He didn’t come out and say it, but it might as well have been a rejection. He could have asked if I wanted to go back to the bar with him. I think I made it pretty clear that I was just here with a friend.
Oh well. This is how it normally goes. I shouldn’t be surprised.
I let my cigarette burn for a little longer before I put it out and head back into the building.
“Ainsley, where have you been?” Sarah walks up to me as soon as I step inside. “Some of the people are starting to leave. We need to get upstairs now before we miss our chance!”
“Sorry, I just went outside for a minute…” I nod. “Let’s get this over with.”
My interaction with Lawson isn’t enough for me to cry myself to sleep, but I’m definitely hitting the mini bar when I get to the hotel.
I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. I get worked up because I’m attracted to some guy just because he looks like my type, and then I get disappointed when they aren’t interested. I’m young. I have Daddy issues. I get it. It just shouldn’t be this damn hard.
“Alright, top floor.” Sarah hits the button once we’re on the elevator.
“You’re sure there are no security cameras or anything?” I give her what feels like my hundredth look of concern.
“I asked my dad. He said they don’t have any.” She gives me a nudge. “Relax, this is going to be fun.”
“Your dad didn’t think it was strange that you were asking about security cameras at the place where he used to work?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I told him we were thinking about stopping by the party for free drinks while we were in the city; he thought it was a great idea.” She smiles and shrugs.
He would. He’s the same guy who gave Sarah a beer when she was sixteen and told her she was going to start drinking eventually, so she might as well have her first one with him.
The elevator comes to a stop, and Sarah is the first one to step off. I hesitate for a second or two before following her. There are a few desk lights on, but it’s really dark. Sarah pulls out her phone to use it as a flashlight, then walks toward a row of doors.
“Not this one. Not this one. Ah, here it is!” She motions to me.
“Great.” I walk up and read the name on the door—then my heart drops into my stomach. “Wait, Lawson Brooks? I met this guy downstairs. He didn’t seem so bad…”
“He’s a fucking asshole.” She pushes the door open and walks inside.
I didn’t get that impression when I met him. He didn’t look like the happiest guy in the world, but he was nice enough. Sure, he didn’t stick around long enough to talk—nor did he seem interested in me—but that doesn’t mean he deserves this.
I follow Sarah into his office, and another thought hits me. I told him my name. My real name.
Shit.
“Hope you don’t like this lamp, asshole.” Sarah pushes the lamp over and kicks it into the wall which causes it to shatter.
I look around his office while Sarah gets to work smashing stuff. There are pictures on his desk. He has kids. There’s a picture of a girl, I assume it’s his daughter, on her wedding day. I don’t get a chance to look at it closely before Sarah sends it hurling across the room, and I hear the glass break.
“Come on, break something.” She points at the framed certificates on the wall. “Start with those…”
I don’t guess I have a choice. It’s not like I talked with him long enough to know for sure that he’s not an asshole.
I really hope he deserves this…
Chapter Four
Lawson
“Dad! There you are…” Kiana waves to me as I walk through the crowd. “Come over here. I want to get a picture with you.”
“Sure.” I put a smile on my face and walk over to her.
“Have you been smoking?” She gives me a confused look and wrinkles her nose. “I thought you quit a long time ago.”
“Sorry. You know it’s been a little stressful for me lately.” I shrug and pose for the picture she wants to take.
“Well, you need to quit. I want you to be here long enough to see your grandbaby get married.” She smiles and turns so a couple of other people can get a picture of us.
I ignore what she says. I’m not sure I even want to be here long enough to see the sun rise next week, much less all of the days that come after it.
I hate feeling this way. It’s so much easier to imagine a world without me in it. I’ve failed so many times that clawing my way out of this hole will take more strength than I have.
At least my daughter will be taken care of. Bram loves her. He’ll be a great father to my grandchild. If any of that was up for debate, I wouldn’t have walked her down the aisle. I would have kept fighting it, even if he did take a bullet for her.
“Alright, Kiana. Let’s give your dad a break.” Bram walks over and puts his arm around Kiana. “There are plenty of people here who want to ask you questions about the baby more than they want to snap a picture.”
“Okay.” Kiana smiles and leans her head against him.
Yep. They couldn’t be more in love. The best part about being the useless third wheel is that nobody will give a fuck when I’m gone.
I wouldn’t feel this way if Janie were here with me. We’d be loving parents snapping pictures of our daughter in her Halloween costume, trying to figure out which shelf we were going to put those pictures on, and which ones we were going to replace with the first sonogram of our grandchild. I think mine is still on the coffee table. I don’t even own a fucking picture frame.
It’s been too long since my last drink, so I head to the bar.
“Back for another round, Mr. Brooks?” The bartender smiles and reaches for the bottle of whiskey.
“Yep.” I nod to him.
Another drink. Another trip outside. One more drink seems like the best idea I’ve had all night. I’m starting to feel it. Driving home might not be the best option. I hate myself enough to suffer through my own mistakes until the bitter end, but I won’t put someone else’s life in danger because I want to sleep in my own bed.
I’ve slept on the couch in my office more times than I can count. Well, it’s a new couch now, but when we founded the company, there were nights I didn’t even make it home. Janie never gave me any shit for it. She knew I was trying to make a better life for our family.
Tonight, I just need somewhere to crash. I also have a bottle of whiskey in my desk that’s a whole lot better than what they’re serving at the bar. The least I can do is not get falling-down-drunk in front of all the people at this party.
I owe Bram and Kiana that much.
I mutter to a couple of people that I pass as I make my way to the elevator. If they can tell I’m one sheet away from being three sheets to the wind, they don’t mention it.
There were times when I used to look forward to the elevator ride to the top floor more than the ride down after a hard day’s work. I was young. I was full of ambition. The world was mine to conquer. I couldn’t wait to watch the numbers go up, the precursor to watching my bank account grow. Money seemed like it could fix every problem I had, and it did for a really long time.
I just didn’t realize how many problems it was creating.
The lies I told. The way I treated my family when I was so stressed out from the office that they became an outlet for all of my frustrations. The nights when Janie needed her husband, and all I wanted to do was sleep. The third child I kept promising her we were going to have—next month maybe, or next year, when things settle down at the office. I didn’t even notice when she became withdrawn and our bed got cold.
Now all I have are regrets. And whiskey.
They make one hell of a pairing.
The elevator comes to a stop on the top floor, and I step off. I’ve walked across this floor so many times in the darkness that I know it like the back of my hand.
“The hell?” I stare in confusion. The light in my office is on. There’s someone inside
it.
My first thought is that it could be a competitor, but this seems a bit old-school. They’d have to get into my computer if they wanted to find something useful, and they’d have an easier time doing that by hacking in remotely. My next thought is that it could be related to the loan shark my son was working with, but the loan shark is dead, and Hudson has dropped off the face of the earth.
I walk to my office and hear glass breaking. That sure as fuck better not be the bottle of whiskey in my desk.
My hand grabs the doorknob, and I rush into my office with my fist cocked, ready to drop whoever is on the other side.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I stop short of throwing a punch when I see two girls on the other side of my door.
One of them I recognize from earlier—the zombie cheerleader who talked to me outside.
“Oh shit!” The other girl who is wearing an oversized ball gown and a masquerade mask locks eyes with me for a moment. “Ainsley, run!”
It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing. My office is destroyed. It looks like a tornado went through it.
The girl in the oversized ball gown takes advantage of my confusion and rushes past me. Ainsley looks like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, and when she finally tries to run, I catch her arm.
“What the hell are you two doing?” I sling her forward—not enough to hurt her, but enough to position myself in front of her only option for escape.
“Sarah! Sarah, don’t leave me!” Ainsley has a look of panic on her face.
“I don’t think she’s coming back.” I glance over my shoulder and see the stairway door slam shut. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on here while I call the police.”
“We…” She stammers over her words and looks down at the floor.
“That’s fine, you can just tell the cops when they get here.” I pull out my phone and slide my finger across the screen.
“Wait, please don’t call the cops!” Ainsley takes a step toward me, and I see tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t want to do this! My friend... You fired her dad several years ago…”
“Oh?” I hesitate before I hit the final digit to dial 911. “I’ve only fired a few people from this company. It won’t be too hard to narrow it down.”
“Please, I don’t want to go to jail—not again.” Tears stream down her face and cut through the zombie makeup.
“It’s not the first time,” I scoff. “I’m not surprised.”
My finger continues to hover over my phone. Instinct is telling me just to call the cops and let them sort all of this out, but damn, this girl is in tears. She doesn’t look like some hardened criminal, and if what she said is true… Hell, what if my daughter had done something this stupid and got caught. I’d want someone to show her a little compassion.
Fuck, I didn’t think I still had a heart in my chest.
“Please, Mr. Brooks…” She looks up at me.
“Fine.” I shove my phone into my pocket. “I won’t call the cops, but you’re going to clean this fucking mess up.”
“Y-yes, sir.” She nods and turns to look around my office. “I’ll get started immediately.”
“Damn right you will.” I growl under my breath and walk to my desk. My compassion is rewarded by the sight of my bottle of whiskey, still intact.
I pour myself a drink and return my toppled chair to its upright position so I can sit down. The adrenaline rush I got when I saw my light on had pretty much killed my buzz. It’s going to take a few drinks to get it back. I should call the cops on her anyway just for ruining what was going to be a peaceful night of getting shit-faced drunk.
“I’m really sorry about this.” Ainsley pulls my trash can over and starts filling it with debris.
“Less talking, more working,” I grind out my response.
The faster she’s done, the faster I can get back to what I planned to do in the first place. I’m tempted to throw her out and finish it myself, but if I’m going to show compassion, there needs to be a lesson in it.
