Single Dad’s Spring Break

by Rye Hart

  I leaned my bike against a wooden fence that was missing more boards than it had left and wondered about the wisdom of leaving it there. After a brief second thought, and not wanting to find it gone when I got back, I wheeled it up and leaned it against the cracked, broken column that stood on the porch.

  Stepping up to a thick metal security door, I fought back a wave of nervous energy, and knocked. A dog somewhere deeper in the house barked, a deep, angry sound that sent chills along my skin. The deep woofing drew closer and I started to grow even more nervous. Getting mauled by a big dog was not on my to-do list for the day.

  From behind the door, I heard a man's voice yelling – probably at the dog – and the barking stopped. A moment later, the door opened and from behind the metal bars of the security door, a tall, fat man with long, greasy gray hair and a goatee stared back at me.

  “The fuck you want, preppy?” he snapped.

  I looked down at my jeans and black t-shirt, feeling like anything but a preppy. But, considering he was only wearing a pair of cut off blue jean shorts, his large belly hanging over the waist band, I suppose I was dressed to the nines.

  “You Harry?”

  His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He took a long drag of his cigarette, pinning me to my spot with a hard gaze. He didn't speak for a long moment, just blew a thick plume of smoke into my face. I exhaled, waving the cloud of smoke away and tried to not cough.

  “Who's asking?” he finally said.

  “Tim sent me,” I said, hacking just a little bit. “I have a delivery for Harry.”

  Immediately, the man's face brightened, and he smiled, showing me a mouth full of rotting teeth – or rather, what was left of his rotting teeth. He only had three or four left.

  “Well, why the fuck didn't you say so up front?” he said.

  I shrugged. “New at this, I guess.”

  He opened the door a crack and stuck his hand out. “Lemme have it.”

  I stepped back a step and looked at him. “You are Harry, right?”

  A dark look crossed his face. “You want to see my fuckin' ID, kid?”

  I was a little hesitant to hand it over. The last thing I needed was to be wrong and hand the bag over to the wrong person. Given the fact that I was new at this, I didn't know Tim's regular customers – didn't know anything, really. I should have at least asked for a description before pedaling off.

  “If it wouldn't be too much trouble,” I said. “Yeah, can I see some ID?”

  The man gaped at me for a long moment and then started to laugh. “Fuckin' newbies,” he muttered.

  He turned and walked back into the house and returned with his wallet though. He took out a driver's license and showed it to me – two years expired. But, the picture was him and the name, “Harold Raymer” was clearly visible. It was him.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate – ”

  “Great,” he cut me off. “Gimme my lunch and get the fuck outta here, newbie.”

  I held up the bag and he snatched it from my hand, then slammed the door in my face. I suddenly felt really sorry for any pizza delivery guy who came by Harry's place. Walking my bike back out to the street, I climbed on and took off. Not having that albatross of a backpack around my neck felt great. I didn't have to worry about getting stopped in the street and hauled off to prison.

  Now, I just had to hope Tim held up his end of the bargain and paid me well.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  “Excellent work, Shane,” he said. “You're back in under two hours. That's got to be some sort of a record with the little shits I usually deal with. Nicely done, man.”

  It felt weird being praised for doing something illegal well, but hey, given my track record with jobs lately, I took it. It meant I was going to be able to feed my family tonight. Hopefully, it meant I was going to be able to pay rent as well.

  “That guy Harry,” I said, “he's – ”

  “He's a fucking nutbag,” Tim said. “But, he's a good customer and always has cash, so he can be as big of a fuckin' nutbag as he wants, as far as I'm concerned.”

  Tim disappeared into the bedroom and came back a few minutes later. I saw the cash in his hand and felt a surge of excitement in me. I had no idea how much he was going to give me, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest idea. I should have nailed him down to a figure before I accepted the job, b desperation makes you do stupid things.

  Tim pressed a small stack of bills into my hand. “Well earned, man.”

  I opened the stack and counted it out, my eyes growing a little wider with each bill. Four hundred dollars. I made four hundred dollars for not even two hours of work. I looked up at him to see if he was messing with me again.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “What, it's not enough?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No, it's just more than I expected.”

  He shrugged. “You run the risk out there,” he said. “You get paid. Just remember, part of that money is for your discretion and silence. You get caught, I don't fuckin' know you.”

  I nodded quickly. “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Seriously, man,” Tim said, his voice more serious than I'd ever heard it before. “You take that money, there's no rollin' on me. You do, you pay some serious fuckin' consequences.”

  The threat sent a chill through me, but I nodded again. I looked up, held his gaze firm.

  “You don't have to worry,” I said. “I'm not a rat.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile wide. “Good man,” he says. “Now, go buy your brother and sister a nice meal.”

  “I will,” I said.

  I felt a genuine surge of excitement running through me. I was going to be able to treat them to something nice tonight. They'd been through so much, the deserved it.

  “And remember, there's always more where that came from,” Tim said. “I need couriers all the time. So, you in? Can I put you at the top of my call list?”

