Mr Garcia (Mr Series)
Mr Garcia: Chapter 4

I turn and look around the now silent apartment, taking in all its luxurious splendor. My eyes drift to the two half-empty glasses of alcohol on the counter.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “What the hell was that?”

I drag my hand down my face and trudge back up the hall. I look back toward the front door.

Maybe he’ll come back?

I roll my eyes at myself.

Yeah, sure he will.

I get back in the shower and put my head under the steaming hot water.

My body is still thumping. I can feel a pulse in my sex. I wash myself, and it stings from the stretch of having him inside me. His body worked mine over well—too well.

How did that all go so wrong?

I finish up in the shower and dry myself. I put on the black velvet robe that’s hanging on the back of the walk-in wardrobe door, and I walk back out to the living area. A sense of regret sits in my chest.

Damn it… I’m pissed at myself.

Why would I sleep with him when I promised myself I wouldn’t? That is not who I am.

Mind you, he was the last person on Earth I thought would come to a place like this.

I pour myself another glass of champagne, and I peer inside the fridge to replace a huge serving of chocolate covered strawberries sitting on a silver platter. I take them out and walk into the living room, placing them on the coffee table in front of me. I pick up the remote and turn the television on.

I drop down and curl my legs up beneath me.

Sipping on my champagne, I stare into space, his words coming back to me.

I’m single. Not that it matters.

I eat a strawberry and the wonderful flavor bursts through my mouth.

Answer the question, Cartier. Do you want my cock… or will I go and get someone else who does? Any wet pussy will do.

God.

I thought we were role playing… but were we?

I close my eyes and drain my glass, only to refill it immediately. I want to forget tonight ever happened.

Five thousand pounds never felt so cheap.

“Don’t be lazy. Your essay details are in the assignment sheet that was emailed to you last week,” the lecturer says from his place on the stage. “Remember: this is thirty percent of your total mark. Switch on, people.”

The class gives an audible groan.

The bell rings through the speaker, notifying us of the end of the class, and we begin to pack up our desks.

“If you are having problems,” the lecturer calls, “I’m holding a study group after class next Thursday night in the library to help you prepare.”

I put my laptop into my bag. I really should go to that. I have no idea how to navigate this essay. I looked at it briefly last week, and it confused the hell out of me.

Thursday, though. Why do I feel like I have something on Thursday?

I sling my backpack onto my back, and I walk out of the auditorium.

Shit… I’m working in the Escape Club next Thursday. It’s my second shift.

Ugh, I’ve felt like crap all day today.

Sleeping alone in that Escape room last night was definitely a low point of my life. When I was leaving this morning, I saw a few of the other girls leaving their apartments with their dates from last night. It rubbed salt into my wounds a little.

They stayed with their date.

I trudge down the crowded corridor now, toward my last lecture of the day.

Why the hell has this upset me? It’s not like I went there looking for love. I went there with an agenda. The money. Five thousand pounds, and that’s what I got.

I made a plan and I stuck to it.

Stop beating yourself up about this, I remind myself.

Only three more shifts to go. In one month, I’ll have twelve months rent and I can resign. This is not my jam, but I’m sticking to my game plan. I need twenty thousand pounds, and damn it, I’m getting it.

“April!” I hear someone call from behind me.

I turn to see Brandon running to catch up with me.

“Hey.” He smiles as he falls into step beside me.

“Hi.” I smile. “How are you?”

Brandon is one of my friends on campus. He’s studying engineering and is on my football team. He’s a freshman and has a girlfriend at home.

“Good. Hey, Harvey asked me to see if you’re going to that party on campus tomorrow night.”

“Oh God,” I frown. “You tell Harvey, for the fifteenth time, even if I am going, I am not into him. He’s way too young for me.”

Brandon chuckles. “I keep telling him that.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “He’s hoping you will change your mind. He wants to be your boy toy.”

I laugh out loud. “Yeah, well, that’s not happening.”

“What are you doing for dinner tonight? Do you want to grab something with me and Lara?” Lara is our other friend. She’s lovely, too.

I feel like shit because I hardly slept a wink in that Escape apartment last night. “No, I’ve got an assignment to do, but thanks, anyway. You guys have fun.”

“Do you want us to bring you something back?”

“Maybe,” I frown. “Text me from wherever you go.”

“Okay. Oh, and word on the street is that there’s an afterparty to the party in Penelope’s room tomorrow night.”

I exhale heavily. “Great.” I sigh.

“Do you want to sleep on the floor in mine or Lara’s room again?”

“No, it’s okay. I might be going away for the weekend.”

“Really? Where to?”

“A friend of mine is over here. I’m thinking of catching up with her.” That’s an appalling lie, but I’m thinking of taking a mini break out of London for the weekend. I do have a little extra cash injection now, and maybe I could replace somewhere dirt cheap. Anything is better than sleeping next door to the Rave Cave when it’s in full swing.

“Okay, I’ll text you tonight with the menu of wherever we end up eating,” Brandon says before he turns off toward his next tutorial.

A weekend away. That’s not actually a bad idea. Yeah, I could go away by myself.

I smile as I walk up the corridor, hmm…. where, exactly, could I go?

Sebastian

I bring the club back and hit the ball with force. It whistles through the air.

“Nice shot,” Spencer coos.

“Your game is on point today, Garcia,” Julian says as he retrieves his golf club from his bag.

I watch the ball bounce and then land on the green. “It’s always on point. What are you talking about, Masters?”

Spencer chuckles as he brings the ball toward him on the ground with the back of his club. Golf on a Sunday is one of my favorite pastimes.

We watch Spencer hit the ball with force, and it hooks at the end and bounces over the net, out onto the road.

