Unexpected Care

My phone buzzed from an incoming text. I looked to see who it was from; it was Randy.

“Got to work to work ok today…only forty-five minutes late this time 😊.”

I smiled and replied. “Did you walk in with afterglow?”

He said, “Jose asked why I was late this time,  I kept it simple by telling that I overslept.”

I smiled, grateful for Randy’s discretion. “Thank you for last night. I had a great time.”

His response was almost immediate. “You’re welcome. I did, too. I had the best date and by far the most beautiful woman there.”

I blushed and sent him the smiley face emoji.

I spent the day working from home—answering client and staff emails, taking calls, and making a few myself. Then Tomas, my top client, called.

I picked up and said, “Hello, Tomas. How are you today?”

He didn’t waste time. “I’m livid. Every time I call the office, I get transferred to Tara. I want to speak with you directly. Why can’t I?”

I took a breath. “Tomas, I don’t share personal matters with clients, but you’re an exception to that rule. The past few months have been incredibly difficult for me and my loved ones.”

He waited silently, so I continued.

“I married young – just 18 - and soon after, my ex-husband disappeared from my life for over twenty years and no one would tell me where he was. I found him recently when a friend and I went out of town. I served him the divorce papers then and there as I always carried them. In a matter of a week or , we were divorced. Afterwards, he was so furious that I wouldn’t allow him to treat me like this anymore. One night a few weeks later,  followed Vince and I to a restaurant. A friend of mine who lives in the area of that restaurant—a police officer—warned us that Xavier…excuse me, my ex-husband, was there, and he was drunk and had a gun with him. I had stepped outside to try to disarm my ex-husband, he pulled a gun and fired at me. Darnell, my police officer friend, tackled me to protect me and he was hit by the bullet instead of me. We hit the parking lot hard. I lost consciousness after hitting my head on a step. Darnell needed surgery, and I suffered a concussion. That was my first emergency room visit.”

I paused, steadying my voice.

“There was a trial afterward, where I needed police protection for about two or so weeks—which was the second half of the trial. Thankfully, he was found guilty of attempted murder of my friend and I as well as some other serious charges. Of course, sentencing hearings take time to happen after a trial. Somehow, one of the prosecutors got the sentencing hearing moved up by two or three weeks; however, I was given a little less than seventy-two hours’ notice. I went, I testified, and went outside for fresh air afterward. As I was trying to catch my breath, I had passed out. Thankfully, my brother was with me at the time and had called emergency services. That was my second emergency room visit. Just a few days ago, I ended up in the ER again for severe dehydration and exhaustion. And that was after a two-week vacation meets break from work to rest and reset.”

“That is incredibly intense. I am so sorry that you went through all that and are still going through all of that.”

“Thank you, Tomas. Since the last ER visit, my doctor has ordered me to reduce my workload for at least two weeks, and I’m limited to a few hours a day to avoid further health crisis.”

“That’s a smart decision to limit your time,” Tomas said quietly. “I am so sorry.”

“It is intense, but I’m still here. I’m still working, just not always in the office.”

“I appreciate your honesty. I was worried you were avoiding me.”

“Never. You’re my most important – and favorite - client.”

We moved on to business—stocks, portfolio adjustments, and strategies.

“I’m thinking about selling mid-cap tech stocks. They seem stagnant.”

“Hold them one more quarter. A software rollout should boost them soon. Sell the REITs. They’re bleeding money.”

“You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t. Move those funds into green energy investments. You’ll be glad you did in six months.”

“You’ve got a sharp eye.”

“Thanks!”

“So, Deppgrl, what are your plans for the weekend?” Tomas asked.

“A friend invited me to the Bruno Mars and The Weeknd concert tonight at the events center. I’m looking forward to it, but my friend is a bit too old that scene for music,” I said. “He’s nineteen years older than I am.”

“There’s something I am going to do for you and your friend,” Tomas said. “You know many things about me, but something that you don’t know is that I own that events center. I am going to give your friend a full refund on his tickets and give you tickets for the floor seats in the center section; the seats are in the front row.”

“Tomas, that is incredibly generous of you, but…” I said. “I just can’t accept this gift.”

“You can and you will,” he said. “This is part of your rest. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Vince Diaz,” I said. “He may have bought the tickets as either Vincent, Vince, or Vin.”

“I’ll take care of it right now. Please tell Mr. Diaz that he’ll get a full refund and to expect that email around 5 and the email with the new tickets should arrive around 6:30. Don’t forget—go through the main gate. I will have security have backstage passes for the both of you.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, Tomas,” I said. “I am so sorry—I didn’t ask what you and your family are going to do this weekend.”

“We’re going on our yacht. We’ll be leaving before the concert and we’ll be back either on Monday or Tuesday.”

“Sounds like a fun weekend. Thank you again for your generosity.”

We hung up, and I was floored. Despite what this man’s history was like, I was floored by his generosity towards me.

About an hour later, Tara called.

“There’s an issue at the office,” she said.

“What kind of issue?”

“You should come in.”

I told her I’d be there shortly. The twenty-five-minute drive took me fifteen.

