Hot Mess

by Emma Hart

  Damn it.

  She was wearing black shorts that showed off her long, toned legs, and a flowing white strappy shirt that wasn’t quite thick enough to completely hide her turquoise sports bra. As she approached, she slowed, pushing her dark hair back from her face and into her messy bun.

  “Good morning,” I said quietly.

  “Hi,” she replied, gripping her water bottle. “Um, how are you?”

  “Not too bad. Yourself?”

  “Good.” Elle looked down at her pink trainers before back up at me. “Uh, I was going to stop by later. I wanted to apologize for snapping at you last night. I was really stressed and really tired, but I had no excuse for taking it out on you.”

  “You had a little bit of one. I haven’t exactly been the nicest person in the world to you,” I admitted, slightly begrudgingly. “Also, my great-aunt and her friends will stress anyone would.”

  She fought a smile, and it made her blue eyes shine in the sunlight. “Actually, they were pretty much the best part of my day. They’re funny.”

  “Do we have a different definition of the word? Funny isn’t a word I’d use for them. Insane? Crazy? Nuts? Bonkers? Yes. But not funny.”

  “Bonkers? What’s that?”

  Right. “It’s another word for crazy. If you say, “That’s crazy!” a British person might say, “That’s bonkers!”

  “That’s a weird word.”

  “Eh, it’s a weird language.” I shrugged. “It’s all the same to me. Sorry they bothered you. I told Agnes she couldn’t use the beach for their little soiree, but I should have known they wouldn’t listen.”

  She shifted her weight. “Honestly, aside from them appearing naked out of nowhere, it wasn’t so much a bother. Although I don’t think I drank enough wine before I went to bed. I can still remember it.”

  I grimaced, slowly nodding my head. “Yeah, you need at least half a bottle of vodka for that.”

  This time, she couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, again, I’m sorry for shouting. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

  “Don’t apologize. It happens.”

  “Elle! Hi!” Ari zoomed out of the kitchen onto the deck. “Hi!”

  Elle smiled, but she took a step back. “Hey, Ari. How are you?”

  “I’m happy! Hi!” She beamed so widely I thought her cheeks were going to fly off. “What are you doing today?”

  “Oh, uh… I have a couple of phone calls to make, then I was going to ask your dad if he wanted anything painting in the house.”

  She was going to do what?

  “You don’t have to do that. You’re renting it.”

  She shifted her weight again to the other foot. “It’s fine. I have nothing else to do. I saw paint in the utility and bathroom. I’m not too bad at it.”

  It felt wrong to let her paint anything. It was the one job I hated more than anything, and that was exactly why those two rooms hadn’t been painted yet.

  That and I was still waiting on the cowboy plumber to fix the leaky bath.

  The utility, however, was ready to go… bar the white paint that needed to go on the walls.

  I opened my mouth to tell her not to worry, but she looked at me with a mixture of hope and a plea in her eyes, like she really needed something to do right now.

  I exhaled slowly and nodded. “Sure. If you really want to, the utility does need painting.”

  “I don’t mind. I said when you agreed to rent me the house that I would help where I could.”

  “Can I help?” Ari bounced on the balls of her feet. “Please, Dad? Please?”

  I shook my head. “No. You have gymnastics this afternoon.”

  “But, Daaaad—”

  “No. Miss Sheldon will be upset if you don’t go. You missed last week’s class. You begged me to go to the summer classes and I paid it all, so the summer classes are what you’ll do.”

  She huffed out a big sigh and turned, stomping off back into the house, muttering something about unfair her life was and how mean I was.

  You know, normal nine-year-old grumblings.

  I knew she’d get to that class and love every second. Besides, the kid wanted to be a dancer when she grew up. While I knew that would probably change a thousand times between now and her tenth birthday next year, the two classes complimented each other right now.

  Also, I needed to work, and her summer dance and gymnastics classes gave me the time I needed.

  It wasn’t like I had anyone here to help me.

  “Ignore her,” I said to Elle. “I’ll stop by and give you a hand when she’s in her class. She’s there for two hours and then she’s spending the day with a friend, so I have some spare time.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to. I’m weird. I enjoy it.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s something I need to do anyway. I’ll come over when I’m done checking in with the guests in the other houses.”

  Her throat bobbed, and she jerked her head in the smallest nod. “Okay. Sure. Fine.”

  “All right, then. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah.” She tucked another bit of hair behind her ear, smiled hesitantly, and turned in the direction of the house. “See you later.”

  I watched her go until she disappeared up the back deck and into the house, leaving me alone on my own deck… to deal with a grumpy nine-year-old.

  ***

  I pulled up behind Elle’s tiny little car and put my truck in park. I heard the music the second I stepped out, and I shuddered at the volume. A quick check of the beach showed that nobody was nearby, thankfully.

  There was every chance I’d get a complaint. Some of the people who stayed in the houses brought their elderly relatives with them, and they did like a good moan.

  I knocked on the door even though I knew it would be useless. There was no way she could hear me over the sound of her music, so I tried the handle and fist-pumped when the door clicked open.