“Fuck it!” he cries out. “Why the hell am I playing so bad?” He pretends to snap his club over his knee. “I know. I’m overfucked and underpaid, that’s why.”

We chuckle.

Spencer being overfucked is something we never thought we’d hear. He’s a deviant from way back.

We put our clubs into the back of the golf cart and climb in. I get behind the wheel and pull out onto the gravel road to take us to the next hole.

“Hey, I got a very interesting job offer this morning,” I tell them. “

“Such as?” Julian asks.

You know how I‘ve been helping with the planning of the roads on the eastern distributor for government?”

“Yeah,” they both say.

“They’ve offered me a position on cabinet.”

“You. A politician?” Spencer gasps. “You fucking hate politicians.”

“I know.” I pull into the next hole and park the buggy. “I’m not taking it, of course.”

“What’s the position?” Masters asks.

“Minister of Planning and Development.”

Masters frowns. “Wouldn’t be a bad gig. What’s the coin?”

“Decent, although I make more now.” I take the club from my bag and line up my shot.

“Could you do both?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I slice the ball, and it flies off into the distance. “Fuck… I’m getting good at this game.”

“Please,” Spencer scoffs. “I can beat you with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Okay, let’s see it,” Masters replies flatly. “You’re all fucking talk, Spence.”

I chuckle as Masters lines up his shot.

“I’d look into taking both jobs. It could be great for the CV. Town Planner and all that,” Masters says as he hits his shot. It bounces low, hits a tree and flies back toward us.

“You’re completely shit,” I smirk.

“Get fucked,” he snaps as he puts his club back in the bag. “Unlucky.”

“Sebastian Garcia, the politician,” Spencer teases just as he strikes the ball.

“Has a ring to it,” Masters smirks.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not taking it.”

We get back into the golf buggy. “Hey, you still drinking shit coffee from that hot chick across town?” Spencer asks.

I grip the steering wheel tightly. “No.”

Spencer’s eyes fly to me. “Why not?”

I shrug. “Lost interest.”

The last thing I need is a lecture from these two. Ever since I found my wife in bed with our gardener, they’ve become a tad overprotective, and I am not in the mood to talk about the headfuck of a week I’ve had.

Least of all her.

I pull the cart up to the next hole.

“Bree wants to set you up with her friend,” Masters says as he climbs out. “Apparently, she’s smoking hot.”

“I’m not going on a blind fucking date, Masters.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t want or need a woman. Been there, done that. Not fucking doing it again.” I climb out of the buggy.

“You still horny or what?”

“Problem has been eradicated,” I say, lining up my ball.

“Tell me you went to the Escape Club?” Spencer sighs dreamily.

Masters and I chuckle. Spencer is living vicariously through me now that he’s settled down.

“Fuck. I love that place,” he snaps.

“May have.” I hit the ball with force, and it slices through the air.

“That’s the only thing I miss about being single, you know? The thrill of that Escape Club. Bidding on the girls, waiting for them to choose me.” He narrows his eyes as he stares off into the distance. “It’s like the ultimate gaming and shopping experience. Those were good times, man.”

Masters chuckles. “And then you went and fell in love and ruined it all.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t change it. Charlotte is it for me, but, you know…” He lines up his shot. “Hot gorgeous women just waiting to please you. No strings, no demands. It is the ultimate fantasy.”

Masters smirks. “I have to agree.”

I clench my jaw when I get a vision of April… Cartier… whatever her fucking name is.

The way she looked at me when she came. I feel my cock twinge in appreciation.

Fuck.

I throw my club into my golf bag with force. I don’t want to think about her. I won’t think about her.

She pisses me off.

April

I wipe the table near the window and peer out into the street.

Why hasn’t he come back?

I glance at the clock. It’s 8:45 a.m. , and Sebastian would have normally been in for his coffee by now. He didn’t come on Friday. He didn’t come on Monday or Tuesday, either. Now, here we are on Wednesday, and he still hasn’t shown.

He’s not coming.

Fuck, was our night together so dreadful that he doesn’t even want my coffee now?

I’ve been analyzing our night together and overanalyzing it to the point that I’m driving myself insane.

Everything was good. I mean, not great, but he was consistently coming back to see me despite being served the worst coffee on Earth. And he was sweet, lovely, handsome, and we would flirt with each other.

My heart swells when I think of him like that.

And then he saw me at the club, and he was angry that I was there.

I chose him, too, even though he didn’t want me. But that’s the thing: I know he did want me before that.

I wipe the table and let my mind run back over the chain of events.

We went back to the Escape room and we got into some kind of fucked-up role playing.

Then we had the best sex of my life.

And he was right there with me. He lost his head, too. It wasn’t one-sided; I know it wasn’t.

I go to the next table and wipe it over, lost in my memories.

Then we had a thing in the shower when we were kissing. We were so completely lost in the moment that we forgot a condom. I scratch my head as I think back. That was definitely the turning point. Things just spiraled downhill from there.

I’m single. Not that it matters.

I wipe all the tables down and peer back out through the window.

I hate that he’s the first guy that has interested me since my divorce. I hate that we met at the club. I hate that we had the best sex ever and that he turned out to be an asshole. I hate that he’s stopped coming in for my bad coffee.

“Excuse me, miss,” someone says from behind me.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a bathroom?”

“It’s just outside and down to the left.” I point out the door. “I’ll show you where it is.”

“Thank you.”

I walk out the front door of the café, and I direct the person on where to go. Then, I look over the bustling crowd walking past.

I just wish I had told him I was only working four shifts to pay for my rent. I wish I had explained myself. I should have said more…

I sigh heavily and go back into the café.

Oh well. He’s gone.

It is what it is.