Daddy's Baby

by B. B. Hamel

  “Maybe,” I say, thinking. “It’s not exactly happy. But I feel fulfilled. Like I’m doing a good job.”

  “Then you like it,” she says, nodding.

  I grin at her. “And how would you know?”

  “I just know.”

  “Do you find great satisfaction sitting out by the pool?”

  She stares at me with an annoyed expression. “No,” she says. “It’s not exactly what I want to be doing.”

  “What do you want to do, then?”

  She considers me. “I’m not sure yet,” she admits. “But I know I don’t want to go to Harvard just because I can. I want to have direction, purpose. That’s why I know you like what you do, because it gives you purpose. That’s important.”

  I’m a little surprised by her speech. It sounds much more mature than a woman her age usually sounds. I knew she was smart, but I didn’t know she was searching so seriously for purpose in her life.

  I have a serious respect for that. She could easily just skate by through life, but maybe there’s more to her than that.

  Which just makes her dangerous. If she’s more than just a gorgeous body, I’m not sure I can resist her.

  “Well,” I say, shutting my laptop lid. “I hope you find purpose too.”

  “Thanks.” She watches as I get my stuff together. As I’m about to leave, she speaks up. “Can I ask you something?”

  I pause by the door. “Sure. Hit me.”

  “What’s my mom’s middle name?”

  I watch her, eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. Where did she go to high school?”

  “It sounds like you’re interrogating me.”

  She smiles. “That’s because I am.”

  I smirk at her, excitement coursing through my body. “Good night, Sydney.”

  “Good night, Connor.”

  I turn and leave the room. I know that she’s onto me, and I could maybe do a better job of bluffing my way through that situation, but I decide not to.

  She can believe whatever she wants to believe. I can’t stop her, and really, I don’t want to stop her. She’s fascinating. I’m surprised she’s able to see through this charade, but clearly she’s onto us. And I don’t want to disabuse her of that idea.

  I want her to know, I just can’t be the one to tell her.

  I don’t bother to pretend like I go into Julia’s room. I go into the guest room and shut the door. She might notice or she might not. I’m too tired to really care at this point.

  I go to bed, a smile on my face, wondering how soon before she really sees through it all.

  10

  Sydney

  I know something’s weird with Connor and my mother.

  I just can’t completely prove it yet. I suspected something the moment he looked at me and I knew what he really wanted. My suspicions grew as they rushed into their marriage in a way that I know my mom would never really want unless there was some special reason. The story about them meeting in Jamaica always sounded wrong to me, but I could never put my fingers on it.

  Until I decided to do some digging. I told them I was going over to my friend Macy’s house, but instead I went to an all-night Internet café next to a movie theater. Most people go there to play games, so it’s nice and dark and nobody knows me there. I took a seat in a corner and started to search.

  I did some research on the SEALs first. I didn’t know all that much about them, but by the time I finished reading, I was thoroughly impressed. The SEALs are America’s finest special operations team, and each member is basically a single fighting force. They’re the best of the best, and apparently Connor used to be one of them.

  After that, I started searching for Connor. I found his company’s website and some social media profiles, most of which looked pretty dead. I started trying to find stuff specifically from a year ago, and found out that he attended a few special security conferences and gave talks at a few of them.

  Nothing special turned up, so I started looking into my mom’s stuff. I know her pretty well, so I don’t need to Google her, but I did go back through her calendar. I know her password, so that was pretty easy. I went all the way back and found out the dates of her vacation.

  But something looked wrong. I went back and checked online, and was stunned at what I found.

  Connor was supposedly a keynote speaker at a conference in Las Vegas the week that my mom was in Jamaica. They supposedly met there that week.

  But he wasn’t in Jamaica. At least according to the conference website. Maybe he went to the conference then went to Jamaica, but that doesn’t make sense. Nobody goes for just two or three days, you make a whole week of it. Maybe five days at the least.

  Not sure what to make of it, I went to see a movie, and then headed home. That’s when I decided to throw some questions out at Connor.

  He should have known my mom’s middle name. He should have known where she went to high school. These are normal things you talk about over the course of a year. When you’re with someone for a year or more, you just learn these things about them, it’s that simple.

  And yet he didn’t know. He didn’t even try to bluff his way out of it. He just didn’t answer.

  Because they haven’t been together for a year.

  I wake up early the next morning, not sure what the heck to think. I barely slept all night, plagued by dreams and confusion.

  I don’t know who Connor is or what he’s doing with my mother. I don’t think it’s anything sinister, but clearly something is going on. Maybe it’s a green card marriage and my mother is only doing it to help him, but that makes no sense. He has to be a citizen if he was a SEAL.

  I can’t see any reason why Mom would want to marry Connor in such a short time. I doubt he’s marrying her to try and get her money, considering she’s smarter than that. She doesn’t even seem to particularly like him that much, since they don’t spend any time together. She doesn’t talk about him when I do get a chance to chat with her, at least this far into their short marriage she hasn’t.

