The Perfect Boss

by Brenda Ford

  “Oops, my bad,” she said with a laugh that never ceased to fill me with joy.

  And to think, according to uppity Ms. Cleary, my kid wasn't being raised right. All because she spent a few evenings a week around this place. The people I worked with were all cool, they were clean, and they were friends of mine. Despite Ms. Cleary's snotty attitude and very obvious assumptions about me, I wouldn't bring Harley to an environment that wasn't safe for her.

  Considering the high price of childcare, there wasn't any alternative for me anyway. And tattooing was what I was good at. It's what paid the bills. No one else at a reputable place would hire me anyway – not given my lack of skills or my past.

  “Do you have any homework, Harley?” I asked.

  “Just some stupid drawing thing for art,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Stupid? Why do you think it's stupid? You love drawing,” I said.

  “I'm supposed to draw my family,” she said.

  “Well, that's not all that hard, is it?” I asked. “You have me, you, mom – ”

  “Mom isn't my family anymore,” she said softly.

  Mitch gave me a look of sympathy, and then excused himself from the room to give Harley and me a little privacy.

  “I gotta client coming in soon,” he said. “Better get set up. I'll let you know if we need you up front for anything.”

  “Thanks, Mitch,” I said, joining Harley on the couch. Once he'd gone, I turned to her. “Why do you say that? Why do you think that mom isn't family anymore?”

  “Because she's gone,” she said simply. “She left us.”

  “She didn't want to, Harley. Believe me, she didn't leave us willingly, baby,” I said. “Well, not really.”

  Truthfully, she had absolutely left us willingly. I couldn't tell Harley that though. It would absolutely shatter my little girl. But when I told Amy she had to choose between the drugs or us – perhaps, stupidly believing she'd choose her daughter over heroin – I'd been very wrong about what she'd choose. It took me a minute to get over the rage within me about it – truth be told, I was still trying to get over it. But I knew I had to hold it together for the sake of my little girl.

  Last I'd heard, her parents had checked her into a treatment centre – one of the best in the country for addiction services. But she hadn't gone in voluntarily – or very willingly.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Harley said, pushing a strand of her dark brown hair from her face. She looked just like her mother with the barest dash of me thrown into the mix. “It just makes me sad.”

  “Is that why you usually prefer to draw monsters and stuff? Because you're sad about your mom?” I asked, remembering the drawings Ms. Cleary had showed me.

  She shrugged. “Not really. I just like them. It's fun to draw them.”

  “Where do you get your ideas for your work then?” I asked.

  She looked at me and cocked her head, the expression on her face telling me the answer was as obvious as the nose on my face. When I shook my head and gave her a lopsided grin, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “From the walls around here,” she said. “The artwork on the walls.”

  Ahhh. She meant the flash on the walls and in the books the customers could flip through before they decided on a design. I remembered that Harley had spent some time flipping through the books – and studying the walls around her. It all made sense now.

  “So do you want to be an artist someday?” I asked.

  “A tattoo artist? Heck yeah,” she said, her smile returning. “Just like daddy.”

  Just like her daddy. Hearing her say that made me balloon up with pride. Granted, she was a kid and her career path would change about a thousand times, but still. To know that she wanted to emulate me made me feel good. Of course, I hoped she might lead a better life than the one I lived right now, but it was all up to her. Whatever she decided to do, I was going to support her. I'd also do everything within my power to keep her safe from falling into the same traps I did. I had to. She was all that I had left in my life. In my whole world. And I wasn't going to abandon her. I'd be there with her and for her every step of the way.

  And damn that Ms. Cleary for bringing out more of my insecurities and self-doubts about my ability to raise her. I already feared I wasn't cutting it as a dad, that I was doing more damage than I was good for my little girl. And yet, in my heart, I knew I was doing the best I could with what I had. No, we weren't living in the lap of luxury with all of the latest, fanciest things. But Harley never had to question whether or not she was loved.

  And that had to count for something, right?

  ooo000ooo

  Harley was asleep, curled up on the couch in the back room, by the time we headed home. I carried her out to the car, drove home, and then carried her inside. She was so tired that she didn't stir – not once. Holding her in my arms, I looked down at her little form and couldn't help but smile. No matter how big she got, she was always going to be my little girl. No matter how old she was, I would never be able to see her as anything but that.

  Harley was my little girl. My princess. My world. She was the only good thing I'd ever done in my life. One of the only things I could point to and be proud of. She was my reason for living and she was my reason for finally cleaning up my act and getting back on the straight and narrow.

  Once inside our apartment, I gently placed her in bed and tucked her in, pulling her blankets up to her chin. To think, her mother was missing out on all of that – all of those special little moments that only came around once and would never come around again.

  Hell, at one time – not all that long ago, really – I might have missed everything just like Amy was. Had things not changed for me. Had I not grown up and made sure things changed. It was because my little girl was worth it. She was worth changing for. She was worth being a better person for.

