by Jessica Ashe
“We could do something else,” I suggest. “How about going to the park?”
“I like the swings,” Olivia says cheerfully.
Parker smiles at his daughter, but he’s obviously not happy with that suggestion either.
“Why don’t we go to your house?” Parker suggests. “I could do with a change of scenery, and it would be cool to see where you live.”
“It’s not really childproof.”
“That doesn’t matter. Olivia’s not a baby anymore.”
“Thing is, my house is kind of occupied for most of today. Tami has a ‘friend’ over.”
Which just so happens to be a great excuse not to have Parker over. I need to sort my shit out at home. The place is a mess. I keep Parker’s home infinitely tidier than I do my own. It’s been so long since I’ve had to worry about having a man over—or even a friend who isn’t Tami—that I’ve let myself get into a slump. I’m not going to bed tonight until my room looks at least vaguely presentable.
“Fine,” Parker replies sternly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What about next weekend?”
“I said, don’t worry about it.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask. “Is there a problem with the sale?”
“The business is just fine. Look, I don’t want to keep you here any longer than necessary. You’re not on the clock today.”
“I told you, I don’t care. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I just think we should be careful.”
“Careful? With what?”
“We shouldn’t mix business and pleasure like this. During the day, you’re Olivia’s babysitter. What we do at night needs to stay completely separate.”
It’s like my world is collapsing in on itself. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I allowed myself to forget that Parker was my boss and that I was only Olivia’s babysitter. It felt like so much more than that. Some days, Parker and Olivia are the only people I see. They became a huge part of my life without me even realizing it.
“I don’t want to quit,” I reply. I’m not sure whether I’m talking about my job or the sex.
“And I don’t want you to quit. Like I said, we just need to keep the work and the fun separate.”
He won’t even look at me as he talks. Clearly, last night meant jack shit to him. Maybe he was just tired? Maybe he couldn’t be bothered to give me the full dom treatment and that’s why we had sex in his bedroom?
After all this, he’s just a typical man. The second things threaten to get serious, he runs away. I should have known. I met him at a sex party. He got me off while we watched another couple. Parker doesn’t do normal.
“Fine,” I reply angrily. “I can do that. From now on, I’ll keep the fun real fucking separate. So separate, you won’t even notice it.”
I’m not sure that makes any sense, but it’s all I can come up with in the heat of the moment. I turn to storm out, slightly ruining the dramatic effect by grabbing a breakfast bar from the cupboard on the way out.
How dare he? How fucking dare he talk about being careful. I still have his cum inside me from last night. It’s a bit late for careful.
I hear Olivia crying just as I slam the front door behind me. I’ve never raised my voice or cursed in front of her before. I’m not quitting. It’s not Olivia’s fault her dad’s a selfish jackass.
I head straight home to grab my laptop and quickly leave again before Tami gets out of the shower. She has a fun day ahead of her. Tami and Bruce aren’t even going to try and become an item. According to Tami, Bruce is definitely not ‘the one,’ but he’s a welcome distraction while she keeps looking. I pitied her when she first told me that. I’d found an awesome guy, and I wanted her to find one too. Now I’m jealous. I wish no part of me thought Parker was ‘the one.’ I wish we could just fuck at night and keep that totally detached from feelings during the day.
The only good thing to come from all this is the completed first draft of my script. I take my laptop to the only coffee shop near me that has the magic combination of parking and spare tables, and make myself at home.
Focus, Carly. Don’t let this mess ruin your dreams.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and loudly exhale through my mouth. I catch a few curious glances from other customers, but I ignore them.
Tami’s suggested edits are brilliant. She was clearly sugar coating it the other night. My script has plenty of problems, but most of them are easy fixes. Quite a few conversations need to be shortened. That will take some work. I struggle to find the line between avoiding obvious exposition, and giving the audience enough information to understand what’s going on in the characters’ heads.
That’s what makes screenwriting so difficult. It’s easy to point out bad writing; Lord knows there’s plenty of it, both on the big screen and the small screen. I used to laugh when I heard clunky dialogue, but now I get it. Clunky can be bad, but at least it gets the point across. Too much subtlety can ruin a movie if it confuses the audience. The odd piece of bad dialogue only ruins part of a scene.
My mind is more fried than Parker’s breakfast, so I can’t come up with anything creative. I focus on the easy victories instead, moving through the script and deleting parts marked up by Tami as unnecessary. She’s right—I included tons of prose that would be more suitable to a novel than a screenplay. It’s hard enough to write a story; I don’t need to play the role of director and actor as well. Besides, it just makes me look arrogant, as if I know how to direct the actors better than an experienced director or the actors themselves.
The problem with the easy stuff is that it doesn’t take long to fix. I’m barely on my second cup of coffee when I’m faced with the first real challenge—the sex scene. It doesn’t feel right anymore. It’s clear the scene is more about me than my character. No wonder Tami was worried when she read it. Amber is strong, and she’s not looking for a relationship. At this stage, Clyde’s more into her than she is to him. I take out all the crap about her looking for intimacy, and leave it as a hot, sexy scene that ensures the movie needs to be R-rated.
