by L. B. Dunbar
We haven’t gone two feet before Billy mutters, “Fuck it. I’m no gentleman.” I’m pressed back to the wall with his hands on either side of my head, and his mouth crashes into mine.
His lips are soft but demanding, tugging and teasing mine as he moves my head the slightest bit to deepen his attention. His tongue licks the seam of mine, and I open without thought, drawing him into me. Billy’s body returns to pressing me to the wall, but there’s no threat or menace like earlier, and my thoughts drift again. If he’d only lower his hips a bit, my legs could spread, and his thick thigh could press right there…but I’m distracted by his mouth on mine.
I’m kissing Billy Harrington.
The thought makes my heart race and my stomach triple flip.
Good God can Billy Harrington kiss, and he’s kissing me.
My mind slowly catches up to reality.
I’m kissing Billy Harrington!
What the hell am I doing?
I use all my strength to push on Billy’s shoulders, forcing him off me.
“What were you thinking?” I snap, as I realize a moment too late what he was doing.
Billy Harrington was kissing me.
“I was…”
“Kissing me,” I clarify, only my tongue hangs out of my mouth, and it sounds like I’ve said icking e. The back of my hand dramatically swipes across my lips as if to scrub off the kiss. He’d just kissed Kristy Moseley with those lips of his. Those delicious, devious, sensuous lips. I stick out my tongue and swipe down the length several times with my index finger, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.
Oh my God, he kissed me after kissing her.
And I let him.
“What are you doing?” he groans, and my eyes leap to his, which are full of puzzling hesitation.
“You just kissed me after kissing Kristy.” I drag my knuckles over my lips again, disgusted with myself for giving in to the tender yet demanding direction of his mouth on mine.
His eyes widen in horror and then narrow to slits.
“That’s what you think?” he questions, his voice gravelly and low. “Jesus, Roxanne, you can be such a…” He stops himself and scrubs a hand down his face, resting his palm under his chin against his throat. My eyes leap to the scruff on his jaw. The same soft scruff my fingers long to touch. The same soft scruff that just tickled my chin.
He says nothing else but turns on his heels and begins to cross the street, jaywalking on the diagonal to reach the other side. My heart hammers in my chest, and my hands lower to press into the brick at my back, steadying me.
He kissed Kristy Moseley before me, right?
I watch his retreat, my shoulders slowly lowering, and my stomach settling from all the double backhand springs inside.
I watch as Billy spits into the street before reaching the curb, lifting his hand to his face, and dramatically swiping at his mouth, then flicking his wrist as if to rid his palm of something sticky and gross.
A kiss from me.
10
Kiss and seek
[Billy]
Why the fuck did I have to kiss her?
Have to? my head clarifies.
Had to, my dick responds.
First, that Clyde takes her out of the pub before I know what she’s doing in there, and then I see them through the front window. She tips up on her toes because Clyde is tall, and she kisses him.
In front of my pub.
In front of me.
The second Clyde returns, I’ve finally extracted myself from Kristy, ignoring her pleas for another night together—big mistake happening the first time—and I’m brushing past Clyde for the front entrance with a muttered, “I’ll be back.”
I cross the street with long strides, racing up behind her before she can reach her stairs and then…
Although I knew I’d scare her a little, those eyes snapped to mine, and when our fingers linked in my grasp, I just had to have answers.
Why did she kiss Clyde?
In typical Roxanne form, she sidetracks and reroutes and accuses me of marriage and other women and just…dammit that woman. I reach for the large handle of the pub door and yank the thing open. The swell of loud country music and the blare of sports games on the TVs fill my head but do nothing to stop my racing heart or the throb in my jeans. I’m sporting a major boner as I cross through the bar. I should have adjusted myself, but this isn’t going down without something to relieve it.
I ignore every greeting and a few smacks on the back as I rush to my office. Then I slam the door, throw the lock, and fall against the barrier. Both hands cover my face, and I swipe down my cheeks.
What the fuck have you done this time? my brain screams.
Why didn’t you let me out? my dick weeps.
Fucking Roxanne McAllister and her fucking delicious lips which kissed me back for a moment there. She opened for me with a sweet sigh and an eager tongue. Her hips rolled forward, begging my thigh to separate hers, and my fingers twitched to grip those hips, forcing her to ride my leg. But I couldn’t release her face. Her skin is so soft, my thumb stroked over her cheeks as I moved her mouth with mine.
My fingers brush hastily over my lips, and I toss my hands to my thighs.
Goddammit.
I’m still stiff as a pine tree, and it’s only getting worse, the longer I think about her lips mixing with mine.
Then I consider the things she said.
Not going to be pushed out of Sadie’s life.
Need to step up for Sadie.
Kissed Kristy before her.
I did not fucking kiss Kristy. What does she take me for? But I know the answer. She thinks I’m a player, and I have no evidence to prove her wrong. My history corroborates the truth, and Sadie is exhibit A that I’ve slept around.
My shoulders slump against the door, and my head falls forward.
Sadie.