  Harley slept peacefully, wrapped up tight in her Harley Quinn bedding – picked out because she'd been tickled that the comic book character bore her name, of course. I kept the bedroom door partly open as I walked down the hall, into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Popping it open, I was about to turn on the television when I noticed I had several missed calls and some text messages. Groaning because I recognized the number of a few of the missed calls, I checked them out.

  Phone call wise, it was like I figured it was – mostly Amy's mom. And the voicemails were all from her. I couldn't bring myself to call her back though, not after her daughter had abandoned Harley and me for her drugs. It wasn't like I had anything in common with her folks and honestly, I really didn't have anything to say to them. Eventually, I supposed I'd need to deal with them – for Harley's sake.

  Sighing, I punched the button listened to the most recent voicemail.

  “Elias, this is Debbie, Amy's mother. Again,” even her recorded voice carried the same condescending tone I hated about her so much. “I've been trying to reach you to discuss Amy, as well to talk about visitation with my granddaughter. Please call me back when you get this.”

  Visitation? Like hell. As much as I'd love for Harley to get to know her grandparents – the only grandparents she had left – there was no way in hell I was going to allow them visitation. I despised Amy's parents. They were controlling. Manipulative. And they were the biggest reason Amy was as fucked up as she was. There was no way in hell they were going to get anywhere near my daughter. Not if I could help it.

  I deleted the messages. Next, I checked my texts and rolled my eyes at a lot of the usual bullshit. The first one was from a guy named Terry – a guy I used to deal to back in the day when I was doing that sort of shit.

  Hey man, I know you're not into that life anymore, but I really needed to check and see if you have anything to sell me tonight?

  Delete.

  “No longer in that business, dude,” I muttered. “I've told you that a million times already.”

  The next message came from a number I didn't recognize. And all it said was,
Elias, we need to talk.

  I looked at it for a few moments, curious – but also wary. There was only one way to find out who it was and what they wanted though, so I texted the mystery number back. Who is this?

  I didn't expect a response, since it was getting late in the evening. But my phone buzzed a few seconds later with a response.

  We need to talk. Soon.

  I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. It was probably just another drug addict expecting me to help him score his fix.

  “Sorry, bro,” I said. “Not my deal anymore.”

  I went to delete the message, but another one popped up.

  I'm with the Black Torment MC. We need to talk.

  I felt a stab of adrenaline shoot through me like a lightning strike. Shit man, really? I was done with that life too – all of it went hand-in-hand. I just wanted it to go away. Forever. I wanted to make sure my daughter didn't get caught in the middle of it all. I didn't want that world even touching her world. I wanted her to remain completely ignorant of it all.

  And just in case Amy's parents decided to come after my daughter, I didn't need my criminal record being a reason to lose custody. It wasn't lengthy and it wasn't especially terrible, but I'd accrued a few petty charges over the years. Things I knew they could use against me. Would use against me given half a chance. Knowing that was one reason I'd stepped away from the MC, and they'd let me. For the most part.

  I typed out a quick reply. I'm done with the MC. Have been for years, so lose this number.

  I expected another text, but instead, my phone rang. Same number as before. I rolled my eyes and contemplated not answering, but I needed to get it through this guy's head that I was done and that he needed to leave me the hell alone, so I answered.

  “What part of I'm done was in any way unclear,” I snapped. “Does Mav know you're calling me?”

  “Maverick's actually the one who told me to call, asshole,” the voice said on the other end of the line.

  The voice was familiar enough, but I couldn't quite place it. Not at first.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “It's Jay,” he said. “And frankly, I'm a little hurt that you don't even remember me, Eli. Has it really been that long?”

  “Nah, I just didn't realize you'd moved up the ladder high enough that you were washing Mav's balls now, that's all, princess,” I said. “What's this about? I'm done. I was done when I left five years ago. Maverick signed off on it and you know it because you were there. I'm out of the life entirely.”

  “You're never out entirely, shithead,” Jay said, cackling as he spoke. “Mav needs a favor. Nothing major, but you owe us, kid. You owe us a lot.”

  I didn't owe them a shit, but my voice caught in my throat and I had to work hard to keep the dark anger bubbling up inside of me from flowing over. I knew that the MC was full of bad guys who could ruin my life in no time flat. They could do the unthinkable. And most of them wouldn't hesitate to do so.

  I stared down at the hallway, to the door at the end. Harley's door. They could take everything away from me if I didn't do what they wanted. But I also knew that working for them could cause me to lose everything, anyway.

  It was a lose-lose situation no matter which way I turned, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

  “I'm done, Jay. Done. I can't be doing anything for the MC anymore,” I said. “I have my reasons.”

  “We know your reasons, dude,” he said. “We know that Debbie and Patrick Archer are trying to get custody of your kid?”

  “How did you – ”

  “We know a lot. More than you realize,” he said. “And we can help you with that. Or we can make things worse for you. Your choice.”

  Chapter 3

  I waited for Maverick at the place they'd told me to be at. It was hard to believe now, but once upon a time, we'd been buddies. Good friends, actually. But our lives had taken radically different turns, and mine no longer included running drugs and guns with the MC. I got out before I got caught – or killed. For the most part, my record was clean of anything major, and I intended to keep it that way.

