Catch-22 (Single Dad Romance)

by Brenda Ford

  “No,” I said before he even finished his sentence. “I can't have anything to do with someone like that. I'm on the verge of a custody dispute with my Amy's parents about my daughter. If I'm even suspected of handling drugs, let alone arrested for it, I'm going to lose, man. And if I lose, my daughter will be taken away from me. I can't have that. I won't.”

  Mav looked at me and I knew him well enough to know that he was simmering with anger. He'd always done a good job of stuffing it down and not melting down on people, but below the surface, he was a raging inferno. Mav's anger was a quiet anger – which, in my mind, made it all the more volatile and dangerous.

  “What if I told you that your daughter will be taken away if you don't help us?” he asked.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  My mouth went dry and my blood pressure went through the roof. I wanted to reach out and choke the fucking life out of him for dropping a veiled threat like that on me. But I managed to rein myself in – just barely.

  Mav shrugged. “It's not a threat, man. But let's just say – Amy's parents might have a stake in all this too. They want Carl out of their daughter's life, once and for all, because they blame her for the relapse. And they're afraid once she gets out, she'll run straight back to him. So if we can get rid of him, maybe there's some wiggle room to negotiate custody terms for your kid too.”

  “Amy's parents are in on this?” I asked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Suddenly, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Pack Harley up and get as far away as humanly possible. Because nothing involving Amy's parents would ever work out in my favor. They had money, they had the right people in their back pocket, and now even Mav was working for them. I couldn't escape them. They were like a goddamn octopus with all of those tendrils wrapping me up tight.

  I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. A dark rage bubbled up within me and I wanted to destroy something. Or somebody.

  Mav shrugged. “They're not really in on this whole deal,” he said. “But let's just say, we all have a shared interest in taking out the trash.”

  I wanted to beat Mav to a bloody pulp and knew that in my current state, I could do just that. I'd never been one to back down from a fight and I was as tough as they came. If I'd wanted to, I could have killed Mav with my bare hands then and there.

  But Harley's face flashed through my mind and I had to throttle myself back. I needed to maintain my cool. My composure. Killing a piece of shit like Mav would earn me the same time in prison as killing a banker. I couldn't kill anybody. I needed to maintain myself for Harley's sake.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and did my best to clear my head.

  “I can't help you,” I finally said. “I really can't, Mav. I left the MC for a reason. And that reason is my little girl. And if I do something like you're suggesting, it's going to jam me up like a motherfucker. You have to understand where I'm coming from, man.”

  “I do understand,” he said. “And that's why I know you'll do it. You don't really have a choice, Elias. Not if you want to keep your little girl. And helping us is the only way that's gonna happen.”

  10

  Elias

  Later that afternoon, I had so much on my mind that I wasn't even thinking about Paige when I went to pick up Harley. Lost in my own head, I walked by her classroom and Paige's voice called to me, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Elias!” she called. “Can we talk?”

  I sighed and walked back, standing in her doorway. She looked at me with an expression of irritation, but I could also see the fear in her eyes. But, I couldn't help her. I couldn't involve her in any of this shit. Especially now, with everything going to hell. I had a bad feeling that things were going to get dangerous and I didn't want her caught in the middle of all that.

  “I need to pick up my daughter,” I said, wanting to be out of there quickly and turning to leave.

  “The last bell doesn't ring for twenty minutes, and it's another ten or fifteen after that until they're ready to be picked up. You have time,” she said, chasing after me. “And we need to talk.”

  She grabbed hold of my arm, looking up at me with an overly pleasant smile on her face.

  “I don't want to bother you with it because I know you have so much going on already,” she said. “But I'm seriously freaked out and you seem to know what's going on. Or at least have some sort of idea – ”

  “Listen, I really do have a lot going on right now, Paige,” I said. “And I really can't talk about it.”

  Her eyes softened and her expression fell. She looked scared and I couldn't help but feel bad for how I was treating her. For what I was putting her through. She was such a sweet woman who had no idea what kind of trouble I could bring her way. She reached out and stroked my arm gently, still gazing into my eyes, searching for some sort of reassurance. She was asking me to tell her that things were going to be okay – but I couldn't in all honesty do that because I didn't know what was going to happen. Especially if she got involved.

  “I understand, but can if I just have a moment of your time?” she asked. “Please?”

  I wanted to say no. Wanted to turn and walk away. But I could see that she needed – something. I didn't know if I could give it to her, but I felt like I owed her at least something. A minute of my time if nothing else.

  “Fine,” I said, as I let her drag me back to her classroom. She shut the door behind us, and we were alone.

  “My last art class ends at two so the kids can go back and get ready to leave for the day,” she said, pacing the room instead of sitting down.

  There was paint all over her desk, as if she'd been working on something. But the canvas on her desk was mostly blank – which made me curious.

  “Painting something?”

  She nodded, biting her lip. She looked genuinely frightened and I didn't know what to say to ease her mind.

