Charitable Contributions

9: Indigo Inspirations

One day at a time. Day by day, I busied myself between a few charity events and physical therapy with Jer. I swam in my pool, mowed the yard, finished my 'Candy hates' Netflix queue, and smoked meat so much that the neighbors called the fire department. I even called my parents. Considering they called Candy 'the Goldigger,' their reaction wasn't surprising.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Mom's flat voice came through crystal clear. "It's for the best."

Wow. What an endorsement. Before now, they both had been supportive or so I thought.

"Plenty of fish, Sam." By the echo in Dad's voice, he called out from the other side of the room.

Mom placed my call on speaker phone so both joined in. Why did they do that every time I called, including six trial buttons to find the speaker option?

Since I was two songs away from dancing naked around the house with my extra free time, I looked forward to Mia showing up. Courtesy of Mike, I texted her to ask what shit I needed to buy. She sent a list of specific items with Amazon links.

My first memory of Mia included Candy when Michael's parents invited my family to a draft day party. I spent most of the night on fried nerves, picking my idol Warren Hayes' brain for stories and advice. He was shorter in person but carried the room's attention, even though the party they organized was for me. 'We didn't have that shit when I played,' was his most common answer, but I soaked up every word. The man whose posters hung on my walls as a kid preached my new religion.

Draft day was one of the happiest moments of my life, the pure, exhilarating joy of being drafted, and Candy wasted no time celebrating it.

Her lips pressed against mine, she dragged me upstairs into a random bedroom. Her hands tugged my pants to my ankles, eyes pooling with heated want. "Sam, I need your cock in my mouth," she moaned, taking me out. "I wanna suck the first overall pick until he floods my throat."

My hips bucked as she stroked up and down, heating the skin. Her soft, wet tongue flicks teased me to fully stiff.

When a cough erupted, I shrunk faster than an ice bath plunge.

Curled up in the corner of a bed, under dim lighting, a thin girl with black hair in a messy ponytail, round glasses, and a book on her lap stared at us. She sat with parted lips and wide eyes, swallowed up by sweatpants. "Umm..." she squeaked and pointed at the door. "Get the fuck out."

Not my proudest moment and neither were any exchanges with Mia since. All were compelled by the fact I hadn't recognized her all this time. Fuck, she was Hayes' sister. Amelia Hayes. How that spitfire personality flew under my radar for six years, I had no fucking clue. I had short-flash memories of her and a near meltdown in Michael's office after he told me.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" I threw up my hands. "Your sister!?"

Michael's only response was he turned around a picture on his desk of his family. A few years younger, Mia's smile shone as she laughed. A blonde-haired guy draped his muscular arm over her shoulders. Was he her boyfriend, husband, or platonic neighbor?

And fuck, what I did and said...I puffed my cheeks with an exhale. I already shot myself in the ass, but this was a whole different level of potential dumpster fire. Fuck, Fate was laughing and firing blanks at me.

Knowing that Mia was Mike's sister shouldn't have changed my opinion of her, but it did. I was more of an ass in how I behaved around her. It was all I could think about during her class, distracting me into restlessness. Mike's sister. Maybe anointing her to nun status cooled off my attraction and her creeping into my mind. But who was the guy who pulled her away from me in the studio yesterday? He wasn't the guy in the picture gazing at her with adoration probably her boyfriend.