Max's Sugar Daddy

Words: 3k+

AN: Thank you all for the Powerstones. Held the top 3 ranking. Let's go again this week. More fun coming up this week.🫡

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Max lay sprawled on her tiny bed, one leg hanging off the edge, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer her life advice. Her thumb hovered over the phone screen, Alex Wilson's name staring back at her. She muttered to herself, "You've fought rats for leftover cheesecake, Max. You can handle this."

With a deep breath and a generous helping of reckless abandon, she tapped the call button. It rang, and with every ring, her courage waned. On the third ring, the call connected.

"Max?" His voice came through, smooth and warm, with just a hint of surprise.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She made a weird noise that sounded suspiciously like a dying seagull. Clearing her throat, she finally managed, "Uh... hey, Moneybags. Did I wake you up? Or are you too rich to sleep like a normal person?"

A soft chuckle. "I do occasionally sleep, but not right now. It's four in the afternoon here."

Max blinked. "Four in the afternoon? Are you in Narnia? Where the hell are you?"

"Tokyo."

"Tokyo? What are you doing over there? Buying the whole city? Or maybe you're building a secret lair under Mount Fuji?" She grinned, settling into the conversation now that the initial awkwardness had passed.

Alex's voice remained smooth, a hint of amusement playing in his tone. "Not quite. I'm here for my next movie. Scouting locations, finalizing contracts, you know, director stuff."

"Wow, look at you. Big-shot director in Tokyo. Do they know you're just a charming con man with a penchant for saving broke girls?"

"If you're the broke girl in question, I consider it a good investment," he quipped back.

Max rolled onto her side, a smirk curling her lips. "So, what's the movie? Something artsy and deep, or are you finally making 'Lucy's Cherry: Still Young, Still Tight'?"

"Not quite," he said, the sound of ice clinking in a glass coming through the line. "I'm directing a film set in Tokyo, kind of a love letter to the city. It's called Lost in Translation. Tom Hanks and Scarlett Johansson are in it."

Max's jaw dropped. "You're working with Tom Hanks? I didn't even know he was real. I thought he was just America's imaginary best friend."

'What the fuck am I even saying?' She wondered, but with a smile.

"He's very real. And a genuinely nice guy, unlike someone who keeps calling me Moneybags."

"Hey, you earned that nickname when you bought me a whole bakery without even blinking. Do you know what I had for dinner before that? Ramen. The fifteen-cent kind that comes with a flavor packet labeled 'Salt and Regret.'"

"Well, now you can afford the kind that has actual vegetables in it," he teased.

Max snorted. "Please. Vegetables are just a myth made up by health nuts. Anyway, how's Tokyo? Are you eating sushi off a model's stomach or doing something equally billionaire-y?" 

Alex chuckled. "Are you offering, Max? Because I can clear my schedule for that kind of dining experience."

Max bit back a laugh. "Oh, please. You couldn't handle me as a sushi platter. You'd get too distracted. One California roll on the belly button, and you'd be a goner."

"That's a bold assumption," he teased. "I've got excellent focus. I could probably balance a whole sashimi boat on you and still keep my cool."

Max rolled onto her back, holding the phone above her. "You talk a big game, Moneybags. But let me tell you, I am a lot to handle. Not just anybody can appreciate this fine dining experience."

"Oh, I have no doubt. You're like the world's spiciest tuna roll—delicious but probably dangerous."

"Probably?" She smirked. "Baby, I'm definitely dangerous. The kind of girl who orders extra wasabi just to watch people sweat."

"Noted. I'll make sure to have some milk on standby if we ever share a meal."

Max twirled a strand of her hair, staring at the ceiling with a lazy grin. "Milk, huh? Are you afraid of a little heat, Moneybags?"

"Not at all," Alex's voice was smooth. "I just like to be prepared. You seem like the kind of girl who'd dare me to eat the spiciest thing on the menu, and I'm not about to back down."

Max snorted. "Please, I'd make you sign a waiver first. I once ate wings so hot the waiter had to sign a non-disclosure agreement just to bring them to the table."

"I'm not surprised. You probably eat ghost peppers for breakfast and wash them down with sarcasm."