  “Thought it might distract me. Help me to stop thinking about last night,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “But I can't focus long enough to get anything on the canvas. I can't stop thinking about the fact that there was someone in my house.”

  Without thinking, I pulled her close to me and hugged her, comforting her because I'd never intended to cause anyone this amount of pain or fear. Especially Paige. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and of course, the MC probably checked her out. They probably wanted to see if she could be used against me. Because that's what they did. That's how they operated.

  She let me hold her, though her body was stiff. After a few moments, Paige wiped her eyes and looked up at me with a sheepish grin on her face.

  “Thanks, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so emotional right now,” she said. “It's just – I've never been so scared, you know?”

  “I know,” I said. “And I'm sorry you feel that way.”

  I'm sorry I made you feel that way.

  Her breath was warm against my cheek and I had to admit, I liked holding her close to me. It felt nice. It had been so long since I'd held a woman in my arms and I realized for the first time that I missed it. I hadn't held anybody ever since Amy left. And honestly, it was because I couldn't bring myself to introduce another woman into my life, into my child's life. It didn't seem fair to either of us.

  But I found myself feeling fiercely protective of Paige for some reason, and I didn't know why. Maybe it was because she seemed to care so much for my daughter and tried to do right by her. It was so rare to see that in a world where I felt like I was the only one who cared for Harley. I mean truly cared. Her grandparents – Amy's folks – claimed to care, but they wanted custody for their own reasons. Not because they truly cared. I could see that a mile off.

  But Paige went above and beyond. Regularly. Even if we didn't agree on everything, she actually put effort into getting to know Harley, and that meant a lot to me.

  But it was more than that.

  Much more.

  “Uhh, I should probably – ” sh
e started to say, but without letting myself even think about it, I leaned down and kissed her.

  And after a brief moment of hesitation – probably shock – she kissed me back.

  Holding her face in my hands, I gently kissed her, our tongues dancing and swirling together in my mouth. She was hesitant and almost seemed afraid to touch me, but when she did, she slowly worked at my shirt as if she wanted to remove it from body.

  I knew I wanted to do the same to her, but not there. Not in her classroom. Or at least not in that exact moment. The bell rang, and we both flinched, pulling ourselves apart from each other. We were silent and at each other – her with eyes I was sure were as wide as my own.

  “I'm sorry, I - I don't know what got into me – ” she started to argue, but I kissed her again to shut her up.

  “Doesn't matter,” I said when I pulled back a moment later. “But I liked it.”

  “I - I liked it too,” she whispered, giving me a devious smile.

  “And I'd still be kissing you if the bell hadn't gone off,” I said. “But, I need to pick up my daughter.”

  “Oh yeah, I understand,” she said, her face bright red. “I'm sorry.”

  I shook my head. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. At all.”

  The corridor outside her classroom was already filling with kids, their voices loud and excited as the rushed through the hallways to freedom. There was no window on the door, so no one could see inside, but it still felt incredibly weird to be making out with her inside of the classroom with kids filling the hallway.

  Weird, but also a little bit hot, I had to admit. And judging by the way she looked at me, I could tell she was thinking the same thing. As much as I didn't want to do it, I knew I had to cut things off right there or risk us being caught. I'd already potentially gotten her into the middle of my shit, the last thing she needed was to lose her job because she got busted making out with me in her classroom too.

  “Well, I better get going,” I said, clearing my throat as I stepped away and walked toward the door. “But umm, I'll see you around most likely.”

  “Yeah, see you around,” she said softly. “And listen, Elias? Don't be a stranger, okay? Seriously.”

  Easier said than done. I may have messed up and kissed her, but the last thing I needed was to continue allowing myself to get close to her. With all the shit going down already, that was the last place she needed for me to be. And that was the last thing I needed.

  Even though it was what I wanted.

  11

  Paige

  My lips tingled from where his had touched mine. I didn't even know what happened or how – we'd just ended up together, kissing each other. And truth be told, it had felt nice. Really nice. I stood there, staring at the door after he'd gone and felt terrible. I knew that he'd insisted we not see each other and it made me sad.

  And scared. After all, we'd never gotten a chance to talk about what was going on. I was never able to get the answers to the questions swirling around in my head. And as I thought about it, I began to wonder if maybe that had been his intention with the kiss all along. To distract me and keep me from asking those questions.

  Even still – it had felt nice. Really nice.

  I turned to clean up my desk when I heard a soft knock on the door. For a second, I was hopeful it was Elias coming back to talk to me. Or even better, to ask to get together with him later.

  But no, it was our principal. I groaned inwardly when I saw him standing in the doorway.

  “Miss Cleary, can we chat for a moment?

  “Yes, Principle Fisher?” I asked, doing my best to hide my disappointment that it wasn't Elias. “What can I help you with?

