Solo - Maximillian King (Tao)

Max heard the alarm but rolled over, ignoring it. It continued buzzing a rhythmic bzzt bzzt bzzt until he heard a thump and it stopped. Thank Christ, he thought, somebody got that. He stretches in the king size bed on glorious sateen sheets made from woven satin and Egyptian cotton and repositions himself for maximum comfort before reality hits him. He doesn't remember whose bed he's in.

Whoever it was had not been surprised to have him here and had turned off the alarm. Good. There was no angry husband. Who had he gone home with last night? He'd need to retrace his steps.

He had been released from Riker's yesterday morning. He'd only been in for ninety days for non-support, no big deal. He'd taken the free bus ride into Harlem, and hoofed it from there. His property had consisted of jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, socks, boxers, combat boots, $40, a vape pen, two cartridges, sunglasses, and the ring that hadn't been confiscated. Must have been that no one reported it stolen. It wouldn't be worth much, but he could eat for a day on it. He'd pawned the ring for $100, then grabbed a gyro from a street vendor. Fucking delicious.

He picked up a cheap flip phone and made a couple calls, caught up with some acquaintances, found where the big parties were. He called MacKenzie and told her he was back in town. MacKenzie. That's whose bed this was. She'd put him on the guest list, met him at some club he can't remember the name of, and then he'd gone home with her.

He rolls over and there she is, her soft skin warming him up, but she is looking at an electronic tablet. She's cute, but she thinks they're an item. He could just play along with her forever, freeloading off her money, but... that's not the life for him. A kept boytoy. He'd have to get out of here as quick as he could.

He flashes her his trademark lopsided grin. "Hey, baby. What's for breakfast?"

She had a personal chef. Sticking around for breakfast couldn't hurt.

He had no idea why the suggestion he planted had lasted with her. She seemed stronger willed than most of the people he influenced, and the length of his influence always seemed dependent on the willpower of the target. But also, it had to do with how inclined someone already was to think the thoughts he'd planted. In this case, she seemed perfectly content to accept that he was her lover, and that he came and went into her bed as he pleased. She'd never once said no to him, not since that first night when he'd met her on the dance floor.

He hadn't known who she was, but the briefest scan of her mind had told him she was wealthy and wanted someone dangerous. Well, he was dangerous, but probably not in the way she'd imagined. Still, it had taken very little effort to suggest she invite him back to the VIP lounge, and even less to get into her penthouse. It was almost as if she had wanted to be seduced, and once he'd seen how much she had, he hadn't wanted to let this fish off the hook. So he'd implanted a few suggestions, stuff like: "Max is the most attentive lover I've ever been with", "I love Max but I will wait to tell him until he tells me", "Even if I fall for someone else I'll always say yes to Max", and his favorite "I want to see Max any time he calls."

It had worked. She'd never said no. Her bed was always available to him. She wasn't a model, but they were easy to come by. She was something else. Skinny and petite, coincidentally Max's weakness, she had those long legs he loved. And she actually was as attentive a lover as he'd convinced her that he was. Their nights together were some of his most memorable.

He had no interest in her business, meeting her family, or getting too deeply involved in her life. Things had stayed just the way he liked. He'd phone, drop the word that triggered his implanted suggestions, they'd party, then head back to her penthouse and end the night with what she remembered as mind-blowing sex. In the morning, he'd shower, eat breakfast, and disappear until he needed her again. It was very convenient.

Today he needed to get together some money. One of the guys he'd been in jail with had been going on and on about his kid, missing his kid, worrying about his kid, hoping his wife was okay and taking care of his kid. Max never admitted to having fathered a child. He'd denied it even after the paternity test had proven he was the father. He didn't know the kid, hadn't seen him but once, and had no feelings of any kind for the kid, except that maybe he could use the kid to get with Tammy Lynn again. But no, that wasn't what this was.