That’s all I can do today. My brain won’t let me come up with anything remotely creative, so I give up. I’m back to where I was when I started this script. I’m sure some creators can write when they’re miserable—some of them probably thrive on it—but it’s becoming rapidly clear that I am not one of those people. I need to be happy, or at least relatively free from stress.
The most frustrating thing is that I have no idea what went wrong. Last night, Parker and I were having what I thought was phenomenal sex, and the next we’re arguing because he doesn’t think we should mix business with pleasure.
I’m tempted to put it down to the stereotype of men being afraid of commitment, but Parker was the one who invited me to the beach and on a date. He didn’t have to do either of those things. He’s even been married before. Although look how that ended. His ex-wife was murdered and he nearly ended up in prison. That would be enough to put a lot of people off commitment. That’s no excuse for talking to me like he did this morning.
I’d like to think he’ll apologize, but the look on his face when I stormed out this morning didn’t suggest that an apology would be forthcoming.
This whole situation is horrible, but I’m not going to let it affect Olivia. I’ll turn up for work tomorrow and be the best babysitter I can be. She deserves that, even if her daddy doesn’t.
Chapter Nineteen
Parker
The sale of the business takes up more of my time than I could have ever imagined. Marie has to step in and help babysit Olivia in the evenings, which means the only time I see Carly is first thing in the morning.
We cross paths with barely a word exchanged between us. I have more stimulating conversations with my secretary. Not that I can blame her. I acted like a complete tool, but it was for the best in the long run. I can’t get close to someone if they aren’t serious. Carly clearly isn’t.
She can’t even bear the thought of me going to her house for a few hours. It would be okay if it was just me who stood to get hurt, but Carly was becoming like a mom to Olivia. I can’t have Olivia expecting to see Carly on the weekends as well. Not if she’s just going to up and leave the minute she meets a guy she’s genuinely interested in.
This is the last thing I need to be focused on when I’m trying to sell a business for nearly a hundred million dollars. I have to stay so late on Friday night that Olivia needs to stay over at Marie’s again. I stay up until three in the morning when I’m finally able to send my lawyers the latest batch of disclosures for them to pass on to Sandra’s lawyers.
By the time I wake up and get dressed, it’s nearly midday, so I meet Marie and Olivia for lunch downtown.
“Did that waitress seem a bit moody?” Marie asks after a young woman takes our order.
“It’s Saturday. She probably had a late night last night.”
“Still, a smile never hurts.”
We won’t be getting a smile out of our waitress today. Marie chose the restaurant, and she just happened to pick the one where Carly used to work, and where her roommate still does work. I met her roommate once—when she was wearing a mask—and I think that’s her. It would explain why I’m getting the cold shoulder treatment in a place that usually has good customer service.
“Is Carly coming over today?” Olivia asks as she plays with her Supergirl doll.
“No,” I reply. “She doesn’t work at weekends. You’ll see her on Monday.”
“What the hell happened with you two?” Marie asks.
“Nothing,” I reply.
“Don’t give me that. You two were spending loads of time together and now it’s like you’re avoiding her.”
“I’m busy with work.”
“You’re always busy with work.”
“This is on another level.”
“Look, I can tell there’s a problem. You’re grumpy as hell, and so is Carly. She puts on a brave face around Olivia, but I can tell she’s hurting.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. You’re my sister.”
“That never stops you telling me about all your little parties.”
“Birthday parties?” Olivia asks, half paying attention.
“Yes, sweetie,” I reply. “Birthday parties.”
“You owe me this information for all the crap I’ve had to listen to over the years.”
I sigh and play with the knife on the table just to have something to look at. “We want different things.”
Now it’s Marie’s turn to sigh. “Why don’t you give it a try with her? Look, I know you’re not one for relationships. Frankly, I’m amazed you ever got married. But you can’t avoid them all your life. You never know, you might actually enjoy the tamer side of life. It’s not as boring as it looks, you know. Love can be exciting.”
“You’re assuming I’m the one who doesn’t want commitment.”
“Well, no offense, but your track record would suggest that’s the case. Wait, are you saying it’s Carly that doesn’t want to commit.” I nod my head. “Holy shit. Are you sure? Because she looked like a heartbroken woman this week.”
“She’s into… you know… ‘birthday parties.’ She’s not into me. Not that way.”
I give Marie a censored and highly edited version of the events that led up to Carly storming out of the house.
“Sounds like you acted like a tool,” Marie says, as a new waiter brings over our drinks. At least he might not have spit in them.
“I didn’t handle it brilliantly,” I admit. “But what’s the alternative? Should I have carried on having fun with Carly until she met a guy she really cared about?”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Give her a chance to get to know the real you. So far, she thinks you’re a multi-millionaire playboy who likes to tie women up and do God-only-knows-what to them. I’d bet good money she convinced herself you were not an option the moment she met you. You need to apologize and show her that there’s more to you than whips and… things.”