"That's pretty close. I add a side of poor life choices, and boom, balanced diet."

"Well, as long as those choices involve bakeries and billionaires, I'd say you're doing just fine."

Max bit her lip, a warm flutter spreading through her chest. "You really think this bakery thing is gonna work out?"

"I don't invest in things I don't believe in," he said, his tone softening. "And I believe in you, Max. You've got talent and guts, even if your business plan is scribbled on the back of a napkin."

"Hey! I'll have you know it was a very clean napkin. Only one ketchup stain."

Alex laughed, and the sound made her toes curl. "Well, when I get back, I expect to see this place up and running. I want to walk in, demand a cupcake, and watch you roll your eyes at me like a real CEO."

Max grinned. "Oh, I'll do more than that. I'll name a cupcake after you. Something rich and delicious but with a hint of bitterness—like a dark chocolate espresso."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Depends. Are you gonna order one?"

"I might. If it comes with a side of you serving it to me in a cute apron."

Max leaned back against her headboard, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I'll wear an apron. But only an apron. You know, for that real authentic bakery experience... in somewhere private."

Alex chuckled. "Careful, Max. I might take you up on that. You offering a full-service bakery now?"

She snorted. "Absolutely. I'll even frost my natural cupcakes just for you. You like vanilla or chocolate? Wait! Maybe one one each?"

There was a beat of silence, and then his laughter came through, warm and genuine. "I gotta say, that's a tempting offer. Though I'm more of a salted caramel kind of guy—sweet with a bit of a bite."

Max rolled her eyes. "Oh, look at you, all fancy with your bougie flavor preferences. I bet you're the kind of guy who orders artisanal coffee and insists it be brewed at a specific temperature."

"Only if the temperature is just right for a snarky brunette to serve it to me. Preferably while throwing in a few insults to keep me humble."

Max smirked, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, I'm pretty good at serving up sass with a side of sarcasm. You might have to leave a big tip, though. I charge extra for charm."

"I think I can manage that. Though, knowing you, you'd probably find a way to turn that tip into a joke about my... finances."

She let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh no, Moneybags, I'd never make fun of your... assets. Unless, of course, you start throwing dollar bills at me. Then I'm legally obligated to start a dance routine."

Alex's voice dropped to a playful tone. "Well, if you're taking requests, I'd like to see the sprinkler. Maybe the shopping cart."

Max laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone. "Wow. You want all my signature moves in one performance? You're gonna have to shell out big for that. I don't break out the shopping cart for just anyone."

"Consider it an investment. I always bet on talent."

She softened at that, his words settling in a way that made her stomach do a weird, fluttery thing. "You know, you keep saying that. I might start to believe you actually mean it."

"I do, Max. I wouldn't have invested in you if I didn't."

Max swallowed, her voice dropping a bit. "Well, just so you know, I'm not used to this whole 'people believing in me' thing. Usually, they just believe I'll probably spill something or set something on fire."

"I believe that, too. I'm just hoping you only set the world on fire in a good way."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft. "Ugh, you just had to go and be sweet. Now I'm gonna have to call you something other than Moneybags. Like... Sweetbags? No, that sounds terrible. Maybe Sir Compliments-a-Lot?"

Alex chuckled. "I'm okay with Moneybags. It sounds better than Mr. Frost-Your-Cupcakes."

Max cackled. "Alright, you win. But if I catch you hanging around my bakery with frosting and a glint in your eye, I'm calling the cops."

"I'll be on my best behavior," he said, his voice warm. "Unless, of course, you're asking me not to be."

Max's grin widened. "Oh, behave yourself, Moneybags. Tokyo might be a whole time zone away, but I can still kick your ass with words."

"I have no doubt about that."

Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable but full of possibilities. Max found herself tracing circles on her blanket, her mind wandering to what it would be like when he came back.

"So," she spoke, the word hanging in the air. "When are you coming back to New York? Not that I care. I mean, I do care, but not in a 'staring-out-the-window, tragically-waiting' kind of way. More like... a 'just wondering if I should shave my legs' kind of way."

