"Uh, hey," Avery says, her smile strained as she pats Lexie on the back.
"You know this child, Avery?" the man asks. Laurence Moore, I gather. He looks like the tight-ass he's been described as, tall with broad shoulders, muscular but not bulky. He does nothing but stand there, his arms crossed over his chest, but his stance carries a confidence that borders on downright conceit. And his wife isn't much better, poised and tall, thin as a rail, but her face is softer, kinder, as she stares down at Lexie.
She must like kids.
Before Avery can respond, half-words stammering from her lips, Lexie chimes in. "She's my daddy's friend that’s a girl. Right, Avery?" Lexie turns around, giving no time for a response, her gaze seeking out me. "Right, Daddy? But not a girlfriend?"
I smile tersely, walking the rest of the way over to them, and nod. I don't know what to say. Instead of speaking, I hand Lexie the cup of frozen yogurt, hoping she will shovel it in her mouth to stop any further flow of words.
"Yeah, Reece is a, uh… friend," Avery says, motioning toward me. "This is his daughter, Lexie."
"Nice to meet you, Lexie," Avery's mother says, a soft smile touching her lips.
"Nice to meet you!" Lexie says, mumbling as she shoves a spoonful of yogurt in her mouth. "Are you a ballerina, too?"
I know I should remind her not to talk with food in her mouth, but I keep my lips sealed as Laurence's gaze burns through me, uncomfortable, unwelcoming. There's suspicion there, but it's deeper, I think. I can see it in his eyes. Part of him recognizes me somehow.
"I used to be a ballerina," her mother answers. "What about you?"
"No, but Avery took me to dance with her at her studio once!"
"Is that right?" The woman's eyes widen with interest. "My husband and I own that place."
"It's really nice," Lexie said. "Can I come back?"
Laurence clears his throat then, drawing attention to him. "Name's Rhys, you said?"
I haven't said shit, technically, but I nod anyway.
"Do you have a last name?"
I nod again. "Hatfield."
I didn't have to say it. His expression gave him away. He figured out how he knows me. He already knew my last name.
Lying about it is senseless. I've spent five years trying to avoid this, even going so far as to change the spelling of my name. You search 'Reece Hatfield' online and you find nothing. But Rhys has a rap sheet to rival every rapper in the game.
Over a hundred charges, pled down to just three felonies.
I blow out a deep breath, reaching for my daughter as she continues to chat the ears off of Avery's mother. My gaze briefly catches Avery's as she fidgets nervously, clearly uncomfortable with us being here.
"Come on, Little Miss," I say quietly. "We need to get going."
"Can we go to the shop?" Lexie asks, chewing on a gummy bear. "Can I have a tattoo?"
"No, we're heading home."
"Can Avery come?" she asks. "She can spend the night!"
"Not tonight," I mutter, not missing the fact that Avery cringes, her eyes nervously darting to her father, as she seems to slink away, yielding to his presence.
Lexie pouts, but her frown doesn't last long when Avery's mother pats her on top of the head. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Lexie."
"You, too, Miss Lady," Lexie says. "Bye, Avery."
"Bye, Lexie," Avery says quietly.
I glance between them, nodding politely at Avery's mother, before my gaze settles on her father.
I hold my hand out. "Sir."
Laurence stares at my extended hand for a moment, his lips a hard, thin line of contempt. Seconds pass—strained seconds of silence that seem to drag. Just when I'm about to drop my hand, Laurence takes it, shaking it, squeezing tightly. He says nothing, letting go quickly.
I turn away, not even looking at Avery as I usher Lexie right out the door. As soon as we're outside, the glass door closing behind me, I glance back, watching as the man wipes his hand on his pants, rubbing his palm against the material, as if he can erase my touch.
A feeling sweeps through me, settling as heaviness in the pit of my stomach. Avery glances over then, as if she can still sense my presence. She frowns, the sadness shining in her eyes, as she mouths a simple word. Sorry.
