Boyfriend Maintenance Page 2

  “Oh, dear. Those darn batteries.”

  Yeah, those darn batteries and wiring will end up costing about a hundred and fifty to fix.

  Fifteen minutes later I’m packing up my stuff. Thank god, I’m done here. This was my last job for the night and now I’ve got a nice two-day weekend. With a rare two days off I’ll be visiting my mom over on the island and catching a Mets game with my brother, Kevin.

  “Well, all done here, Dorthy. Hopefully, those new batteries work better for you. I’d hate for something to happen to them and us not be able to get up as quickly as I was able to today. When smoke detectors aren’t working, it's a safety risk.”

  “Oh, Jakey-pooh, you’re just too good to me. Always on top of things. Just the way a young buck like you should be.” She reaches over and pats my ass as I walk past her out the door.

  “Mrs. Jenkins, we’ve talked about this. You need to keep your hands to yourself.” She just pouts and I know my gentle warning has fallen on deaf ears. “Have a good day, ma’am.” And I close the door quickly, finally putting some much-needed space between me and the spinster.

  I take my first relaxing sigh once the elevator door closes behind me and I’m safely headed back down to the maintenance office. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out I see I have a notification for the hookup app I use.

  Look, I work a lot. Five days a week, ten-hour shifts. If I don’t work a full week onsite, I’m at least on call. I fill up my downtime from work watching baseball. I’m a born and bred Mets fan. I visit my mom over on Staten Island a few times a month and I have a few good friends that I hang out with when I can. I meet them for drinks at our favorite bar. I don’t have a lot of free time outside of all that, so I don’t have time to date. Mostly, I don’t have time to meet women interested in sharing me with 200 other people and all their handyman needs. So instead, I just use the Match Me app for hookups. Occasionally, I’ll meet up with the same woman twice, but most end up wanting more.

  Opening the app, I see that I have five new matches for the day. I don’t check the app regularly. Just when I need to get some.

  What? Don’t judge. I’m a hot-blooded twenty-nine-year-old living in the Big Apple. I’ve got needs. I swipe left on the first three, dismissing the matches. The fourth match is a woman in this building. I’ve seen her around. She carries around one of those small dogs, it’s ugly as sin. Ah, unit 315. It’s sad that I identify them by their unit numbers rather than their names. I refuse to bang any chick who lives in the building, but out of curiosity, I check out her profile since I can’t, for the life of me, remember her name. Eliza Donovan. Ah, that’s right. Sexy, dark hair, and short. I swipe left to get my fifth match.

  A pretty blonde chick looking away from the camera. She’s outside somewhere and her hair is blowing across her face. I can’t tell if she looks familiar or if she’s just got one of those faces. I read that her name is Sara and we’re the same age. What the heck, I need to get laid. So, I swipe right. A few hours later, after several text exchanges through the app, we’ve set up a date to meet tomorrow night. It will be a spectacular weekend for sure.

  Chapter 3

  Emmy

  After a few hours of brushing up on our Skee-Ball skills, we finally go to dinner. We love this little place called Ivy’s. While it's open during the day for lunch through dinner, it’s the perfect spot for late-night eats after a long day of work. It’s got great bar food with a twist of upscale delight. It reminds me of college, when I was still living off my father’s dime. Now that I’m living on my own and not the life I was born into, I try not to hang out in high-society haunts where I might run into people I grew up with.

  The only person I still see and interact with from my childhood is Becca. We went to prep school together and have been joined at the hip ever since. She’s the only person in my life who doesn’t give me a hard time about not using my trust fund.

  My father, he’s confused, as well as annoyed, that I’m not living up to my potential as a King. My stepmother is just plain embarrassed. I have zero in common with my stepsister, Ashley, so I honestly don’t know how she feels about me. I can’t remember the last time we even had a conversation. Then there’s my older brother. Levi is one of my favorite people. But even he doesn’t understand why I won’t live the King way.