Roxanne wasn’t wrong there either. I should have called. I should have gone to see her. This is all new to me, but like Roxanne reminded me the other day, it’s new to Sadie. She’s a kid, and she’s been through a ton of changes lately, and while my mother likes to say kids are resilient, I don’t know how well I’d be if everything were piled on at once like that.
Poor baby, my heart whimpers, and I clutch at my tee, uncertain where the sentiment came from. I immediately vow to do better by her. I’m the adult, so I need to make the first move. It’s not like I was waiting for Sadie to come to me. I don’t expect her to lead me through this parenting thing and tell me what to do, after all, but I do need some guidance. I think about Roxanne’s comment—she purchased some new books on fathering—only I’d never have the patience to read, and the struggle to make it through a whole book would be torture.
Why’d I admit I had dyslexia the other night? I saw the pity in Roxanne’s face like I’m some moron who isn’t smart. I wasn’t diagnosed until right before I dropped out of college. By then, I’d developed a system to get by. It wasn’t always correct, but it worked for me. I did end up working manual labor in my dad’s brewery, which was fine, but I wanted something more for me. I didn’t want to lug the beer but collect the Benjamins. When Rachel and I divorced, it was the perfect time to open my own business. I took some classes and got some tutoring to develop strategies for business reading. Invoices. Numbers. Accounting. Numbers aren’t as difficult for me as letters.
I press off the door and head for the bathroom, a plan forming, but first I have something I need to take care of.
+ + +
The next afternoon, I write my digits on a Post-it and stalk across the damn street. Again. I’m all worked up and ready to slap the note on Roxanne’s desk and give a little speech, but my fury is instantly deflated upon seeing Grace Eton.
“Where’s Roxanne?” I ask a little too aggressively.
“She had to go to the high school. Something for Sadie.” Grace gives me a hesitant, pinched smile, and I know she knows my secret. I’m Sadie’s father.
“Did something ha
ppen? Is Sadie okay?” My pre-anger-at-Roxanne has settled into post-concern-for-Sadie.
Grace shrugs. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. There’s just a lot going on for her.” Grace keeps her eyes on me like she’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t read her.
Sheepishly, I meet Grace’s eyes, and ask, “Should I go to the school, too?” I don’t know why I ask other than knowing Grace is the mother of five handful boys. She’d be a good source on parenting.
“Are you ready to tell everyone who Sadie is?”
Who Sadie is? The question flutters before me, and it takes a second to realize the deeper context.
Who Sadie is…to me.
I haven’t told anyone minus Jordan and Clyde, and Roxanne has obviously told Grace. Who else did she tell? How many nosy Nellys know my business?
“I…I think Sadie and I need some time to figure out things before I tell everyone.” Grace’s once sympathizing smile morphs into a controlled grimace.
“I see. Well, you need to do what’s best for you,” she tells me in a rather mothering voice. I nod to agree and hand her the paper with my number. “Can you give this to Sadie? I don’t have her number, and I’d like her to call me.”
Grace twists her lips, thinking as she stares at the paper, and then takes it from me. “Sure. I’ll pass this on to Sadie because I’m sure you’ busy later working at the pub to cross the street and get her number yourself.”
Grace is exactly right. I work late afternoons and evenings. The pub is my baby and my life. I nod again, almost surprised by how well Grace understands me. Why can’t Roxanne be so understanding?
“Thanks.” I double-tap my fingers on the edge of the check-out counter and smile one last time at Grace before exiting the building.
As I’m crossing back to the pub, Grace’s words roll through my thoughts. Tell everyone. Too busy. Do it myself. I stop in the middle of the street, and an oncoming car blares its horn as it approaches. Holding up a hand in apology, I continue walking and realize I’m misinterpreting the credit I thought Grace gave me. She actually understands me better than I think. I’m messing this all up again. Dammit.
11
Mistakes and mishaps
[Roxanne]
“I’m certain you understand an altercation of this type is not permissible in our school, Ms. McAllister.” Clarence Steinmetz looks down his nose at me. Of course, I understand. Bullying of any type is not allowed—not permissible—but can’t he see Sadie’s hurting? Was she really bullying another student, or were they having a conflict that needs resolution like the rest of her life?
“I understand, Mr. Steinmetz. I’m sure it won’t happen again, and Sadie’s sorry. She’s just struggling with the adjustment.”
Her mother’s death. Moving here. An absentee father.
Is that what Billy is? Then, I think of his eyes and the way he peered up at the building before…before…and the questioning expression on his face, like he wants to do the right thing but doesn’t know how.
Just as Sadie wants to fit in here but doesn’t know how either. It’s been an adjustment for her, as I said, to move to a smaller town where everyone knows one another. The kids have all grown up together, and Sadie is like a shiny new toy, one dressed in head-to-toe black with midnight hair covering her face. She reminds me of Violet from The Incredibles, a Disney movie about a family with superpowers, which she loved as a child. Is that what she wants—a superpower to disappear? Does she want the ability to put a forcefield around herself?
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take Sadie home with me and give her the rest of the day to think about her actions.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Ms. McAllister.” Clarence leans back in his chair, eyeing me over the ridge of his glasses. I don’t miss the dip of his gaze or the way it travels down my body. What’s he looking at? I wonder but ignore the stare. I’m about to stand when he speaks again.
