Raw and Broken Ch. 04

He kept a hand on my shoulder as I stepped back. "I should be asking you that question. I'm really sorry about Drake."

"Thanks. I'm managing."

"It will take time. Don't rush it." He glanced at Malcolm and Becca. "Use the support you have."

I nodded at him and continued on to the sink with my dirty bowl and spoon.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of my family," Becca said behind me.

There were the obligatory handshakes, hugs, and exchanges of condolences, and then Darryl took a seat near Malcolm on the couch. Conversation ensued as everyone filled him in on what had happened. I was feeling a bit restless in my lone chair off to the side...the same chair we'd had Drake sit in for his confession. So I was thankful when my phone rang and I saw it was Muriel calling.

I waved the phone at Becca and tilted my head toward the hall, indicating I'd take the call elsewhere.

During the short walk to the den, I rehearsed in my head what I was going to say. How I would tell her that although I'd missed her and the girls, now was not a good time to talk because I'd just lost my child and my husband. But I didn't have a chance to share the news.

As soon as I said hello, Muriel told me to not speak, to just listen. So I did. And when she was done, I was speechless, so I couldn't have talked if I'd wanted to. I did manage an affirmative sound when she asked me call her back within the next two days.

I closed the screen on my phone and turned around to see Darryl standing in the doorway. I jerked back and pressed my phone to my chest with a gasp.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay." I moved to one of the two arm chairs and gestured toward the other one.

"Daphne, I really am sorry to hear about Drake."

"Thank you. It means a lot." I returned his hug. The second one this morning. "You've been a good friend to Malcolm and Becca."

"And to you as well, I hope." He held me away from him. "I know I haven't known you as long, so I hope I've not overstepped any boundaries by giving advice. Thank you for trusting me."

I smiled at him as we sat facing each other on the couch instead of in the armchairs. "Your presence is a comfort. I truly appreciate it. The same goes for your advice."

He nodded and turned to lean back against the padded arm. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help. I know it's been a very rough time for you these past months. You may not think so, but you are so strong. You stayed despite wanting to cut and run. It takes a lot of faith to stick with someone when the norm these days is to leave at the slightest hint of trouble."

I looked at my lap. "Blind faith maybe. I've realized I may have been too forgiving along the way. Believed him when he wasn't truthful. Even since he moved out here. I wanted—no, I needed—space, and he wouldn't give it to me. I should have spoke up more. Now, it's too late."

"If I remember correctly, your used to say 'you can't change the past.' Have you changed your mind? Do you think that's possible now?"

"No. It's just difficult sometimes."

"I can only imagine." Darryl propped an elbow on the back of the couch and leaned his head in his hand. "Can I offer a bit more advice?"

"Sure."

"Don't beat yourself up so much. Only you can make yourself a doormat. If you allow others to walk all over you..."

I nodded.

"Listen, my visit was actually two-fold. In addition to talking about our trip to Europe in three weeks, I wanted to pass along a job offer."

"Wait, what?" I sat forward, not sure I'd heard what he'd said.

"If you still want to model, I have a job opportunity for you."

"Well, yes, I do, but I meant..." I shook my head. "What was that other part? About going to Europe?"

"It's an annual BDSM convention in Paris. I've gone every year. I have a booth. It's the weekend after Thanksgiving. But now—"

"No one said a word to me—"

"I'm sure it just slipped their minds. Especially since Drake's accident. We hadn't nailed down any details yet. That's why I'm here. To make our final plans."

I was sure he was right, but it didn't make me feel any better knowing they'd left me out of the initial discussion. Then again, I was just a house guest. No matter what they said, I still had screwed up their happy little schedule by butting into their life.

Had they not planned on telling Drake and I yet because we weren't invited? Because the kink factor—hell, sex as a whole—was on a hiatus? Did they think it would be too tempting if we were to go with them? And if we weren't invited... It would have been the first time we'd been alone in months. Unchaperoned. The thought made me shiver. Maybe they had planned to surprise us... Granted, we hadn't expected this twist of fate with Drake. Yet, a trip to Europe wasn't an impromptu roadtrip.

