty child support check every month. Sorry. Not this guy. Never me. Bringing kids into this fucked up world is never a good idea. I’ll never do that to another human being.

  As soon as I’m in bed for the evening, showered from my visit with Janelle, I place the one phone call I place every night before bed.

  “Kinda late isn’t it, Dexter?” she answers. I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “Just got in. Wanted to see how your day was.”

  “It was alright. Same as usual. Took Katelynn to the park and museum. Nothing too exciting. How was your night?” she asks sarcastically.

  “A waste of time,” I chuckle. “This one decided that I was the father of her child. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  “Oh, poor girl. Did you at least let her down gently? Wait, don’t answer that. You don’t have a gentle bone in your body.”

  “I wanted to, I really did, but she was just too much.” Her laughter fills the other end of the line, making me smile. I can see her head tossed back and that snort she does when she’s giggling like this. My best friend. The only female I’ve ever let in, and hopefully that’s the way it will say.

  “Okay, breathe, Briar. I’m flying out to Russia later this week. I was gonna come see you guys for a few days. That okay?”

  “Yeah, come on. We don’t have anything special planned. I know Katie would love to see you.”

  “Alright, go to bed. I’ll see you in a day or so. I’ll text you when I land.”

  “Goodnight, Dexter.”

  It’ll do me some good to hang out with Briar. That girl has a way of keeping me grounded and centered. More than likely because we tried to date a few years back, before she was married, so we don’t have that uncomfortable ‘Are we gonna fuck or not’ vibe going on. We had our fun, but it wasn’t right for either of us. Briar was my first and only girlfriend and now she’s my best friend. My rock.

  Everything happens for a reason. I’d rather have her in my corner more than anyone else.

  *****

  Totally out of character for me, I wake a little after noon. Stretching my stiff muscles, someone starts knocking on the door to my hotel room.

  Yes, this is my hometown. This is where I come back to after working for weeks at a time. This is the city that I think of as my home, but I don’t have a house here. What’s the point? At least thirty weeks out of the year I’m on location. The other twenty-two weeks are so spread apart, I can never make any real plans. There’s no need to set down roots when I’m not sure if this is where I’m supposed to be.

  Granted, I love Indiana, but I’m also comfortable in New York City and Ireland. All of these places are completely different but lend some ease to my hectic schedule.

  “Coming,” I yell, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt over my head.

  Stubbing my toe on the corner of the wall, I hobble the rest of the way through the living room, turn the knob and open the door, already pissed off at this entire day.

  “Bro, I’ve been knocking for like ten minutes and called at least fifteen times. I was worried your date tied you to the bed and was holding you for ransom,” Nicholas says, pushing past me and into the kitchen.

&n
bsp; “Please, make yourself at home.” I wave my arm, inviting him inside even after he’s passed.

  “So, what the fuck’s going on? Thought you wanted to go take some pictures on your grandparents’ land today. Is that not the plan anymore?”

  “Sorry, man. I overslept. Give me twenty and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Once in the shower, I let the hot water run over my body, desperately trying to wake up. I have no idea why I’m so groggy. I didn’t drink yesterday or take anything to help me sleep. Must just be the jetlag—still on European time.

  “That reporter from yesterday…her article just went live,” Nicholas yells through the door.

  “She didn’t waste any time, did she?” I swear, it’s quicker and quicker every time. These writers can’t wait to get me on paper and into the hands of millions.

  “Read it.” She’d better have done me justice. The last time one went up this fast, the entire thing was a hack job. The article would’ve been better written by a fifth grader.

  “I recently sat down with the infamous Dexter MacFadden. We talked for hours about his intriguing career—where he started and how he got to where he is now. It’s all fascinating, but I know what you’re all waiting for. The personal details …”

  Jumping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist, I go back into the bedroom where Nicholas is sitting in the armchair holding his tablet. With a smug grin on my face, I lean against the wall near him, waiting to hear the rest of this article. The reporter probably thinks she’s gotten all of the juicy details and published her piece with the intentions of being the first to uncover something.

  “Want me to read it?” I say, amused as I watch Nicholas’s reads to himself rather than out loud.

  “Let me finish it real quick.” His eyes travel back down to the screen and I rake my hands through my wet hair. I wouldn’t be surprised if the reporter took a few jabs at me and Nicholas wants to be sure it’s not too bad. Bitches can be sneaky like that. They get upset over the tiniest thing and blow it out of proportion. Then again, the way I brushed her off … I have no one to blame but myself if this goes sour.

  Impatiently waiting for Nicholas to peruse the article, I close myself in the walk-in closet and dress quickly as I wait for him to continue.

  “Holy shit!” Nicholas screams and I hear the tablet hit the carpeted floor.

  My heart falls to my stomach and my head starts swimming with all the possibilities. Nick isn’t one to overreact. I’ve known the guy for nearly seven years and he’s the calm one between us.

  Running back into the room, I snatch the tablet from the floor, preparing for the worst. She’s dug up information on my father’s past? His ties to the Irish gangs? She found my uncles and now they want money from me? I’ll lose my shit if she’s interfered with family I haven’t been in contact with in ages.

  I couldn’t have prepared for this.

  It’s worse than the worst case scenario.

  Everything I’ve done to protect myself from the prying eyes of the world when it comes to my extracurricular activities—it was all for nothing.

  “After an awkward ending to our interview, I went back to my office and started searching Mr. MacFadden in more detail than I had prior to our meeting. I ran across a social media group dedicated to him and his signature style blow-off for one night stands. I would have never paid it any attention, but one of the women specifically named him …”

  How did anyone name me? They know me as Dex. Never my full, government name. Fuck, this is really bad. Reputation is everything in this business and if I don’t have it, I might as well pack it in and quit.