  My great-grandfather started King Cosmetics from the ground up more than a hundred years ago. The company has been passed down and now belongs to my father. It has always been the plan that Levi, being my father’s only son, would take over for him someday. Levi has followed my father’s plan, just as they have told him to. I don't know if it’s something he truly wants for himself.

  The plan for me was a lot simpler. I was to grow up to be a rich man’s arm candy. Having my stepmother, Kitty, as my example of the perfect trophy wife, I quickly decided that wasn’t the life for me. No, I wanted more than that. I wanted the world.

  I didn’t go to Harvard like my father had planned. I went to Cornell instead, for a degree in business and marketing. Good ol’ Dad didn’t love that decision, but he realized that, with a business degree, he’d be able to add another King to the company’s board of directors someday. Little did he know, I never planned on working for him.

  I knew I wouldn’t have been able to pay for Cornell on my own, so I let my father pay for just one more thing. Upon graduation, I promptly cut myself off from my family-funded bank accounts and got a job with Envirogal. It’s a smaller cosmetic company. It’s 100% earth-friendly, non-animal testing, naturally beautiful makeup. I love the company and what they stand for. The owners and management are wonderful to work with. I know they hired me because of my name, but they quickly learned that they got way more than just the King name. While I might feed my dad the “I’m just gaining experience in my career” line, Envirogal and I both know that I will never work for King Cosmetics, and that I have no plans of leaving.

  The day I cut myself off from the family money was both the scariest and most empowering day of my life. There was no more money. Only the money I had in the bank from my college paid internship. When I turned twenty-five and my trust fund became available to me, everyone thought for sure I would change my mind and join the dark side again. Nope. What came along with cutting ties to all that money were all the family expectations looming over me. My path was now clear, and I had every intention of following the Yellow Brick Road all the way to Oz. On my own time, in my own way.

  My parents aren’t happy with me. Even after six years. We’ve had a very rocky relationship since. Kitty has never shied away from letting me know how poorly I’ve run my reputation through the mud with her country-club set. Living the life of privilege isn’t something to just throw away for a temper tantrum. Yes, she still thinks I’m throwing a tantrum.

  Honestly, I love my life. I love the freedom that comes with making my own decisions without worrying about showing up on Page Six. My life is perfect because it’s mine.

  It’s nearly nine when Becca and I get back to the apartment. A large group of people huddle outside the entrance to our building. Thomas, still manning the doors, doesn’t seem concerned, so I assume somewhere in the group may be a resident or two. I’ve got my Digibot Go app pulled up on my phone. While Becca doesn’t play the game, she’s long past giving me grief over my obsession. I'm not ashamed to say that I’m obsessed with this newest internationally acclaimed mobile game, I just don’t normally announce it from the rooftops. Which is why I slow down and come to a stop before Thomas greets us and opens the door.

  When I’m done, I follow Becca into the building. Still looking at my phone, I’m distracted by an email from Kitty that pops up on my screen, I slam into a thick, warm brick wall.

  Well, not really, but when I look up, I see that I’ve run smack into the maintenance guy here in the building, also known as Jake. I’ve never formally met him, we’ve only had a few issues in our apartment over the years, and when maintenance shows up, I’m always at work. But
he’s well known throughout the building. You should hear what some of those old birds say about what they’d like to do to him. The sauna is a hot spot for gossip.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention at all.” I shove my phone in my purse and step to the side, out of his way. He’s taller than me. With my heels on, I’m about five-six”, so he’s at least six foot. His hair is cut short, but it’s thick. I don’t get any further in my perusal because I’m distracted by his chuckle.

  “No problem, I wasn’t watching where I was going either.” He’s smiling down at me and I can’t help grinning back.

  “Oh, well then I guess it was the perfect storm.” Am I attempting to flirt? If so, I’m failing.