All that whining and hand-wringing had made him feel... guilty, he guessed. It wasn't a feeling he ever had before. Well, maybe once or twice before. But now he felt like he had to get some cash together for the kid. It was that guy's tone. What a whiner. But still. The kid was just a kid. It wasn't like it was hard to get money. And money was the one good thing he could put in that kids life. He sure as hell couldn't be a father to... him? her? He didn't even remember if it was a boy or a girl. Or maybe he'd influenced himself to not remember.

Either way, today he was off to place some bets, get the inside scoop on which fights were rigged from a guy named Tommy Two Times, lose a little, win a lot more, and drop off some cash to Tammy Lynn at... where was she working now? The Electric Labyrinth? Shit, wasn't that where Connor spins? He could make good with Tammy Lynn, check in with Connor, and still make it back here for a fun night with MacKenzie, unless something else came up in the meantime.

But first he had to get out of this penthouse.

"I'll just catch some more z's and see myself out after a shower then," he says.

She's usually more attentive. Something must be on her mind. But they don't have the kind of relationship where they talk about stuff like that. He wonders if she has that type of relationship with anyone. But it's not his concern.

He tries to decide if he should just go back to sleep. It's entirely too early for a disreputable man like him to be up and about. Hell, they'd only gone to bed a few hours ago. He fluffs the pillow, rolls onto his stomach, and closes his eyes. She's left him alone in her penthouse before. It shouldn't be a problem.

"I didn't forget, baby. I was just away for a couple months." Locked away, but he doesn't say that. "Who needs a car in the city?"

He watches her walk away. Part of him feels bad. She's a nice girl, but her family must be drama. Still, it can't be all bad. If she can afford to live like this, her family did something right somewhen.

He lays back down and tries to go back to sleep. She'll leave soon, and then he'll relax, get his shower, something to eat, and get moving on his own schedule. His life didn't start this early. Nothing good happened in this city before sunset. He'd be going by then. But for now, more sleep in this glorious bed.

Max stretches and takes his time getting out of bed. She said he'd be alone all day, so he wanders around in the nude, opening drawers and closets to peek inside, picking up odd items here and there to look them over, but remains relatively uninterested in anything he finds.

He heads into the kitchen, finds something to eat that requires as little work as possible on his part to prepare, and heads into the expansive living room. He clicks on the television and flicks through the channels, but finds nothing very interesting. He leaves it on some reality show where people are yelling at each other and the camera work is shaky and in everyone's face and hits mute.

He finds her laundry, hidden down some back hall he's probably not supposed to go into, and starts a load with all of his clothes in it. Might as well be clean for the night. There's no way she has any clothes that might fit him here.

While he waits for his laundry to wash, he wanders around, continuing his inspection of all her things. She's pretty boring. No personality in here at all. But what did he expect from some rich girl? When the wash is done, he flips his clothes into the dryer and then goes to have a long, hot shower. He drips water everywhere as he gets ready, finally toweling off right before slipping his clothes back on.

A couple quick phone calls and he can turn his remaining $100 into a few grand, if his bookie friend is shooting straight about the fixed fights. He clicks the television off around four and decides it's time to get out of here.

Down the elevator, out the doors held open by a doorman to whom he nods and grins, he heads out into the city. Bookie first, get his bets in, then something to eat. Then once he collected his winnings, he'd head down to the Electric Labyrinth, hand over some cash to Tammy Lynn, and find someone else for tonight. It was good to be back on the outside.

"Who, easy baby," Max says, and pulls the envelope of gambling winnings out of his jacket. "I've been at Rikers. Ninety days. Non-support. You remember, right? The sentencing?" Her father had been there, said a few things to Max that Max had just ignored. He didn't know that guy, and he didn't want to.

"Look, there's 10 G's in here. Legit gambling winnings, taxes pre-paid, receipts in the envelope." He presses the envelope toward her, urging her to take it.

"And don't start with this 'I needed you' crap. I ain't been in that kids life a day yet. I don't know what makes you think that's gonna change. I told you up front I didn't want no attachments," Max says as if that were an explanation. "I offered to pay to get rid of it, but you got all pissed off at me for even suggesting it. You had to have that kid. Well now you got it. That's not on me."

