Daddy's Home

by A. K. Alexander

  “No, no.” Holly scrambled out of Brandon’s arms and brushed herself off. “I dropped the glasses.” Holly grabbed a paper towel and started sweeping the glass together with her hands.

  “The movies? Yeah, yeah. Okay. Get the information and call her back. Do I feel like an idiot,” Brendan said. Meg walked away giggling. “I’ll get this. You get a couple of more glasses.” He bent down next to her.

  “No way. You get the glasses this time.”

  He brought in two more glasses just as she was finishing cleaning up the mess. He poured himself a shot of the fine liqueur. Instead of sipping it though, he quickly downed it. “I can be a true Irishman. You still want a nip?”

  Holly nodded. Brendan poured some more into his snifter, handed it to Holly who followed his lead and shot back the drink. It burned pleasantly all the way down until it hit bottom. They both started laughing.

  “And with that, Mr. O’Neil, I say we call it a night,” Holly said. She gathered her coat and the cheesecake dish, and Brendan made up a care package of leftovers for her to take home.

  “Uh, Holly?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering . . . well . . . are you free Saturday night? I thought it might be nice if we could have a bit of dinner, just the two of us, somewhere nice, no interruptions.”

  Now what did that book about dating rules say? “That would be nice.”

  “Good, say seven? I’ll pick you up.”

  “I’ve got to get a babysitter,” Holly said.

  “I’ll do it,” Meg interrupted. She’d obviously been eavesdropping.

  “Maddie, too,” Brendan said.

  “You gonna pay me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll pay you, girl.”

  “Deal.”

  “Damn kid. It’s always about the money,” Brendan said.

  Holly laughed and they said their good nights. She and Chloe arrived home well after nine, tired, full of good food, and very happy, both falling asleep in Holly’s bed while watching a Thanksgiving special on TV.

  It was after two in the morning when Holly found herself awakened by her own screaming and Chloe crying out, “Mommy, Mommy, it’s okay. Please stop. Stop crying.”

  Holly focused on her child, while trying to get a hold of herself. “What is it, Mommy? You had a bad dream. What was it about?”

  Holly wrapped her arms around Chloe, “Nothing baby. It was just a stupid dream. I can’t even remember it now.”

  They lay back down, Chloe still cradled in her mother’s arms. Holly remembered the dream, so much so that it felt very real to her. But she did not want to tell her daughter about it, not yet, not until she was older. It was the same nightmare she had every few months, the one that kept her from ever truly letting go of Jack.

  It was the nightmare of the day he was killed and hearing the words that his body hadn’t been found.

  That the fire had been so hot.

  That there was nothing left. Nothing at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  On Saturday morning, Gunter Drake watched the afternoon soccer game from a spot high on a hill, peering through a high-powered telescope. At last, he thought he’d found the one. He zeroed in on that ring finger. Aha! No ring. She was petite, with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’d prefer if she’d wear it down. They’d have to have a talk about that, if indeed she was the right one. He still had some research to do on her.

  Finding the perfect wife and kids could be a real bitch these days.

  Game over. Gunter strained to see, trying to figure out which of the boys was hers. He liked boys. Having sons was a good thing. The girls were kind of a pain in the ass. He could usually get the boys to warm up to him. He knew how to play it right. Most boys liked electronics and so did Gunter. Perfect! There he was hugging his mom. Had to be about seven. They’d won, too. Great! He’d have to get the boy a surprise for that. He liked finding a pair this way. It was far more challenging and risky than his usual method.

  He watched as they left the field and got into a nearby SUV. He quickly ran for his Explorer and wound down the road from the YMCA. Heading to the entrance of the park, he made a u-turn and was able to get in behind her.

  Moments later, mama pulled into a Starbuck’s parking lot, and she and the boy went in. Gunter followed suit. He stood behind them in line. She smelled great, like roses and vanilla—magnificent. The boy was yapping at her about his game; she seemed distracted. Probably trying to decide if she wanted whipped cream or not. She’d be having some whipped cream with him. That was for sure. The boy would need to be taught some lessons in boundaries. The way he kept tugging on mama was annoying.