  A slight wave of trepidation surged through me. Muling drugs. Not exactly the career path I'd envisioned for myself. It was risky. Really risky. But then, was it really? I'd cruised right by a cop – was five feet from him – and he'd been none the wiser. To them, I was just some upstanding member of Walter's community on my way somewhere on my bike. They didn't know I was hauling drugs. So, how big was the risk really?

  And the payoff – it seemed like a hell of a lot more than the risk I took. If I were able to do just a couple of jobs a week, we'd be sitting pretty. Or, at least, a lot prettier than we had been since our folks died. I wouldn't have to stress so hard about the bills or putting food on the table. And that's just if I did a couple of runs a week.

  This was all temporary. It was just something to get us by until something better – and legal – came along. This wasn't going to be my life. It would allow me to provide for my family, but it wasn't going to be my life. I would get out the instant I could.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Put me at the top of the list.”

  Tim laughed and clapped me on the shoulder again. “Good man,” he said. “Good man.”

  Was I though? Was I really? I was doing something wrong. Illegal.

  But, at least it would allow me to take care of my family.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PIPER

  The blonde woman on the other side of the desk was beautiful when she smiled, but a little hardened and angry when she didn't. She stared at me with frown lines on her face and her brow furrowed. I cleared my throat and stared at my hands, folded in my lap, trying to fight off the feeling of dread threatening to consume me.

  The woman was Sheila Appleton, Attorney at Law; one of the better family lawyers in Walter. Okay, technically, she was the only family lawyer in Walter, but she had a decent enough reputation. She was also fairly affordable compared to going out of town and finding a big-wig, high dollar attorney like Trent had done.

  “What's the problem?” I asked.

  My nerves of steel had disintegrated under the
withering power of just that one look from her. It damn near stopped my heart from beating in my chest. All this time, I thought everything was going to be okay. I'd felt good about our case. I felt like there was no way I could honestly lose custody of my little girl, but Sheila's eyes told me otherwise.

  “Your ex has tested clean on every single drug tests he's been given,” Sheila said, handing me a small folder, “And he's actually gotten a job with proof of legit income. Turns out, he's actually making a lot of money, Piper.”

  “Bullshit,” I stammered, opening the folder and flipping through the documents. “It's fake. It has to be. I know Trent.”

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  “Maybe, but from where I'm sitting, it looks legit,” Sheila said. “And even if it's fake, it looks good enough that it can probably fool the courts.”

  “No,” I said. “I just spoke to him the other night. He was high as a kite.”

  “It gets worse,” Sheila said.

  “Worse? How?” I wish I hadn't asked. “It doesn't seem possible at this point.”

  “He's claiming you're an unfit mother and he's seeking full custody,” she said. “He wants to cut you out of Olivia's life as much as possible.”

  “That son of a bitch. He has no basis to claim that I'm unfit,” I said. “I've never done anything that would justify that.”

  Sheila still wasn't smiling. She nodded toward the folder, so I flipped through the pages. Gasping, I stared at the photo of me with wide, scared eyes. I looked up at Sheila, who looked like a disappointed mother, and then back down at the file in my hands.

  “What is – ”

  I pulled it from the folder. It was a picture of me alright, a picture of me sitting around with some of his friends. I remembered that night very well. I'd put on a happy face because I knew I was leaving Trent's ass for good. I was smiling because I knew I wouldn't have to put up with anymore of his parties – or him – anymore.

  Except, the photo he'd included was of me with several men sitting at a table, passing a bong around. I didn't partake, I never did. I was simply in the photo. There were beer bottles and empty shot glasses littering the table in front of us. I knew, for a fact, that at that time, Olivia was asleep in her crib in the back of the house. Away from the mayhem, and soon enough, even further away. “He fails to mention that these are his friends at his party – not mine – doesn't he?” I hiss. And he also fails to mention that I never smoked pot. Especially, with his lowlife friends.”

  “Yep. He claims he wasn't there that night. He says that he was working and says he can prove it,” he said. “He also claims you were left at home alone with the baby and chose to party instead.”

  “Bullshit again,” I said, throwing the photo on her desk. “I was passing through on my way to Olivia's room. I usually locked myself in with my baby girl when things got wild, but I needed to make her a bottle first. Trent was the one who took the photo.”

  “He has a written statement from his boss that he was at work that night.”

  “He didn't even have a job,” I spat.

  “According to his paperwork, he did,” Sheila said.

  She crossed her arms in front of herself and studied me for a moment. I slammed the folder shut and threw it on her desk. Leaning back in my chair, I nibbled my thumb nail and tapped my foot on the floor, urging myself not to cry. I'd shed enough tears over that asshole already. He didn't deserve anymore from me. What he did deserve was a swift kick in the balls.

  “We're still going to win this,” I said.

  “Absolutely,” Sheila said, but sounding a little less confident than she had before. “He just made things a little harder for us. But, very rarely will a judge deny a mother custody as long as she's deemed fit – which you are. The picture won't hold up in my opinion, but we do have to make sure you stay on the up-and-up.”

  “Of course,” I snorted. “I don't do anything illegal, most certainly not drugs. I don't even drink.”

