Page 13 of The Toy Maker (The Pink Cherrie #1)

TWELVE

No amount of napping would wash away my humiliation from appearing at Jason’s window. I knew I should let it go, but the memory haunted me.

I spent hours resting for our final rehearsal before the big event and still wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball. I swore off tequila and hid my shame in an oversized hoodie. The walk to Pink Cherrie in scandalous attire always elicited stares, so I tried to avoid it completely.

The front desk was empty when I entered the vanilla-scented building. Kitty was hard at work directing the movement of the shelves so the floor could be open for the event this evening.

My gaze wandered to the back door where I knew Jason was working on new toys, wondering if he’d spend more time outside of his workshop during the event. Not that it mattered to me, although my thoughts drifted to him more than I cared to admit.

Before I could lose myself again, I focused on the dressing room. My unruly hair needed direction, and I couldn’t spare any time from applying the stage makeup Sarah gave me.

But still, I wondered what new toy to expect next.

My curiosity never faltered as I primped, curled, and shimmied my way to the look of an ideal Cherry. I sat down in my chair and stared at my face; all the makeup reminded me of my senior prom. My phone vibrated on top of the vanity, and the screen lit up with the word unknown .

I answered before Dad changed his mind or gave up. “Hello?”

“Hey, honey.” His voice tugged at my heart.

“Did you get my message?”

“About Tristan and Tracy?” he asked. I could hear the sound of little feet running around him. “I got it.” My chest ached. Tristan’s kids would only be a few years younger than our half-siblings, and they’d likely never meet.

I remembered the day they sent me a picture of the positive pregnancy test. “Good, I thought you should know.” He was about to become a grandfather, and he didn’t care.

Dad cleared his throat. “I’m a little low on money this month.”

Of course. “I don’t have any right now.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly, he was invested in the conversation. Forget the fact that his son was having a baby.

“I lost my job,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, “but I got another one, and the paycheck is going to be really small.” Between bailing my car out of car jail and catching up on my expenses, I had little left to give. I had to be smart. I had to save myself.

“I’m really in a pinch here, pumpkin.” I recognized the familiar tone of desperation too well.

He’d been living off handouts for as long as I could remember.

“Your sister needs money for the book fair, and the electricity is going to be shut off really soon.” His voice dropped when saying the last part, probably so he wouldn’t worry his new wife.

I thought about my baby sister and her lack of say in any of this. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’ll see if I can get an extension on one of my bills.” Or work overtime.

“Thank you, cupcake. I have to take Megan to ballet class now, but I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah.” As if he would call anytime in the next month other than for the money. He never had before. “Tell Megan I said hi.” The phone clicked, disconnecting the call, and I was alone in the dressing room, staring at my face in the mirror until my eyes blurred my features together.

The door opening snapped me out of my trance.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Jason walked into the room and glanced around for any more Cherries. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here so early.”

I set down the eyeliner in my hand. “Just getting ready for rehearsal.”

He nodded. “Someone complained about the shower. No water pressure.”

More like no water at all. “Yeah, it makes getting ready difficult.” I swallowed, trying to hide the disappointment settling in my chest. I knew better than to cry, but that didn’t stop my voice from shaking.

“I’m sure it does.” Jason held a tool bag in his hands and walked toward the back of the room, leaving me to handle my grief alone.

“All finished?” I asked as Jason came back into view with a wrench in his hand. My eyes were red, still stinging from the tears I swiped away before they could ruin my makeup.

“Shouldn’t be a problem anymore.” He shrugged, unbothered by the thick cloud of hairspray clinging to the air, threatening to get us both high.

“I had no idea you were a plumber and a toy maker,” I mused.

He shook his head and grinned. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

“I can’t say the same.” I had tried plenty of things over the years: quilting, drawing, writing, but I always stopped shortly after I began.

“No hobbies?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“Does sleeping count?”

He chuckled. “Depends on what you mean by sleep.”

I shot him a look, but it lacked the heat it should have had. “Just sleep,” I sighed. “But nice try.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to push his luck further, but instead, he paused. “Do you have time to look at something?”

