Daddy's Game Page 10

  Setting the bags down with a thud, she noticed Natron was sleeping in the hospital bed.

  Veronique shushed her and sweetly asked Carmen to “run to the cafeteria and bring us a salad, would you, dear?”

  Carmen nodded; she’d resigned herself to her role as Veronique’s errand girl. But she did stop to kiss Natron on the head before making her way to the cafeteria. He stirred, saying, “Love you, babygirl.” Even though he was asleep, he knew she was there. His words gave her strength and during the elevator ride back from the cafeteria, she promised herself to be more patient with his mother. After all, Natron was her only child.

  Upon entering the room, Carmen found Veronique filling out a bunch of paperwork. The night before, Carmen had been told by a nurse that she would be asked to fill out paperwork to get Natron a set of crutches and a walker for the first few days and that could be used in the shower.

  Apparently now Veronique was filling out those papers.

  Handing Veronique a salad, Carmen sat down on the small couch and pulled out her knitting, determined not to feel useless.

  Veronique turned the television to soap operas and watched them in silence, every now and then getting up to fuss over her sleeping son.

  When dinnertime came, the hospital staff rolled in a tray for not only Natron but also for Veronique.

  “How did you get a tray?” Carmen asked.

  “I was here when they asked. I guess this morning before you arrived.”

  “Oh,” Carmen said flatly, her stomach grumbling. “Guess I’ll go down to the cafeteria and get something.”

  “You can go on home, dear. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I was planning to stay the night with him,” Carmen protested. “I brought my bag and everything.” She gestured to her suitcase.

  “So did I,” Veronique said, a challenge in her voice. “I’m his mother, dear. You just run along and come back tomorrow when he’s awake. There’s really not much you can do here now.”

  Carmen frowned at her sleeping boyfriend. Veronique was right. There was nothing she could do here while Natron slept, except feel her presence was unwanted. “Alright.”

  She kissed Natron on the cheek, picked up her bag, and wished Veronique a nice evening.

  Walking down the hall, she fought the dreadful churning in her stomach that told her this injury was slowly squeezing her out of Natron’s life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  From the moment Natron got hurt, Carmen had envisioned herself taking care of him, nursing him back to health. He was such a caring daddy, always meeting her needs and doing things for her. This would be the perfect opportunity to pay him back for all the wonderful things he had done for her. Her turn to care for him.

  But it had been a week since Natron had been released from the hospital and today Veronique was tending to him. Carmen had been invited to Charmaine’s place for brunch and she was looking forward to seeing her girlfriends. The other ‘Daddy’s Girls’ would be there and Carmen was looking forward to catching up with her friends. The other girls either had a daddy and were in a dominant/submissive relationship with him, or were between daddies like Charmaine and Sloane.

  Come to think of it, Carmen had never known Charmaine to have a daddy. The girl was too wild and always had several guys on the chain, but Charmaine talked about wanting a daddy. Though she was way too intimidated by Charmaine to tell her this, Carmen thought her friend could really use a daddy to keep her in line.

  Sloane, on the other hand, had been hung up on a dom named Rocco for as long as Carmen could remember. A workaholic, Sloane spent most of her time designing clothes, and Carmen wondered if she used work as a distraction from her unrequited love.

  Carmen pulled the Jetta to a stop at the front of Charmaine’s building and handed the keys to the valet. Would she ever get used to the opulent lifestyle Charmaine, James, and Natron led? Her lower middle-class upbringing consisted of clipped coupons, a one-story ranch house, and hand-me-downs from her cousins, so having servants, doormen, and stylists took some getting used to.

  After a quick trip up the elevator, Carmen barely had a chance to knock before Charmaine threw open the door and enveloped her in a bear hug. “Come in, come in, girl. The champagne’s flowing. How are you? How’s Natron?”

  Charmaine was striking as usual in a low-cut black jumpsuit trimmed in leopard, her sun-striped mane spilling out in every direction, looking every ounce the sparkling golden Leo that she was.