  We were meeting at an old warehouse that I was familiar with – it was one that we'd used to house the heroin and cocaine we cut and sold. If the cops rolled up on me, just being there could get me in trouble. But, I had no choice – that was where they'd told me to meet them. Maverick himself was coming, and I prayed I could talk some sense into the guy. Make him see I couldn't be part of his shit anymore.

  After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Maverick rolled into the parking lot, along with Jay and another guy I didn't know. Obviously, somebody who'd joined up after my time. The three of them were tall, big men. They had a hard edge and an air of violence around them. They were the type of men you didn't want to run into in a dark alley, that was for sure.

  I was a little surprised to see that Maverick was getting a little grayer in his otherwise dark hair that I remembered him being. His facial hair had gone almost completely gray. Damn. It was amazing what five years could do. Or maybe it was life in the MC that happened to age people faster than normal.

  Jay was older than I remembered him being as well – he had a face I hardly recognized. So much had changed in the MC since I'd left, membership and leadership changes and what not. Mav was still the president, of course, but it looked like Jay was the new VP, his right hand, and that was bad news for me. We'd never gotten along very well because Jay was a dick. A straight up dick, often for no reason at all other than he could get away with being a dick.

  The other guy, the one I didn't know, was shorter than Jay and Mav. He looked to be quite a bit younger too. Probably a newer recruit, someone brought along to learn the ropes maybe. Maybe he was there as a backup in case things got ugly. It wasn't going to get ugly though – I wanted to return to my daughter alive, not in a casket.

  “Eli, long time, no see, bud,” Mav said, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “You remember Jay, right? Well this is his little brother, Dean. He joined us last year.”

  “I'd like to say it's nice to meet you, but given the circumstances – ”

  “Nah, man, it ain't like that,” Mav said to me, patting me on the back. “It's all good between us. I promise you.”

  I looked over at Jay, remembering the threats and intimidation he laid on pretty thick when he'd called earlier.

  “Yeah, that's not how it sounded when I was invited to this little party in the first place,” I said.

  Mav scowled at Jay and shook his head. “Jay can be a bit heavy handed, but trust me, Eli, as long as you work with us, it's all good.”

  “As long as I work with you?” I said. “I left the club, Mav. You signed off on it. Why are you dragging me back into things now, after all this time?”

  “Because we need you, man,” Mav said. “We need you really bad. And maybe you don't recall, but I was clear that a condition of letting you out was that we could call on you, as needed, from time to time to help us out with some shit.”

  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “What kind of shit do you need help with?”

  “You still with that broad, Amy?”

  I scoffed. “Not really,” I said. “She left us for her dope. And last I heard, she's locked up in some treatment facility. Parents had her committed or some shit like that. Haven't talked to her in over a year.”

  “Well, that makes things a bit more difficult than I would have liked,” he said. “But we can work it out.”

  “Work what out?” I asked, narrowing my gaze. “And what's Amy got to do with any of this?”

  “She used to hang out with some guy named Carl Gillespie,” Mav said. “Does that name ring a bell with you?”

  “Can't say that it does,” I said.

  That was a partial lie – I'd heard of Carl. Just never from Amy. Not directly, anyway. I saw his name and number on the missed calls screen of her phone a lot, but I'd always just assumed it was her dealer.

  “I'm not in that life, reme
mber?” I said. “I stayed the fuck away from Amy's friends.”

  “Well Gillespie seems to know you.”

  That statement piqued my interest. “What do you mean?”

  “He's mentioned you a few times, in passing, when we talked business,” Mav said casually. “Asked how we knew you and shit. Not that it matters, but – ”

  “It does matter. I don't want dirtbags like him knowing my name.”

  “We can fix that for you,” Mav said. “Carl used to work with us. Key word – used to.”

  “Bad business deal?” I asked. “Everything to go south because of him?”

  “Something like that,” Mav said. “He's now apparently working for the Kings. And he's apparently passing on some of our personal information in his new job.”

  I knew where this was going already and I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. “So let me guess, you need this Carl guy gone?”

  “You got it, bud,” Mav said. “But of course, he's not going to trust any of us enough to let us get close to him. Let's just say, we left things with ol' Carl on not-so-good terms. But we were thinking if your gal Amy – ”

  “Amy can't do shit, I'm sorry,” I said. “She's locked away and as far as I know, isn't getting out anytime soon.”

  “Do you still have access to her old cellphone?” Mav asked. “Or at least know the number? If you have that, we can spoof it – ”

  I did have her old phone, but it no longer had service. I'd disconnected that line entirely once she got back into drugs and stopped working. I could easily reactivate it though, if needed.

  “So you want me to call and pretend to be Amy?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “How's that going to work? It's not like we sound alike or anything.”

  “Call? Mav said, laughing as he looked at the others. “Who said anything about calling anyone? That's just asking for shit to go sideways. Nah, man, all we need you to do is text him – just like Amy did. Shoot him a text and set up a meeting somewhere, that's it. That's all you have to do. We'll take care of the rest.”