  There was a God.

  He didn’t really listen to me most of the time, but that was what I got for asking for an easy ride with a daughter.

  It was all on me, really.

  I pulled the door shut behind me and stopped. The song clicked over to Sucker by The Jonas Brothers, and with it, came Elle’s singing.

  It was the worst singing I’d heard in a long time, but that didn’t stop me having to fight a smile—and a laugh. I also hated that I knew that song, but that was what I got for letting Ari control the music.

  I walked through the clean living room toward the utility room. The door was open, and once again, I stopped.

  The room was no bigger than ten feet wide, but there was Elle, dancing in the middle of it. The countertops were covered with clear dust sheets, and on one sat a speaker with her phone right next to it. The speaker was the source of the booming music, and I covered my mouth with my hand as I watched her.

  She jumped into the middle of the room, dipped her brush into the paint tin, and shook her hips to the beat of the music. The beat carried her to the wall where she moved her entire body in time to it. Her shoulders bobbed up and down one at a time, her hips jerked side to side, and she stopped occasionally to use the paintbrush as a microphone.

  It was hilarious.

  She had no idea I was here.

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the door frame. She was completely and utterly oblivious to my presence, something that didn’t change as the song changed to one by Little Mix.

  I really had to stop letting my nine-year-old control Spotify.

  Elle was covered in paint. I wasn’t surprised given that she was dancing more than she was painting, but she had it everywhere other than on the walls.

  Thank God she’d covered all the cabinets.

  They were brand new.

  She threw her hands in the air, sending paint splattering everywhere.

  Including on me.

  “Shit!” The word escaped me before I could stop it, and I threw up my hands to stop it slamming in
my face.

  “Oh, my God!” She covered her mouth with her hands, but one of those hands still held the paintbrush. More paint flicked with her movement, and she screamed, dropping the brush on the floor.

  More paint.

  “I’m so sorry!” She grabbed a towel and rushed to me, lifting it to wipe my face. “I had no idea you were there.”

  “I should hope not. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from hearing you sing.”

  Her cheeks flushed bright red, but she reached up and wiped paint from my hair. “I didn’t—I forgot the time,” she stammered. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry.” I took the towel from her and wiped my face with a clean part, then handed it right back. “You need this more than me. Trust me. You look like you got in a fight with an art store.”

  She looked down at herself, at the smears and splatters on her legs and clothes. “Right. I’m okay. It’s just paint.”

  “You have a big… right here.” I motioned to my own cheek, running my fingertip from my right temple down my face and onto my neck.

  She patted her cheek and looked at her palm. “That’s why you don’t paint and dance.”

  “Not that it stopped you, judging by those dad moves.”

  She blushed again. “You watched me?”

  “It was a little hard not to. It’s like those trainwrecks where you know it’s all going to go to shit, but you can’t stop watching.”

  “Reality TV, essentially.”

  “Yes. Pretty much. How are you doing in here?”

  She looked around the room and bit down on her lower lip. “Well, there’s room for improvement.”

  Laughing, I traced the path her gaze had just taken. It was the most mismatched painting I’d ever seen, but at least she’d tried.

  “All right. I have a few hours. It won’t take long with both of us painting. Do you want to roll and I’ll edge?”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you just said to me. Is that some kind of freaky sex thing?”

  I picked up the paint roller and held it up. “A paint roller. To put the paint on the walls.”

  She laughed into her hand. “Right. Sorry. Of course. That was inappropriate.” She took the roller and handed me the paintbrush she’d been using.

  I fought back a smile and dipped the brush in the paint.

  Bloody hell. Why was I smiling? I didn’t like this woman, nor did I have any intention of changing my stance on her.

  But it was hard to hate someone who danced and sung as badly as she did while wearing booty shorts. Especially when those shorts showed off long, lightly tanned legs that had the muscle tone of one of those weird people who liked running.

  I turned my back to her and got to painting. Why had I agreed to come and help her? I never should have let her talk me into letting her paint the room, even if she was doing it out of a little guilt. At that point, there really was no way I couldn’t not help.

  I’d look like an absolute arsehole if I just left her to it.

  I was torn. While I had no intention of being her friend—I couldn’t wait for her to leave, actually—I had the unique chance to get to know the person my daughter idolized.

  I had no idea why she idolized her.

  As far as I knew, all she did was curl her hair and give interior design tips.

  Actually, I could use the latter.

  “So, explain to me why nine-year-old girls think you’re God’s gift to the internet.”

  Elle snorted, then coughed so hard she had to bang her chest with her fist. “Well, it’s not for my elegance or grace, that’s for sure.”

  I smirked, glancing over my shoulder at her.

  “I don’t know, if I’m honest. I started vlogging when I was in college as a way to fill time, and later it was a way to earn some money while I studied.”

  “College?”

  “Yes. Is it that surprising that I have a degree?”

  “Well, you curl your hair on the internet. I didn’t know you needed a degree for that.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN – THEO

  Shit.

  I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

  Tentatively, I peered back at her.