  I can’t understand it. I head down into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and exhausted. I put on some coffee and rummage around in the refrigerator, idly looking for something to eat, but not really hungry.

  I’m too lost in thought to notice anything around me, which is why I don’t notice the weird red stain on the front door’s window until my second or third pass across the hallway.

  When the coffee is finished, the door finally catches my eye. It looks strange, like it’s wet on the outside, but there’s a red tint to the light. I walk over toward it, curious, and peer outside.

  Nothing looks off, but there seems to be some red liquid on the glass. Slowly, I open the front door, and then pause and stare at what I see.

  The walkway looks like it’s covered in paint. The stones and the flowers are all torn up and pulled out, tossed aside, like someone took a jackhammer to it. The door shuts behind me as I step tentatively onto the front patio. I stare all around me in silent shock.

  Who the hell would do this and why? My mind runs the gamut of possibilities, from drunk teenagers to aliens. But the paint or whatever it is looks fresh, and isn’t dry at all. I step in a little bit and it’s cold and sticks to the bottom of my feet.

  I turn to head back inside. I feel thoroughly creeped out and terrified. But what really gets me is what I see when I turn.

  Written in the same red liquid is the word “LIAR” on the front door. I stare at it for a second, not sure what the hell to think, and I feel prickles all down my spine. I feel the tingles and I feel like someone is watching me from the shadows, getting ready to jump out and attack me.

  I quickly run inside, not thinking, and slam the door in a blind panic. I lock the locks and breathe heavily, a slight sweat coming up on my skin.

  “Sydney?”

  I scream and jump, surprised and afraid. Connor comes down the stairs, a frown on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.


  “Shit,” I say. “You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Where’s my mom?”

  “Left for work a couple hours ago. Said she had a meeting.”

  I cock my head at him. “It was pitch black two hours ago.”

  “I guess so. What’s wrong, Sydney? What’s that on your foot?”

  I look down and notice the red stuff is on the floor now. I groan and shake my head.

  “Someone... pranked us,” I say.

  “Pranked us?” He stands in front of me and gently puts his hands on my shoulders. “What happened, Syd?”

  “Outside,” I say softly.

  His face gets serious. “Stay here.” He opens the front door and steps outside, shutting it behind him.

  I hop on one foot into the kitchen, wet a paper towel, and clean my feet off. I do both just to be thorough, but also because I still feel unclean.

  The scene outside is so incredibly creepy. It seemed like a bad prank until I saw the word on the front door. “LIAR” in big, bold swathes of red stuff. Whatever it is out there, it’s not paint, because it’s not the right consistency.

  Connor comes back in a minute later and storms right into the kitchen. “Tell me what you saw,” he says, all business.

  “Same as you saw,” I respond, and tell him the whole story of my morning, up until he scared me a couple minutes ago.

  He nods, looking serious the whole time, and it only makes me even more worried. I’m operating under the assumption that this is just some bad and creepy prank, but what if it’s more than that? Connor’s reaction doesn’t seem like he thinks it’s harmless, not at all.

  “I have to call your mom,” he says. “Go into your room, shut the door, and lock it. Understand?”

  “What’s going on, Connor?”

  “I’ll tell you everything after I talk to your mom.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Can you do that for me?”

  I stare at him for a moment. He’s a total stranger living in my house, and I have no clue why he’s even here. But I trust him. I don’t know why I trust him, but I really do.

  “Okay,” I say softly. “But I want the truth.” I pause and stare at him. “The whole truth.”

  He frowns slightly then nods. “Go,” he says.

  I head upstairs and do as he asks. I shut my bedroom door and lock it. I sit on my bed and scroll through my phone, trying to see if I can find any mention of something like this on the news. Maybe this is happening to houses all over the place and it’s just some crazy guy or stupid kids trying to scare people. But there’s no mention on the news, nothing at all.

  Connor knocks on my door about ten minutes later and I let him in. He stands near the door with his arms crossed, leaning against the closet door, and I sit on the edge of my bed.

  “We need to talk,” he says.

  “Yeah, we do,” I answer, staring him down. “Who are you?”

  He shakes his head. “I am who I say I am. That’s not the right question.”

  “Why are you here?” I ask softly.

  He smiles slightly. “That’s the right one.”

  “Well? You weren’t in Jamaica last July, were you?”

  He looks slightly surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “I did some searching online. The conference you were at has a website. Did you know that?”

  “Shit,” he says softly. “I’ll have to fix that.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “What’s happening here?”

  He watches me for a second then he sighs. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but at this point I think you’re too suspicious to hold back. Do you really want to know?”

  I nod my head once. “Yes. Tell me.”

  “Your mother married me to make herself look good for your grandfather. She’s afraid he’s going to choose her brother to run the company when he passes.”

  I watch him for a second then burst out laughing. That’s the most absurd and stupid thing I’ve ever heard. “How is that real?” I ask him, totally incredulous.

