Page 183 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

driving the second in,

two striped corpses in a row.

I rise. “This first one’ll piss you off.”

He waves me on. “C’mon, out with it.”

“No touching me in front of the Boys.”

He barks a laugh, head thrown back. “Nah. Try again.” He knocks the table. “Somethin’ less stupid.”

I don’t budge.

The laugh dies in his throat.

Then he’s looking at me, humor stripped, eyes deadpan. “What’d you expect? Me to be happy about that?”

If Andrew touches me in front of them,

they’ll think I’m whipped.

That I’m soft, weak.

I’ll go from master of the penthouse to pet in two seconds flat. One kiss, and they’ll think they can walk all over me.

Control? Gone.

Respect? Gone.

My whole system will be fucked.

He’ll never understand it. He can’t.

“Either veto or type it into the contract.”

He exhales, eyes narrowed.

“And the other?”

“Baby is staying,” I say, grinding chalk into the tip of my cue. Powder dusts my fingers blue, and I blow it off. “During all sexual interactions, you call me Baby. And only Baby.”

He doesn’t push back.

He returns to the laptop,

typing it into the contract,

each keystroke a surrender.

// CLAUSES NINE, TEN, ELEVEN, TWELVE //

After I miss my next shot, Andrew slides in and sinks two back-to-back.

Now we’re tied, and I close my eyes.

“What’s the clause?” I ask,

opening my eyes again.