Shaking my head, I turn away, my hand clamping down on Lexie's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."
Lexie shovels the frozen yogurt in her mouth, chomping on the cereal and candy covering the top of it, completely content. She walks along, skipping, like she's six feet tall and untouchable, whereas I've never felt so small in my goddamn life.
Night has fallen, the apartment dark except for the glow of the television. I lounge on the couch, my arm stretched out along the back of it. A small penguin-shaped pillow rests on my lap as Lexie lays on me, snuggled up with it. She's half-asleep, staring at the television blankly, trying to stay awake to watch The Land Before Time, but each blink is exaggerated and lasts just a little bit longer every time.
A light tapping registers with my ears, so faint it isn't until the third time I hear it that I realize someone's at the door. Sighing, I carefully move Lexie down the couch and slip away. I stroll toward it and glance out the peephole.
I see her then, standing in the hallway, illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the light. She fidgets, frowning as she quietly taps again.
I turn around, glancing at Lexie. Her eyes are closed now, her mouth open as she sleeps soundly. Contemplating, I reach for the door, quietly turning the locks and opening it.
Avery's fist is raised as she prepares to knock again, her hand dropping quickly with surprise when I appear in front of her. Before she can say anything, I step outside into the hallway, so close our bodies brush together, as I pull the door shut behind me.
Startled by my sudden proximity, Avery takes an automatic step back.
"Yeah?" My voice is harsher than I intend, based on how Avery seems to balk, momentarily speechless.
She blinks a few times, pulling herself together. "I, uh… I just wanted to come by."
"Why?"
"To see you."
"You saw me earlier."
I don't mean to sound so cold, but I can't seem to warm my tone. Just the sight of her brings back those feelings I've tried to drown out, the feelings of inadequacy… the feelings of downright failure. The way her father looked at me? The way she slunk away? I deal with that enough in my life and don't need it with her on top of everyone else.
"Yeah, but… I mean… we didn't get the chance to talk…"
"We had the chance," I say. "You could've said something… anything… but you said nothing. So you had the chance, Avery, you just didn't take it."
Before she can respond, I walk away, heading downstairs and outside onto the top step of the building.
Avery follows behind me, hesitating when I sit down on the top step. It takes her a moment to sit down beside me.
"Look, I'm sorry," she says. "I just…"
"Don't be sorry." I glance at her, reaching over to grasp her chin, tilting her face so she'll look at me when she tries to duck her head. Regret runs deep in her eyes. I don't like it. It doesn't look good on her. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You owe me nothing. You're not my girlfriend."
"But I want to be." She stares at me imploringly. "I want to be your girlfriend."
My thumb brushes softly across her bottom lip, my voice quiet as I mumble, "I wanted you to be, too."
Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting, like she expects me to kiss her. I want to—fuck, do I want to—but I can't. It isn't right. None of this is right. Instead, I drop my hand and pull away.
At the loss of contact, she reopens her eyes, hurt twisting her expression. Unspoken questions shine from her eyes, but I don't have the answers she wants to hear. All I have is the truth, the why, and it's ugly. She might've thought she liked it dirty, but she doesn't know dirty. She can't know it, unless she has lived it. Unless she is it.
"You're f
ooling yourself if you think you want to be with a guy like me," I tell her. "Our lives are too different. You might like dabbing your feet in my lake and running around naked on my shores, but you aren't ready to swim in my waters, Avery, because you'll fucking drown."
"I don't understand," she says, shifting her body my direction, the scent of her perfume washing over me, making me wish I didn’t have to say this shit to her. "Where is this coming from?"
"You know where it's coming from," I say. "You and me? We don't go together. I saw the way your father looked at me today, disgusted that his little girl would sink so low… and then the way he looked at my daughter—my little girl. And it's fine… I'm used to it. I'm used to people looking at me and seeing a fuck-up. But they don't look at my little girl that way. She's done not a goddamn thing wrong in this world to be looked at that way, yet they do it. Because of me."
