Maxed Steel by M.J. Fields
#Shesaidyes
Max
The wayshe’s looking at this place is the same ways she keeps looking at the ring, like she not sure it’s real, like she’s dreaming.
Upstairs, I follow her around from room to room, and she straight-up seems to love it. Me? I like the bones.
“Which room would be ours?” she asks as she stands on the balcony where my folks obviously snuck up and hung the sign, looking down to the main level.
“Both rooms on the far left and far right are about the same size. Totally up to you.”
“Hmm.” She turns around and looks at the two in the middle. “Which would be Saylor’s?”
“Guess that would depend on which one’s ours. Thinking we’d wanna keep her closest to us, yeah?”
She looks at me and nods, but fuck if she doesn’t look sad.
I step toward her and hold my arm out, pulling her in with the other. “Too much?”
“A lot overwhelming, but in the best way possible.” She steps back and looks at both the rooms. “A lot.”
“Let’s just say”—I take her hand, walk to one of the doorways, and step in—“you want her in this room.”
She looks around and inspects it. I’m watching her, wondering just what in the hell she’s seeing in a room that’s completely empty.
When she sighs, I drag her out into the hallway and into the room right next to it. “And a couple months, years, days—hell, Blue, even a couple minutes—you think this is a better choice, we move her into this one.”
Amused as fuck, I watch as she does the same thing—looks around an empty room like there’s something to see.
After a couple minutes, I ask, “You feel better now?”
“Nope. Not one bit.”
I laugh, and she sighs as if she’s frustrated, and it’s not with me, which is kind of a relief, but not totally.
“All right.” I step out and drag her with me to one of the two larger rooms on the end. “Do you see this as ours or Cia’s?”
She lets go of my hand and walks up to the window that has a kick-ass view of the ocean.
“Mom loves the big windows at their place, but freaked out about cleaning them. Dad and I did it a few times with ladders and shit, and then he hired someone to come in each season and do them. She thought we were getting better at it—no streaks, she exclaimed—and Dad was all proud of it, took the credit without actually saying he did it.
“One day, she came home when they were there, and Dad was in the doghouse for a week. So, heads-up, Blue, if you stand at the bottom of a ladder and point out streaks, I’m hiring someone to get it done.”
She looks back and shakes her head. “We can do it. No need to waste money.”
“Yeah, sure.” Girl has no clue, none, and that seriously makes me love her even more.
She looks around some more, still looking lost, and I take her to the room on the other side of the house.
“Tell me, Goldilocks, how does this one feel?”
She does the same shit with the windows, the looking around, the lost look, and says, “Carpeting is cheaper than refinishing these wood floors.”
It hits me then. “Straight-up, no need to worry about money, Mila. I seriously think you underestimate the amount of money I’ve made. I want this place perfect. I want you to walk in here after a long day at school and feel like you just clicked your red heels and wound up right here.”
“Is there, by any chance, a pantry?” she asks as she walks past me and out onto the balcony area, where I envision a bunch of toys and shit.
“There is a decent size one down there.”
“Good.” She sighs. “I can’t wait to fill it.” She nods. “Can I have a look?”
“Yeah, babe, of course.”
She hurries down the stairs as I take my time and pull out my phone to check the time. Ten minutes till Mila’s nightly call and I get to see Saylor. I have service here, which kicks ass.
I hear her phone ring and quicken my steps.
“Oh, hi,” I hear her whisper. “I’m actually with him now.”
Not gonna lie, her whispering kind of feels like a secret.
“I’m not really sure I want to know,” she whispers again. “I really don’t know what I want yet.”
I stay back and give her space, and also eavesdrop, which I hate because Kiki does that shit all the time.
“Okay. Yeah. But …” I watch as she leans against the wall and begins chewing on her lip. “Okay. Sure.” I watch her hand cover her heart, and her face contort, and when I see tears, I decide fuck this.
“Mila, babe, what’s wrong?” I ask as I rush over to her as she slides down the wall.
“Don’t cry. You’re making me cry!” comes booming from the phone.
