Big Daddy

by Daisy Jane

It’s crowded and gross and honestly, most of the time it smells like an old Cup o Noodles fucked a Hot Pocket and gave birth to our apartment.

At this point in his life, his hobbies are probably wearing an ascot by a fireplace while reading a newspaper or some shit.

Who the fuck am I? Anatasia Steele? Jesus Christ.

Big Daddy is a jerk. But he isn’t a jerk to me.

She sits back. “You can’t kiss me at work, Big Daddy.” “You can’t call me Big Daddy at work.” She sighs. “Fine, Large Father.”

“Quincey!” I shout. “That’s even an old dude’s name,” Luke mutters to Dante, causing Quincey to spin and face them, eyes narrowed. “Get out.”