"But I don't," she says, shaking her head. "I don't think that about her or you. And I don't care what other people think."
She reaches out toward me but I snatch ahold of her wrist, clutching it before she can touch me. It would be a mistake, because if I let her touch me, those gentle hands might trick me into believing that all of this is actually okay.
"You're lying to yourself again if you think you don't care. I saw the look on your face when you saw us, like we invaded your pretty little picture... like we interrupted your perfect little life. I'm sure you've had a blast, slumming it with me, but it's over now. Shit is getting messy, and I don't do messy, so it's best we both just move on."
I don't give her a chance to respond. I let go of her wrist and stand up, opening the door to head back inside. I pause in the doorway, my back to her, and close my eyes. Fuck, I'm pretty sure those words hurt me more than they could ever hurt her. "Take a cab. You shouldn't walk alone in this neighborhood. Do you understand?"
Her voice is barely a whisper. "Sure."
"Good."
I step inside and close the door behind me. My footsteps are heavy as I make my way back up to the apartment, matching the feeling in my gut. Once inside, I step over to the window in the living room, shifting the curtain aside, seeing her still standing there on the top step, staring at the door in shock.
After a moment, she finally turns to walk away.
I watch her as she listens, hailing a cab, and stare as it until it disappears into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, I try to steel myself to the fact that it might very well be the last time I ever see her, but it's hard.
It hurts like a son of a bitch.
"Will I come to your house next weekend, Daddy?"
I glance down at my daughter as we stroll down the block toward her mother's house. She clutches onto me, her hand wrapped around two of my fingers. "I don't know, Little Miss. You're supposed to, but I don't know. Guess it depends on your mother."
"If I do, can we go to the museum?"
"Whatever you want."
"Can Avery come, too?"
"I'm not sure about that."
"Can you ask her?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"But she likes my dinosaurs."
"Yeah, she does, but Avery's busy."
"With what?"
"I don't know."
"Then how do you know she's busy?"
It's a damn good question. She's much too smart for her own good. "Because she has school, and dancing, and her family, and friends…"
"I'm her friend, too."
"I know, but it's complicated.
"Doesn't she like us anymore?"
These questions have come non-stop all weekend long, but that's a new one. And I don't like the sound of it. At all.
I freeze in my tracks, pulling Lexie to a stop. She looks up at me, eyes wide, as I stare down at her. My expression is stern, hardening, as her question washes through me. It's precisely why I've never brought anyone into her life before, but she's gotten used to her, I realize. Avery's become a fixture in her weekends, and she's not understanding why she's suddenly gone.
Messy.
"How could somebody not like you?"
She shrugs.
"They'd have to be crazy not to love you, Lexie. I mean that. You're the smartest, prettiest, bravest, most badass little girl to walk this earth, and if anyone ever tells you differently, you tell me and I'll set them straight. Got it?"
She nods.
"But Avery has a life. That doesn't mean she doesn't like us. It just means that she has other people she likes, other people who want her time. She's smart, and pretty, and badass herself… we can't monopolize her time."
"Like with Monopoly?"
"Monopolize… means we can't keep her for ourselves. We have to share."
Her nose scrunches up, a look of pure disgust on her face.
"I know how you feel, but it's just a fact of life. The sky is blue, dinosaurs are big, boy bands are terrible, and Avery doesn't belong to us. She never did."
Lexie giggles, not resisting as I start walking again. "Boy bands aren't terrible, Daddy."
"We'll agree to disagree there."
"And dinosaurs aren't all big! Some are little like lizards! And the sky's black at night, but sometimes it looks like bubble gum, too."
"Can't argue with that logic," I say, "but it still doesn't change what I said about Avery."
She doesn't question me anymore on the walk. I pause on the sidewalk in front of Rebecca's brownstone, leaning down to kiss Lexie's forehead before motioning for her to go inside. I watch as she runs up the steps, the front door opening and Rebecca appearing, her phone clutched to her ear. She dramatically lets out a breath, clutching her chest. "Never mind, Officer, they're here now. Thank you so much."