  “I’m good. He’s doing well,” Carmen responded.

  She must have been the last one to arrive because all the other girls were lounging in the living room sipping Cristal from crystal flutes—Sloane, Lucinda, Marley, Nellie, and Kimberly. They all rose to greet her and hugs were exchanged all around.

  Kimberly, the mother hen of the group, fixed her big brown eyes on Carmen and whispered, “How are you really doing?”

  Carmen smiled. “I’m fine,” she said, shaking off the truth. She didn’t want to fall apart within three minutes of walking through the door.

  Perching on the arm of a white suede couch, Carmen accepted Marley’s offer of a glass of bubbly. She hadn’t seen Marley since the day of Natron’s injury, though they’d texted and spoken on the phone almost every day. Carmen had always felt close to Marley because they were both new to the opulent world of money and fame. When she and Marley hung out, it felt like she was spending time with a friend from high school.

  “Tell us about Natron’s injury. I want to hear all the gory details,” Sloane pressed.

  “Eww, Sloane. Not that gory, feel free to leave that part out.” Kimberly made a face.

  Carmen filled them in about the surgery. Then, wanting to change the subject, she turned to Lucinda.

  “Long time no see, Lucy. How’ve you been?” Carmen asked.

  Lucinda and Colin, a former conductor, had a daddy/little girl relationship both in and out of the bedroom. Lucinda had told the girls many times that she credited Colin for her success with all his prodding her to practice and study. With her hectic travel and performance schedule, it was unusual for Lucinda to be in town when the girls had one of their get-togethers. The last time they’d met, she was in Norway giving a private concert for the royal family.

  “Exhausted,” Lucinda sighed. “I just got back from Prague last night. But I had to come by to see how you were, and hear about Natron.”

  “Thanks, Lucinda. You’re sweet, but we’re fine,” Carmen said.

  “Then how’s work going?” Lucinda asked. “I saw your portrait of Natron at the portrait show at the Guggenheim Museum. I stopped by and saw it when I was in New York a couple of weeks ago. Impressive.”

  “Aw, thanks. I haven’t had much of a chance to paint lately. Fortunately the woman whose portrait I’m doing right now is a socialite, and apparently she’s so tickled to have her name linked with Natron’s that she didn’t mind pushing back the completion date on her portrait. She called me the other day and grilled me about Natron. I think she wants to brag to her friends that she’s in the know.” Carmen giggled. “That’s good, I guess.”

  Sloane nodded. “She’s all about the drama. When will he be able to play again?”

  “The doctors aren’t sure. We won’t know much about that until he can start to put weight on his leg, and that won’t be for another three months.”

  A chorus of groans rose from the group.

  “I know. It sucks,” Carmen said.

  “What’s going to happen to his endorsements?” asked Nellie, the former beauty queen whose currency of choice was fame.

  “Nellie!” Kimberly hissed.

  “What? Don’t tell me y’all weren’t thinking it,” Nellie pouted.

  “No, that’s okay. I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything…” Carmen’s voice trailed off.

  “What kind of patient is he?” Kimberly asked.

  “A crappy one, I’m sure. Men can be such babies.” Charmaine rolled her eyes.

  “Actua
lly, I don’t really know,” Carmen said sheepishly.

  “What? How can you not know?” Marley asked.

  “Well, his mother is the one taking care of him,” Carmen said.

  “Shut up!” Nellie said. “You mean his mamma has taken over?”

  “Pretty much,” Carmen said with a shrug.

  “What about you?” Marley asked.

  “Have you seen him?” Kimberly asked.

  “I go see him just about every day, but she’s always hanging around. We have no privacy, and it’s super awkward,” Carmen said.

  “I’ll bet,” Sloane said.

  “How did that happen?” Marley asked.

  “I don’t know. He called her when he got hurt and she drove all night to get here. Once she arrived, I was kinda shoved out of the picture.”

  “That sucks,” Marley frowned.

  “Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I don’t know what to do about it. I had this mental picture of me taking care of him, you know—me and Natron facing adversity together, but that is not what is happening.”