  She had one hand on her hip and stared at me with her lips curved in a wry smile, with the barest hint of laughter sparkling in her eyes. “If I had somewhere else to go, I might have beaten you with this paint roller for that.”

  “I probably deserve it.”

  “You’ll get no arguments there from me.” She put the roller on the tray and picked up a half-empty bottle of water. “I actually have a degree in psychology. I was going to continue my education when I graduated, but I saw my sister qualify as a psychologist and I knew it would impact my ability to vlog, and at that point, I was making a ton of money.” She paused. “That sounds really shitty when I say it like it.”

  “It makes sense,” I replied. “You’ll always have that degree, and there’s no saying you can’t complete it later.”

  “That was my brother-in-law’s reasoning, too. My sister wasn’t really happy about it, but he helped her see sense. Although it looks like I might be doing that sooner rather than later,” she finished dryly. “Given the current circumstances.”

  I waited while she put down the water and picked the roller back up. “You really didn’t know?”

  She tensed, her shoulders moving up toward her ears. “No,” she said after a moment, relaxing her shoulders. She stared at the wall as she spoke. “I remember the night—it was a party, we were both drunk, and I made a stupid decision. Apparently, it wasn’t as spontaneous as he’d led me to believe, given that it’s on camera. A clear one at that.”

  Sympathy balled in the pit of my stomach. There was no denying the truth in her words. As much as I wanted to believe she was a terrible influence, she was clearly someone who’d been wronged by someone she’d trusted. Someone she’d loved.

  Nobody—absolutely fucking nobody—spoke with a crack in their voice unless they were genuinely hurt.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “It’s fine. I have to get used to talking about it. I spoke to my lawyer this morning and my sister put me in contact with a friend who’s a private investigator.”

  “You’re not going to the police? This is revenge porn, Elle.”

  “I know that. He released the video purely to hurt me. The problem is that I don’t trust the police to get to the bottom of it, and my brother-in-law is a cop. My ex is a computer whiz and there’s no doubt he did some techy-techy magic so it would be hard to prove it was him.” She sighed. “But Noelle apparently has a super tech guy who can hack into anything, so even though they’re in Texas, I hope they might be able to do something.”

  “You’re paying a private investigator?”

  “I’m conservative with money for the most part.” She shrugged, reaching for the water again. “I don’t own my apartment, I rent it. I don’t need a car in New York City, so my sister keeps it in her garage so I don’t have to pay for garage rental.”

  “Why do you have a car if you don’t need one?.”

  “I live in the city because it’s convenient for work and other things. I’m actually a country girl at heart, and my sister lives quite close to the country. I stay at her place probably once a month, sometimes with her and her husband, sometimes I look after my niece so they can have time alone. They go to my place and stay when they need a quick break.”

  “Is that the girl in your videos? Mel?”

  She grinned. “Her real name is Amelia. My sister doesn’t mind, and my niece loves it because she gets to keep all the toys we get sent. We can spend an entire weekend filming videos where she’s a superstar like Auntie Elle and it gives me several weeks of content for her.”

  “Your sister isn’t worried that you’re exploiting her?”

  Elle laughed. “Exploiting her? God, no. Amelia asks to do it. She loves showing off on camera. Any money I get from videos that include her is transf
erred one hundred percent to her savings account. Well, it’s actually split between a savings account and a college fund. If she ever says she doesn’t want to do a video, it doesn’t happen. We do all kinds of random stuff that has nothing to do with anything, especially when Emily and Ben go away. I’m the fun aunt who buys drum kits for Christmas.”

  “As a parent, I can assure you that she does not think you’re the fun aunt for the drum kit.”

  She laughed again, shrugging. “I know, but it’s my job. I’m sure she’ll return the favor one day when I have kids. But in my defense, Amelia can already pay for her first year of college, so I think I get a pass on that.”

  “I’d let you buy my kid a drum kit if you’d cover a year of her college,” I muttered. “Maybe. As long as I had noise-canceling headphones.”

  “That was Emily’s birthday present last year.” She grinned. “See? I’m the fun aunt and a considerate sister.”

  I had to give her that one. Aunt Elsie considered herself the ‘fun aunt,’ and since she bought me a drum set when I was five, she did fit the bill.

  Not for my parents, though.

  And she definitely didn’t buy them headphones.

  The only thing close to that that she owned was a megaphone. Most often used in the Conspiracy Krew’s three-woman stakeouts in front of the town hall to demand the truth about aliens.

  I was just glad none of them could work Netflix. The last thing they needed was the opportunity to watch all twelve seasons of Ancient Aliens to validate them.

  “So… Does your aunt often get naked on the beach with her friends?”

  I sighed, setting down the brush after edging around the doorframe. “More often than I’d like. I don’t mind them coming to the beach to do their alien watching, but I wish they’d leave their clothes on.”

  She stifled a giggle. “But why do they get naked? I thought they were Wiccans at first. Then, I would have understood, but aliens?”

  “I think they think there’s power in nakedness. Or that the aliens will get them naked anyway, so they’re skipping a step. I keep telling them that they’re more likely to scare the aliens away if they’re naked, but they think I’m crazy.”