Indebted (3 page)

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 side 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 several 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?”

“I’ll just take a cab.” I sigh glumly. I don’t want her anywhere near this situation. “I guess I better get going.”

Grabbing my face between her hands, she tells me intently, “You call me when you can.” Then, reluctantly, she lets me go.

“I will, I promise. Thanks for being there and for all your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Walking me to the front door, she looks as if she wants to stop me, but wraps her arms around her waist instead. When I turn around to leave, I hear her sniffling as I grab the handle and pull the door open, walking out.

On the way over, I make a dumb decision and Google this “Machine” person on my phone. I can’t find any pictures, which is beyond frustrating, so I settle for reading articles about the guy.

There are a multitude of headlines proclaiming “Sandoval charged for assault and battery” in varying forms. My personal favorite, though, is, “The Machine arrested for murder.” All of them have side notes stating different victims and witnesses either dropped the charges or disappeared suddenly.

Now I’m even more scared.

I put my phone in my pocket and give myself a pep talk.
You can do this, Aaron. You have to. Your dad is right, it’s all your fault. You have to fix this. Once you do, maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive you for putting him in this spot.

The cab stops, and I pay the fare. Getting out, I stand and stare at the unassuming building, working up the balls to go in. I put one foot in front of the other, making my way into the office. A beautiful blonde greets me from behind the desk.

“Well, hey there, cutie. What can I do for you?” I give her my name and tell her I’m here to see Mr. Machine. She giggles at this and then tells him I’m here. “You can go on in.”

Walking into the room, I stand there, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, he tells me to have a seat. I make my way over to the chair in front of his desk. Trying not to turn around and run, I sit and content myself with studying him from under my lashes.

The man fits none of the pictures I have in my head. He definitely isn’t three hundred pounds and smoking a cigar—nor is he old. What I can see of him with his head down is amazing. He is huge, but not in the way I had been thinking. His upper arms are almost as big as one of my thighs. A broad chest, with the most perfect pecs I have ever seen, is outlined temptingly through his dress shirt.

Forgetting where I am and why I am here, I feel myself start to harden. I give myself a mental slap, trying to get my hormones under control.

After a minute or so of paper shuffling, he stops and looks up at me.

He is magnificent, with short dark hair, stunning big brown eyes that look like molten chocolate, a strong jawline, and somewhat full cheeks that have little indents. I bet if he smiles, he has gorgeous dimples.