I entered the office expecting chaos but found smiles instead. The staff greeted me warmly; some gave me hugs while others clapped me on the back. After saying hello to everyone, I pulled Tara into my office.

“Tara, there better be a real issue.”

“Tomas called right at open,” she explained. “He was angry, demanding to speak with you. When I said you weren’t available, he insisted on your personal number, and if he didn’t get it, he’d walk. So, I gave it to him. I’m not sure when or if he’s going to call.”

I rubbed my forehead. “He called me, and I calmed him down, and he’s staying. You knew from the get go that he’s the most important—and mega-rich—client we have and we cannot afford to lose him. The next time an important client needs to get a hold of me and I’m not physically here, give them every single way to reach me. I don’t care if it’s a carrier pigeon. After you provide them the millions of ways to get a hold of me, you text me to warn me so I am not ambushed. It’s extremely embarrassing to me that someone that I have been training and teaching to be the next me has to be told again—we do what we need to do—legally, of course!—to keep our clients. Next time, make sure there’s a legitimate reason before dragging me in.”

“I’m sorry. He was yelling and he scares me.”

“I get it, but this wasn’t the way to start my day. Remember the boy who cried wolf and when there was a wolf then no one believed him?”

She nodded.

“This felt like that,” I said more gently. “The next time you call me or text me or email me to say that there’s an issue and I need to be here, I am going to doubt if you’re calling ‘wolf’ or if it’s legitimate.”

“I understand.”

“And no,” I added, “today’s not the day to discuss that raise we joked about. You lost the moment.”

“Understood.”

“Over the next few weeks, if you can prove yourself to me again, we’ll meet then.”

Tara nodded, and I left for home.

I stopped at the diner since I realized I hadn’t eaten since last night. I ordered French onion soup, a bacon bleu cheese burger, and a soda. I enjoyed the food. Dr. Jones wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t care and I needed to eat. After paying and tipping well, I headed home.

Once inside, I kicked off my shoes and pants, then my bra. As I was about to lie down, my phone buzzed. Vince texted.

“Are you free to talk?”

I replied immediately. “Yes.”

He called immediately.

“Hey, babe. I’m at a friend’s fixing a fence knocked down by the bad rain storm we got a few days ago.”

I teased, “Which hammer are you swinging around?”

He laughed. “Hold on, I need to take you off speaker. His seven-year-old daughter’s just a few feet away, and you have such a mouth on you.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. It’s a framing hammer. I’m the muscles and he’s the brains.”

“How much longer?”

“A few hours at least. His yard is a mess.”

“What’s the food plan before the concert?”

“I’m picking up sandwiches from my friend Mike’s deli. What do you want?”

“Italian subs. It’s a given,” I said. “Won’t he have to reopen up his deli for you to swing by?”

“He will but it won’t be a first time nor will it be the last time.”

We laughed and talked about the weather, the concert, and his friend’s annoying dog before hanging up.

I napped for a few hours. My phone buzzed from an incoming text…I barely opened an eye. It was Vince.

I’m outside…using my key to get in.

Thanks for the heads up. I’m upstairs in bed.

He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. He kissed me gently.

“Hi,” I said. “You don’t need to tell me that you’re coming in.”

“Hi,” he said. “After everything with Xavier, I don’t want to come in here without your ok or at a planned time.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s completely unnecessary.”

I brushed my teeth while he made coffee. When I came downstairs, my mug was filled with coffee and made the way I love it—light and sweet.

As we were drinking our coffee, I noticed he seemed distracted.

“You okay? Everything ok?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his eyes tracing the collar of my shirt. “Just thinking about what you’re not wearing under that shirt.”

I raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Want to find out?”

He set down his mug, the clink echoing in the quiet kitchen. He stood, pulling me to my feet and kissing me deeply, his hands cupping my face.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered against my lips.

“Thank you.”

He picked me up and carried me upstairs, our laughter a soft melody. Gently, he sat me on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on my waist.

“Are you sure you want to?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern. “You’ve had a crazy day.”

“I’m more than sure,” I said, reaching for the buttons on his old denim shirt that was almost as old as I am. “I can’t think of a better way to make it better.”

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began to take off the old denim shirt and his jeans as I slowly removed my shirt and slid my panties off. He climbed over me and pressed inside, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured between breaths, his forehead resting against mine. “So tight.”

I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging into the firm muscle. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice rough. “Just… just tell me what you need.”

“More,” I breathed, arching into him. “I need more of you.”

He moved, a powerful, rhythmic motion, his hips a perfect counterpoint to mine. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his body tense with pleasure. “So perfect.”

“Say my name,” I gasped, my nails trailing down his back.

“Deppgrl…my god. I’ve missed this.”

Our passion built, loud and fierce, until we were a whirlwind of motion and sound. We both climaxed often, a wave of sensation crashing over us, each one more intense than the last. He released inside me, filling me completely.

Our cries echoed in the room as we collapsed, breathless and content.

Later, we showered and dressed for the concert. Vince wore khaki shorts, a tucked-in polo, and boat shoes. I chose short shorts, a low-cut shirt, slip-ons, and packed a light sweater in my purse.

