Settling Down (8 page)

Jae was trying. Lord, he was perfect with how he tried. And now Tim had one order—hold off for a damn week—that was so hard to obey. It hurt worse than the best sort of Predicament Play Reggie could ever cook up. Hold the bit of “normal” while trauma whipped at his legs.

Except if he let go of this bit, the cost wouldn’t be sore nipples. It would be losing everything.

TIM ROLLED
his eyes, earning a chuckle from both Poppa and Gloria on the other side of the counter. He wanted to go and find a certain writer of a blockbuster excuse for kink lit and kick her in the ass. In the past few weeks, he’d been playing interference in keeping newbs from hurting themselves or others.

Normally it would be wonderful work, but one could only say “real-life BDSM involves communication, so you can’t just ‘surprise’ your sweetie with handcuffs and a butt plug” so many times in so many ways before one considered spiking his next coffee with Irish cream and whiskey.

“Ever licked a frozen lamppost as a child?” Tim replied over the phone, keeping his voice as sweet as ever. It wasn’t the fault of the newbies. They just needed a more experienced guide.

“Well, I saw that scene in
A Christmas Story
,” the wannabe Dom on the other end answered. “What’s that got to do with an ice dildo?”

“Ice sticks to skin, vaginas, and tongues, so if you try to put one into your lady friend, what do you think will happen?”

“…oh.”

Gloria leaned on the counter and mimed eating popcorn. Tim glared at her and replied, “See, playing with ice can be fun, but it’s gotta be wet ice. A layer of water will prevent sticking. Also, telling her what you plan on doing will keep her from nearly leaping off the bed at the first touch. Give her a chance to refuse. Not everyone is crazy about cold play. The type of play
and
the band.”

Wannabe didn’t even respond to Tim’s joke. “But if we’re playing and she’s my submissive, isn’t she supposed to just accept what I want?”

Tim’s eyes widened. Emergency, emergency, educate immediately before this poor girl gets hurt. “Not if you don’t want a pissed-off girlfriend. Look, if you’re serious about this kind of play, we have a great bookstore right here next to the shop with a good selection of 101 books. You can learn negotiation and communication and all sorts of ways to make this fun for both of you.”

A click answered Tim’s suggestion and he put the headset down. “I wish I could trace a number and find this fucker’s girlfriend before he sends her to the hospital.”

Poppa, who was in the “safe” section with the porn, snorted. “How you don’t reach through that phone and strangle someone is beyond me.”

“This from the man who was so sure no one wanted advice from a ‘swishy little queen’ like me,” Tim said with a soft smile. “You know if you buy one of those, the TSA is going to have a field day searching your bags.”

“I ain’t buying nothing from here, boy,” Poppa grunted, but his eyes didn’t move.

Gloria’s grin nearly split her face in half as she started to slink toward the section. “Oh really?”

“Oh Lord.” Tim covered his face with his hands. If anyone could convince a shy customer to buy something tame, it was Gloria. “You’re ringing him up, and I don’t even wanna see it.”

“Prude,” Gloria called back before stopping at Poppa’s side. “So thick women do it for you? I know just the videos for you….”

Tim walked away from the counter to find somewhere less in earshot. Like among the packaged latex section. Bless Gloria and her wrapping skills. Tim could actually walk around this area without his skin itching.

The bell over the door rang, and Tim turned, only to frown as Max entered, looking around until he saw Tim. Great. If Tim gave in to the urge to scream for the fucker to get out, Poppa would have to get his two cents in. Good thing he couldn’t get his shotgun through TSA.

So Tim walked toward him, allowing some tart into his voice. “If you’re here to threaten me some more, you can turn your ass around and go right back out the door.”

Max didn’t look the least bit impressed, and that deflated Tim’s balloon a little. Not even on his own turf could he defend himself. If he could get through this without losing his lunch, it would be a miracle.

“Calm down. We wouldn’t want you passing out or anything. This is apparently the only place in town with Gun Oil, so I’d like to buy it and get out of here.” A smirk crossed his lips. “Looks like you haven’t been as mouthy as I thought. I’ve got a date with a pretty sub.”

Ugh. At that point Tim would rather listen to his father’s porn preferences. He pointed to the lube displays. “Second display to the right. We’ve got three sizes. I’ll be at the counter.”

It was the most unhelpful Tim had ever been in his own shop, but they both wanted this transaction over with. He didn’t want to think about that sub who would have the “honor” of Master Max’s attentions. If only they knew about what a hazard Max could be. But Tim couldn’t make a peep without violating the restraining order. Not knowing who the sub was didn’t help. But hey, Max could have reformed. This sub would probably even be less trouble than Tim was.

As he rounded the counter, Tim noticed Gloria watching him, one eyebrow raised, as Poppa was perusing another shelf. Did he need help? He shook his head, nodded in his dad’s direction, and mouthed, “Keep him busy.”

Thankfully Max was ready to check out with the thirty-two ounce of Gun Oil. Tim fought the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe he was expecting to fly the rest of it back to the South, or he was hoping to use most of it on that sub.

As Tim scanned the bar code, Max leaned the same way Gloria did minutes earlier. “You know, that was just a terrible accident. There was no need to try to ruin my reputation over it.”

Tim’s lips drew downward. “That’s nice. Total’s $52.98 total, please.” He held out his hand for cash or a card.

“Come on, I’m trying to make nice here. We’ll be at the ball, after all.” He pointed at the small post taped to the counter. “I’ve heard things about this Leather Aid group, but they must be alright if they respect me enough to invite me. Probably best to pretend we don’t know each other, I know, but….”

“That will be $52.98,” Tim repeated firmly, staring blankly into Max’s eyes.

“Jesus, you’re being a fucking bastard over this,” Max seethed, nearly slapping his card into Tim’s hand. “It’s been two years. You haven’t gotten over it yet?”

Tim’s nose flared. Hard to get over nearly fucking dying, but Max didn’t understand then, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t know if this was what he called “making nice.”

He rang up the order quickly, slipped the bottle into an unmarked paper bag, set the card and receipt and bag on the counter for Max to collect, and pulled out the inventory clipboard to keep his now-shaky fingers busy. “Have a nice day.”

“No wonder no one’s collared you yet,” Max snarled, taking what was his and stalking out the door.

Too late for Tim to counter that he had been claimed for six months and was most content, thank you very much, but it didn’t matter. The past week Tim had felt rudderless, barely holding himself together long enough to work and keep his dad company. How long before Jae realized how worthless he really was?

“Scoot, bitch, I’ve got a purchase to ring up.” Gloria bumping him with her hip got his attention. She held up two videos in her triumphant hands.

“Oh my God, Poppa!” Tim took the clipboard and scooted out of the way. “Are you serious?”

“No shaming, Timothy.” Gloria was too busy laughing for her warning to have any bite. “You know better.”

“Let me be a grown man, boy,” Poppa grunted, but it was obvious the two of them were enjoying freaking Tim out.

In normal situations it would be hilarious. But he was already freaked enough.

“I know the rules of my own damn shop, fuck you both very much!” Before he could stop himself, he slammed the clipboard on the floor and turned around so fast the display of lubes, Gun Oil included, tumbled to the floor.

Such a mess, boxes and bottles, greeted his eyes, and the urge to make it right was overridden by flight. By the time he was in his office, he was regretting those words. They didn’t deserve that. It was a joke. He had no reason to feel this off.

The door opened, and before he could start with the apologies to Gloria, Poppa stepped through and shut the door.

“At least you know when you send yourself to your room.” Poppa leaned against the door. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nuthin’.” Tim could feel himself pout. Damn, was he five again? Poppa just looked at him, not believing that lie for a second. “It’s one of them things you don’t wanna know about, okay?”

“Miss your boyfriend, huh?”

Okay, that was one way to put it. Safe. Parental approved. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, Poppa, I love that you’re here, but damn, I need him.”

“Need him?” Poppa came to the desk and pulled out the opposite chair. “That sounds pretty serious.”

“It’s pretty serious. Or it was before we both had to play host at the same time.”

One bushy eyebrow rose. “So it ain’t serious now?”

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Finding the words to talk around the real issue was going to be rough. “Not at the level I need. And since I don’t have that, I’ve not been at my best. Stress gets to me more. I can’t relax.”

