Page 13 of Hot Four Teacher (The Lawson’s #4)

Chapter thirteen

A Tale of Two Sex Toys

Michelle

I open my front door and yet again see Ronnie standing there.

“Really?” I ask. “Why are you here?”

“Your mat says welcome, yet you say such hurtful things.”

Knowing she’s not just going to go away, I turn around to head back inside. She’ll follow me.

“Why the crabby attitude?” She asks.

“I had a kid bite me today.”

“Yikes. I guess that’s the danger of being a dental hygienist. Do you think you need a Tetanus shot?” She jokes.

“I think I’ll live,” I chuckle.

Ronnie looks around the room. “Where’s Eve?”

“Soccer practice. Her friend's mom is bringing her home in a little while.”

“Geez. How often do you have to endure that awful sport?”

“I'm positive you don’t want to know.”

“Probably not,” she says before immediately changing the subject. “I’m glad you’re here alone. I have a surprise for you.”

She takes a seat on the couch and pats the cushion next to her, prompting me to sit too.

When I do, she wastes no time in pulling something out of her purse. It’s an oblong black box. As she sets it in my lap, my jaw drops.

It’s a big dildo.

No. Scratch that.

That description doesn’t do it justice.

It’s a big, thick, veiny, obnoxious–and any other words you can think of–dildo.

“Veronica,” I begin, trying to search for the right words to use in this moment. But all I can manage to get out is, “What? Why? Dildo?”

She looks almost offended. “Ma’am. This is not just a dildo.”

“Oh?”

“This is a fucking work of art. This thing vibrates and thrusts. It has an app that you can put on your phone where you can control everything. This thing is the epitome of a good sex toy.”

“Okay,” I say, still a little stunned. “But why give it to me? If it’s so great, why not keep it for yourself?”

“One, I’m in a serious relationship and am getting laid regularly, and two, who says I don’t already have one?” She winks.

“Ronnie–”

She doesn’t let me continue. “Look, it’s been quite some time since your vagina has seen any action. We need to get it conditioned again…like they do in sports.”

“Sex isn’t a sport,” I argue.

“Maybe not for you. But that’s because you’ve been on the bench for the past ten seasons.”

“When did you get so into the sports metaphors?” I ask.

“Just stay with me here. You haven’t been laid in a decade. This will help you get everything primed and ready to go.”

My eyes flick to the box again. With this thing, I might be all stretched out rather than ready to go.

“I don’t know, Ronnie. I think this might be a bit much. I am not even sure this would fit.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.”

I hold up the box. “You don’t think this is dramatic?”

She pauses for a few moments before saying, “Okay, fine.” Reaching back into her bag, she pulls out another box and hands it to me.”

“Seriously, Ronnie?”

“Oh, calm down. This one is way more tame. It’s just a little wand vibe. I know you said your bullet quit working. This will at least help you take the edge off.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

I won’t admit it to her, but this one does sound more appealing than the first option.

It’s not often that I double-click my own mouse, but when I do, a vibe is nice. Usually, I don’t even bother. When I do, it’s typically because I can’t sleep. It really has nothing to do with me being horny.

Ronnie opens her mouth to say something else, but a key in the front door stops her.

“Eve is home early,” I say. Quickly, I toss the boxes at Ronnie. “Hide these.”

She bolts off the couch and down the hall, her arms full of sex toys. I can’t see where she’s going, but I assume it’s my bedroom.

Lord, I hope it’s my bedroom.

Eve comes through the door and pushes it closed behind her.

“Hey, kid,” I greet. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah. We are getting a new coach in the next couple of days, so they pretty much made that announcement and let us go home.”

Ronnie comes walking back down the hallway. “Hey, Eve-a-licious. How’s it going?”

“It’s alright. Better now that I have a night off.”

Ronnie walks over, and they do some weird secret handshake the two of them made up. Ronnie and Eve have always been close and had a great bond. There have even been times where I’ve been jealous of their connection.

Last year, Eve lied to me about going to a party to hang out with a boy I despised. When he tried pushing her into something she wasn’t ready for, she ended up at Ronnie’s house instead of just coming home.

Although it about killed me, I’m grateful Eve felt comfortable enough to go to Ronnie instead of doing something that would get her into more trouble.

“So, what are you doing here, Aunt Ronnie?” Eve asks.

Without even thinking about it, Ronnie replies, “I just had to come over and borrow something from your mom.”

“What did you need to borrow?”

That knocks Ronnie off kilter a bit. “Uh…I need to borrow something to wear.”

Eve’s face scrunches up at what her aunt just said. “ You, the one who has the wardrobe that women everywhere would kill for, came over to borrow something to wear from Mom?”

I mean, she has a point.

“Yeah,” Ronnie stammers. “I needed some…socks.”

Not wanting to answer any more questions, she says, “Alright well, I have to go. I’ll see you lovely ladies later.”

And she’s out the door before either of us can utter another syllable.

Once she’s gone, Eve looks at me. “Well, that was weird. Do I want to know what that was about?”

“Probably not.”

“Didn’t think so.” She tosses her bag on the ground and walks over, collapsing in the overstuffed armchair. “Can we order something good for dinner? I need some junk in my life.”

“We can order whatever you want,” I tell her, sensing that there’s something going on under the surface with her. “Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll get something ordered?”

It takes a minute for her to drag herself off the chair, but she finally does and heads to the bathroom.

***

Half an hour later, a knock on the door tells me our food has arrived.

