Catch-22 (Single Dad Romance)

by Brenda Ford

  “Whoa there, slow down,” Elias said and ruffled her hair. “You know I'm a one woman kinda guy.”

  My heart started to race at the mere mention of a date. “Oh no, Harley,” I said, jumping in. “I couldn't date your dad, it's – ”

  “Why? You don't like him?” she asked.

  I stared at Elias who stared back at me, both of us speechless – neither one of us quite sure how to answer her question.

  “No, I like your dad just fine, it's just – I don't date my student's parents,” I said. “It might give the wrong impression and that wouldn't be look good, would it?”

  “I think it would be fun,” she said, still smiling.

  “Yeah, well, you don't get to decide who your daddy dates, little girl,” Elias said, scratching his face and shaking his head. “Which is a good thing because if not Ms. Cleary, I might be dating the fairy princess down at the mall.”

  I couldn't help but laugh. But when Harley turned to me with a serious expression on her face, I did my best to hide my smile – which, of course, only served to betray my nervousness. A moment later, she turned back to her father with the same serious expression.

  “Why?” she asked. “Don't you like Ms. Cleary?”

  This was getting worse and worse. I threw my hands up in defeat, figuring it might be easier for Elias to answer her questions himself.

  “No, it's not like that – ” Elias said. “She's just – not my type, that's all.”

  For some reason, his answer hit me like a pile of bricks. I stared, mouth open, wanting to argue with him.

  Excuse me, Elias, I wanted to say. Not your type? Well, you're not my type either, mister!

  It was petty, of course, but it still hurt my feelings. But I didn't say a word. I just stared at him, feeling like he'd rejected me – even though I hadn't even asked him out.

  “Why don't you sit down and color, let me talk to Ms. Cleary, sweetheart?” Elias said, looking at me to provide the paper and crayons to keep her busy.

  “It's okay, Harley. You can get the crayons out and color at your desk,” I said.

  Harley walked over to where I kept the art supplies and picked up a box of crayons. Elias and I sat down at my desk, and he leaned in close to me.

  “That man earlier,” he whispered, almost too quietly for me to hear, “You haven't seen him anywhere else, have you?”

  I was taken aback by the question and wasn't sure how to answer that at first. It seemed like such a random question and not at all what I was expecting.

  “No,” I said. “Why would I have?”

  Elias shrugged. “I was just curious.”

  “No, why would you even think to ask such a question, Elias?” I narrowed my eyes and focused me gaze on him, sensing that something was wrong.

  Something was very wrong. I just felt it.

  “Am I in danger, here, Elias?”

  “Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “Listen, I'm just looking out for you since you seemed concerned, that's all.”

  He leaned back in the chair and looked a little more relaxed, but I couldn't tell if that was an act. I got the feeling he was simply trying to allay my fears. And that something much bigger and scarier was going on. But without any evidence of that, I couldn't just accuse him of lying or trying to placate me.

  The mood between us though, grew decidedly frosty. He was busy playing it cool and I was – admittedly – a little on edge and defensive.

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “But I don't need anyone looking out for me. I'm fine.”

  “Okay then,” Elias said. “If you do happen to see that creeper around though – ”

  “I won't,” I said. “Not unless I plan on hanging out at your shop again – which I likely won't.”

  “Fine. Then I guess I'm done here,” he said, standing up to leave. “Come on, Harley. We're going home.”

  Harley walked over to me and handed me her drawing, smiling wide. “It's the three of us. On a date,” she said with a laugh.

  Elias shook his head, but didn't say anything else. I watched him take Harley's hand and then the two of them walked out of the room, leaving me to wonder what in the hell had just happened and how things had gone sideways so quickly.

  7

  Elias

  I knew I was being paranoid. I shouldn't have even mentioned anything to Paige. I'd probably scared her and hadn't intended to do anything of the kind. I was actually a little bit worried about her. But as usual, I did a pretty shitty job of conveying that.

  Jay's threats earlier had left me a little bit rattled, if I were being honest. And then Paige mentioning the biker outside my shop watching her had me concerned. But I hadn't found anything, and assumed it was probably just some random creep checking out a hot woman – and not anyone related to the MC.

  That is exactly why I left the club to begin with though, and why I didn't appreciate being dragged back into their business. Because when you did business with the MC, you always had to watch your back – as well as the backs of anyone associated with you.

  And I was done with that shit. I was done worrying if my daughter was going to grow up without her father. I was also done worrying about the safety of people who dared get close to me.

  Not that Paige and I were close – which was why she was probably safe.

  “Why isn't Ms. Cleary your type?” Harley asked as soon as we were in the car. “You both like art. And she's pretty.”

  “Yeah, well, honey – we like different kinds of art,” I said. “She's a teacher and I'm a tattoo artist – two completely different things. And besides, I'm not really looking to date anyone right now anyway.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “Is mommy coming back home?”