“Is that Bella?”
“Yes,” she sobs.
“No. Nope. Nuh-uh, ” I say as I squat down in front of her as she slaps her hands over her face. “Blue, I do stupid shit when girls cry.”
Bella cries, or laughs, maybe both, and says, “He does the best dances and Momma Joe impressions.”
“What the fuck, Bell?” I say, voice all kinds of pre-pubescent sounding, and Mila hands me her tear-drenched phone.
“Tell. Him.” Bell laughs … and cries.
Mila sniffs so loud it’s shocking as she wipes under her nose with her sleeve and looks up at me. She opens her mouth, and another sob comes out, and I am fucking done.
“Oh, come on. Please, Blue, do not cry,” I beg. Fuck yes, I beg. This shit’s not cool.
“Bella.”
I hear Dad’s voice and look at the phone.
“I’m Facetiming you. Answer.”
“I’m not sure I even want to talk to you right now. You made my fiancée cry.”
“She said yes?” Dad asks. “And then what happened? You kill a puppy or some shit?”
“Not helping, Dad.”
I set the phone down and take her hands. “You hate the house, we buy a new one.”
“Love”—sniff—“it.”
“Kind of thinking maybe you don’t.”
The phone rings, and I grumble, “Fuck that.”
She sniffs again. “Answer.”
“Mila made me answer, so you wanna tell me what the hell is going on before I have to call Pastor Davis and have him come perform an exorcism?”
“Bella.” Mila sniffs.
“I’m here,” Bella says sweetly now, and I look down at the phone, thinking she’s lost it, too.
Mom, Dad, Kiki, and Bella are all huddled around the phone.
“I”—sniff—“can’t.” Sniff. “You”—sniff—“please.”
“You sure about that, Mila? I’m sure he’d rather hear it from you than me.”
I sit back against the wall, a million thoughts racing, not one of them good, and hold up the phone as Mila nods and buries her face in my chest.
“Maximus Steel.” Bella smiles and tears start flowing again as she holds up a paper. “As if you didn’t already know by that smile and those dimples, congratulations.”
Mila starts shaking, silently sobbing in my arms again. I wrap my arms around her real tight and kiss the top of her head.
“Are you mad ?” Sniff.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I laugh. “I knew it from who dat? Had to use every ounce of control I possessed not to say, You can call me Daddy, and so can your momma.”
She looks up at me, shakes her head, and laughs. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, don’t you ever be that.” And then, I kiss her.
* * *
Five minuteslate for her call, Mila and I sit on the front porch, sun shining on our faces, masking some of the blotches from the intense as fuck breakdown that stopped when Mom chewed my ass about the term Daddy being not only disturbing and disgusting but also degrading. Mila kept her head buried because she was laughing so damn hard.
If that were Bella or Kiki, I would have totally blown them in, but no way I would do that to my future wifey, which was probably also a term Mom would consider disturbing, disgusting, and degrading.
“You ready?”
“Never been more ready in my life.”
I hit the FaceTime request and, two rings in, Aunt Pam answers.
“Lemme see that hand,” are the first word out of her mouth, and Mila holds it up, smiling big as the sun.
“Dat Max with Mommy?”
“It is.”
“Hey, Saylor girl,” I say as she leans in and looks around us curiously.
“No school, Mommy?”
“Max and I—”
“Bought a big old house. One that needs a lot of work, but—”
“Oh dat’s nice.” She cocks her sweet little head to the side. “Right, Auntie Pam?”
“It’s very nice.” Pam kisses her chubby, little cheek.
“Mommy got a boo-boo?” Saylor asks.
“Just a little bee sting,” comes out my mouth as my first parental lie. The first of many, I’m sure.
“A bee bite you, Mommy?”
“Uh, yeah. It sure did.”
“You bite bee back?” Her little voice squeaks.
“No, but I did.” Lie number two, and I’m not even caring. “I’m the bee whisperer.”
“Did you whisperer him?” she asks.
“I did,” I say, almost boasting about my fictional superpower.
“Did he bite you, too?” She holds up two fingers.