  He laughs. “Yeah, guess so. Well, see ya.” He winks and strides right on by me and out of the building. Watching his retreating form, I have a chance to check out his sexy-as-sin muscular backside.

  “Ahem. Would you like something to wipe up that drool you got there on your face?”

  I snap out of it and glare at Becca. “I'm not drooling.”

  “Right. And we don’t have a Skee-Ball machine upstairs. Admit it, that man is probably as sexy as they come.” She hooks her arm through mine and we walk through the lobby.

  “You should ask him out.” Becca eyes me as she jabs the button to call the elevator.

  “What? No way.” A confused look taking over my face.

  “Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot. I bet he’s damn good with those hands of his.”

  I shake my head. “He’s probably got a girlfriend. Or a wife.”

  “No wife. I didn’t see a ring.” She’s one of those people who has an answer for everything.

  “Plus, I think I flirted with him. He didn’t flirt back. So, he’s probably not interested.” I wonder out loud, Or maybe, I just suck at flirting.

  “You’ll never know if you don’t ask him. I’d ask him out, but it wouldn’t end well.”

  Cocking my head her way, I ask her why.

  “Because the sex would be fan-fucking-tastic and then I’d take him home for Christmas and my parents would ask him what he did for a living. As soon as they found out he was the good ol’ maintenance man they’d shit a freaking brick.” Yeah, they probably would. Her parents would have totally betrothed her at age seven if that was still socially acceptable.

  “We are cut from the same cloth, Bex. So why do you think I should date him?” The elevator door slides open.

  She turns to me with a grin and walks into the elevator backwards. “Because you don’t give a rat’s ass what your parents think. So, you’re free to fall in love with anyone you want.”

  “Whoa, who said anything about falling in love?” I follow her.

  “Okay, screw. Screw anyone you want. Please, for the love of god, do that soon. You need to get laid.”

  Wow, thanks, dearest best friend.

  I must mutter the words because she just laughs.

  “Emmy, when was the last time you got laid?”

  I bite my lip. I’m trying to think, and I can’t stop the blush of embarrassment as I realize that I have to actually think so hard about when it was. Five months, maybe? Six?

  “Somewhere between four and six months would be a safe guess,” I tell her just as the elevator beeps, announcing its arrival on our floor.

  “The fact that you didn’t know the answer to that question is proof that you need to get a penis friend.” Stepping off the elevator, she digs her keys out of her purse before I get the chance.

  I choke on a snort. “A what?”

  “A penis friend. As in you need penis. Bad.” She waves me off like the words that just fell out of her mouth shouldn’t surprise me. Then again, I guess they shouldn’t.

  “I’ve been busy,” I offer up lamely.

  “There’s always time for sex.” She looks back at me as she unlocks the door.

  I shrug.

  “No, Emmy, there is always time for sex. Make it a priority, please. You’ll thank me for it afterwards.”

  “There will never be a time when I thank you for sex.”

  Bex replies by throwing her head back and laughing as I follow her in the apartment.

  Chapter 4

  Jake

  The cab drops me off right in front of a swanky-as-shit bar. Maybe the better term for it would be a cocktail lounge. Normally, you wouldn’t catch me dead in a place like this, but it’s my fault for not doing my due diligence before accepting Sara’s location for drinks. But whatever. I’ve got a singular goal for tonight.

  Walking into Blush, I quickly realize I have no business being here. This place is upscale. Good thing I always dress nice for these hookup dates because there is a dress code. The only nice clothes I own are a dark wash pair of jeans, black dress shoes, and a couple nice button-downs. I wear them so little that you can’t tell they are a couple years old. I’m a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. Work boots and sneakers. The doorman, a young twentysomething eyes me as I walk past him through the second set of doors.

  Damn, these rich fucks are snooty. Hopefully, Sara and I can enjoy a drink or two and take this date back to my place. Or hers, which is actually the better option. Surprisingly, it’s self-seating, so I find a small table for two near the door against the wall. The music playing overhead is instrumental, but the current song carries a familiar tune. The decor is glass and chrome and folded cloth napkins are placed at each table setting. I scan the lounge for a menu but no, you’ll find no wall menu here. Too fancy.