Alex's chuckle came through, soft and warm. "Well, for the record, I miss you too. And, funny enough, I actually dreamt about you last night."

Max's eyes widened. "Oh? Was I kicking your ass or just being generally amazing?"

"A little of both," he said smoothly. "You were yelling at me about not mixing cupcake batter properly, and then somehow it turned into a karaoke battle. You won, obviously."

Max snorted. "As I should. I bring serious heat to 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' You have to commit to all the voices, otherwise, what's the point?"

"Exactly. You were doing all the parts—the high notes, the guitar solo, even the opera bit. It was... impressive. Terrifying, but impressive."

She grinned. "That's my brand. Impressive and terrifying. I should put that on my business cards."

"I could make that happen. You know, in case you want to start a side hustle as a motivational speaker for kids who enjoy sarcasm and light chaos."

Max rolled onto her back, staring at the peeling ceiling paint. "Hey, I motivate. Just today, I motivated Caroline to stop alphabetizing our pantry and come out for a drink. And by motivate, I mean I threatened to start throwing cans of beans at her."

Alex's laughter was infectious. "I'd pay to see that. Actually, I'd pay to see you, period. How about it? You feel like taking a quick trip to Tokyo?"

Max sat up so fast she nearly launched herself off the bed. "Wait, what? Like, actually? You want me to come to Tokyo?"

"Why not? I've got a plane heading back this way tomorrow. It's a quick turnaround... two to three days, tops. You can bring Caroline, too. Consider it a mini vacation before the bakery madness begins."

Her brain short-circuited for a second. "A private plane? Are you kidding? Do they have those little fancy soaps in the bathroom and, like, endless snacks?"

"Endless snacks, fully reclining seats, and I might even let you pick the in-flight movie. Though I should warn you, I draw the line at watching 'Sharknado' sequels."

Max's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Oh my God. I could be on a plane to Tokyo tomorrow. Me. In Tokyo. With sushi that isn't served in a plastic tray from a gas station. I need a minute."

Alex waited patiently while Max did a silent, wiggly dance on her bed, all while trying not to scream. Finally, she regained some semblance of composure. "Okay. I'm in. I mean, I gotta ask Caroline... Give me a sec..."

She jumped down from the bed and dashed out of the room.

...

Max burst into Caroline's "room"—a glorified corner sectioned off by a floral shower curtain. Caroline lay sprawled on her fold-out bed, an eye mask askew and a half-eaten granola bar stuck to her cheek.

"Wake up, Blondie!" Max hissed, shaking Caroline's shoulder. "Emergency!"

Caroline bolted upright, the eye mask flying off. "Oh my God! Is it the rats again? Did Chestnut get into the trash? Are we on fire?!"

Max slapped her phone onto the bed, putting it on loudspeaker. "Nope! Better! Alex just invited us to Tokyo. Like, right now. Well, tomorrow, technically, but still—Tokyo!"

A smooth, amused voice came through the phone. "Should I call back later, or is this a good time?"

Caroline's eyes widened as she recognized the voice. "Wait... Alex?"

"The one and only," Alex replied, his tone warm. "And yes, the offer's real. My plane leaves tomorrow. You in?"

Caroline's brain visibly buffered. "Tokyo? As in the actual Japan? With sushi, cherry blossoms, and... oh my God, do they have those cafes where you pet owls?"

Max grinned, nudging Caroline. "See? I told you it was real. We could be eating sushi that doesn't come from a gas station."

Caroline blinked, still trying to process. "But we can't just drop everything and go! We've got the flyers coming in tomorrow and the promotions... We need to build hype so intense, even hipsters will show up ironically!"

Max's shoulders slumped. "Right. The flyers. They're supposed to be delivered tomorrow. Ugh, I forgot."

Caroline sat up, her hair a tangled mess of curls and confusion. "And who's gonna hand them out if we're halfway around the world? You know I don't trust Sophie with this. She'd add glitter and tell everyone we're a 'Cupcake Cult'."

Max sighed dramatically. "And if we're not here, who's going to promote the grand opening? We need lines so long people think we're giving out free money or at least free Wi-Fi."