"Daphne, please don't jump to conclusions. I can practically see the gears turning in your head. I've witnessed it many times on my visits here. Please let Malcolm and Becca talk to you. Give them a chance to explain."

I managed a nod, mentally telling myself not to ruminate any further on why the convention had been kept a secret.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I shrugged. "I guess I'm still on edge."

"More bad news?" He nodded at my phone in my hand.

"Oh, no, quite the contrary."

"Really?" He adjust once more and propped his ankle on his knee. It was his 'I'm ready to listen' position. I'd seen it dozens of times on his visits since I'd taken up residence in the mansion...since the night I'd met him.

"But I'm not sure what to think of it."

"Want to talk about it?"

I was leaning towards saying 'No,' but the knowledge that he was a good listener and was even better at giving sound advice swayed me to talk it over with him. I pulled my feet up under me. "Remember the conversation about when I first met Malcolm? How I had gone overseas for several weeks to model?"

Darryl nodded.

"And how I said I was looking for modeling work out here on the East Coast?"

He nodded again, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Long story short, I've been asked to go to Paris. It's with the same company I started with in Chicago."

"That's wonderful, Daphne!" I guess I wasn't reacting like he expected, because he frowned. "Isn't it?"

I matched his frown. "It's for six months...not just a few weeks like last time."

"I see." After a long moment, he asked, "What do you think?"

My cheeks felt hot suddenly. I dropped my gaze to my hands in my lap. "I want to go, but—"

"Then go."

I snapped my head up. "But Drake just died. What about—"

"We all mourn in our own way, Daphne. I know your family will support you with whatever you decide. But I think this is a good opportunity for you. To really get away from all of this bad stuff. To clear your head. Find out what you want from life."

"Are you sure? Won't Becca—"

"Stop worrying about what other people think. I know it's ingrained in you to be submissive. But even a submissive has to be the one in control of her life. To make the decision to actually be submissive to someone. Do this, if only for yourself. Submit to your own desires. Who knows what will come of it."

I nodded, feeling tears in my eyes. He was right. I'd learned that like Malcolm, Darryl considered his words carefully before speaking them. Once more, I regretted all those months stranded on the other coast without advice like this. Drake and I both had needed it. It was too late for him, but not for me.

"When would you go?" Darryl said after a few minutes of silence.

"Everything okay?" Malcolm said from the doorway.

I shrieked and pressed my hand to my chest. "If people don't stop scaring me..."

"I'm sorry." He sat on the chair closest to Darryl. "You both have very serious looks on your faces. Anything I can help with?"

I took a deep breath. Best to just lay it out there, like ripping off a bandage. "I've been asked to go to Paris for six months to model with Muriel, my original agent."

Malcom raised his eyebrows. "Really? When would you go?"

"She was just getting to that part when you joined us," Darryl said.

Both men sat forward with their elbows on their knees, watching me intently.

I looked at my lap. "Well..."

"When, Daphne?" Malcolm said. "Tomorrow?"

"The first week of December."

"Good," Darryl said. "You can spend Thanksgiving with your family."

I lifted my gaze to Malcolm. "What about the house? We were going to go—"

"I told you, Becca and I would help you. We still will. Make a list of what you want us to bring back. What to dismantle. Don't worry about it. Trust us."

I shifted to look at Darryl. "I—"

"Can you trust them?" Darryl said, his eyes dark as he returned my gaze.

I felt myself nodding. "Yes, I can do that."

"Excellent. Now come share your good news with the rest of the family." Malcolm stood. "We could all use a little cheering up right now."

###

Thanksgiving morning had Becca, Cameron, and I bustling around the kitchen preparing all the fixings. Beth sat on a stool at the island, directing the three of us. It was the only job any of us allowed. The men had moved out to the porch for beers and cigars after they'd wrangled the bird into the oven.

Cameron helped me pull the large container of peeled potatoes out of the fridge and get it to the sink to drain. Beth had insisted on the method; called it a family tradition. She claimed the overnight, cold water-bath process softened the potatoes, which resulted in a creamier texture. Alexander had whispered it merely saved time from peeling them in the morning; the water just prevented spotting. The real secret was the amount of butter used—and to use the real stuff.

