10. Grey

Grey

H i, Grey, it's me. It's Ellie. I, um, remember when you said to call if I needed anything? Even rent? Because I, uh, well I'm in trouble and I need rent money. I'm sorry to have to ask―but do you mind? It's a loan, I'll pay you back. Promise.

I listened to her voice in both delight and alarm. Ellie sounded so scared, as though terrified I'd refuse to help her. Like I would. Immediately, I clicked her number. Instead of the line ringing though, I received a harsh wah-wah-wah sound in my ear. Puzzled, I glanced at my screen. I had signal, all right, but that call wasn't going through.

No matter. I knew where Ellie lived. I grinned to myself as I grabbed my coat, then headed for the garage. I had a very handy excuse to knock on her door and say hello.

Hey, sweetie, here's your rent money, take your time in paying it back, it's all good. Let's get some dinner.

With these pleasant thoughts running through my head, I stopped at my bank's ATM to withdraw a couple thousand dollars. The bitter Vermont air frosted my breath as I stuffed the cash into my coat pocket. Crusted snow from the blizzard covered the streets and yards where the plows failed to reach.

There it'll stay until spring, I thought.

I parked in Ellie's building's lot, then trotted up the stairs to her floor. Music drifted from behind closed doors as I walked down the hallway. Finding her apartment, I knocked.

Listening, I heard Ellie shriek, as though a poltergeist goosed her with her own hairbrush. I listened to her hard tread as she stalked toward the door.

"Fucker, I told you to never come back―"

Violently, Ellie swung her door open.

Her jaw dropped as she stared at me. I read the signs of her stress, her wide blue eyes sparking anger and fear, her hair falling in tangles over her chest. The redness over her cheeks spoke of her fits of weeping. Gaping, her lush lips opened and closed without a word passing them.

I stepped in, forcing her back, and closed the door. I said nothing as I swept her into my arms, feeling her slender body tremble as she wept against my coat. Caressing her tangled hair, I murmured something stupid about me being there, it'll be all right, shit of that nature.

At length, I urged her further into her apartment, and sat her on the couch. Shedding my coat, I sat beside her, then pulled her against me. Ellie melted into me, hiccupping, and sniffling the last of her tears away. I simply held her, letting her take her time.

"I thought…I thought, you were blowing me off." Ellie tried to smile, but it looked crooked and strange.

"Never, honey," I murmured. "I tried to call, but it wouldn't go through. So, I just came over."

"Oh."

Grabbing my coat, I fetched the cash from the pocket. "Don't worry about paying me back. At least not right now. Pay your rent. Get yourself together. Okay?"

Ellie nodded, clutching the money as though she seized a life preserver. "M-my client refused to pay me. Just like that. And I can't sue because it'll cost too much."

"Bastards."

I'd heard of predatory companies who made extra profits at the expense of their small-time employees and vendors. Owing workers tens of thousands, then dumping them like bad trash. Few if any had the means to pursue a legal route.

"There are ways to get your money, Ellie," I said.

"Small claims court?"

I nodded. "That's a good option. Look, I've an idea."

"What?"

I tapped her nose, smiling. "Wash your face. Brush your hair. I'm taking you to dinner."

Ellie's smile rivaled the sun. "That's so dope."

"You know it."

***

After making sure Ellie deposited the cash safely into her bank's ATM, I drove her to one of my favorite restaurants―McDougal's Pub. A steak and seafood place, it catered to the slightly higher end of the pay grade. Yet it was also casual, jeans and T-shirts accepted without question.

The host escorted us to a quaint, somewhat secluded table. Ellie gazed around the place in awe. As though she'd never eaten at a restaurant that cost more than Wendy's. Perhaps she hadn't. There was so much more to Ellie I wanted to learn.

"So, who was it you expected when I knocked on your door?" I asked. "You sounded pretty angry."

She glanced away with a small scowl. "Colton."

"Oh. I see."

"He said he wants me back," she went on, her tone low. "He apologized. Said he wants to be a better person."

I needed to ask the question but feared to raise it. Such a question might open doors best left closed.

Folding my hands in front of my face, I asked anyway. "Do you want him back?"

"No," she snarled under her breath. "Not just no, but hell no. He treated me like shit, then pretended to be all remorseful. He thinks he's all that."

A smiling waiter took our orders for wine, left us with menus. During the distraction, I had time to think of what to say. Or to not say, as the case may be. After he left, I rested my arms on the table.

"Ellie," I said softly. "Maybe he means it."

She snorted. "Please. I know he's your kid, but jeez, man, I'm not a toy he can throw away and regret later. Do you remember how he humiliated me? Why I ran away to start with?"

"I remember."

"He never came to look for me, did he? None of them did. If you hadn't come along, I know I'd have died that night."

