Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)(149)

"I'm not, I swear." His hand slides against the roundness of her stomach. "I mean it. You're beautiful."

Tiffany snorts and rolls her eyes, but her face stays hot.



Days later, Max is out looking for work again. He's exhausted most of  his online options, and almost all of his offline options too. He walks  out of a restaurant that he tried to apply to as a waiter, only to be  told that it's owned by his father. Leaning against a street lamp, a  long sigh escapes him.

His cell phone jingles in his pants, vibrating against his legs. Digging  the phone out, he eyes it suspiciously. It's his dad's ringtone, and  his dad's contact information. "What in the hell," he mumbles. His thumb  hovers over the button to accept the call, but his stomach twists and  his body freezes. The call goes to voicemail.

Max's muscles release and his hand drops. Just as he's about to put his  phone back into his pocket, it rings again. "God damn it," he growls,  thumbing the line on and holding the black gadget to his ear. "Hello?"

"Max?" His dad sounds unsure, maybe self conscious. It fits poorly on  Alexander Cooper's booming voice and surly temperament. The tone puts  Max on edge.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me. What's up?" Even though he's irritated at his own  anxiety, he's more worried about his dad than himself. There's a few  moments of silence on the other line, and then a sigh. "Dad?"

"Look, can you come by the house? We need to talk."         

     



 

"Yeah. Is everything okay?"

"Just... come by. I'll have lunch set out. Will Tiffany be okay if you stay out for a few hours?"

Hearing his dad say Tiffany's name so calmly, Max clenches his jaw.  Either his dad has forgiven Max, or something is seriously wrong. "No,  she expects me to be out looking for a job all day. I'll be over right  away."

They hang up and Max jumps into his car, rushing to the house where he  used to live. The gardener is out front playing with one of the dogs.  Looking up, Max sees Alexander watching him through the upstairs window.  He's in the room where Max's mom used to do her crafting.

Worry gnawing at him, Max bounds up to the door and pushes past the maid  as she rushes to open it for him. "Sorry," he calls back as he leaps up  the stairs three at a time. Bursting through the white door with the  worn and tattered door frame, Max faces his father.

Though Alexander's back is turned to him, the patriarch of the Cooper  family's back bends in the silhouette of old age. The back of his head  has a few grays not yet dyed that sparkle in the light that filters  through the open attic window to the South.

"Dad?" Max ventures, stepping closer. Alexander turns and smiles,  handing his son a glass with a golden liquid in it. The bottle on the  table behind him holds one of Alexander's most expensive rums. Max takes  it with a shaking hand.

"Hey, son. Long time no see. How's Tiffany?"

Max sips the rum. "She's good, actually. Getting big. We just learned that we're having a girl!"

"Any news from Charlotte?" Seeing the look of pain in Max's eyes, Alexander grimaces. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. And no, I haven't heard from her. She's still in India."  Both men lean against the walls on either side of the window that  overlooks the driveway and front garden. The mail-woman walks by and  hands the gardener a handful of letters, no doubt mostly bills and  invitations to parties for one of the Cooper men.

"Oh, that reminds me, I have a stack of mail for you in my room. I'll  give them to you before you leave." Alexander's old eyes crinkle as he  examines his oldest son. "You look so much like your mother. Remember  when you were little, how you begged to have a pool added?"

Max chuckles. "Yep. You were totally against it, but once my room was  built you added one outside my door. Mom didn't live long enough to  enjoy it, but it still reminds me of her." Remembering the woman that  should have raised him brings a dull ache to Max's stomach, one he  thought had died off long ago. When Mrs. Cooper died shortly after the  birth of Jared, Max spent months in therapy for fear of abandonment and  depression.

"Max, I have some bad news." Alexander finishes his rum before setting  it down. "I went to the doctor today." He pauses, looking at the  horizon. "I have pancreatic cancer."

Max freezes. Dad? He can't have cancer. He still runs every day. He eats  healthfully and is active, and he's so young. There's no way. "Is this  some kind of joke?" Max asks, his nose scrunching in disgust.