Between Cameron and I, we managed to not spill any water on the floor. Or lose any spuds between draining and transporting them to the counter. We had the potatoes diced up within just a few minutes, and set them to boil on the stove.

"Mom? Do you and Cameron want to set the table? Everything should be in the hutch." Once the other ladies were out of earshot, Becca whispered to me, "Darryl's bringing his kinky girlfriend."

I had just located the potato masher and turned to her with the utensil raised like a weapon. "I didn't know Darryl had a girlfriend."

Becca nodded as she mixed together the ingredients for the green bean casserole. "Her name is Ginger. We met her earlier this year at a bondage conference in Canada. She was actually a fan of my books first. I rescued her from her two immature friends at an exhibition. She's kept in touch with me ever since. I hadn't realized she'd done the same with Darryl."

"What's her fetish?" I swallowed heavily. I wanted to feel happy for him, but it just reminded me I was alone now. Really alone.

"She's a submissive, like us. But I'm not sure if she has a favorite kink yet."

"And Darryl..."

"He's mostly into suspension. He sells chains. I actually met him at the same convention when Malcolm took me to his booth. They've been friends for quite a long time, I guess."

"What does he do for a living...when he's not being a counselor for me or hanging women from the ceiling?" I pictured Darryl's defined biceps and chest. It made sense that he'd developed good muscle tone lifting women up to special devices. The chains themselves could only do so much. Maybe he even pulled trucks with his chains...using his teeth.

Becca laughed. "He's a personal trainer."

I tried not to snort and failed. "Of course he is."

"He's taken her under his wing. We think it's a good match. Now where did I put those fried onions?"

I located them partially hidden under the towel I'd used to wipe my hands with earlier and handed her the container. "Well, good for him. I look forward to meeting her."

Becca set the casserole in the second oven then joined me at the island after I turned the heat down on the potatoes. She seemed to be thinking about something as she stared off across the room. Then she said, "I'm glad you're going with us to England tomorrow."

"It just makes sense since I'll need to be in Paris later in the week. I'll stay with you until I have to meet up with my group. I'm still not sure I'll attend any of the seminars or even the convention. I don't know if I'm ready."

She turned and smiled at me. "I'm glad you're doing this. I was sad at first that you'd be leaving us...especially for so long. I've gotten used to having you around."

"We both know I can't live with you forever...Mom." I bumped her shoulder with mine. We were both silent for a few moments before I giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, I was just wondering what Beth would say if she knew about all these kinky people around her during dinner. Alex isn't—"

Becca was laughing now, too. She shook her head. "No, he's not into the scene, as far as I know. And I think the less my mother knows the better."

We refilled our glasses of wine and headed to the living room. Beth and Cameron were still setting the table as the matriarch discussed the purpose of chargers and how to properly decorate a holiday table. Becca pulled her feet up under her on one end of the couch. I mimicked her on the other end and took a sip of wine.

"Did Darryl ever tell you about the idea he had?"

"You mean being a model demonstrator for conferences? Yes. We had discussed my experience doing it with Malcolm. But that was before I was married. It wasn't anything professional. And it didn't require any traveling."

Becca tilted her glass toward me. "Not to sound callous, but you're no longer married...there's nothing holding you down, now. You can do whatever you want. Live out your dreams. Hell, you're going to live in Paris!"

I had actually considered the proposal for when I returned. Unlike Malcolm, Darryl was actually someone I would consider dating material someday down the road. Well, he had been until this morning. Now, it just didn't seem right traveling with a man as his erotic model knowing he was with someone else. Especially, if she was traveling with us. Talk about being the third wheel.

I pushed those thoughts aside as Beth and Cameron joined us and asked to hear more about our upcoming trip. I refused to be down in the dumps on this day, thankful to be surrounded by those who were my family. We'd grown so much closer in the past weeks.

Our time was coming to an end, though, and I intended on milking it for all it was worth. I didn't know when I'd have another chance like this again. Who knows what Paris would bring.

~ H