Once Upon a Daddy: A Romance Anthology

by Kelli Callahan

  Madeleine: Hey! I’m your ride. Are you coming?

  Lauren: I don’t know. What are we going to do tonight? The bouncer destroyed your fake ID. We won’t be able to get into another bar…

  Madeleine: That fucking asshole. Why don’t you just stay and have one drink? I’ll wait in the car.

  Lauren: Okay, sounds good.

  We were only planning to have one drink anyway. It was more like a rite of passage than anything else, and we really wanted to see if the fake IDs would work before we went downtown to one of the more upscale clubs. It wasn’t how I originally envisioned my first year of college going, but I had fallen in with a crowd that seemed intent on having plenty of regrets before they graduated. After a few months of frat parties, Madeleine wanted to take the show on the road and actually start hitting up some clubs. Her dream was shattered for the evening, but she would probably have a new fake ID before it was time to try again.

  Okay, one drink. I can do this.

  “Hey there, what’ll it be?” The bartender was a guy that didn’t look much older than the age on my license.

  “Um, I guess I’ll have a margarita?” I sat down at the bar and smiled.

  “Frozen or do you just want it on the rocks?” He tilted his head slightly.

  “Frozen works.” I nodded quickly.

  “Coming right up.” He turned and reached for a bottle of tequila.

  I looked around the bar a little more once I was seated. It was definitely a dive—no doubt about that. Most of the people were older and looked like alcohol had been a staple in their lives for quite some time. There was a game of pool going with a couple of guys that appeared to be in their mid-thirties chugging beer between shots. There was an older woman several seats down from me that looked like she was closer to passing out than finishing her drink. At the end of the bar was a man with silver hair and a beard that matched—he stood out from everyone else because he looked neatly groomed. His collared button-down shirt was pristine, but his tie was loose around his neck. It took me a moment to realize that I recognized him—and I had to double take to make sure I wasn’t just imagining it.

  Holy shit. That’s Jamison Thorn—Well, that’s his name on television. I don’t know what his real name is.

  “Here’s your margarita.” The bartender put a salt-rimmed glass in front of me that was practically overflowing.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and motioned to the guy at the end of the bar. “Hey—is that…”

  “Walker Delaney? Yeah, that’s him. He likes to slum it sometimes—most people don’t bother him in here because he’s from the neighborhood. They knew him before he was famous.”

  Walker Delaney. So that’s his real name…

  Walker Delaney was a soap opera legend—he had been on my television screen every single day since I was a kid. The soap he was on, Dangerous Thorns, came on right after school. Other kids got to go home and watch Nickelodeon, but I wasn’t allowed to change the channel until Dangerous Thorns was over—and that included the preview for the next episode. As I got older, I lost interest in the show, but I still sat down to watch it from time to time when I didn’t have homework I needed to get started on immediately. Mom would fill me in on the important stuff I missed—who was sleeping with who—and which younger actress they had decided to pair Jamison Thorn up with that week.

  They never missed an opportunity to have a young actress call him Daddy when her panties hit the floor.

  The thing I would have never admitted to my mother—was that she wasn’t the only person in our house that had a crush on Walker Delaney. There were a few times when he crept into one of my fantasies, and I imagined myself calling him Daddy—those fantasies were usually pretty intense too. Seeing him sitting at the end of the bar brought a few those fantasies to the front of my thoughts, and I couldn’t help but smile when I leaned forward and took a sip of my margarita—which was a lot stronger than I expected. My entire face puckered when I felt the tequila go down my throat. It was going to take a while to finish it off—which meant Madeleine was going to be waiting outside even longer than I expected.

  Lauren: You’ll never guess who is in here!

  Madeleine: Judging by the people I’ve seen leave since you went in, my guess would be a hobo or a prostitute that doesn’t get many customers anymore.

  Lauren: No, hold on… I’ll take a picture.

  I leaned forward to take a second sip of my margarita, which went down a lot easier than the first one and tried to position my phone so that what I was trying to do wasn’t too obvious. There was a part of me that wanted to turn into a total fangirl, but I remembered what the bartender said. If Walker Delaney was drinking somewhere that he wouldn’t be bothered, then I wanted to respect his privacy—despite wanting to do the complete opposite. I made sure my flash was off and snapped a quick picture, but the lighting was too dim to get a good shot. I flipped over to black and white mode, which would usually take a better picture in a darker environment. The second I hit the button on my phone and saw the flash, I realized my mistake—the flash always turned on when I switched to a different mode.

  Fuck!

  Walker Delaney certainly noticed the flash—as did most of the other people in the bar. He turned in my direction, and the look on his face was one I had seen many times—it was the look he normally gave someone on Dangerous Thorns right before he completely destroyed them. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I stuffed my phone in my purse and started to stand up so I could make a dash for the door, but then I realized that I hadn’t paid. I grabbed my wallet and fumbled with it until I had enough money to cover the cost of the drink plus a tip—a rather generous tip, but I didn’t have time to ask for change. I turned to leave—and noticed that Walker Delaney was no longer in his seat—he was standing right beside me.