  I cringed at my daughter's question. I honestly didn't know whether Amy would ever be a part of Harley's life or not. I did know, without a doubt, that Amy and I would never be a couple again. That ship had sailed and then burned. And I was better for it. Unlike her, I was clean and had absolutely zero desire to ever be around that lifestyle again.

  In my opinion, two ex-junkies should never be together. Not only would they possibly feed each other's addictions and cravings, the temptation to step back into that lifestyle would always be too great.

  And I had to look out for Harley. That was all that mattered to me.

  “I'm sure you're mommy will be back to visit you soon,” I said. “Once she gets better.”

  Harley remained quiet and the shadow of sadness crossed her face. I knew she missed Amy dearly, and it killed me that my little girl was growing up without a mother figure.

  “I really like Ms. Cleary though,” Harley said. “If you do date anyone, I hope you date her. She's really nice.”

  As cute as it was, my daughter playing matchmaker was just too much for me. I smiled at her, but did my best to drop the conversation. Or at least divert her in another direction.

  Truth be told, I liked Paige. I liked her a lot. She was a beautiful woman – even if she was a little too goody two shoes for my liking. If my situation was different, hell, I'd probably take her out on a date or two.

  I didn't see us going anywhere though, mainly because women like Paige typically didn't end up with guys like me. Not for long anyway. Guys like me were a distraction. A fun little diversion that made them feel like they were living on the edge.

  They ended up with nice, clean-cut businessman or bankers or someone with lots of money. They lived in two story houses with picket fences and two and a half kids. And the truth of the matter was that even if I tried to clean up my act, I was never going to be that guy. I wasn't cut out for that life. I was doing the best I could, and even though at times I wasn't sure if that was good enough, I also knew that it had to be.

  For Harley's sake. Because no matter what, my little girl would always come first.

  Always.

  ooo000ooo

  “Got any homework?” I asked as soon as we stepped inside our apartment.

  Harley g
roaned, which meant that yes, she did. She looked up at me, preparing to plead her case or try to cut a deal, but I just shook my head and smiled.

  “Homework first,” I said. “Get it out of the way, then you can watch some TV.”

  “Fine,” she sighed ever so melodramatically as she plopped herself down in a seat at the kitchen table.

  My phone rang so I stepped into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  It was Amy's mom. Reluctantly, I answered.

  “Oh look who finally decided to pick up the phone,” she said sarcastically.

  “Sorry, I've been busy,” I said, my tone dripping with contempt. “Being a single dad isn't easy, you know.”

  “I'd been hoping that you'd call to check in,” she snapped back. “Don't you even care to know how Amy's doing?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, sitting down on the edge my bed. “How is she?”

  “Her counsellors say she's doing well, that she's recovering at a nice, steady pace and should be able to be released into our care soon,” she said. “Which is why we need to talk.”

  “About?”

  “About Harley,” Mrs. Archer said. “Don't you think she'd be better off being close to her mom?”

  I clenched my jaw. I should have known it was going to come to this. “Do I think she'd be better off staying with her junkie mom? No, I don't actually. I'm kind of funny like that.”

  “She wouldn't be staying with Amy directly,” she said. “She'd be with us. Her grandparents.”

  “Oh, you mean that man who molested Amy and the woman who let it happen?” I snapped. I shouldn't have snapped, but I couldn't help myself. “Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather my daughter not be anywhere near as fucked up as her mom. She's fine with me.”

  I hung up the phone. There was no reason to even speak to those people. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, I wanted updates about Amy, but I really, truly, hated them with every fibre of my being. And to think they wanted to take my daughter away from me? Over my dead body.

  8

  Paige

  Elias' concern seemed rather random, but at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason for it. Did he come by my classroom because of some random creep outside his shop? Did he know something I didn't? Was I actually in danger and he just wasn't telling me?

  As I walked to my car after school, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked around, but didn't see anyone out of the ordinary. I certainly didn't see any hulking men in leather staring daggers through me – thankfully. All the same, I hurried to my car and locked the doors the second I got in.

  Silly girl, I told myself. You can't let Elias' paranoia seep into your brain. You'll drive yourself crazy. Who'd be following you anyway? You're an art teacher – not some master criminal or something.

  I was an absolute nobody. That's who I was. I was just a school teacher, nothing more and nothing less. I lived a boring life, had very few ex-boyfriends, and truthfully, all of them pretty boring and nerdy. Hell, I was pretty boring and nerdy, for that matter. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all to worry about.

  I drove home and parked outside my apartment complex. I lived in a quiet neighbour-hood, for the most part. No, it wasn't the wealthier part of town – the area the school I worked at sat in. But I felt safe enough. I knew most of my neighbours – most of whom were other working class people, like myself. There were a few troublemakers in my apartment complex – at least one couple I suspected of doing drugs – but there was nothing all that serious. There certainly wasn't anything I suspected I should be worried about.

  Still, even knowing that, I felt uneasy walking from my car into my apartment. When I unlocked my apartment door, I slipped inside and locked it right behind me.

  Why was I letting this get to me?