  “I know,” he says softly. “It’s crazy, right?”

  “Totally crazy.” I can’t help but laugh at the situation.

  “Truth is, I barely know your mother. But I do believe she was right to marry me. Your grandfather really does seem like he’s holding this whole single mother thing against her.”

  “But she’s the CEO,” I say.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s complicated.”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “This is nuts. So you’re not really in love with my mom?”

  “Not at all. And she’s not in love with me, either.”

  That explains a lot. It explains why he looks at me the way he does and why it seems like he sleeps in the guest room. It’s a marriage of convenience to fool my grandfather.

  But it also means that he’s not off limits. The thought sends a pulse of pure excitement and desire up my core.

  He takes a step toward me. “You can’t tell your mother that you know,” he says. “She’s against this. I can’t risk ruining things.”

  “I don’t want to lie to her,” I say.

  “Don’t lie. Just don’t say the truth out loud.”

  I bite my lip. “It’s just so crazy. You’re tricking granddad. He’s dying.”

  He sighs, nodding. “I know. It’s not the most ethical thing in the world.”

  “And what about outside?” I ask. “What was all that creepy stuff?”

  “Your uncle is very... aggressive. That’s the other reason I’m here, I think. Your mom thinks your uncle is going to do something drastic, and she wants me to be around to protect you two.”

  “I see,” I say, completely blown away. “I mean, I don’t see. This is insane.”

  “I know. But listen. I think your uncle did that outside. He also called your mother and threatened her yesterday morning. She says she didn’t see anything wrong when she left, but it was dark and early, and maybe she missed it.”

  He looks concerned and it makes me nervous all over again. “So what do we do? Should we go to the police?”

  “Your mother forbids it,” he says. “If it were up to me, I’d hire some guys and watch this place full time, but she doesn’t want that.” He walks over and he sits down next to me. He’s very close and I can feel my pulse racing in my chest.

  This man isn’t my mother’s lover. He’s married to her, and technically my stepfather, but he’s not really either of those things. I want him now more than ever, even though it’s still totally wrong.

  “You need to be careful,” he says. “Don’t stay out too late anymore. Don’t go anywhere without telling your mom or me.”

  “Great. So now I have a curfew?”

  He grins at me. “I can impose one if you want, young lady.”

  I smile back. “You’re not my dad.”

  “No,” he says softly, leaning toward me. “I’m not.”

  There’s a moment between us, pure electricity, pure charge. I feel like I’m falling into a deep pool, and only he can pull me back out of it.

  But the moment passes and he leans away. I stand up and walk across the room before turning to him. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  He shrugs. “If your mother let me, yes. I think you needed to know.”

  “How long will this last?”

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “A year, maybe more. Maybe less. It all depends on what happens from here on out.”

  “And is my uncle dangerous?” My last question sets my heart racing again.

  He stands and steps toward me, his gaze digging into mine. “Yes,” he says. “But he won’t hurt you. Not ever. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “I promise I’ll keep you both safe.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good.” He pauses for a moment then looks away. “I need to go clean that up outside. Do me a favor and don’t go anywhere today.”

  “I can still go out by
the pool, right?”

  He grins at me. “This isn’t prison.”

  I give him a look. “Okay then.”

  “I’m glad you know,” he says, pausing. “It feels better. Strangely.”

  “I’m glad I know, too.”

  He watches me for a second then nods and leaves. I let out a breath and feel like I was holding it the whole time.

  My mind is reeling as I get back into bed and stare at the ceiling. Connor isn’t really my mom’s husband, or he is, but only technically. That means the way I think about him isn’t wrong, but it is still wrong, became he’s my stepfather. It’s all so confusing, and to top it all off, apparently my uncle is totally crazy now.

  I don’t know what the heck to do. But at the very least, I can feel better about fantasizing about Connor. I don’t have to carry that guilt anymore. Although now I have to keep my knowledge away from my mother, which is complicated in itself.

  I groan, wondering how the hell my life just got so much more complicated.

  11

  Connor

  I feel guilty the next day and Julia and I head down to her father’s house for another short visit. I was insistent that we keep this one as quick as possible, because I’m worried about what Evan might do.

  Julia, of course, doesn’t seem worried at all.

  “I wish you would let me bring some guys with us,” I say to her as we pull into the long drive.

  “Nonsense,” she says. “He’s just trying to scare us.”

  “He wrote ‘Liar’ in what looks like blood on your front door.”

  She frowns at that. “You can’t know it’s blood.”

  “I’m pretty sure it is. Animal probably, but still blood.”

  “That’s something a crazy person does. My brother may be vindictive and cruel, but he’s not crazy.”

  “He’s trying to scare you,” I say. “And it should be working. Plus, why did he write that word in particular?”

  She shrugs as she pulls the car up front. “Who knows the inner workings of a mad man’s mind?”

  I sigh, shaking my head, and she smiles at me. “I wish you took this more seriously,” I say. “What if he knows about this fake marriage?”