  “Want an autograph? That way everyone will believe the picture is really me and not just some random dude in a bar?” He tilted his head slightly.

  “No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m so sorry. I—need to go.”

  “You didn’t even finish your drink.” He motioned to my margarita. “People take pictures of me all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay…” I sat back down on my stool—and Walker Delaney took the seat next to me.

  “Obviously you already know who I am. What’s your name?” He turned towards me and lifted his glass to his lips.

  “Lauren.” I swallowed a lump that tried to form in my throat.

  “I’ve known a few Laurens.” He narrowed his eyes. “They weren’t as pretty as you though.”

  Did—did Jamison Thorn just call me pretty? I mean—Walker Delaney.

  “Thank you, Mr. Delaney.” I tried to stifle the grin that formed on the edge of my lips.

  He knows how to be charming; I’ll give him that.

  “Walker, please.” He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Or Daddy—if you prefer.”

  Oh my fucking god…

  Madeleine got tired of waiting for the picture and sent me another text message, but I ignored it. I was one step from turning into a gushing fangirl and one step from falling in love on the spot. I was struggling to process thought—hell; I was struggling to remember how to breathe. I nervously sipped my margarita, which was getting better every time I lifted the straw to my lips, and just—stared. Walker was even hotter in real life than he was on television. I knew that the shirt he was wearing was hiding an incredible physique—one that most guys his age wouldn’t dream of having. He didn’t have muscles; he had mountains—mountains that were covered in gorgeous ink—or maybe the tattoos were just part of the show. It didn’t matter. He was still the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Lauren. What is a girl your age doing in a dive like this? You don’t really fit the clientele this place caters to.” He finished his drink and motioned for another one.

  “I—uh, go to school near here. I mean, not high school obviously—I’m in c
ollege.” My throat was tightening up, and the margarita wasn’t doing anything to help alleviate that problem.

  “You’re a little young to know who I am.” He reached for his drink as soon as the bartender refilled the glass. “Doesn’t your generation think soap operas are misogynistic garbage?”

  I’ve had that debate with a few of my friends—but it’s never really been my opinion.

  “Not all of us…” I leaned forward to sip my drink and saw my phone light up again.

  “Someone really wants you to answer your phone.” He picked it up. “Madelaine?”

  “She’s—waiting outside.” I looked up at him.

  Did he really just pick up my phone and try to read my text message?

  “Well we can tell her to go home, can’t we?” He took my hand and pressed my thumb to the sensor so that it would unlock.

  His touch is like a fire that teases my soul—but no, that’s absurd. He’s old enough to be my father.

  “What? Why?” I blinked in surprise.

  “I don’t want to go home alone tonight.” He quickly typed out a message and put my phone down. “So, I’m taking you with me.”

  Okay, scratch charming—he’s too brazen and bold for that.

  “Um…” I looked down at my phone and saw the message he sent Madelaine.

  Lauren: I’m going to stay for a while. You can go.

  I leaned forward to sip my margarita, which was getting really close to the bottom. Walker ordered me another one before I had a chance to protest. I was certainly feeling it—but I wasn’t sure if I was more intoxicated by the tequila or the mesmerizing eyes that were focused on me. He was so—demanding, just like the character he played on Dangerous Thorns. If there was a camera filming us, I would have thought I was literally sitting next to Jamison Thorn himself—and not just the actor that played him. Walker’s stare could make a pair of panties wet when he was on the screen—it’s much more vivid in real life. The alcohol was lowering my inhibitions quickly—and I had to remind myself that I was still a virgin. I couldn’t go home with him. I wouldn’t even know what to do.

  “Finish your drink, Lauren.” He motioned to the margarita that I hadn’t touched yet. “Then we can get out of here.”

  There is no way in hell that is going to happen.

  “Hold on…” I finally started to get control of my senses. “I think you have the wrong idea. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Let’s see what kind of girl you are after you finish that drink.” He motioned to my margarita again.

  Roughed up charm didn’t work, so now he’s going to go for the standard approaching—liquoring me up.

  “No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t give you the impression that I was interested in going home with you. I used to watch you on television all the time when I was growing up—I was just having a fangirl moment.”

  “Are you sure that all you did was watch?” He leaned a little closer. “Or did you think about me when the lights were off too?”

  Wow, he doesn’t hold back.

  “I should go.” I reached into my purse to get my wallet.

  The fangirl moment has definitely passed.

  “Hold on.” He put his hand on my arm and a tingle shot through my body. “I’ll take care of your drink—and I believe I promised you an autograph too.”

  Why does his touch do that to me?

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that.” I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and put it on the bar.

  “I insist.” He grabbed the twenty, took a pen out of his purse, and started to sign it.

  “At least I’ll know it’s worth something.” I shook my head in disbelief.

  They say you should never meet your heroes—he’s never really been my hero, but maybe the same thing can be said for people you fantasize about.