“No, bees don’t mess with daddies.”
“Just mommies?”
“Unless daddies are there to protect them.”
“Are you Daddy?” Saylor asks.
“Funny you should ask.”
Mila elbows me.
“Mommy say I funny, too.” She holds up two fingers again.
“Let’s hop back on the Daddy train, Saylor. I have a question for you.”
“I like sailboats. No train.”
“So does your mommy.”
I get another elbow, and this is feeling a little déjà vu-ish.
She scrunches up her little nose and says, “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Gotta question for you, Saylor,”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she says again.
Clearly, the train has derailed, and it becomes immediately apparent that Saylor should never become a conductor.
“Saylor, I was wondering … can I be your daddy?”
“And Mommy’s?”
“Absolutely.”
Elbow again.
“Mommy?”
“Hey, Saylor.”
“Max Daddy?”
“He is, Saylor.” She laughs. “He really is.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“It sure is, Saylor girl, it sure is,” I say as I pull Mila over and pop a kiss to the top of her head.
“Max Daddy kiss Mommy.” She laughs hysterically, causing all of us to do the same.
Best. Laugh. Ever.
“Max Daddy does.” Mila laughs.
“Max Daddy kiss Saylor, too?” Again with the two fingers, which is insanely adorable.
“Lots of hugs and kisses.”
“And C?” she asks, little face full of expression.
“No,” Cia chimes in from the background.
“C wake up?” Saylor asks Pam.
“No, still naptime for Cia,” Pam answers with a tight smile.
Saylor shrugs. “Okay.”
I glance down at Mila, who looks about the same as Pam—a cross between pissed off and concerned.
Pam squeezes Saylor and asks her, “How about we say goodnight to Mom and Dad?”
“Okay.”
She looks back at the screen, “Night, Mommy. Night, Max Daddy.”
“Night, Saylor girl.” Unable to hold it back, I tell her. “I love you and can’t wait to see you this weekend.”
She grins. “Okay.”
“I love you and miss you so much, Saylor.”
“Only miss me, little Mommy.”
“Because you’re little?” Mila asks, all cute-like.
“No, I big girl.”
“I know you are, Saylor.” She smiles.
“I poop in potty.” She claps.
“Me, too.” I hold up two fingers.
“And we’re proud of you, Max.” Pam laughs. “Let’s leave this phone right by Cia’s head, so when she wakes up, she can call Mom, okay?” Pam asks Saylor as she stands up and does just that. “You and me, we’ll get a snack.”
“I love snacks!” Saylor exclaims.
As soon as I hear the door shut, Mila says, “What’s going on, Cia?”
“Don’t flip out.” She rolls over and lifts the phone.
I immediately see red. “The fuck did that to you?”
“Not telling you,” she huffs, face all puffy, and one eye closed and all black and blue
“I got ways of finding shit out, Cia. I’m gonna ask you—”
“Are you okay, Cia?” Mila cuts me off.
Her lower lips quivers then she huffs, “I’m fine.”
“Let’s assume, since she’s talking, sitting up, and not bleeding, she’s gonna be fine and take it back to who in the fuck did this to you, Valencia … whatever-your-middle-name-is Miller.”
“I’m not telling you shit!”
“Max, let me,” Mila says then looks back at the screen and says sweetly, “Are you okay?”
“Not gonna be when school starts, if I make it that long.”
Hell no, I think.
“Okay, see now, fuck that. One more time, who—”
“You can’t be that fucking stupid, Max! You saw them all scatter like roaches when you almost took them out in the parking lot. You made”—she pauses—“him piss his pants!”
“Pisser touched you like that?” I ask. “A fucking dude put his hands on you like—”
“He doesn’t have to. He has people.”
“You two want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Mila yells.
“Search Max’s name on IG; you’ll see the whole video! His dad’s a King! And in case you don’t understand that, white surfer dude, King, as in the gang, not royalty. So—”
I stand up, pull my phone out of my pocket, and hit Ranger up.
He answers immediately with, “What’s up?”
