Sugar Daddies by Jade West Page A

week?”
    “Please,” I said, and then remembered the sperm donor phone call. Another fucking urgh . “And I’ll need Monday off, if I can. My father wants to talk to me.”
    Benny scribbled on the rota. “Maybe your father has a good business offer.”
    I checked for customers but there was only the old deaf couple by the window. “Maybe my father can go fuck himself.”
    “Katie!” he blustered, but he was laughing. “You just hear him out, yes? For old Benny.”
    God. Another one.
    “Yeah, yeah. I’ll hear him out.”
    The bell above the door chimed as a party of regulars came by for coffee and cake, and our time was up.
    “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do.”
    He waved it away. “Good partnership,” he said. “That’s all.”
    My phone vibrated in my pocket as Benny turned back for the kitchen. I pulled it out as the table of regulars got seated.
    One message. One email.
    Which to answer first?
    I clicked the message.
Rick: I’ve got an idea. Fancy a hook up this week?
    I felt it between my legs, the memory of his piercing against my clit. My cheeks were burning as another message pinged through.
Rick: I mean a chat, not a fuck. Sorry, that sounded bad!
Rick: Unless you want a fuck?
    I smiled, and then there was another ping.
Rick: Ignore me. I meant a chat. A hang out. Some chill time.
    The table were engrossed in the menu, even though they had the same cakes every time. I sent off a message.
Sure, I’d like that. When? I can do Wednesday. Maybe Friday.
Rick: Wednesday? Lunch? Come here. I’ll cook.
And Carl?
Rick: No Carl.
    No Carl? I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried.
Ok, cool. See you then.
    I took the coffee order before remembering the email. I clicked to open as I waited for the coffee to filter.
Favcom Tech. Confirmation of your interview.
    What the fucking hell?
    I scanned through the text. A fucking interview?! On Monday?!
    So much for a fucking chat.
    I fired off a text to Mum.
I’m not taking a fucking job with him.
    Mum replied in a heartbeat
. Just hear him out. Please?
    Such a simple reply.
No. Fucking. Chance.
It’s not a job. It’s an internship. Great experience.
    So, she knew exactly what he was after. I could have strangled her through the handset
. No!
What about Harrison Gables????
    I steamed the milk, and I was pissed off. So fucking pissed off. I typed a response.
Fuck Harrison Gables, and fuck the fucking sperm donor, too.
    She’d replied by the time I delivered the tray to the table, and I could have guessed what it said a mile off.
I know you don’t mean that. Please go, just to see. For me. Love you. x
    Pissing hell. What was with the world? Please go, for me, for me, for me…
    I took a breath.
    I didn’t need him or his poxy job, and I’d tell him so. I’d tell him what I thought of his stupid Harrison Gables blackmail, too.
    And then I’d tell him to go fuck himself, and at least I’d be in person to give that sperm donating sack of crap the fucking finger.

    I loosened my tie and ditched my jacket over the chair, guzzling down a couple of mouthfuls of beer before Rick even asked the question.
    “So, Princess Faverley?” he quizzed. “Just as good as you were expecting?”
    I nodded. “The brat wouldn’t sing.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Quite. So, I sent her packing. She ran to Daddy, you know how it goes.”
    He sucked in breath. “And what happened?”
    I smiled at the memory. “He sent her back five minutes later, with an apology.”
    Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “An apology? No fucking shit!”
    “A token apology.”
    “Did you accept it?” He grabbed himself a beer.
    “After she sang the Rocky theme…” I couldn’t help but smirk. “Solo…”
    Rick shook his head. “Jesus, Carl. She’s gonna hate your fucking guts.”
    “She can hate my guts, I couldn’t give a toss, just as long as she learns to apply herself to the programme, or gets the fuck out of it.”
    He paused, and I made