  She had pictured him on a pull-out sofa at her loft, watching her work while she prepared him yummy meals and catered to his every whim. Their daddy/little girl relationship would have the chance to blossom with all the extra time they’d be able to spend together, and with her nursing Daddy back to health. But her fantasy would remain just that, thanks to Veronique. Natron’s mother had ensconced herself in his mansion and appointed herself head nurse and caregiver, while Carmen was relegated to a supporting role.

  The visits were awkward; with his mother hovering around, she and Natron had no privacy and the closeness they’d once shared seemed to have evaporated. She felt like a stranger in his life now, an intruder almost. To make matters worse, she felt guilty even having these feelings. This was a time where she should be focused on Natron and his recovery, not on her petty jealousies of his mother.

  “Have you talked to him about it?” Kimberly asked, always the sensible one.

  Carmen shook her head.

  “Well, you need to. Communication is key,” Lucinda piped up.

  “But I don’t want to make this about me and my insecurities. She’s a single mom, he’s her only child. They have this bond, and I’m afraid if I make a big deal of it, he’ll see me as too demanding and I’ll lose out,” Carmen said.

  Some of the girls nodded their heads in understanding.

  Charmaine disagreed. “Fuck that. He’s your man. You should be the one taking care of him if that’s what you want. Personally I’d be happy to let someone else do it, but I’m not much of a nurse.”

  “At least talk to him. Let him know you’re feeling pushed aside,” Kimberly encouraged.

  “You think?” Carmen wavered.

  “Yes! At least tell him you miss the sex,” Nellie said.

  “But what if that makes him feel bad he can’t do it right now?” Carmen asked.

  Sloane snorted. “Seriously? From what you’ve told us, I’m pretty sure Natron could find a way.”

  Carmen hadn’t thought of that. Natron was rather creative in the bedroom. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

  “That’s all you can do,” Lucinda said.

  Carmen nodded, grateful for her friends. She considered what separated these girls from her other friends. The biggest thing was they all liked to be dominated in the bedroom. They liked a take-charge kind of man who would also take care of them and protect them. At first Carmen had thought some of Natron’s ‘Daddy’ requests were a little odd, but she’d grown accustomed to them. Now she even craved some of them, like a good spanking when she was bad.

  “Ting!” A timer went off. Nellie popped up and told them the food was ready. They all went over and chose a seat at Charmaine’s elaborately carved dining table. The chairs were upholstered in the finest silk, each one boasted an elaborate blue and gold pattern that was unique yet complemented the others. The china was edged in sapphire and the flatware and crystal goblets dripped with gold. A mass of pink peonies nestled in a wide vase of robin’s-egg blue served as a centerpiece. The girls didn’t always dine in so much splendor, but Charmaine was known for setting a fine table.

  They drank more champagne, and ate the frittata and little mini quiches Nellie had baked to go with a variety of homemade breads and a colorful fruit salad swimming in poppy-seed dressing.

  “God, I’m going to have to spend an extra hour at the gym because of you,” Charmaine grumbled at Nellie.

  Nellie was the best cook in the bunch, though Kimberly was a close second, and the two of them had been teaching Marley a thing or two. Sloane and Lucinda existed purely off takeout and reservations. Charmaine usually had a chef on the payroll, but they never lasted long. Carmen’s cooking prowess fell somewhere in the middle. She loved the ease of takeout when she was working, but her mom had taught her how to make a few yummy dishes.

  The girls talked of Lucinda’s recent adventures in Prague, Nellie’s latest decorating project, and Charmaine’s father’s latest marital fiasco. The man had been married six times and the marriage license office in Las Vegas recently told him that seven marriages was the legal limit, so he put the brakes on his latest planned wedding and his new girlfriend was in a tizzy that she might not become the seventh and final Mrs. Bainbridge.