I arched a brow, mirroring his earlier expression. “Depends on what I’d be looking at.” It was hours before showtime, and I was fiddling with the straps to my lingerie and whistling show tunes.

“I could use a second opinion on something I’ve been working on.” He strolled to the door, nodding for me to join him. “Come to the workshop if you get too bored.”

I caught myself watching the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders when he turned to leave. A distraction sounded dangerous, but it also sounded like exactly what I needed.

I clicked my tongue and looked around the room, wondering if turning on music would make the silence less deafening. I texted Jade and asked when she’d get here to work on the alterations for the show. After a few minutes with no response, I decided to bite the bullet.

I grabbed a robe and walked past Kitty, who was decorating the floor. Her pink hair stuck up in all directions. When I made it to the back, I questioned my decision to enter. I rationalized that I was only giving my opinion. It couldn’t hurt. Right?

The door slammed shut behind me, and I became painfully aware of how secluded Jason’s workroom was. I started to explore the cluttered tables with sober eyes. Rows of shelves filled the majority of the space and captured my attention.

The shelves were full of unused nuts and bolts with finished prototypes resting on the metal surface. I picked up a translucent dildo sitting on the top shelf, flicking on the switch, and the dildo turned a shade of blue.

My eyes widened. A lightsaber dick.

“It’s a temperature dildo,” Jason explained from behind me.

I recoiled, and the dildo slipped out of my hands. “A what?”

He came over to pick up the toy and play with the switches; it turned red. “You can adjust the temperature.” He held the toy toward me, and I let my fingers slide against the warm surface.

“How does it do that?” I wondered.

“It doesn’t really. Six months of designing and it still runs out of battery too fast,” he sighed.

I decided not to ask for the technicalities.

“Who would use that?” I asked instead.

Jason shrugged. “Build the toys and they will come.” He winked at me and then put the dildo back on a shelf.

I felt a smile tugging on my lips. “So, why have you invited me here?”

“Follow me,” he said before turning and weaving through the shelves of toys. “The night you broke in, I was working on this.” A small gadget lay in his palm.

I gave him a wry look. “I’m pretty sure that bullet vibrators have already been invented.”

“Not one like this.” His lips twitched, and I assumed he was amused with himself.

How incredibly arrogant of him. Of course, he thought he single-handedly fashioned the newest version of intense pleasure. The images of the Cherries on the Sibion Scream flashed through my head.

“What makes this one so special?” I poked at the small-sized vibrator in his hand.

“It’s completely silent.” He pressed a button at the tip and placed the metal cylinder on my skin. The vibrations were strong, and I felt curiosity welling inside of me. I couldn’t hear any buzzing coming out of the toy.

Jason saw the awe plastered on my face unbeknownst to me and pressed the button again. The vibrations increased; the room stayed quiet.

I struggled to put together a sentence. “That’s?—”

“I know,” he said before I could form a coherent thought.

“Is that all you wanted to show me?”

“Actually, no.” He put the toy away and pulled down another dildo for my inspection. This one was covered in ribbed silicone and had an oddly tempting shape to it; the idea of having alone time once I got home was enough to send heat between my legs.

Before I could linger too long in that daydream, Jason pushed a button at the base.

The dick sprang to life, the tip thrusting up and down in smooth, calculated movements. With each motion, it curved slightly upward, hitting an invisible target for G-spot stimulation.

I swallowed down my excitement. “I’ve seen a million of those.”

I could tell he was getting frustrated with my unimpressed act. “Do all your toys automatically grow wider?” he challenged.

My eyebrows raised in shock before I could stop them, and he took that as an invitation to continue.

“These buttons are programmed with different stimulation patterns.” When I didn’t respond with stars in my eyes, he switched the toy off and handed it to me.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I mumbled.

“Play with it,” he said without missing a beat. He was different here, tucked away from the rest of the store. He was almost normal, almost.

I stared down at the toy, my thighs clenching involuntarily, panties already dampening at the suggestion. “I don’t want to.”

Jason laughed, “Well, if you ever want to, then you know where it is.” His eyes darted away from mine and back to the shelves, but my attention lingered on him.