I glare at her. Officer?
Rebecca hangs up the phone and greets our daughter warmly, telling her to get ready for a bath as usual. Lexie runs up the stairs inside as Rebecca turns back to me, eyes narrowed. "You can't tell time, Rhys? It's half past seven!"
I glance at my watch. 7:22 pm. Shit. "Lexie was watching a movie and wanted to see the end."
"Of course," Rebecca grumbles. "Knowing you, it was probably some R-rated trash she shouldn't have been watching in the first place!"
"It wasn't."
"Yeah, right. Like I can believe a word you say. I'm just grateful you got her home in one piece. Your probation officer was about to start a search! He couldn't believe it when I told him you were violating the court order."
Officer.
Probation officer.
The bitch called my probation officer?
Those words ignite the fuse of the bomb that has been building all weekend long, the pressure inside of me, the anger and hurt and loathing reaching the point where I just can't bottle it up anymore. The moment they're out of her mouth, my vision hazes over with red.
"You know what, Rebecca? Fuck you."
She blanches. "What did you say?"
"I said fuck you," I repeat before emphasizing each word. "Fuck. You. I put up with a lot of shit from you. I roll over and take it, let you fuck me again and again, to keep peace for our kid, but I'm sick of it. So, you don't like me? You hate me? Wish you didn't have to look at me? Well, news flash, Rebecca—I feel the same fucking way about you. But I keep it to myself, I keep my mouth shut and smile and deal with it on my own, because that's what an adult does."
"What the hell do you know about being an adult?"
"I know plenty. Maybe I'm not perfect. Hell, I know I'm not perfect. But I give what I got, even if what I got isn't good enough for you, or her, or them, or anyone. I still give it. If you don't like it? If my best isn't good enough for you? If I'm not good enough for you? Get over it. Get over yourself. Because I don't give a fuck anymore." I back up a few steps, shaking my head as I glare at her. "I'll be back for Lexie on Friday."
Rebecca doesn't argue, turning around and storming inside, slamming the door behind her.
The metal chair shifts, scratching against the floor when Kevin plops down in it.
I cast him a quick glance before going back to cleaning up my station. Ten o'clock on Monday, and I'm just as agitated as I was over the weekend.
"Man, what a day," Kevin says, clasping his hands together at the back of his head. "I could use a smoke... and a drink. Something."
"Tell me about it." I finish what I'm doing before turning around, leaning back against my table. "I'm heading to the bar across the street for a drink if you want to join me."
"Now you're talking!"
We lock up before heading to The Spare Room. The bar is quiet, as always, only a few patrons hanging out at this hour. I take my usual stool at the bar, needing not say a word, the can of Genesee sliding down the bar to me. I pick it up, nodding my thanks at the bartender, and take a drink.
Kevin slides onto the stool beside me, ordering whatever is cheap and on tap. We drink and chat, comparing notes on clients, just unwinding from a long day.
"You're not meeting your girl, are you?" Kevin asks after a while. "I don't want to be in the way."
I laugh dryly. "What girl?"
"The cute brunette that's been hanging around lately."
"Nah." I take a long pull from my drink, the mention of Avery putting me on edge. "She came and went."
"Literally?" Kevin asks. "Hit it and quit it is your usual M.O., isn't it?"
I smile sadly. "She's not the kind you can fuck and forget."
"I could tell. You actually brought her around everyone."
"Lapse in judgment."
"I don't know, man. She seemed like a keeper. Housewife material, verses your usual whorehouse type."
"Yeah, well, I think I ought to just stick with what I know."
"Speaking of which..." Kevin smacks me on the arm and motions toward the door when two women walk in. "Barflies are my favorite."
Always were mine, too.
Kevin motions for the bartender as the women settle into a booth off to the side. "Send them over a round of shots for me, will you? You can put them on my friend here's tab."
The Mad Tatter Page 19