  Charmaine had a boatload of siblings from each of her father’s marriages. She was the oldest and her mother had only had one child with Quintin Bainbridge. Charmaine stayed a cold arm’s length away from her half-siblings, and the only familial connections she kept strong were those she had with her father’s banker and his lawyer.

  After they’d stuffed themselves, the girls agreed to meet next month for a dinner party. Carmen hugged everyone and said her good-byes. In the elevator, bolstered by a couple of glasses of liquid courage, Carmen decided it was time to tell Natron how set aside she’d been feeling, and she sent him a text as she handed her ticket to the valet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Veronique opened Natron’s front door looking as chic as a fashion model and greeted Carmen. “Hello, dear. Won’t you come in.”

  Carmen gulped and managed a smile as she followed Veronique down the corridor to Natron’s bedroom, Veronique’s wide hips swaying gracefully in front of her. Cringing, it suddenly occurred to Carmen the reason Natron might appreciate her full figure was because it resembled his mamma’s.

  Turning the doorknob, Veronique’s voice dripped with honeyed sweetness as she said, “I just gave him his pain pill so he’ll probably doze off in a few minutes.”

  Carmen rolled her eyes. Of course you did.

  “Babygirl!” Natron said, sounding loopy but excited. He looked fine, but he was missing some of his usual animation. He seemed weaker than she was used to, which made perfect sense.

  She crossed the room and pulled him to her, cradling his head against her bosom. “Hey, baby. I missed you.”

  Veronique loitered in the doorway until Natron said, “Thanks, Mamma. Can you close the door behind you?”

  Veronique sniffed disapprovingly but she exited, closing the door behind her. Carmen was certain Veronique was outside with her ear pressed up against the door.

  Whispering in his ear, Carmen said, “Do you think you could get her to go somewhere, run an errand or something?”

  “Why? And why are you whispering?” Natron asked.

  Raising her eyebrows, Carmen whispered, “Privacy.”

  A wolfish grin spread across his face. “Oh, I get ya now. Babygirl’s been missing her daddy. Okay, I see.” He laughed and picked up his phone.

  Carmen sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his knee or the ice packs balancing atop it.

  When he was finished texting, he looked up at Carmen. “That will keep her out of our hair for a while.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I wanted some of these special pita chips, but that you had to go across town to the Fresh Market to get them.”

  “And she bought that?”r />
  “Sure. I used a smiley face. Mamma wants her baby boy to have whatever he wants.”

  Carmen felt her forehead wrinkle. “So does your babygirl,” she said in a tone that was more sullen than she’d intended.

  He took her hand. “Hey, what’s wrong? You seem mad.”

  “It’s nothing. Hey, I don’t know how to ask you this, but…”

  “Just ask.”

  “Okay. Your mom, her skin is so much lighter than yours…”

  “Yeah, that’s because her mamma, my grandma is white.”

  “Oh, so because your grandmother was white, does that make it easier to date a white girl like me?”

  “Girl, what has gotten into your head?” He frowned. “I don’t know. I just like you; the color of your skin doesn’t matter to me.”

  “What about how curvy your mom is? Is that what makes you like me even though I’m overweight?”

  “Baby, I think you’re beautiful. I love your curves, but not because I’m in love with my mamma or some other weird shit. What’s gotten into you?” He shook his head.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder what you see in me. I mean, you’re this big superstar. You could have any woman you want.” She twisted one of her errant curls.

  “Carmen, I don’t know what makes people fall for each other, but I fell for you. Babygirl, I’m crazy about you. You’re the perfect girl for me.”

  She crinkled her nose. “Do you think she’s gone?”

  “Yeah. I heard her car leaving just now. What’s going on between you and Mamma anyway?”

  Taking a deep breath, Carmen launched into a diatribe. “Ever since your mother has been here, actually ever since you were injured, I haven’t had any time with you.”

  He listened and nodded his head encouragingly. “You’re right. Go on.”

  “And I feel selfish even mentioning this because you’re all laid up, unable to walk, your career’s on hold… I mean, you have more problems right now than this. But I just feel squeezed out, like I don’t matter.”