  My nerves got the best of me and my pulse raced. My nerves never failed to go haywire whenever the administration was involved. Being a new, fairly young teacher in such a prestigious district meant we were watched constantly – and we were critiqued nonstop. I felt like my job was always on the line because there were any number of other graduates out there who'd be happy to take my job.

  I knew that I had gotten lucky when I applied for the position in the first place. Well, not so much lucky since my father knew someone on the school board. Somebody he'd worked with a long, long time ago and they'd remained in contact. It was an important resource that had worked in my favor.

  “Please, call me Chad,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  Chad Fisher was an attractive man, a little older than myself. Okay, maybe more than a little, but he didn't look all that much older, honestly. His slightly graying hair was a nice touch to an otherwise young face. It made him look a little more distinguished. He was very well put together, always wearing designer suits or nice slacks. He represented the school and the parents had high expectations of the man in charge. And honestly, he looked the part.

  He looked like an All American school principal, straight out of central casting – right down to his charming smile and bright, blue eyes.

  “May I have a seat?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, of course,” I said, pulling out the only adult-sized seat in the room aside from my desk chair. “It's a very pleasant surprise to have you stop by.”

  “I'm glad you feel that way, Miss Cleary, I – ”

  “Please, call me Paige,” I said. “I mean, if I'm calling you Chad, it only seems fair.”

  “Of course, Paige,” he said, a dimple in his left cheek appearing when he smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I've personally been watching you and how you conduct yourself. And I have to say that I'm impressed with your work ethic and dedication to your kids. I hear nothing but good things about you from them. The kids absolutely love you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I love my job and the kids make it so well worth it.”

  “I can see that,” he said.

  He looked at me as he spoke and his smile faltered a bit which sent a jolt of fear through my heart. He hadn't come here to simply compliment me after all. Which meant – what exactly? Was he going to fire me? Had somebody complained about me?

  “What? What is it?” I asked, my anxiety racing.

  “Well, I don't even want to bring it up, but I feel like I have to,” he said. “It's been brought to my attention that you've been spending time with a parent – Elias Jones, I believe?”

  I was taken aback, not knowing where this was all coming from. “Spending time with him? Not really. Not unless you consider our meetings to discuss his daughter, Harley,” I said, feeling totally flabbergasted. “But aside from that – no, I haven't ever spent time with him outside of the school.”

  “Good,” he said, nodding his head. “I figured it was something like that, but there were a few rumors making the rounds, so I thought it best to nip them in the bud right then and there,” he said. “But I have to be honest – there are some of the other parents who are also worried about Harley Jones. Frankly, as am I. So tell me, what is your take on the girl?”

  “My take?” I asked. “I'm not sure what you mean?”

  He sighed. “What I'm asking is, does she seem to fit in here?” he asked, obviously fishing for the answer he wanted – or rather, the answer some of the snobs wanted. “Or does she seem to struggle with things? Since most of her peers here come from a – different background – we've been worried about how Harley is acclimating here. Not to mention our concern about her influence over some of the other children.”

  “Harley Jones is an impeccable student,” I said, feeling more than a little defensive all of the sudden. “She's bright, very sweet, and honestly, pretty popular too. Her classmates seem to adore her.”

  “Then may I ask why you and Mr. Jones were meeting just a few minutes ago? Was there a problem?” he asked, steeping his fingers in front of his face as he spoke. “Because a few concerns have been brought to my attention, and I just want to make sure I have all the facts.”

  “All the facts about what?”

  “Abo
ut Harley and whether or not she's a good fit for our school,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out at first. I racked my brain but couldn't find the words to adequately express my horror at what he was saying – at the bigoted attitude I was witnessing.

  “But Mr. Jones pays the tuition,” I said. “She was accepted to this school and there are no behavioural issues that would warrant such a question.”

  “She was accepted via a scholarship,” he said. “A scholarship for lower-income students. And every year, we have to re-evaluate whether or not these scholarships are being put to good use. Whether the recipient is truly benefiting from being in our school.”

  “And you think Harley Jones' isn't?” I asked, feeling my blood pressure start to rise. “And can you tell me why you'd even think that?”

  “I'm merely asking the question, Paige. I'm just doing my job,” he said. “And part of my job is looking into some claims that perhaps her presence here might be causing problems for other students. That's all.”

  “I can assure you that those claims are absolutely without merit, Chad,” I said.

  “Okay, then” he said. “Again, I ask, what was the meeting with Mr. Jones about? What did the two of you discuss?”

  I knew if I told him the truth – that I'd been concerned about her drawings in my class – it would have just been more fodder he used against the girl. And Harley was a good kid. A really god kid. And she deserved to be in that school as much as anyone else did – more than many, actually, if effort were the measure we judged by.

  She might need some help to handle things going on in her life, but to turn my back on her and to send her to another school – a school that had even fewer resources than we had – seemed to be giving up on her. Tossing her aside. Telling her she didn't matter because she was on scholarship and wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth.