by Brenda Ford
But I knew that she was a great girl, a hell of a catch, and she probably wouldn't wait for me. Not that I blamed her. And again, she deserved better than what I had to offer. Much, much better.
“What's wrong, daddy?” Harley asked, looking over at me as I parked the car.
“Nothing, sweetie,” I said. “I'm just tired.”
“Does this have anything to do with Miss Cleary stopping by last night?”
My heart stopped – how in the hell did she know? We'd been so careful. So quiet. How could Harley have known, unless...
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly.
“I heard her last night,” she said. “The two of you were talking in the living room when I woke up from a dream.”
“And you didn't come out and say anything?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You guys sounded like you were talking about something serious and I didn't want to bother you.”
“Oh sweetie,” I said, pulling her into me for a hug before we got out of the car. “You'd never bother me.”
“Why was she at our house?” Harley asked, concern coloring her voice. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, babygirl, you're not in trouble. It was just grown-up stuff.” You could say that again, I thought to myself with a laugh. “Everything is fine. I promise you.”
I hoped that was true. With the school breathing down our neck about the scholarship, I couldn't guarantee everything would be fine for long. While I covered part of the cost of Harley's tuition, I couldn't afford it all. We relied on this scholarship to keep her in that damn school. I did it because the other schools in the area weren't nearly as good and I didn't want my daughter to grow up like I had. I wanted her to have better. I wanted her to have options. And only a solid education could give her those options.
Like Paige, my Harley deserved better too.
“Don't forget your shirt for tie dying,” I said, ruffling her hair as she got out of the car.
“In my bag, dad,” she said, giving me an eye roll that reminded me so much of Amy.
She was growing up so fast. It didn't seem right to have a daughter as old as she was. I still felt like a child myself most days, and there I was, a father to a little girl. Responsible for another life. Some days, it still took me by surprise and I felt horribly inadequate. That Harley was turning out as well as she was, was a testament to her strength and spirit.
As we walked inside together, I saw Paige getting out of her car and crossing the lot. She waved at us, smiling in a way that caused me to smile back. And of course, we reached the door at the same time.
“Running late this morning, Miss Cleary?” I asked, trying not to sound too amused or knowing.
“Just a little,” she said. “I overslept.”
“I bet you did.”
Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she looked a little dishevelled – which was only noticeable because she was so buttoned up and well put together most of the time. It was as if she hadn't have time to wash her hair or really get herself together. Soft tendrils of her hair fell around her face, which seemed freshly washed and free of makeup. Something else she apparently hadn't had time for that morning. Still, even a little bit dishevelled and makeup free, she looked absolutely beautiful to me. Stunning, actually.
I let her go inside first and she was quickly followed in by Harley. The two of them talked about the tie dying project as I followed behind, content to stare at Miss Cleary's ass in her fitted dress pants. I had to fight the urge to grab that tight little ass – one I already knew felt incredible – but I resisted. Mainly because my daughter was there.
We walked past her classroom, and she turned to smile at me. “When you're done dropping Harley off, maybe stop by so we can have a quick chat, Mr. Jones?”
“Sure thing, Miss Cleary,” I said. “I'll be right back.”
“You better be,” she said, leaning against the door frame of her classroom with her arms folded across her chest, smiling at me.
God, why must she be so beautiful, so adorable, and so flirtatious? I knew we needed to talk about what had happened the night before – what we'd done – and the fact that it should never happen again, but that was going to be difficult.
Because the truth of the matter was that I liked her. And she liked me. And in a perfect world, we could potentially pursue a relationship together. But my life was far from perfect, and I needed to protect her and my daughter – not think about my own wants and desires.
But damn, that was hard.
I dropped Harley off at her classroom and hurried back to Miss Cleary's art class. I knocked on the door, and she heard her voice.
“Come in,” she called.
And when I stepped into her classroom, I found her standing over the same blank canvas I'd seen on her desk the day before. But this time, there was actually a painting on it. Or, at least, the start of one.
I walked over and stared down at it and nodded appreciatively. It was a portrait of an older woman – a sad woman with tears in her eyes, not yet falling. My heart ached as I stared at the image then back up at Paige. It was so powerful and so emotional that I knew the subject of the painting was somebody who meant something to Paige. Something very dear.
“It's my mother,” she said before I even asked. “It's how I'll always remember her – sadly. She never recovered once my father passed. After he died, I never saw her smile again.”
“I'm sorry,” I said softly.
I yearned to reach over and comfort her, to console her and make her feel right – but I knew it was dangerous and neither one of us could afford to take that risk, so I stayed on the other side of the desk.
She shrugged and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don't know why I decided to paint it,” she said. “I guess because I feel like her, in a way. I sometimes have that same sense of loneliness now that they're both gone. I understand it now.”
