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Even now, at twenty-eight, he knows just how to get under my skin. I don’t read it, just delete it and move on. How my maw ever saw anything in him is beyond me.
Why he ever came to our sleepy little town in Fife, Scotland, I’ll never know. My maw never told me exactly why he was there, just that they had an amazing month and he swept her off her feet.
After he went back to the States, she found out she was pregnant with me. Mum said she loved me from the moment she saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. She didnae have his last name, only a number and an email to contact him.
That should have been her first clue he was an eejit! I love my maw, but how clueless could she be?
“Hey Donovan,” a perky high-pitched voice breaks me from my musings, followed by a soft delicate hand reaching out, rubbing up the length of my arm.
Tillie VanWooten!
Refraining from letting my eyes roll out my head, I plaster on my best prince charming smile.
“Alright, lass, I see your workouts are payin’ off. Gie’s a twirl?” She bats her eyes as she slowly spins in a circle. She’s wearing a pair of skin-tight black yoga shorts with half her ass cheeks hanging out the bottom along with a workout top that’s four sizes too small for her fake DDD breasts. Most men might find her attractive, but she does nothing for me. Despite her big tits, she’s skin and bones. No muscle whatsoever. I’m sure plenty of men are in to human Barbies, but not me. Even so, she’s a barbie that helps pay the mortgage, so I’ve got to keep her happy.
“And that ass. It’s amazing.”
“You want to feel it?” She giggles.
“You know I cannae do that. The owner would sack me.” I give her a wink as I exit out of email, but stop when I see a deposit notification from my bank.
What the hell! I’m not expecting anything and it’s to my personal account, not my business one.
“Oh, Donny baby. You’re the boss, you can do anything you want.” She moves toward the end of the counter, her eyes locked on me as she scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip.
Needy whores don’t do anything for me, but I need to make nice for the sake of my business.
“Gie it a rest, darlin’. You know I willnae be able to control myself. I need to set an example for my employees. You know how it is. And you’re a tempting wee minx.” I lean forward, resting my arms on the counter, praying she buys my shit. “But Hector is over there at the weights and he was just telling me this morning how impressed he is with your dedication in working out.”
Her eyes go wide, lighting up at receiving praise. “Did he? Well, you’re right. You need to be an example for your employees. I’ll let you get back to work.” She turns, twisting her hair around her finger as she saunters across the gym, weaving in and out of the equipment. The closer she gets to Hector, the more her hips sway.
“That one’s a vulture. It’s amazing how you play her like a fiddle. Rejecting her, yet making it seem like you’re not,” my best friend Dimitri remarks as he laughs.
He moves behind the counter, takes a seat at the small desk, and opens up the laptop. He’s in sweats and a hoodie, and here far too early for him to be out and about if he’s not helping with training a client.
“What are you doing up so early?” I ask him as I turn back to my computer to check out what this deposit is.
“Never went to bed. I was busy doing something.” He doesn’t have to tell me, I know already.
We don’t keep secrets from one another. A promise we made when we first met back when I was sixteen and new to the United States. It was hard fitting into a school where everyone had been mates since they were kids. I thought it would be easier than living in a town where everyone knew everyone’s business, but fuck, I was wrong.
My saving grace was being good in sports, hot, and Scottish.
“What’s got your attention?”
“There was a deposit in my bank and since I didnae let your family work out in the private gym, I know it’s not from them.”
I make sure to use code when talking about Dimitri’s family. He's a second generation Russian born here in the States, but his family has strong ties with the Russian mafia. While Dimitri chose not to be part of that lifestyle, it doesn’t mean he, nor I, don’t turn an eye and let them use our business for the right price.
“Since when is getting free money bad?” He leans back in the chair, pulling the laptop closer to him as he sings Bad Drugs by King Kavalier.
I just shake my head at his antics and log into my bank account. It’s time to find where this free money came from.
My fingertips glide over the keyboard and just a moment later, it’s opening up on the screen before me. I scroll down, looking at all the transactions, searching for the only one I’m interested in at the moment.
Then I see it.
That fucking bastard!