"I can handle that," Alex's voice cut in, still on speaker. "I'll hire a street team to distribute the flyers. They'll plaster every corner of New York with them. You'll be trending by lunch."

Caroline's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "You can... do that? Just like that?"

Alex chuckled. "Yes, Caroline. I know people who know people. I'll make sure your bakery has more buzz than a beehive on espresso."

Max shot Caroline a look. "See? No problem. Our sugar daddy got all covered. We can go to Tokyo, eat real sushi, and not stress about the bakery. We just gotta say yes."

Caroline hesitated. "But it feels wrong. We can't just let you fix everything for us. It's our business. We need to earn it."

"Trust me," Alex said, his tone softening. "This isn't about taking over. It's just a little support. Besides, you've already done the hard part. You believed in it enough to get this far. Let me handle the flyers. You two deserve a break because once the business starts you won't get time to breathe."

Max bit her lip, her resolve weakening. "Caroline... He's right. We've been busting our butts. Maybe it's okay to accept help when it's offered."

Caroline sighed, glancing between Max and the phone. "I don't know... It just feels too easy. Like when a deal sounds too good to be true, and then you find out it's a timeshare in New Jersey."

"Look," Alex said, "I'll hire a professional PR team. They'll make sure your grand opening is the event of the year. All you have to do is enjoy Tokyo and come back ready to bake your hearts out."

Max's eyes lit up. "See? This is why I like him. He speaks my language: free stuff and stress-free plans."

Caroline let out a small laugh. "Okay, fine. But only if you promise this isn't a charity thing. We want to earn our success."

"Agreed," Alex replied. "No charity. Just a smart investment. And if it makes you feel better, I'll even buy a dozen cupcakes on opening day at full price."

Max snorted. "Oh, big spender! What's next? Tipping us with real cash instead of those chocolate coins from Hanukkah?"

Alex laughed. "I'll see what I can do. So, should I send a car to pick you up tomorrow?"

Caroline's eyes widened. "A car? Like, a real one? Not just an Uber with good air freshener? Oops. Sorry. It's been a while since I rode a good car..."

"Of course," Alex said smoothly. "It'll have snacks, drinks, and Wi-Fi. You'll be at the airport in style."

Max threw her hands up. "We're in! Pack your bags, Blondie! We're going to Tokyo!"

Caroline still looked hesitant. "But what if something goes wrong? What if the flyers have a typo and we end up advertising 'Crapcakes' instead of 'Cupcakes'?"

Alex's voice turned serious. "Caroline, I promise. I'll make sure everything goes smoothly. Your bakery will open with a bang. I'll even have someone double-check the spelling. Trust me."

Max reached out, grabbing Caroline's hand. "C'mon. When was the last time we did something fun? Something just for us? Here's our chance."

Caroline looked at their joined hands, then at the phone. "Okay. Let's do it."

Max whooped, nearly bouncing off the bed. "Yes! Tokyo, baby!"

Alex's voice, still clear through the speaker, held a smile. "Great. I'll handle everything on this end. You two just get some rest and pack. It's a long flight, but I promise it'll be worth it."

...

The two girls forgot their sleep and...

Max sat cross-legged on her bed, tossing random clothes into an old duffel bag while Caroline neatly folded hers into a pristine suitcase. The contrast was like watching a raccoon pack for a vacation next to a Marie Kondo disciple.

Max held up a T-shirt with a suspicious stain. "Do you think this is ketchup or blood? Either way, it's probably fine, right?"

Caroline groaned. "Max, for the love of God, please pack like a human being. We're going to Tokyo, not a zombie apocalypse."

Max smirked, tossing the shirt in. "What's the difference? Either way, I'm gonna eat my way through it and make questionable decisions."

"I can't believe we're going to Tokyo," Caroline muttered, staring at her suitcase like it might bite her. "I don't even own luggage. What if I show up at the airport with a trash bag full of clothes? They'll think I'm a runaway."

Max tossed a crumpled t-shirt into her own duffel bag. "Relax. We'll be fine. We just need to pack the essentials. Underwear, toothpaste, and a passport. Everything else is just window dressing."

Caroline squinted at her. "A passport? Do you even know where yours is?"

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[7 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] 

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