“Might I ask, is there any additional family support?” The principal holds up a paper, skims the page, and glances back at me. “I know about her mother, but there’s no father listed, and you’re her guardian.”
Is there a question in that statement somewhere?
“Is there some other issue? Something I’m missing here?” I question.
“It’s only that, well, Sadie mentioned how her family runs this town, and she can do as she pleases while she’s here. It’s a strange comment coming from someone new to the community.”
There’s still a lingering unasked question, but he won’t get an answer from me. An implication of running this town means only one name—Harrington. The mayor is one. The brewery that employs quite a few townspeople is another.
“I’ll speak with Sadie,” I assure him, standing to express my wish to leave. It’s strange that even as an adult, I feel like I’m the one in trouble in this office.
“You do that, and if there’s anything you need, here’s my card. You can call me. For anything.” My brows pinch as I take the card. Isn’t that what I was doing here? Seeking help and compassion for Sadie, because that’s what I need. That’s what she needs.
I exit the principal’s office and wave at the secretary. Sadie sits in a seat across from the empty cubical desk of a second secretary.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Sadie, disappointment ringing in my tone. Even if I did ask for some sympathy from the school on Sadie’s behalf, I won’t disguise how upset I am at this situation.
“I’m leaving?” Her brows disappear under her dark hair which she has pulled forward over her face.
“For today.” I press through the door, expecting her to follow me into the hall. She does, keeping pace with me as I walk as quickly as I can to get out of this building.
“Am I suspended?”
“Would it matter?” I snap. When Sadie lived near Atlanta, her mother wanted her to get into the most prestigious schools. She pushed Sadie to work hard, study harder, and learn all the things. Sadie rose to that challenge, but it wore on her. She didn’t get to do anything extra, like be a kid. Sure, she had extracurricular activities, but everything involved practice. Piano. Karate.
“Yes.” The softly spoken word stops me in my tracks, and I turn on Sadie in the middle of the hallway.
“Really? Because this isn’t the Sadie I know. Picking on another girl because of her clothes, calling her a name, and threatening her.” My eyes have a will of their own as I take in Sadie’s appearance. The same could have easily happened to her.
“And what’s this about saying your family runs this town? Acting like you’re superior to the rest of the kids and can get away with something like casting stones.”
“I didn’t throw anything,” she mutters.
“You know what I mean, Sadie Wilhelmina,” I say in an exasperated tone and a little too loudly as my arms flail out to my sides and then slap my thighs. I hitch my crossbody purse on my shoulder although it doesn’t need adjusting and glare at my niece. Where did the sweet girl go? Why is she hiding?
“She started it,” Sadie whines. Her voice reminds me of when my sister and I would fight, putting blame on each other rather than admitting who did what first.
“Sadie,” I groan.
“She said I looked like Violet from The Incredibles and maybe I should disappear like her as well.”
My stomach flips as I considered the same thing. Not the disappearing part, but the overall appearance of Sadie.
“Well, you do look like Violet. I thought that might be the look you were going for.” I try to soften my tone, teasing her with the truth while trying not to insult her. “You can look like whoever you want, honey. But I am worried. Are you trying to disappear?”
Sadie has mentioned to me how the kids are different here. In some ways, she might be right. It’s more in-your-face community than what she’s used to, but it’s another reason I moved back here. I was tired of being just another face in a sea of people in a big city. Sadie looks off at something on the wall an
d swallows. “That’s what Billy wants. Me to disappear.”
Heart. Ripped. Out.
“Baby, I don’t think that’s true. He’s just…he’s struggling like you. He doesn’t know what to do or how. It’s confusing for a man like him.” Really, it’d be confusing for any man to suddenly have a kid show up, a kid you didn’t know you had.
Sadie huffs, proving she doesn’t understand, and I shouldn’t be defending Billy. She has her own issues.
“Do you need to collect your backpack or anything?” I ask, and Sadie shrugs her shoulder, emphasizing the pack already hanging on her back. “Oh. Okay. Let’s go.”
We walk in silence to the car, but everything still weighs on my mind. We settle into my Honda Civic and head back toward Main Street when I finally ask, “Did you tell the other kids you were Billy’s daughter?”
Sadie’s head lowers, and her hair curtains her face. She simply shakes her head, and her hair sways.
“Do you want to tell the other kids? Would that…I don’t know…help somehow?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sadie groans, laying her head back and staring out the passenger window. We continue the short drive without another word and pull into the alley behind the second block of Main Street where the bookshop sits on the corner. As I near the private parking space, I see the broad body of someone sitting on the stairs leading up to my apartment. Sadie’s eyes remain trained on the wooden staircase and the outline of the man we can see through the risers.
“Did you call him?” Sadie whispers. I shake my head in response although she isn’t looking at me, and I’m thinking the same unspoken question.
What is Billy doing here?
Sadie and I exit the car and slowly approach him. Billy doesn’t stand from his seat on the stairs.
“Hey.” His voice croaks as his eyes find mine and then quickly drift to Sadie. “You okay?”