  “Here you go.” He put the twenty in my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Lauren. I hope you have a good night.”

  “Yeah—you too.” I tucked the twenty into my purse and started walking towards the door.

  The patriarch of the Thorn family that Walker represented on television didn’t seem to be much different than the man who stepped into the role every afternoon. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. He was hot-as-sin, and even though I didn’t normally like older men, he was just—different. Unfortunately, I realized that underneath that gorgeous physique and those mesmerizing eyes was a man who was no different than every other red-blooded male I came in contact with. The only thing he was interested in was what was between my legs—or maybe he would have settled for my lips if I did a good job. Either way, I might have fantasized about calling him Daddy when I was younger, but the way he acted turned that fantasy off real quick.

  I was tempted. I won’t deny that. I just have no interest in being some Hollywood actor’s random conquest on a Friday night. He probably won’t even remember my name tomorrow.

  Madeleine was already gone, so I used my phone to request an Uber. Thankfully, they were plentiful in Los Angeles so one rolled up to the curb fairly quickly. I usually tipped the drivers with the app on my phone when I was forced to use the service, but I thought about just giving him the twenty dollar bill Walker signed instead. If it wasn’t a waste of money I couldn’t afford to spend, I probably would have. I pulled out my wallet and found the twenty that Walker signed. I opened it up and stared at his signature—then I realized that his name wasn’t the only thing he wrote down—underneath it was his phone number. I shook my head in disbelief and put the twenty back in my wallet.

  Like I’m going to call him—what a freaking jerk.

  Two

  Walker

  Earlier that day

  “Walker, I’m sorry. The time has come.” Jacob Young, the lead writer for Dangerous Thorns, leaned back in his chair. “Jamison Thorn has to die.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I threw the script he had presented me with on the desk. “There’s no fucking reason for you to kill off my character—you’re just after a ratings grab.”

  “If we’re going to kill off Jamison Thorn, we’re going to do it during the sweeps rating period—that’s when all of the best storylines are delivered.” He nodded. “This has been coming for a while. Surely, you’ve seen the writing on the wall—Jamison has been making peace with all of the people he wronged over the years.”

  “I thought it was a fucking redemption story arc,” I growled under my breath. “That’s what you told me it was…”

  “We wanted to play this close to the chest. I’m sure you understand.” He leaned forward in his chair. “We’re going to give Jamison a great sendoff. He’ll die a hero, despite being a villain for most of his time on the show.”

  “You’re making an awful business decision. I told you I would renegotiate my contract. I know ratings are down—I know you need to cut my salary a little bit.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m the cornerstone of Dangerous Thorns. I’ve had top billing for twenty god damned years!”

  “I know I speak on behalf of everyone involved with the show when I tell you that your contribution is not being forgotten—or ignored. It’s just time for the next generation to step up and carry the torch.” He sighed. “This isn’t easy for me…”

  “Then at least tell me why. You owe me that much.” I leaned forward and stared him down. “You didn’t even blink when I said I’d be willing to negotiate for less money—so that’s not what it’s about.”

  “You’re right.” He nodded. “It’s not about money. It’s just that—Jamison Thorn always had a certain degree of sex appeal. Women loved him, despite the fact that he was normally the bad guy. That appeal has started to wane.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.” I scoffed and shook my head. “I was on the cover of Oh Daddy! magazine two years ago—last year, they named me the Sexiest Silver Fox on Television.”

  “Yes, but—the people who read those magazines aren’t our target demographic.” He looked down a
nd sighed. “We need to attract a younger audience. You’re a lonely housewife’s dirty fantasy—we need to focus on the actors that will bring in the young crowd. Honestly, people kind of thought it was creepy when Jamison hooked up with Bianca a few months ago—they said she was too young to get involved with a guy your age. They wanted her to end up with Dean instead.”

  “That’s the whole fucking point of my character!” I leaned forward a little more. “I get the girls—I fuck them—then I fuck with everyone’s head.”

  “We have to focus on events that are a little happier. We can’t keep writing storylines about girls with Daddy issues and leading ladies that fall into Jamison Thorn’s trap. We’re dealing with feminism—a new culture in Hollywood. Your name was brought up during the Me Too movement.”

  “What the fuck, Jacob? I never laid a hand on a girl unless she wanted me to…” I shook my head back and forth.

  “Not you, but—Jamison is a different story. That kind of stuff makes people uncomfortable now.” He shrugged. “This decision has already been made. Bianca will be the last girl you lure into your bed—and Dean is going to kill you for it.”

  That sounds a little morbid, considering that Dean’s real name is the same as the character he plays…

  “Patricide—that’s your answer?” I exhaled sharply. “That’ll ruin Dean’s character. Bianca is already having mixed feelings—she’s leaning towards Jamison because she can’t get the night they shared out of her head.”

  “Which is why Dean’s character will change. After you’re gone, he’ll fill that void Jamison’s death leaves behind.” Jacob nodded. “He’ll be our new villain.”