"I'm afraid not. More bad news: I need to step down as CEO of the company. Now, I know this is-"

"Wait, hang on. How serious is this? Are you going to die?" Max asks.  His free hand is clutching his chest tightly, trying to stifle his heart  and keep it from breaking through his ribs.

"We all have to die some day, son."

"But, how long do you have?"

Alexander walks to the far corner of the attic and drags over two old,  dusty chairs. He pushes the cobwebs off of them and sits down in one.  Max sits in the other. "Well, we don't know for sure, but my doctor says  there's a good chance we caught it early enough to treat it. Every form  of pancreatic cancer is serious, though, Max. I have to be realistic  about this. Which is why I need to talk about the company."

"Fuck the company! Tell me more about the cancer!"

"Max!" Alexander shouts, grabbing his son by the shoulders. "Control yourself!"

Max wants to fight his old man on this, but something in him forces him to sit back and nod. "Sorry, Dad." His eyes are burning.

Alexander nods. "I need to step down as CEO immediately. The stress of  running the company can make things so much worse, and I need to take  time to heal and deal with my treatment. I know we haven't spoken in  months, but I've been keeping an eye on you. You've been out looking for  jobs almost every day, son, and you're doing your best to take care of  Tiffany."

Max is taken aback. His dad has been watching him? Making sure he's  doing okay? That seems so out of character for the father that barely  took part in his childhood.

"I'm the one who gave Jared the money to give you every month. If you  had asked for more, you would have gotten it. But you didn't, and that  means something. Now, I know that you're still a kid, and you still need  to go to college. Still... there's no one else I'd rather have running  the company I built, than my oldest son."

Max stands up, shaking his head. "You have to be crazy," he said. "Does  pancreatic cancer make you crazy?" His breathing picks up, and he keeps  shaking his head as he walks towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Outside. I need some air."

Alexander follows his son down the stairs and through his bedroom to the  pool. Max grunts and gasps for air as he takes off his shoes and pants,  stripping down to his boxer shorts before stepping into the pool. He  goes up to his shoulders, and then his head ducks under.

For a few moments he quietly holds his breath while Alexander watches  him, but then bubbles holding fragments of a blood curdling scream come  up, followed shortly by Max himself. He wipes the chlorinated water from  his eyes and gasps for air in between sobs.

"Do you feel any better?"

Max looks up. He nods absently. To Alexander, he looks like the same  young boy who clung to every maid he hired as a mother figure. The same  boy who got into trouble for attention. His green eyes droop with a  heavy sadness that Alexander has never been able to cure.

Max climbs out of the pool and sits on the side of it, his feet dangling  in the water. Hiking up his pants, Alexander sits next to him.

"I'm counting on you, Max."

"I know Dad. But are you sure I can do it?"

Alexander chuckles and sucks on his teeth. "You can never really be sure of anything, I guess."

Both men sit on the side of the pool in silence, watching the birds fly  by and clouds float over them. When the maid comes out and announces  lunch, both men follow her. Their stomachs are rumbling and ravenous  from the emotional outburst.

Over sandwiches and soup, Alexander and Max discuss Tiffany's pregnancy.  Alexander even gives his son some tips on how to help make the  pregnancy and birthing process easier.

"Where are you guys thinking of living?" Alexander asks after stuffing the last bit of a salami sandwich into his mouth.

Max thinks about it for a second. "You know, I don't know. Am I getting my allowance back?"

"Max, you're the CEO. You'll be making so much more than any allowance I  might give you. You could live anyway. I was thinking, though, that you  might be interested in moving back here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I know that Tiffany enjoys working, and you'll be busy, so you'll  have a built in nanny who is also a doting grandfather. Plus, I miss  the loud parties and annoying video games keeping me up all night."

Max thinks it over. It's been a struggle keeping up with the expenses,  paying for baby toys and cribs. To suddenly be able to afford everything  again is like a dream, and it's hard to imagine it's all real. "I'd  have to talk to Tiffany."