Fuck, I’m acting like a father instead of a victim. She looks like she’s too old to be told what to do, but she’s doing it. A little penance never hurt anybody, especially if they’re actually sorry for what they’ve done. I know that better than anyone. I just get mine from a bottle these days.
“I need to empty your trash can.” She looks down at it after it’s mostly full.
“Don’t worry about that; just get another one. There’s plenty out there.” I motion to the rest of the office. “Just don’t get any ideas about running away before you’re done. I know your name, Ainsley Andrews.”
“I won’t run away…” She blinks a couple of times and then leaves to get another trash can.
I didn’t really get a good look at Ainsley when she approached me outside. I was too focused on getting back to the bar. I certainly noticed those long legs—mainly because her skirt was too short to hide more than a few inches of them. She’s pretty as hell. Fuck, she’s downright gorgeous. I can tell that even with all the zombie makeup running down her face.
I haven’t given a woman more than a side-eyed glance since my divorce, but the sight of Ainsley bent over in that skirt is enough to start a motor I thought had been permanently shut down. She has curves that would make a zombie come back to life to get a better look at them.
I find myself somewhat entranced as I watch her continue to clean up my office. She bends over right in front of me to pick up some debris that went under my desk, and her skirt rides up a little more—enough for me to see that she’s wearing pink panties with something written across the back of them, but I can’t make it out.
“I think I need a broom.” Ainsley turns toward, me, and I break my gaze before she catches me staring at her ass.
“There might be one in the janitor’s closet.” I put down my drink and stand up. “I’ll be right back.”
My eyes aren’t the only thing that noticed Ainsley’s gorgeous curves. My cock isn’t fully hard, but it’s trying to get there. I brush past her and adjust the front of my pants once I’m on the other side of the door.
Fuck, maybe I’m not as dead inside as I thought.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing right now.
Chapter Five
Ainsley
Sarah’s plan was a bad one from the start. I shouldn’t be surprised that we got caught. I was moments away from wearing handcuffs for the second time in less than a week. I don’t know why Lawson changed his mind, but I’m grateful that he did. Cleaning up the mess we made is a small price to pay not to have to make that call to my mother.
I don’t even know how I would explain it.
“Okay, I found a broom and a dustpan.” Lawson hands them to me. “Maybe that will help…”
“Thank you.” I take them and begin sweeping up the broken glass.
Sarah said Lawson is an asshole. I don’t think that’s true. He appears to be rather rough around the edges, but I see a kindness in him. He could have called the cops and had me arrested. That would have been justified. I certainly deserved it.
There has to be a reason for that permanent scowl; it’s almost like he’s been damaged in some way and carries just as much self-loathing as I do.
“What should I do with this?” I pick up the photograph of the woman that I assume is his daughter with her new husband. The broken glass has damaged it so bad that I can’t even make out their faces anymore.
“Just throw it away. I’m sure Kiana has plenty to spare…” He takes a sip of his drink and motions to the trash can.
“Is she your daughter?” I hold it for a moment and then drop it in the trash can.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Happiest day of her life.”
The way he says it makes it sound like it wasn’t the happiest day of his life.
“Do you not like her husband?” I sweep a little bit more of the broken glass into the dustpan.
“How could I not like hi
m? He saved her life—he was there for her when I wasn’t…” He shakes his head, and I see sadness in his eyes.
There is more to the story, but I don’t press for details. I can tell it is a sensitive subject, and it isn’t my business.
“These seem to be okay.” I pick up a few of his certificates. “Where would you like me to put them?”
“Back on the damn wall where they were,” he growls his response. “Obviously, you can’t do that since you broke all my frames.”
“No, sir.” I look down at them.
“Just stack them on my fucking desk.” He motions to an empty spot.
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
They appear to be awards that he’s won for his work at the investment field, and one for bravery in the military. I want to ask him about it, but the expression on his face tells me that I should just keep cleaning.
I reach down for a piece of broken glass that is too big for the broom to sweep up, and my foot slides on some paper. I try to catch my balance with the broom handle, but it isn’t enough, and the glass cuts into my hand.
“Ow!” I look down and see blood. “Shit…”
“Are you okay?” Lawson jumps up in an instant and grabs my arm. “That doesn’t look good.”
“I’ll be fine.” I wince through the pain and try to close my hand.
“No, we need to clean it up.” He leans closer and folds my fingers back. “You have a piece of glass stuck in there.”
“I’m such a damn klutz.” I shake my head and mutter a few more obscenities under my breath.
“Come with me. There’s a first aid kit in the break room.” He motions for me to follow him.
My hand definitely hurts, but I can’t tell if it’s the cut or the glass that lodged in that is causing the pain. I try to pull my hand close to my chest so that I don’t drip blood all the way to the break room, which makes me look more like a zombie once I add a red stain to the front of my cheerleader uniform.
Lawson gets the first aid kit from above the sink and turns on the water. His hands are calloused and rough, but so tender when he begins to tend to my wound.
Don't Call Me Daddy (Once Upon a Daddy) Page 3