When we went downstairs, I grabbed some plates and Vince grabbed the subs from the fridge. We popped open a few beers to drink.

“I had an interesting call from my most important client today,” I said.

Vince raised an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

“Remember me mentioning Tomas a few times? Well, he’s my big client that Tara almost lost us today. We talked earlier about his portfolio, and after business talk, we shared weekend plans. He’s taking his family on his yacht, and I told him you and I would be at the concert. Tomas arranged something pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning him. Older guy that lost his family during the war?” Vince said hinting at the war in the 1940s. “What kind of arrangement?”

“He told me you’ll get an email around 5 p.m. confirming a full refund for the tickets you already bought. The new tickets will arrive around 6:30. We’re to go through the main gate, they’ll scan the tickets, and security will have backstage passes for us.”

Vince shook his head, a stunned look on his face. “You’re serious?”

“I am.”

“Where are the seats?”

“You won’t believe it,” I said. “We’ve got the floor seats in the center section, and we’ll be in the front row.”

He smiled, a wide, genuine grin spreading across his face. “I owe Tomas big time. I want to send him a fruit basket.”

I smirked. “Just don’t give him your number.”

“I don’t want to know,” Vince sighed, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you all set? The car is almost here.”

“I want to make sure that I have the important things in my purse,” I said as I dug through it to see if I had everything, and I didn’t.

I ran upstairs to grab a few phone chargers, a second asthma inhaler in case the first one runs out, my phone and some chapstick.

The Concert

The car arrived right on time. Vince got out and helped me in, then slid in next to me. The city traffic was a beast, and we were stuck for over an hour. At 5 p.m. sharp, Vince’s phone buzzed with a notification.

“Well, look at that,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Email from the ticket vendor. A full refund. Unbelievable.”

“See? I told you,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I’m still stunned,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Front row. Backstage passes. This is insane.”

We crawled through traffic, but the time didn’t matter. We were together, and we had plenty of time before the show started. Around 6:15 p.m., as the driver finally started moving on the main road again, Vince’s phone buzzed with another email.

“New tickets are here,” he announced, pulling up the email. The QR codes for our new seats were on the screen.

Just a few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from Tomas.

Tickets come through?

I typed back quickly. Yes! They did. Thank you so much again, Tomas. You’re the best!

My pleasure. Have a great night. You both deserve it, he replied.

Vince asked the driver to take us to the main gate, and a few minutes later, we pulled up to a bustling entrance. He got out and then helped me out of the car. We walked toward the security checkpoint, where a staff member was scanning tickets.

“Alright, tickets, please,” the man said, holding up the scanner.

Vince held up his phone with the QR codes. The man scanned them and nodded. Then his eyes fell on my purse. It was a bit bigger and not clear than the venue’s clear but small bag policy allowed.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that bag is too large. You’ll have to check it or take it back to the car.”

Vince looked at me, a frustrated look on his face. “I knew it. Babe, I told you we should have checked the policy.”

“Just watch,” I whispered to Vince with a sly smile.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a small ID badge on a lanyard. It had my picture, my name, and the logo for Tomas’s holding company. I held it up for the staff member to see. He looked at the badge, then at me, then back at the badge. His eyes widened in recognition.

He immediately lowered the scanner and stepped aside. “Oh, my apologies, ma’am. Right this way. We’ll get you to the security office for your passes.”

Vince stared at me, dumbfounded. “What… what was that? Why didn’t you tell me you work for him?”

“I don’t work for him,” I said, tucking the ID back into my bag. “I just get paid to play with his money. We’re sort of business partners, not employer-employee. He had a courier send this over to my house today after our call so I could have it for tonight. It’s a professional courtesy.”

“A professional courtesy?” Vince asked, still in shock as we walked. “You just flashed an ID and they acted like you were the Queen of England!”

“They know me here,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve met Tomas here a few times for business without even knowing he owned the place. We’d just meet in his office; what I call his smaller office…the larger one is for show. It’s how we do business. Now come on, let’s go get those passes.”

We headed to the security office, where a different officer recognized me from previous meetings. Vince had to show his driver’s license to get his backstage pass, which were special laminated cards with our names on it but his name on the envelope. I placed them in my purse for safe keeping and followed an usher through a maze of hallways and back corridors. We emerged into the arena bowl, the music from the opening act already thumping through the air.

Our seats were exactly as promised—floor seats, dead center and front row. We were so close to the stage that we could see every detail without hurting our necks, but we were just far enough back that the sound was perfect.

As we settled into our seats, Vince noticed an envelope taped to the armrest of his chair. He picked it up, curious, and saw a small, neatly folded note inside, along with a pair of foam earplugs. His brow furrowed as he unfolded the paper and began to read.

Mr. Diaz, I hope you've been finding everything to your liking so far. Ms. Smith is someone I deeply value, like a sister. She has shared with me that you make her happy. Please continue to take care of her and cherish her. You won't find another woman as incredible as she is. Given the significant age difference she mentioned, you might find these earplugs useful tonight. Sincerely, Tomas Ezekial.

Vince looked a little uneasy after reading the note.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He showed me the note. "Did you know about his last name?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why do you work with such a man?" he asked. “He’s a monster.”