I shake my head. “It’s too late for that. Anyway, it’s not just me I need to worry about. Carly was hanging around at weekends and spending loads of time with Olivia.”
“Yeah, that’s a really weird thing for a babysitter to do.”
“Very funny. I don’t want Olivia thinking Carly is her mother if she’s going to disappear after we have one fight.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to use your daughter as an excuse. Carly has been there every day this week and worked plenty of overtime even though you treated her like shit. Admit it, you’re the one who’s scared of getting hurt.”
“I’m not the type to get scared,” I reply.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
I’ve been hurt before. I can handle it. It’s Olivia I’m worried about. She has no memories of her biological mother, so if Carly is still around in a year’s time, she’s going to be the first mother figure Olivia forms proper memories of. Carly’s incredible with Olivia, but she ran off the second we had a fight. I can’t rely on her to stick around for Olivia when things get difficult and that means she can’t be a part of our lives.
“Can we change the subject?” I ask. “We shouldn’t talk about this in front of you-know-who.”
“Okay. I’m right, though. You need to apologize and talk to her. Like a grown-up.”
“You’re not changing the subject.”
“Fine. How’s the sale going?”
I’m about to reply ‘don’t ask’ but I’d much rather talk about business than the situation with Carly.
“It’s tough,” I reply. “We dumped five years’ worth of financial information on Sandra’s team, which I figured would buy us some time. Unfortunately, they have a huge team of lawyers who processed the information in days. I’ve got more questions from them than I ever got from five years of audits. I’m expected to remember conversations I had four years ago. It’s ridiculous.”
“You never did have a good memory.”
“I’m tempted to give them the password to my email account and tell them to go nuts. At least that way they can’t pretend I’m holding anything back.”
“How long will this drag on for?”
“We’re supposed to complete in three weeks. I’m torn between wanting to drag it out a little more so that things aren’t so rushed, and just wanting the damn thing over with.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing. You’re going to pocket a small fortune from this.”
“I’m not exactly broke now.”
“True. But this is a life-changing amount of money. You’ll be able to kick back and relax. You can take as many vacations as you like. Of course, that would be more fun if you had someone to share them with….”
“Very subtle.”
When the food arrives, I look at it suspiciously in case Tami did anything to it. It looks normal enough. I cut up Olivia’s chicken nuggets for her, but she doesn’t look particularly interested.
“Come on, sweetie, you love chicken nuggets.”
“I’m not hungry,” she replies. She takes the fork anyway and shoves a tiny piece of chicken in her mouth. She chews it slowly instead of practically inhaling it down like usual, so she’s probably telling the truth instead of just being stubborn.
“How about we get some ketchup on them?” Marie asks. Olivia considers this briefly and then nods.
This restaurant considers itself too upmarket to put tomato ketchup on the table, so Marie tries to get the attention of a waiter.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll go get some.”
I stand up and head straight past our waiter to the back of the restaurant where Tami is standing by the cash register processing a check. She looks up at me, and then back down at the cash register.
“I take it you know who I am?” I ask.
“You’re a piece of shit.”
“That’s a ‘yes.’ then. I want you
to do me a favor. Two actually.”
“Why not make it three?”
“First, can I have some tomato ketchup?”
Tami rolls her eyes, but reaches into a nearby cupboard and hands me a bottle. “What else?”
“Carly mentioned that you read her draft script.”
Tami frowns. “Yeah. So?”
“I want a copy.”
“Then I suggest you ask Carly.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not,” I reply. Tami stares at me silently. “Okay, fine. Because I’m a piece of shit and she barely talks to me. Happy now?”
“I’ll email you a copy if it’s okay with Carly.”
I hand her my business card. “I’d rather you didn’t tell her.”
“I’m not going behind her back. Not for you.”
“Look, I don’t know what she’s told you but—”
I stop mid-sentence when a woman’s scream pierces the room. I ignore it at first. This is LA—it’s not unusual for people to be a touch dramatic. Then I notice a look of concern on Tami’s face and hear a word that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Olivia?” Marie screams out, in a terrified voice.
I rush back to our table, still hopelessly clutching a bottle of tomato ketchup.
A woman is already dialing 911 when I see my baby girl lying on the floor unconscious, blood pooling on the floor under her head.
Chapter Twenty
Carly
I run two red lights on the way to the hospital and at least one of them had cameras judging by the flash I saw in my rear-view mirror. I don’t care. I just want to get to Olivia as soon as possible. I’m already late. I’d turned my phone off to concentrate on my script, so I didn’t get the message until it was three hours old.
Tami couldn’t tell me what was wrong with Olivia so I have no idea what ward she’s in. She’s not in the ER, but one doctor tells me she’s been transferred to the Hepatology Department. I don’t stop to ask what the hell that means. I head in the direction he’s pointing and then follow the signs until I arrive out of breath at the front desk.