  “Well, hey there, sexy,” a feminine voice says from next to me.

  Uh.

  I look up and the blonde with the nice smile from the Match Me app is smiling down at me. I stand to greet her. “Hey, Sara. How are you?”

  She slides into my empty seat. Okay, odd, but whatever. I take a seat across the table.

  “Hmmm. I love your warmth already.” She wiggles into the chair as if she just can’t get close enough to it.

  “Uh,” is all I can manage. She doesn’t look crazy, but I’m not getting a good vibe here. And, as I assess her, I realize that she looks familiar.

  “Jakey-pooh. You don’t realize who I am, do you?” She waves a server over as she says this.

  “It’s just Jake. And should I know who you are? I mean, you do look familiar.” Really, I can’t place her face. But I know it.

  She giggles. Just then the server arrives next to our table. She orders a Sex on the Beach and I order a Jack and Coke.

  As soon as he leaves, she continues, “I figured you didn’t know it was me, I mean, I’ve seen you several times since we set up this date and you haven’t mentioned it,” she pouts but continues. “I was kind of hoping it was because you were trying to keep things professional around the building. I get that, I really do.”

  Then it dawns on me. Fucking-a. She’s a resident at 425 Madison. Damn it. Fifteenth floor.

  “Ah, you are putting two and two together.” She smiles.

  Well shit. I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight it seems. “Look, Sara, I have a rule.”

  “Oh, like a safe word? That’s a great idea. Do you have one you like to use, or can I pick it?” Her eyes are full of excitement.

  I shake my head, I’m confused as to why we are on the topic of safe words.

  “You know, I can see it now. You’re into kinky. I bet you have a red room of pain. Oh my gosh, I’m so into red rooms.” She claps her hands together in front of her and I’m completely at a loss for words. “I’m so excited. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been wanting to check out that handyman you keep in your pants for a while now, but knowing that you’re handy and kinky … I’m just about to burst.” She winks at me then and adds, “If you know what I mean.”

  I clear my throat. This is nuts. She’s crazy. It’s not just me, right? I look around to the surrounding tables, hoping that others might have heard this conversation. Nope. No one is paying any attention to us.

  “Look, Sara, I think we started
off on the wrong foot—” I try to cut in but she’s on a roll.

  “You know, I’m really glad we did this. Normally, I like to jump right on in, you know the best foreplay in my book involves a lot of tongue and groping. But recently, I’ve realized the value of dinner or drinks beforehand. It allows us to get on the same page sexually.” She starts to laugh. “See, had I just jumped you when I got here, I would have never known you preferred a little BDSM in the bedroom.”

  I can’t take this anymore. “Sara, hold up.”

  “Oh my god, does this mean you’re into anal?”

  What the fuck?

  I’m not sure when our drinks arrived, but mine is sitting within reach and I take a nice long gulp. She’s going on and on about what sex positions she likes and wants to try. I slide my phone out of my pocket and shoot off a quick text.

  A minute or two later, my phone rings. Thank god.

  “Sara, can you hold that thought? My brother is calling. He knows I’m on a date, so I'm worried as to why he’s calling.” I answer my phone without giving her time to reply.

  “Dude. It’s that bad? I thought your date was at seven,” Kevin says.

  “Whoa, slow down, Kev. What’s going on?” I fake my worry.

  “Ha, shit, man. It’s been a while since we’ve had to fake an emergency.”

  “Damn. Okay, thanks for letting me know, Kev, I’ll be right there.”

  I hang up to his chuckling and give Sara my best disappointed look. “Sara, I’m so sorry to do this. But my grams, she fell again, and I need to get there to make sure she’s all right.” I pull out my wallet to fish out enough money for our drinks.