  Sheila nodded. “I know, which is why I'm confident we can win this, Piper. We won't give the bastard any material he can use against us, and he's going to fall on his ass. Mark my words girl, when we're done with him, he's not even going to be able to adopt a cat.”

  Taking a deep breath, I told myself she was right. He was trying to scare me, trying to make my life more difficult so I'd end up running back to him. It wasn't going to work. I just had to keep doing what I was doing and stay out of trouble. If I could manage that – not a difficult feat to accomplish in my life, really – everything would work itself out. Everything would be just fine.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  As I was leaving Sheila's office, my phone rang. It was Shane. I couldn't control the smile on my face when I picked up the phone.

  “Hey, you,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said. “So, about that second date we talked about? I think I want to take you out to a real dinner this time. Just you and me.”

  “Oh yeah?” I giggled.

  I climbed into my car and leaned against the seat. Everything would be okay. Stay out of trouble and Trent didn't stand a chance – and hang out with Shane more too. Life was going well, I had nothing to complain about. All things considered, I was feeling pretty confident. “What were you thinking?” I asked.

  “Perezzis. The best Italian food in town,” he said.

  “And where we ate before prom,” I said, my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. “But it's expensive, isn't it?”

  “Not too bad. I can handle it,” he said. “A special girl deserves a special night out, after all.”

  The idea of a night out at a nice place did sound nice, I wasn't going to lie.

  “Did you find a job?” I asked.

  “Yes, actually I did. Just a temporary gig, but it pays well enough,” he said. “Enough that I can spoil the hell out of you for one night at least.”

  I laughed, feeling giddy and silly, like a schoolgirl all over again. “I'd love to, Shane. We can celebrate your new job too while we're at it.”

  He was quiet for a moment, but then answered, “Yeah, sounds good,” he said. “We'll do that. When are you free?”

  “Tonight, actually,” I said. “I took the day off to meet with my lawyer to go over some stuff for the custody hearing.”

  “Pick you up at six then?”

  I couldn't believe this was happening to me – now, after all these years. Shane Jackson and I were going on a real date again. We were going to the place we'd shared dinner before our senior prom. It all felt too romantic and sweet for words. It almost felt too good to be true after all the crap I'd been through the last few years.

  It was just surreal to me how quickly life could turn around, how quickly you could move from your lowest depths, to unimaginable highs. “I can't wait,” I cooed.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  “Another date already? Think things are getting serious?” mom asked, smiling at me as I examined myself in the hall mirror.

  This time, I'd picked out a soft pink dress with a bow cinching my waist. It brought out my hourglass figure, accentuating my curves very nicely, and made me look pretty amazing, I had to say.

  “I don't know,” I said, but I couldn't stop grinning like a fool.

  The other night, that kiss at his place – it had been pretty magical. It honestly felt like old times, like we were still the two love-drunk teenagers who couldn't get enough of each other. That fire and passion we'd had for each other back in the day didn't seem to have dimmed in the least with the passage of time.

  To be honest, after Shane left, and then after Trent, I wasn't sure I'd ever find that again. I wasn't sure it even existed or if I honestly even wanted to try again. Yet, despite all that, there I was, grinning like a lovesick idiot. And even though I’d tried to make Shane agree that we’d only gone out as friends, we both knew I’d been a big, fat liar.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I giggled as my mom patted me on the rear, giving me a knowing smile. I scurried off toward the front do
or. Olivia was sitting in the living room, playing with her dolls, looking up at me and smiling as I entered the room. This was it. He was going to meet her, whether I was ready for it to happen or not.

  Letting out a long, nervous breath, I answered the door, and instantly felt like my heart was about to beat straight out of my chest. He'd gotten a cut, so his chestnut brown hair was trimmed and neat, just like I'd remembered him. He was freshly shaven too. His brown eyes were sparkling and the warm, inviting smile on his face said he was happy to see me. I nearly melted into a puddle when I saw what he had in his hands.

  “Lilies?” I gushed. “You remembered. I can't believe you remembered.”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “They were always your favorite flowers.”

  I welcomed him into the house, and Olivia stared up at him with big eyes, wide with a little hint of apprehension in them. She stood up and walked over to me, hiding behind my leg with her thumb in her mouth.

  “Well hey there,” Shane said, kneeling down so he was at eye-level with my little girl. “You must be Olivia. I've heard an awful lot about you. My name is Shane.”

  My heart almost couldn't take it. Seeing him looking at her with such sweetness and gentleness in his eyes made my heart swell to the point it felt like it might burst. “She's a bit shy,” I said, running a hand through her silky black hair, as she leaned her head into my leg. “But she'll come around.”

  “I'm sure she will,” he said. “She's beautiful. Just like her mama.”

  My cheeks flushed with color, and I just stood there, grinning like a fool. Footsteps sounded in the hallway behind me and a moment later, I felt my mother's hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze.

  “Shane, it's been way too long,” mom said, a warm smile on her face.

  “It has, Mrs. Anderson. How have you been?”

  “Good,” she said, giving me an approving smile. “And you?”