  “I was able to get Woman X on the phone, and after given video evidence that the man she was speaking of was in fact Dexter MacFadden, I inquired with the other women as well …”

  Video? Sex Tape? There’s no possible way. It has to be something else. Security cameras in her building?

  “In only a matter of three hours, seventy-six women have come forward claiming that they’ve had a sexual relationship with Dexter MacFadden. These women, his partners, range from barely legal to cougar status in all areas of the world, reaching as far as Asia and Africa. There are a few things they have in common; all have been picked up by Mr. MacFadden, taken home and performed sexual acts. Also, they’ve all been left a calling card at the end of their ‘date’.”

  Shit! I’m fucked. Completely and utterly screwed.

  I can’t read any further. I know what’s going to be said about me. Forget the fact that I only engage with legal, single, willing partners. I’m going to be made out to be some kind of sexual deviant. A man that takes advantage of these women.

  “How do you want to handle this?” Nicholas asks, digging his phone out of his pocket, ready to do whatever’s needed.

  “Call the PR firm and see what my next move should be. I don’t want to act irrationally, but I have a bad feeling about this.” Just as I finish my statement, my cell starts ringing.

  Tossing it over to Nicholas, he takes the call in the other room, leaving me to deal with my thoughts. Maybe it won’t be so bad. It’s a pretty big publication, but I could have my people release a statement saying that it’s all a misunderstanding. Place a gag order on the entire story?

  Lying back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I’m not sure how long I stay in this spot before Nick returns. Gazing up at him as he hovers over me, his face is grim. I close my eyes and start requesting favors from a God that I’ve never spoken to before, begging that this is all some kind of joke.

  “Dex,” Nicholas says softly.

  “Not right now. I just need a minute.”

  “It probably shouldn’t wait. That was Vlad on the line. He’s canceled the shoot for later this week.”

  “How did it reach so far already? This doesn’t make any sense.” I sit up, taking the tablet and putting my name into the search bar.

  It doesn’t take long for the results to populate, my website and other credentials popping up first. Then comes the flood of nausea as I see nearly fifty other sites circulating the exposé written by that bitch. I underestimated her reach.

  “I’ve called Cora and put her on this, but for now, I suggest you lay low.”

  I should call Briar and let her know I won’t be flying out to see her. Since I’m not going anywhere any time soon, I relieve Nicholas to head home. When I’m alone, I contemplate what I’m going to say. Knowing her, she’s already told Katelynn I’m coming.

  Each scenario I run through my head, the outcome is the same. Briar’s going to be beyond pissed, call me a few choice names and then hang up on me. The only constant I’ve had in my life for the past ten years is about to find out what kind of person I really am, not the downplayed version I give her.

  ME – Hey B. U up yet?

  Yeah, call me a pussy if you want. A text message will save me from her wrath. Best friends or not, she’ll cut into me like none other.

  BRIAR – Yea … did u see that article? Intense

  ME – That’s kinda the reason for my text. I won’t be coming out this week nemore

  BRIAR – Katie’s gonna be upset.

  ME – Nick thinks I should lay low for a bit.

  BRIAR – U know u can stay here … nobody would suspect it. Ur own secret hideaway

  Thinking over her last message, she’s actually right. If this hits the point where other media outlets want to dig further, not a soul alive would look for me at Briar’s. Granted, it’s no secret that we’re friends, but having never been involved with one another, in the public’s eye, there would be no reason that I’m with her. They’d all probably assume I left the country and am hiding out in the Alps or something.

  ME – R u sure? I wouldn’t wanna put you guys out.

  BRIAR – STFU … u know better. Pack some shit, book a flight and I’ll see you tonight.

  ME – Ur the best B. C u tonite.

  BRIAR – yea .. ur welcome. Bring Ralphie. Katie misses him.

>   ME – k. bye

  Quickly sending a message to Nicholas, I ask him to pick me up in twenty minutes and he agrees. Apparently, he spent a little while chatting with the concierge about the latest issue and didn’t get very far. I should have hired him as my PR rep instead of my driver.

  Pulling out my suitcase, I pack enough to last for a while—mostly clothes to lounge around in, since I shouldn’t be gallivanting around New York City. We might have caught this whole thing early enough that I won’t be hounded immediately. As long as I make it to Briar’s before shit gets real, I’ll be happy.

  With my bags packed and in the foyer, I pull Ralphie’s carrying case from the front closet, pick him up and place him inside. I got him when he was just a kitten and he’s been with me ever since. Every time I go to New York, I bring him. This mangy cat’s cooler than any fucking dog.

  Maybe this will all work out. I haven’t really had a vacation in a few years. A little break never hurt anyone.

  Lucky for me, Nicholas was able to charter a private flight out of Indiana in such a short amount of time. The flight was abnormally eerie—all alone with my thoughts, trying to figure a way out of this mess. A few short hours later, I land at Teterboro, wondering how all of this spun out of control so fast. A group of women trading war stories? What has this world come to?

  Grabbing my bag and Ralphie’s carrying case, I walk down the stairs of the plane and into the airport. Very much to my surprise, Briar’s waiting in one of the plastic waiting chairs. I don’t see Katelynn anywhere, but I’m more shocked that she didn’t send someone to pick me up. Instead, she’s risking being seen with me, which would effectively blow my cover. I knew I should have had Nicholas coordinate with a car service or something.

  “You look like shit,” she says, walking into my arms and squeezing me around my waist. Reciprocating the hug, I hold on to her a little longer than I should, thankful for the familiar face.

  “Feel like it. Where my girl?”