It was seven in the morning when my iPhone started to ring. It took me a while to orient myself to recognize it's an alarm.
"Hey Siri, stop the fucking alarm."
"Okay, it's stopped."
Three hours ago, I went to sleep, absolutely exhausted after a night spent with Sarah. I didn't recognize at that time how hard it will be to hold my commitments for this morning. I wouldn't change a thing last night, but now I've been thinking about calling Tracy to cancel the business trip.
No, I can't do that.
We've been planning it for two weeks, and Tracy probably got a sitter for her children because of it.
Rise and shine, Dan!
I did five burpees, and that woke me up. I was thinking about going to the bathroom just in my boxers but then decided against it. Sure, we had sex with Sarah last night, but I wasn't sure what that meant for us. After all, she had a boyfriend. So I put on sweatpants and pulled a clean merino t-shirt out of the wardrobe.
Nobody was in the living room this early. But it was summer in Seattle, so there was already plenty of light thru the windows. I quickly did my morning routine in the bathroom and then prepared a breakfast -- eggs, bacon, broccoli, and tomato. Same breakfast I had every Monday for the last two and half years.
As I ate that shit, one question still puzzled me. I was sure that Sarah was not on pills. I remembered two months ago to be in the kitchen when she was with Ethan in her room, and he was loudly asking her, where are condoms.
Yet last night, in the heat of the moment, I came into her twice. Once in my room and them during bathroom after-sex. Sure, she basically ordered me to do it in both cases, and I don't mind making her pregnant, but she would probably regret that. Being a student and 20 years old.
I couldn't discuss it with her at that moment, but I would be gone when she wakes up. I also didn't want to leave money with a note: "For the morning after pill." That might not go well with her.
I had time, so I went to my room, grab some papers from the printer, and started writing. Half an hour later, I was finally satisfied with the paragraph, throwing eight previous versions into the garbage can. I put the note with a one hundred dollar bill on the kitchen table.
It was almost eight, so I dressed into my business suit: slim gray jeans, a black cashmere polo shirt, and sneakers. As I was finishing, a message from Tracy popped up on my phone. She was in front of the house. I put on my face mask and left the place just before eight. Sarah was still asleep.
***
Tracy Brooks was leaning on her Toyota RAV4, waiting for me. She was ten years older than me but still looked stunning. She dressed in a black pencil skirt, light grey blazer jacket, and V-shaped pink shirt. That perfectly underlined her beautiful chestnut skin and double-D cleavage. Tracy's haircut was a pixie cut with short hairs on one side and long swiped bangs on the other. The only downside was that ugly facemask.
We hugged, and I hopped on the co-driver seat. When Tracy sat in the driver's seat, we looked at each other.
"What about this," I said and pointed on the facemask.
"Oh, come on!" She replied, and we both put our masks down.
I hugged her again, this time kissing her on the cheek.
"How are children, Tracy?"
She smiled and started the engine. "Right now in perfect state -- in care of somebody else," she joked. "We have to do this more often."
I chuckled. "Our record is four trips a year, we can try to beat it, but I guess one or two more will not help."
"No, it will not. After all-day with kids -- I have to take them to the office too -- I'm regretting not re-marrying."
Her husband and father of her children died half a year before we met. She had a hard time keeping her husband's company alive when I came there for the first time.
I made some money and wanted to make even more money, so I devised a plan. I created a search algorithm that was looking for undervalued real-estates. My goal was to buy a house in bad shape, rebuild it and then sell it for a higher price. And I needed a reliable remodeling company to work with.
I had looked for small companies that have a good track record and found one. But then I came in person and found out that the company's founder died and the company is led by his inexperienced wife. So I planned to back off, but Tracy gave me an offer -- they will do the job, and I will pay if work is to my expectations. It was a gamble on both sides, but here we were eight years later. Driving together to hunt down another cheap ruin that we could remodel and resell.
Tracy was at my wedding. She organized my divorce-get-drunk party. She's part of my inner circle -- a group of people I worked with for a long time. So long that they know each other even tho they are from different professions.
"You definitely should re-marry," I told her.
"It's easy for 35 years old white millionaire to say," she argued. "It's a different story for 45 years old black mom of two children. And correct me if I'm wrong, but it's been over two years since your divorce. You are not the one to advise here."
"Yeah, I know," I mumbled.
Tracy took a turn, and she was on her way to the highway. I was feeling sleepy again.
"Have you had a good sleep today, Tee?" I said, using her nickname.
She glanced at me. "No sex, if you asking that."
"No, I don't. It's just that I haven't slept, and I'm tired and would like to do a shut-eye on the back seat but don't want to if you are not well-rested."
"Oh, sure, it's not a problem. We start with that small house that is four hours away, and then we work our way back. You can sleep."
She changed lanes to the right and finally stopped in the emergency lane. I quickly moved to the back seat.
"You are the best, Tracy!" I said and positioned my head in the corner so I could sleep.
"I sure am, Miss Daisy," replied Tracy and started moving again.
It was not long before I fell asleep.
***
I woke up when the car stopped. I checked the phone, and 2 hours passed. Since power napping was my thing, I felt really refreshed. Tracy's driving was smooth, so I slept well. I even had a pleasant dream that contained Sarah, Tracy, and my ex-wife Diana on a deserted island. Yeah, I know -- having dreams about your ex is sick, but there was no denying she had a perfect body.
When I repositioned myself to stretch a bit, I realized I even got morning wood in my pants. I quickly bowed a bit to cover it as Tracy turned to me.
"Will buy something to eat -- I didn't have breakfast," she said.
I looked around, and we were staying at the parking lot of a gas station.
"Just still water for me, please. Thank you."
She nodded and left the car. So I also left the car and started stretching. After few exercises, I stopped -- I didn't want to sweat. Also, Tracy was coming back.
"Oh, don't stop because of me," she said with a wicked smile on her face. "I do enjoy panting men."
She offered me a bottle, and I took it. "Thanks."
Tracy put her own bottle on the car bonnet and unpacked her turkey sandwich.
"Where are we?" I asked, opening my bottle.