“Being alone in this world sucks,” I said. “Trust me, I know it all too well.”
“You have your daughter,” she said, smiling slightly. “And what you two have, the little family you two have carved out – it's a beautiful thing. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She moved the painting and placed it underneath her desk as if to hide it away. Perhaps it was too personal for her to allow her students to see it.
“You mentioned wanting to see some of my work,” she said, pulling out another canvas and some drawings. “Well, have it. Tell me what you think.”
There was a portrait done with charcoal – a simple black and white portrait of a child. The eyes, everything about it, felt so real. So lifelike. There was a dimension to it that most people couldn't capture that Paige did so well.
As I looked at the portrait, I could feel the actual emotion in the eyes of the child as they smiled gleefully, at something in the distance.
I looked through all the drawings, most of them were similar. Portraits. All of them really, really good. The other painting she'd brought for me to see was the only thing she showed me that hadn't been a charcoal portrait, and it was an abstract painting done in bright, vivid watercolors. Paige was incredibly talented. Most of what I saw could be hanging in a gallery somewhere. Probably should be hanging in a gallery somewhere. Which made me wonder why they weren't.
“Wow,” I said, staring down at everything. “You're very talented. You could seriously make a living with your portraits alone.”
“You mean working at an amusement park, right?” she rolled her eyes. “Been there, done that. I worked that gig in high school and college – it barely paid minimum wage. There's no way in hell I could make ends meet on that in this day and age.”
“No, I mean custom work,” I said. “And charging what your worth, of course.”
“No one appreciates art anymore,” she said.
“I disagree.”
“Okay, fine, yes – they appreciate body art and they're willing to pay for that,” she said. “But for port
raits to hang on the walls of their home? Nah. They want cheap. Or photographs. Nobody appreciates my medium anymore.”
“Have you tried advertising your services? Especially in this community?” I raised an eyebrow as I asked. “Because I'm willing to bet these rich people would pay an absolute ton for custom family portraits like some of the ones you showed me. You could make a killing at it.”
“Yeah?” she looked down at the drawings again and sounding like she just might consider it. “I just don't know where to start.”
“I can help you,” I said. “I know all about getting your name out there and advertising – ”
I stopped short once I remembered – I was supposed to be spending less time with Paige, not more. Working with her on something like getting an art business up and running for her meant we'd be spending more time together. Which wasn't what either of us needed at that point in time.
“You'd do that? For me?” she asked, giving me a look that said she was doubtful. “I mean, after what happened last night, I figured you'd want to run away before I got the wrong idea.”
I did need to run away, but not for the reason she was thinking.
“Paige, we really need to talk about last night – ”
“I know,” she sighed, staring down at her desk. “It can't happen again, right?”
“We probably shouldn't let it,” I said.
“Because of Harley and the mysterious stuff going on in your life, huh?”
I heard the sarcasm dripping from her voice, as if she thought all of it was just an excuse. But it wasn't. She just didn't understand the danger she could be putting herself in if she got involved with me. And the last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt – or worse – because she got caught in the crossfire. Because of me.
“Paige, you have no idea what – ”
She stopped me. “I get it. You don't want to date me. I'm an adult, a grown woman, I can handle that,” she said. “That's why I'm surprised you would want to help me with my art business. You normally don't offer to help out with stuff like that. Especially not after a one night stand.”
“You're not just a one-night stand though – ”
She pursed her lips and stared at me, hands on her hips. “It can't happen again, you need to keep your distance. You said those things,” she said. “So, what about it makes it more than just a one-night stand?”
“Because – ”
But she was right. And I looked like an ass.
“My first class will be here any minute,” she said. “As much as I enjoyed this conversation, I think you might want to go.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay. But I knew I couldn't.
I knew I shouldn't.
“I'll see you around, Paige,” I said, feeling lousy and walking toward the door. “And let me know if you'd like help with your business.”
“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, putting her artwork away. “See you around, Elias.”
Her voice told me all I needed to know. She was hurt and angry, and she had every right to be. I should have put a stop to it before we'd slept together. But now, it was far, far too late.
I'd screwed up, yet again. As usual.
ooo000ooo
“We still on, Elias?” Mav asked me over the phone that afternoon.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“Not really,” he replied. “Not if you want to keep your kid, you don't.”
I let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't say I was in or out. Instead, I put the focus on getting answers for Paige. Answers she was entitled to. Answers she deserved.
“So my daughter's teacher said someone broke into her house the other night. She said nothing was taken, but somebody went through her shit,” I said. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“The hot, young redhead? Yeah, maybe,” he said.
“What the fuck, Mav?”
“Look, we just wanted to check her out,” he said. “See what her deal was.”
“Why, man?” I asked, pacing the room. “What could she possibly have anything to do with any of this?”