Ellie paused, licked her lips, and stared at the table. "I was stupid to run, I know that. At the time, I did want to die. They didn't care, either. And I'm to forgive and forget all that? Like it never happened?"

"No. You're not."

Taking her napkin, Ellie tore it to shreds. "Colton behaved as though he was granting me a huge favor in asking me to come back. Can you believe that shit? I can't. I told him to get out and never come back."

"Sorry if that all sounds harsh-I know you two probably talk about me-but he sucks." She swiped her hair behind her neck, obviously flustered. "Why did you come? Tonight."

"You know why."

"No, you could have put a check in the mail. Instead, you came. Why?"

I leaned forward, meeting her defiant gaze. "You know why. Because I care. I wanted, needed , to see you. You offered me a prime excuse."

"Oh." Her napkin quickly turned into small puffs of white paper.

I put my hands over hers to stop her from shredding it even more. "I'm too old for you, Ellie. We talked about that. I can't help how I feel, but I still want to be there for you."

"Feel? As in…care?"

"Yeah. And no, not care like I care for you as if you were my daughter. It's not that kind."

Ellie smiled. It unnerved me, seeing that almost predatory grin, as though she'd successfully set the trap I'd blundered into. Or the lamb she led to the slaughter.

"So, you don't look at me like I'm a kid," she murmured, " your kid. That's good."

"Maybe," I replied, nervous. "Maybe it's wrong to feel that way."

"Age is just a number," she added primly.

"No, it's not. It's experience. It's many things. You agreed I'm too old for you. Remember?"

Ellie gripped my fingers, her smile fading until I wasn't sure if I'd truly seen it. "Yeah. But I can't help how I feel either. I like you, Grey. More than like. And I don't see you as a father figure. I don't have daddy issues."

"You never had a father, did you?"

"Foster dads who ignored my existence." Ellie ran her fingers through her thick hair with a deep breath. "Okay, maybe I do have daddy issues. But I don't look at you that way. If I had, I'd never have…you know."

She glanced around at the diners and waiters as though fearing they'd overhear and know she'd slept not just with an older man, but her ex-boyfriend's father. "Should I see a shrink?"

I chuckled. "No."

"Is being attracted to a dude old enough to be my parent a bad thing? You hear about it all the time; a twenty-something chick dates a celebrity in his eighties. Has his kid."

"Isn't that gold-digging?" I murmured.

"Am I gold-digger? I mean, I did just ask you for a loan.

I shook my head. "I don't believe so. My ex-wife was one, so I think I'd know the difference."

Ellie's fingers continued to shred the napkin's remains, and only stopped when the waiter returned to take our order. She'd barely glanced at the menu and asked for shrimp and a baked potato. I decided not to question her culinary decision and went with the same.

"Look," I said slowly after he'd departed, "what's going on between us is our business. No one else's."

"What about Colton?"

I winced inwardly. "If you decide you'd rather be with him, I'd understand."

"We went over that," Ellie snapped, taking a sip of her wine. "I ask because he could cause a stink. His old man and his girlfriend screwing each other."

"If he's not what you want, then it's not his business either," I replied. "I'm not worried about him."

"Maybe you should be." Ellie eyed me over the rim of her glass, her eyes older than her years. "He finds out, he might run to the tabloids, collect a fat check for exposing the forty-something hockey star who's sleeping with his girlfriend. Cannon fodder."

Would Colton do that? Oddly, I couldn't say yes or no to that. If he truly does love Ellie, and isn't bullshitting himself or her, he might be mad enough to sell me out to the papers. The internet chatter would go through the roof. Bloggers demanding my head on a pike, chat rooms picking apart my life as easily as Ellie shredded the napkin. Cancel culture at its best.

"I'm not going to walk on eggs around my kid," I said quietly.

"This could ruin your career," Ellie replied just as softly. "I think this should end here. Right now. Friends only."

***

So how did I wind up in bed with Ellie after her declaration?

I could say hormones. I could say the Devil made me do it. I could say Ellie was at fault―she threw herself at me. But that wasn't true at all.

We all know why I did, though.

My attraction to Ellie scrambled all my defense mechanisms. The threat of tabloid reporters and cancel culture, potentially losing my job, flew from my head the instant I walked her through her apartment door. In her darkened home, illuminated only by a small lamp in the kitchen, I seized her in my arms and kissed her.

Ellie didn't resist. Instead, she stuck her tongue in my mouth, her hands clutching my hair in fistfuls. The warmth of her apartment, our heavy coats, built up a heat between us neither of us bothered to deny. My cock grew hard, straining against my zipper, aching for release.

Seizing my coat, Ellie dragged me toward her bedroom. "This is a very bad idea."

My mouth on hers, stumbling over her feet, trying to shed my coat while she held it fast, I muttered thickly, "A very bad idea. This'll only lead to trouble."

"I know. We're doing it anyway."