“You know the gangs in Bayside?”
“Oh my God, Mila, tell him to leave it the fuck alone!” Cia yells.
“Guessing you got a problem,” he says, sounding way less relaxed.
“Yeah, hit my name up on IG. Supposedly, there’s a video of me and—”
“Did that kid piss his pants?” Ranger snorts.
“Oh, great,” Cia huffs. “Two fucking white-ass motherfu—”
“You watch your mouth. My kid starts talking like that—”
“What the hell did Max just say?” I hear Brisa gasp in the background.
“Long story. Short version, I have a little girl. Her name is Saylor, with a Y. She’s two and, yeah, I’m also engaged.”
“To Miller?” Brisa asks excitedly.
“Yeah, Brisa, but I also have a kid sister—”
“You are not my brother!” Cia yells.
“Cia, I understand you’re upset, but you don’t speak to Max or anyone like that, understand?”
“I hope his dick is worth throwing me under the bus for, Mila. I really fucking do.”
I hold back telling her to look at Saylor and never question my dick again, but this is not the time. “She loves you, Cia. Wants what’s best for you. Do not disrespect her”—or my dick—“like that.”
“Fuck you! You’re ruining my life!”
“Okay, stop!”
“Hey, Cia, my name’s Brisa and—”
“Really don’t fucking care who you are, Bristle. You can—”
“Hold up now. We do not pick on what my aunt and uncle named their kids.”
“I’m not a we!”
“You’re about to be,” Ranger tells her. “And you think this is bad, you wait till they’re all together. Gotta grow tougher skin, kid.”
“I’m hanging up. I don’t need this in my life.”
I tell her real quick, “You hang that phone up, and I’m going to come and snatch your ass up.”
“Bet? I’ll be gone by the time you get here.”
“Enough!” Mila yells as she stands up.
“I’m getting my ass beat, and you’re at the beach. That’s rich, Mila.”
“No one is leaving you behind, Cia,” she whispers. “Least of all Max.” She flips the camera on her phone around. “He bought this house for all of us.”
“I’m not moving there. I’m Bayside for life,” Cia replies.
“Got it taken down!” Brisa yells victoriously. “Video gone. Those posting reported for violations and—”
“Videos last forever. It’s on someone’s phone,” Cia says in a slightly less hysterical tone.
“Mila’s old man a King?” Ranger asks, standing up.
I look at Mila, and she nods.
“He was?” Cia asks, her question ending in a cry.
“I got this shit,” Ranger says. “Tell her I know pisser’s old man. Decent guy. Fair, too.”
“Raising a kid to have a female beat down? I bet he is,” I huff.
“Lemme see the kid.”
I turn my phone camera, and Cia scowls at him. “We’ve got Ken and Tarzan. Great, Mila, just great.”
Ranger tells her straight, “Loose the ’tude, or you’ll be living in my treehouse, with Jane and I, saving me from calling in a favor for some ungrateful little shit.” He turns and looks at Brisa. “Be back soon.”
“Be safe,” Brisa says in the background.
“Always am.” He leans down and kisses her. Her smile is etched with worry.
“Ranger, I can come up.”
“Nah, I’m good, but let me see the kid again.”
I flip the phone.
“No one is Bayside for life who doesn’t want to be. Trust me, kid; I was there once, too.”
She looks down.
“Eyes back up here.”
She does.
“Max isn’t leaving you behind. He says he’s got you, he does. Kings, Bloods, Crypts, they all come and go, but this gang, they don’t, so you’re good. Life’s about to change, Cia, you feel me?”
Lip quivering, she nods.
“What else should I know going into this?”
“Nothing.”
“You can tell him, or I will, Cia. Little Kings swing fists. I’m betting big ones carry guns. Ranger’s family ’bout to be your family, so you wanna tell him, or am I gonna do it.”
“You.”
I bend down and kiss Mila on the head. “Gonna let you two have a moment and talk to Ranger down by the beach.”
“Okay.”
Walking away, I ask Ranger, “Is okay like fine in chick?”
He laughs. “Nah.”