“Why are you so concerned about her if she's just your daughter's teacher?” he asked me.
“Because she's innocent in all of this,” I said.
“But she means something to you, yeah?”
“No, of course not,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I think I'd know, man,” I spat.
“Then what was she doing at your shop?”
“I left my phone in her classroom when we had a meeting about my daughter,” I said, hoping I wasn't giving myself away. “She dropped it off at the shop for me. But aside from talking about Harley – ”
“So she didn't just sleep over at your place last night?”
I froze in place and looked toward the window that looked out onto the street. Someone had been watching me. Clearly, someone had been keeping tabs on me and watching my apartment. Were they out there now? I walked over to the window and stared out at the street. I looked both ways, seeing the cars I usually saw most days. There was nothing unusual out there that I could see. There were no strange vans or other vehicles and there was hardly anyone on the street.
It was the same view as it always was. But somewhere, out there, a spy for Mav and the MC was hiding. Watching me. And reporting my every move back to those assholes.
“Doesn't mean she matters to me,” I said, a chill running down my spine. “Like you haven't ever hooked up with somebody you weren't into.”
“She means enough for you to bring her up in this conversation,” he said. “Maybe we need to keep an eye on her as well. Just in case things go south with you or you try to weasel out of this deal. I'd really hate to see that happen, man. She's a beautiful girl. It'd be a shame if anything – ”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” I growled. “Don't even start throwing out threats like that.”
Mav laughed softly on the other end of the line. I'd given myself away – he knew Paige meant something to me. But it wasn't like I had a choice. He'd threatened her and I'd simply reacted. I sighed and turned away from the window – but closed the blinds, making sure no one could see inside. It was a little like closing the barn door after the horse was already out, but what the fuck else could I do? At least I could keep anybody from seeing inside anymore.
“So, are we going to have a problem?” Mav asked.
“It's not gonna be an issue, man,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper as I spoke.
“Good,” Mav said. “That's real good. For everybody involved.”
I had very little choice in the matter. Which was to say I had zero choice in the matter. Even without Paige, they had Harley to use against me. They had me painted into a corner, knowing I was stuck. Even if I tried to run away, tried to head for another state or leave the country outright, I'd be leaving Paige behind. And if I blew them off or just ran, Paige would endure the wrath of the MC. My actions would blow back on her in a big, nasty way. And I couldn't let that happen.
Everything was unfolding just like I feared it would. Despite doing what I could to keep her separate and apart from it, she was now fully caught up in my shit. Her life was in danger because I couldn't keep it in my pants. I'd let the fact my wants and desires overcome my reason. I should have turned her away, never let her in. And I sure as hell should never have fucked her. Because now, she was firmly in the crosshairs and anything I did would rain down on her.
Just like always, I'd fucked things up in tremendous fashion. Go me.
15
Paige
“Alright, we have to let the shirts dry,” I said, helping the kids put their newly tie dyed shirts on a drying rack. “Make sure your name is on the collar, and once they're dry, I'll give them to your teachers to give to you.”
It was the last class of the day, and my room was a mess. It was more of a disaster than usual, which was really saying something.
Why I'd thought tie dying shirts would make for an easy, fun activity was beyond me.
I looked down at myself and saw that I was covered in dye from head to toe, which was impressive given that I hadn't even dyed myself a shirt. But I had a million little hands grabbing at me and touching everything in sight – which meant there was dye everywhere. There were brightly colored stains all over the room and I knew it was going to be hell to clean up. The janitor was going to absolutely hate me.
I walked the kids out to the hallway to wait for their teacher, who was running a little late. As the kids got themselves all lined up, chatting excitedly amongst themselves, I noticed someone lurking at the end of the hall. A man. A man I'd never seen before. I had no idea who it was, but I suddenly got a very strange, very ominous feeling about him. I suddenly didn't feel very safe – which terrified me given the herd of children I was responsible for.
“Come on, kids,” I said, ushering them back into the classroom. “Let's go back inside and clean up while we wait for Mrs. Wells, okay?”
The kids grumbled and groaned, but they filed back into the room and started to pick things up. With all the threats of school shootings and other acts of violence flashing through my mind, my heart was racing. As soon as we were inside the classroom, I locked the door and called the office.
Whispering into the phone so the kids didn't hear me, I told them “There's a strange man pacing the halls. I think you need to send somebody to check it out. Quickly, please.”
Given of all the threats and violence in the news lately, I knew the administration would take things seriously. I assured the woman I spoke to that my door was locked, and they said they'd send someone down to check the man out right away.
The doors to our building were usually locked during school hours and required anybody coming to the school to be buzzed in by the office. Usually, visitors had to be logged and ID's checked before they were allowed access to the classroom areas.