I ordered a couple of different things to try to help with whatever is going on in that teenage brain of hers.

While I don’t always condone eating your feelings, once in a while, it’s okay.

I understand the feeling of wanting to eat something good when I’ve had a shitty day.

Plus, I’m hoping the food will make her chatty because we need to talk about whatever is going on with her.

When Eve comes back out, I have all of our food set out on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, wow. What all did you get?” She asks.

“Chinese food and a pizza. And cheesecake for dessert.”

“Looks amazing.”

Each of us fill up a plate before heading into the living room. We almost exclusively eat in there since our small kitchen table is almost always buried in clutter.

When we are settled, I turn on a movie that we’ve seen a million times.

“No true crime?” Eve asks.

“Nah. Just wanted something more chill. All the true crime I’ve been watching has led to some pretty horrifying dreams.”

She nods. “I get that.”

As we start eating, I say, “Alright, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you finally got a new soccer coach, which should make you happy, yet you come home, wanting hardcore junk food. Something is clearly going on, so why don’t you just spill it?”

She pushes the food around on her plate with her fork. “It’s Dad.”

I set my own fork down as my stomach starts to churn.

Whenever Eve wants to talk about her dad, I have to brace for impact.

While Danny and I haven’t had a relationship since before our daughter was born, he still has one with Eve–or something that at least resembles a relationship.

He did want to be part of her life, but it’s always been on her terms. If she doesn’t want to see him, she doesn’t have to.

Over the years, she has let him into her world a little more, but she also knows not to heavily depend on that man for anything.

I ask, “What’s going on with your dad?”

She hesitates for a moment as if trying to figure out if she truly wants to tell me or not. Finally, she says, “He has a new girlfriend.”

While I get this isn’t news that we would usually jump for joy about, I don't know that it rises to the level of being super upset about either.

“Eve, your dad has had girlfriends before,” I say, hoping she’ll continue.

“He wants me to meet her.”

“Oh.”

“He says they’re getting pretty serious, and he keeps bugging me to go over and get to know her.”

Danny has always had girlfriends–some we knew about and some I’m sure we didn’t. But he’s never invited Eve to meet any of them. One time, we were grocery shopping and saw him with one of them. First, he pretended he didn’t see us. Then, he tried hiding her.

I ask, “Do you not want to get to know her?”

“Not really?”

“Can I ask why?”

She avoids eye contact. “Because I think the whole thing is crap.”

I push my plate away from me because the smell of General Tso’s chicken is now nauseating me.

“Why is it crap?”

“Because I feel like he doesn't care about us most of the time. Heaven forbid he ever comes to one of my soccer games, but he wants me to drop everything to go meet his new whore.”

“Okay, while I do agree with you on some parts, I don't know that it’s fair to call her a whore. You don't know her. She may be nice. If you want to be mad at your dad, fine, but this woman hasn't done anything wrong.”

She nods, but it’s probably just to shut me up.

Her voice lowers a little. “The whole thing just sucks.”

“Eve, come on. What’s up? You haven’t gotten this worked up about your dad in years.”

“I guess later this year, there’s going to be a camping trip through school. All of my friends are already talking about going with their dads. It’s basically turned into a father-daughter trip.”

“Oh,” I mumble, trying to think of something else to say.

Thankfully, she keeps talking, buying me a little more time. “I decided to ask Dad because I think maybe it could be a good bonding thing for us.”

“And he said no?”

“Not exactly.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “Okay, Eve. I love you, but can we skip ahead a little without me having to pry it out of you?”

She suddenly blurts, “I asked him, but he completely avoided the question and changed the subject to me meeting his new girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“It’s like he didn’t care at all about what I was trying to ask him. All he cared about was me meeting Dina.”

She says her name as though it’s poison on her tongue.

My blood boils as I think about Danny just blowing off our daughter like that.

Over the years, Eve and I have gotten used to him being a piece of shit who seems to always regress after showing even the tiniest glimmer of hope.

Just because we’ve grown accustomed to it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt every time he does something self-centered.

Sometimes, I just want to go over there and shake him.

Our daughter is an awesome kid, but he has no idea how much so because he’s never taken the time to get to know her. Sure, she goes over there and spends time with him, but it’s always him trying to just be fun and cool rather than being her father.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” I tell her. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

She adamantly shakes her head. “No. Don’t. If by some miracle he gets his head out of his butt, he needs to do it without your help. It’s not going to mean anything if you tell him how to fix it.”

“Okay. Then, how can I help?”

Her shoulders shrug. “I don't know that you can. I’ll be okay.”

We sit quietly for a moment before I feel the need to add something else.

“Eve, I’m going to play Devil’s advocate here for a second.”

She looks annoyed, but she doesn't try to stop me.

“I know you don’t want to meet this woman. And I know you want to cultivate a better relationship with your dad. Maybe he wants a better relationship too. What if this is his way of trying to do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like your dad wants you to meet her to include you in his life more. He wants to share something with you. It may not be the worst thing in the world if you went and met her. That way, even if your dad doesn’t try, you can say that you did.”

She sits in silence while mulling over my words.

“Look, Eve, you don’t have to listen to me. It’s just something to think about.”

Pushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, she finally speaks. “Okay, I’ll think about it. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Fair enough.”

After another long pause, she asks, “Do you think Dad will ever be different?”

I’m fairly sure I already know the answer, but I respond with, “Only time will tell.”