  “I want a soda, Mom.”

  “Sweetie, they don’t have sodas, remember? You can have apple juice.”

  “I don’t want apple juice,” he continued to whine. “I want a coke.”

  “No, Jason. They don’t have cokes.”

  “That’s so stupid. Why didn’t we go to McDonald’s? I want McDonald’s!”

  Why did kids always love those greasy fries and burgers? He’d bring him home a Happy Meal, if that’s what it took to shut the sniveling brat up. Gunter bent down to the kid’s level. The kid looked at him. “I think it’s stupid that they don’t have cokes here, either. You know, McDonald’s does sound a heck of a lot better, doesn’t it?”

  The kid nodded. Mama had a bit of an incredulous look on her face. But he knew how to soften that as well. “But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “Looks to me like you’re a pretty good soccer player, right?” The boy nodded. “I just bet you are. Well, did you know that all champion soccer players drink apple juice?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Yes, sir.” Yes, he’d done it again. Mama was smiling now. “And something tells me that if you drink all your juice, that maybe your mom will take you to McDonald’s tonight, right, Mom?”

  “Please, Mom. Will you?”

  “Jason, Daddy is coming home tonight. Remember?”

  “Oh, you’re married?” Gunter blurted out.

  Mama again looked at him with amazement, and Gunter took a step back. Smooth move, dipshit. What if she detected something? No. How could she?

  “Yes, I’m married. Okay, Jason let’s get some juice and head home.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t see a ring on your finger and thought . . .”

  “You thought wrong.” There was an obvious edge to her voice, and Gunter knew he should back off. She faced the girl at the counter and gave her order, totally ignoring him. She even pulled the kid in a little tighter to her. The boy didn’t fight it. He must’ve sensed his mother’s uneasiness. Gunter knew that kids could do that. He knew a lot about kids. Nothing could shut a kid up faster than sensing when their mama seemed a bit jittery.

  Gunter was pissed now. He wanted this one. He wanted her bad, and the damn kid needed a better father than the one he had, one who would teach him a few lessons in good behavior. But Gunter had that one rule and one rule only: No married women. No, sir, he was not a wife stealer. Single moms only. That was how Gunter liked it.

  He took his latte and sat down. He watched mama and the boy leave. Mama glared at him. She would’ve been a handful anyway.

  Then something else caught his attention. A little argument at the table in the corner. Looked like a mother-daughter thing. The girl was about eleven. “But I want to go to Dad’s this weekend,” she whined.

  “I told you no, and I told you why.”

  “Dad only let me watch one rated-R movie. That was it.”

  “That was one too many, and until your dad and I get this sorted out, I say no.”

  “That’s so gay.”

  “Kristy, I’m warning you.”

  Kristy mocked her mother. Their squabbling carried on for a few more minutes. “You know what young lady? If you don’t cut the crap right now, I’m going to ground you until you’re eighteen—no friends, no TV, no phone, no shopping. Nothing!”

>   Good for her. That kid, too, needed some teaching. Man, oh man, what was it with kids these days? They needed fathers, dads who cared. Gunter could see that these two needed just that, and he was the man to make it happen.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lynne Greene pulled her new Honda into the garage. She loved its new leather smell. She was glad now that she’d worked so hard for her status as an RN two years ago. It had increased her worth and made things much easier on Kristy and herself. God knew, Kristy’s deadbeat of a dad with no morals whatsoever wasn’t footing the bill. Why hadn’t she seen him for what he really was when she’d fallen so desperately head over heels in love with him at twenty-three? She didn’t bad mouth Bill, but she sure would have liked to when Kristy pulled that crap about wanting to spend more time at her dad’s, like she had yesterday at the Starbuck’s. That kid could be really infuriating. The only reason Kristy really wanted to go to her dad’s was because he stocked up on sodas, chips, candy, you name it—pure heaven for a young adolescent girl. And she even had her own phone in her bedroom. That was the kicker, along with the TV that included the HBO and Showtime channels. Now Bill was pressuring the kid to come live with him, saying that Lynne worked too late, and he didn’t like Kristy being alone for that long.