“I’ve been trying to get you to go see someone ’bout that….”

“…and I keep telling you that a shrink ain’t gonna make me not wanna be spanked!”

“Boy, you better lower your damn voice. I’m right here. Ain’t gotta yell.”

Dad’s tone, stern, was just what Tim needed to calm just a little. “Sorry, Poppa.”

“Now hear me out. I’ve been doing a little reading up since you moved away, trying to understand about this thing that makes you tick. And I get it. The whips and chains thing is a part of you. Ain’t no fixing that. But the other stuff, this twitching, this too much focusin’ on stuff, losing your shit when things are off, that might need some looking at. We never understood it when you was little, hell, it was cute sometimes, but now, you know….”

Tim was ready to, at an appropriate volume, tell his father to fuck off with his concerns. But then he kept listening. His biggest worry was that therapy would be recommended to fix his submission, but the twitch? The twitch was part of him. If he lost that, then what other reason would he have to kneel?

But Poppa was right. He couldn’t live this way forever.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Like how I’ll think about seeing the doc more than once a year?”

Tim glared. “You better be seeing her more than once a damn year. I’m not there no more to make those appointments for you, Poppa. You gotta take care of yourself.”

“Look at you, so concerned about everything else but you. Business looks good, you hired one more person, and you’re with someone. You’ve been here damn long enough to mind your own business for once.”

Tim rubbed his bare arm. The shakes were just a tremor now.

“You’re right, you know.” Tim looked up at his father. “I’m sorry for being a brat.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Go out there and clean up the mess. I’m gonna take my purchases and head back to my room for my own business time.”

“Gross, Poppa.”

“Look, boy, I had to read about the docs pulling ginger out of your asshole while worrying whether you’d live or die. You can live with knowing I’m a healthy man who likes to yank it once in a while.”

Again the man was right. No matter how shudderworthy the truth was.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It took a few more moments alone in the office before he felt steady enough to go back to the sales floor. Gloria was behind the counter, and the mess was still there. He quietly started to pick the bottles up, letting the action of setting things to rights try to calm him.

Gloria, for her part, let him continue in silence, looking down at her hand, probably fooling with her phone since they were at a lull.

Okay, that worked.

By the time the bottles were back on the display, he spoke. “I’m sorry, Gloria.”

She looked up, crossing her arms and shaking her head at him. “I’ll take an extra-long lunch with that apology.”

“Of course,” Tim added, and the silence after that was deafening. Gloria wasn’t ribbing him. She looked less hurt, sadder. Fucking hell.

Then she sighed. “Look, Tim, I love you to pieces, and I know this week’s been hard on you….”

“I shouldn’t take it out on you, Poppa, or the stock, I know.”

“I’ll be alright, your poppa looked fine, and if something had broken over there, you’d still be bitching about it. Now get over here and let me hug you, and then I’m gonna call Marcus and tell him that I’m coming home for lunch.”

The hug was as warm as her usual, and Tim thought they would be fine. “Tell him I said hi?”

She pulled away with a rueful grin. “Maybe. Depends on how busy we get.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt. Both their sex lives weren’t off-limit topics. “Just don’t hurt him, okay?”

“I make no promises.”

IT WAS
a good day to take Mom and Dad to the boardwalk. It was sunny, only a few clouds in the sky. It wasn’t too hot; it wasn’t too windy. And all of the vendors were open, so Dad was showing Mom the new ones that had popped up since their last visit two years ago.

“We don’t need a hanging chair,” Mom pleaded and sent Jae a stern look when he laughed. “Or a dragon puppet. Jonghyun, where are you going now?”

Dad was already two booths down, submitting to a hand massage by the surprised young lady manning a lotion booth. Mom sighed. “I knew this was a bad idea. He’s going to run up such a charge on his credit card.”

“Mom, you’ve been tense all week. Relax.” Jae motioned to the young lady, who was now laughing at something Dad had said. “See, he’s in his element, putting a smile on people’s faces.”

Mom shook her head. “That’s Jonghyun. You know he’s been doing more meeting and greeting with the customers at the restaurant, getting to know people, not just reviewers. He’s so worn out at the end of a night.”