  I laughed at myself as I dropped my purse on the kitchen table. I was being silly, that was all. No one was following me. No one was watching me. The creep outside of Elias' studio had just rattled me pretty good. But I told myself – more than once – that there was nothing for me to be all that concerned with.

  My phone buzzed, making my heart race as I just about jumped out of my skin. “Jesus Christ,” I said, then once I realized what it was, I laughed even harder.

  Picking it up, I saw that it was my mom calling. I rolled my eyes and considered not answering, weighing out all of the pros and cons. I was tired after working all day and didn't really feel like conversing with anybody – but she was my mom.

  “Hey mom,” I said, walking through my house. “What's up?”

  “How's work today, sweetie?” she asked.

  We talked for a while, about nothing in particular. It was more of just a check in with one another and gossip session. Typical fare for most of our phone calls. But I had to admit that it was good to hear her voice. It made me feel a bit reassured – and that everything I'd been fearing all day wasn't all that scary after all.

  “Your cousin is getting married in May and we've been invited to the wedding,” she told me. “It's in Florida though.”

  “I'm going to have to pass,” I said.

  “School should be out by then,” my mom said. It's not until late May.”

  “Yeah, it's not that.”

  I hated to admit to my mother that even though I had a nice, stable career, I still couldn't afford to travel to Florida on a whim like that. Unfortunately, there was no money in the budget for a trip to Florida. Not now. Probably not anytime soon. Not while I was still drawing a teacher's salary, at least.

  “Are you going?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” she said. “Your father says we can't afford it.”

  My dad was always the practical one in the family – my mom was the dreamer. I'd somehow gotten a mixture of both. It was why I'd studied art – even though I knew an art degree would lead me nowhere except teaching. Which incidentally, was why I'd also gotten a teaching degree – thus illustrating my mom's sense of whimsy mixed with my dad's more pragmatic side.

  “I'm sorry,” I said to her. “Maybe we can go in on a gift for them, get them something nice.”

  “Yeah, they'd like that,” she said.

  I was now in my bedroom, kicking off my shoes, when I noticed that my dad's old pocket watch sitting out on my dresser. I walked over, picked it up and turned it over in my hand, examining it closely. My mom was talking about gifts we could get the happy couple, but I was too busy trying to figure out how his pocket watch had gotten out of my jewellery box and out onto my dresser.

  And when I reached for the jewellery box to put it away, I froze. My pulse quickened and adrenaline began to pour through my body when I noticed things had been moved around inside of it.

  “Honey? You there?” my mom said.

  “Uhh yes, sorry,” I said, closing the jewellery box. “Sorry, Chester made a mess in my room while I was at work.”

  “How is the old guy?” mom asked.

  I scanned the room, looking for my large, cantankerous, fourteen year old cat – but he was nowhere to be found. My heart raced. If someone had entered my house and searched my things while I was away, what if they'd let my cat out? What if they'd done something worse to him? Something horrible?

  Yes, my first thought went to my beloved feline – not my stuff. Stuff could be replaced, but Chester was my baby. There was only one of him.

  “Umm, I have to go, mom,” I said. “Love you.”

  Hanging up the phone quickly, before she could speak again and I carried it with me as I searched my house. Nothing else seemed out of place, as far as I could tell. But there was no sign of Chester.

  “Here kitty kitty,” I called out. “Where are you, Chester, buddy?”

  I ran into the kitchen and pulled out a can of wet food, praying that my fat boy would run in at the sound of the can opener. And like magic, as soon as I opened the can of foot, a big gray furball came running into the kitchen – after squeezing himself out from where he'd been hidin
g behind the bookcase. He rubbed against my ankles, happy to see me.

  Picking him up, I scratched his chin and mumbled, “Why were you hiding, Chester? You never hide.”

  Unless he was afraid. And Chester was only ever afraid when strangers came into our home. He always hid when I had friends over.

  The pocket watch. My scared cat.

  Knots formed in my stomach as I was hit with the reality of the situation. Someone had been in my apartment at some point that day. But who? And more importantly, why?

  As I held my cat close to me, I couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the man at the tattoo parlour earlier that day. Or that it had to do with Elias.

  ooo000ooo

  “Elias? It's me, Paige.”

  I stared down at the pocket watch on my dresser. I suddenly felt incredibly silly for making that call in the first place. It's possible that I could have been paranoid and overreacting. After all, it could have been Chester, messing with things on my dresser. He sometimes did that. It wouldn't be the first time I'd found something out of place because of my furry little klepto.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Uhh I'm not sure.”

  My voice was shaky and my knees were weak, so I sat down on my bed and tried to gather myself. I didn't want to come off sounding like a complete moron – although, it may have already been too late for that.

  “Earlier, when you were asking me all those questions – about whether or not I'd ever seen that guy outside your studio before – was there a reason? Is there a reason I should be worried? I need you to be straight with me here, Elias.”

  “I told you – ”

  Before he could make another excuse, I blurted out. “There was someone in my apartment while I was at work today, Elias.”

  He was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you sure?”