  Lynne didn’t like to leave her daughter so late into the evening either, and it was already past seven, but her babysitter had family in town on the Thanksgiving weekend, and Lynne took the day to work for the overtime. She needed it to pay all those delinquent divorce attorney bills. Besides, Kristy was almost twelve and a pretty responsible kid.

  Tonight Lynne would make up for her tardiness as best she could and cook Kristy’s favorite, spaghetti and meatballs. She didn’t have any Thanksgiving leftovers, since they’d gone to her brother’s house up in Del Mar, and with the size of his wife’s family, there were never any leftovers. Maybe she should’ve asked her brother if Kristy could stay the weekend there with her cousins, but there wasn’t much room at their house since all the family from Kansas was staying there. At least she was here in her house and not at her dad’s.

  If only Kristy had some idea of what her ex was really like. Who knew? Maybe the kid did have an idea, and simply liked the Disneyland free-for-all atmosphere her dad supplied for her. Lynne was hard on her at times, but someone had to make some rules. There were homework and chores, and getting up early in the morning and getting things done. She only did it because she knew in the long run that if Kristy had discipline now she’d succeed later in life. But maybe she should back off a little bit. Try and have some more fun with her daughter. Yes, she liked that idea. She could provide a little bit of Disneyland on her own. And she had the perfect idea.

  Before closing the garage and heading in, she called her pal who worked over at the Sports Arena. “Hey, Thomas, can you help me get a pair of Shania Twain tickets? I want to do something special for my daughter, and I’m sure they’re pretty much sold out.”

  “And what do I get out of the deal?” Thomas asked. They were friends who occasionally spent an evening together keeping each other warm. Okay, he was a booty call. But even a single mom needed a little romancing and loving once in awhile.

  She thought about her reply for a moment. The truth was she really did like Thomas and would like a more permanent arrangement. Thomas, on the other hand, was a confirmed bachelor, and because of that, Lynne held back. She didn’t want to get too close. But knowing that the Shania Twain tickets would make her daughter see her in a new light, coupled with the added bonus of ending her three-month period of celibacy, she immediately replied, “Say next weekend I cook you a nice meal, we rent a movie, and from there . . . ? Who knows what might happen.”

  “I’ll get you front row seats,” he said quickly.

  She laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Seriously. Oh, and I love meatloaf. Can you make a good meatloaf?”

  “Can I make a good meatloaf? What kind of question is that? Honey, I can make a meatloaf that would put Emeril Lagasse to shame.”

  “So you’re gonna Bam! it up a bit?”

  “Don’t you know it,” laughed Lynne.

  “Deal. When do you want to come by and grab those tickets? I’ve got a little extra time I could spend with you at lunch tomorrow. What do you say?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow around noon.”

  She flipped her phone shut and pulled the rubber band from her shoulder-length dark blonde hair, feeling kind of like a woman again, more than just a nurse and mother. But, right now, being a mom felt pretty darn good. She grabbed her bag, shut the car door, closed the garage, and put the key in the kitchen door lock.

  Something made her stop. That music. What in the world? Kristy was listening to Frank Sinatra? What in the hell . . . ? Had Bill exposed her to martini music and told her it was cool? Not that she had anything against Sinatra. She loved him. But she’d just bought Shania Twain tickets, and if Bill had done some weird Daddy spell and made her think Shania sucked or something she’d be pissed. It would be exactly like that bastard to ruin another night for her.

  She turned the key and opened the door. Stepping inside, things got even weirder. Lights were off, except for a faint glow of what she presumed to be candlelight coming from the dining room table. Had Kristy got out that damn Ouija Board her dad had bought her last Christmas? Better throw it away. There was something else though . . .