If she'd have just got rid of it right away none of this would have happened. But she didn't, and when he searched her mind, he saw that she wasn't the type to do that. It hadn't even been an option for her. He'd always prided himself on not pushing people to do things they wouldn't have at least considered, but he'd come close then. All he'd have had to do was nudge her and he could have got her to a clinic and been done with the whole thing. But he couldn't. She never would have done that, and despite his apparent lack of morals, he did have some guiding principles.

So she'd had the kid. He wasn't there for any of it. It had taken an unrelated arrest and an outstanding bench warrant to get him in for the paternity test, and even in the face of empirical evidence, he'd denied everything. But he'd been ordered to pay, and he hadn't, and she gone to court, and when he'd been picked up on unrelated charges, another bench warrant had him behind bars. He didn't even know this kid, hadn't ever even seen them. Hell, he wasn't even sure if it was a boy or a girl.

He feels a little bit of regret at that. That guy in the cell had really been insistent about missing his kid, and even though he'd been annoying and boring, it had gotten inside Max's head that he had a kid, that the kid might someday want a father, like Max had always wanted a real father or mother. He had felt... he guessed it must be guilt. It wasn't anything he'd ever felt before, and he hadn't liked it. He was hoping that he could solve it quick, by throwing cash at it.

"Look, having me around ain't gonna help that kid. You know the kind of guy I am. You want me as an influence around them? Best I can do is swing you some cash when I get some and keep away from the two of you."

He steps back away from Tammy Lynn. "I don't want to get you in trouble. You got work to get back to. I'll get out of your hair."

"Hey, I didn't have to come here. I could have kept that money, spent it on chicks and booze and fire trucks or whatever the fuck I wanted. You'd never have even known." Fucking woman is crazy, he thinks to himself. It would be so easy to make her forget him, to make her think someone else was the father. Why hadn't he done that?

"I came here out of the kindness of my heart, trying to make up to you some of what I owe you, because I had it. You think I'm always going to be this lucky?" He could be, with the right suggestions in the right ears, but she didn't need to know that. Tiny wins, small amounts from various sources so nobody noticed. That's how he stayed under the radar. That's how he didn't come to the attention of important people, powerful people.

"You're the one went to court, you're the one forced the issue, got the legal system involved. Check the new court order. While I was in, I filed the paperwork. I'm currently unemployed, and as an unemployed father, you're only entitled to seventeen percent of minimum wage, sixteen bucks an hour. That's thirty-three thousand annual earnings, so just over five grand in support a year. I just paid you almost two year's worth of support. You want to give me a hard time, or you want me to file those winnings and show how much I paid you?"

He stares her down. She didn't know a good thing when it was staring her in the face.

"Look, I ain't ever gonna make it up to you, and I ain't ever gonna be a father to that kid. But I can at least make sure you don't have to work shit jobs like this and can take care of him." Why did he even care? What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't do attachments. He didn't do responsibility.

"Keep hating me, that's fine. I don't expect anything else. Just let me give you the money when I get it."

And maybe we could... just once more, for old time's sake... he thinks, scanning her mind. Is she still attracted to him? Does she have some weird fantasy about him coming back, being a father, some hidden thought that things might work out between them concealed behind her open disdain? That's all he'd need to see to try to plant a suggestion that she take a break and they find some back room or hallways for a few minutes. She still looked great. He wouldn't mind getting a piece of that again.

Max can sense her lingering attraction and he can't resist.

He pushes her, his thoughts intruding as if they were her own. He finds the stray positive thoughts she has about him, her lingering attraction, the fact that she secretly holds out some hope for a relationship with her son's father, the hope that him trying to do better once means something, how hot she thinks he is. Taking her own thoughts, amplifying those that are good about him, diminishing her inhibitions and negative feelings, he slowly builds her up to thinking about a quickie in the backroom, making the idea feel natural to her, something she wanted to do next time she saw him anyway, and with him being so kind and looking so good, how could she resist?

"Hey, don't cry," he says, wiping a tear from her cheek. She was almost his now.

"Let's go someplace private, we can kiss and make up." His grin promises more than kisses, and it's exactly what she thinks she wants.