  She called out, “Kristy? Kristy? Honey, I’m home, and I’ve got something special to tell you.”

  No answer. Okay, what is she up to? That smell. God, what was that glorious smell? Onion, garlic, and maybe basil. What in the hell was going on? This kid didn’t even know how to boil water!

  “Kristy!” She raised her voice an octave. An uneasiness began in her stomach.

  She set her purse down on the clothes dryer, next to the back door. She walked down the hall into the dining room, the candlelight becoming brighter. This had to be a Bill ploy. He’d been begging her to take him back, even putting Kristy in the middle and getting her to join in on his sending flowers and cards to Lynne. If Kristy was a part of this . . .

  As she entered the dining room, her mouth fell open. Her glass-topped table was lined with candles and flowers, elegant-looking food dishes sat displayed as if she’d entered a gourmet restaurant. “Kristy! Dammit! Get in here right now!”

  Strong arms went around her waist. “Bill! Let me go! This is ridiculous. I am not happy, nor am I persuaded by your sick behavior.” She couldn’t turn around to see her ex’s face. Something didn’t feel right. “Bill?” She heard the shakiness in her voice, and blood surged through her nerve endings as she realized that whoever had his arms around her was not her ex. Bill wasn’t this tall, or this strong, as she’d discovered when she knocked him out the night he admitted that he had gambled away a good share of their savings. She struggled even harder as the realization came into focus that she did not know who this was.

  Kristy. Where was Kristy?

  “Darling, I’ve been waiting all afternoon for you to come home. How was your day?” The man placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.

  She froze. Who was he? The weird thought that he was handsome crossed her mind. She wiped it away. “Who are you? Who sent you here? Did Bill put you up to this? You know what? I want you out of here. I’m calling the police. Where is my daughter?” Her words were tinged with fear, and each breath caught in her throat. She knew she was speaking out loud, but there was a sensation of not really hearing herself speak. It was like being in a tunnel where the words echoed back. She was reeling from dizziness.

  “Now, is that any way to treat your loving husband?”

  He locked his large hands around her neck, and stared into her eyes. His eyes were cold, hard, and nearly black.

  Screaming with terror inside, Lynne realized this wasn’t a joke or a game. His eyes told her a story.

  Being a nurse long enough, she’d seen a number of lunatics come and go, even testifi
ed once in a case when a patient had come into the ER with a knife and had sliced a large gash across her thigh. This man’s eyes told her that he was as crazy as that man had been, and from the surreal scene she was looking at in her dining room, probably more so.

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  “You know I really don’t like it when you refer to her as your daughter. She’s mine too. Kristy is being punished. She didn’t want to help me make dinner, and so I sent her to her room.”

  Oh, God, no! What had he done with her child? “You sent her to her room?”

  “Yes, of course! What else was I supposed to do? She’s at that age where we really need to be setting down a few more rules and making her follow them. I’m certain the next time around she’ll be more helpful.”

  “Can I see her? It’s been a long day, and I missed her.” Lynne was getting the picture, and knew that the only possibility of getting away from him was to play his game.

  “What about me? Didn’t you miss me?”

  “Oh, um, sure I did. But you know how close Kristy and I are, and I only want to say hello,” she said, struggling to get the words out. She had to see her daughter, make sure she was okay, and still . . . She couldn’t bring herself to think that maybe he’d really harmed her. Maybe he was really a mental patient, and harmless. Maybe he had some deranged family need.

  Lynne tried to hold back her tears. A sicko like this could be angered by a show of emotion. Play it cool, stay calm, focus. Get him to trust you. All of the things she’d learned working in the emergency room flashed through her mind.

  “Wow, this looks like a terrific dinner you’ve made, honey,” she said, trying to speak as calmly as possible.

  “It is terrific. You are such a good wife. I thought that you deserved a fantastic dinner.” He picked up a glass of red wine, and without ever taking his hardened eyes off of her, he handed her the wine.

  “Thanks,” she muttered. “I really should go in and change and say hi to Kristy.”