Deserved Page 8

  “Okay, sweetheart, if that helps ease you in, fill your mind with educational nonsense.” I laughed as she wandered off then sat back and looked around my sparsely furnished home. It was functional but didn’t feel like a home for a dad and his girl. It was clean and served a purpose but it needed more. It needed to feel like Carly’s home, too, and the best way to do that would be to get her to help spruce the place up a bit. Lacey would probably relish the time away from the asshole that was me anyway, and Carly and I could bond while trekking the aisles of Home Depot. A bunch of new stuff for this place could signal the start of our lives together.

  “Uh… Dad,” I heard for the second time, smiling that it hadn’t been a one off.

  “I’m not sure about your dishcloth.”

  “What?” I answered confused, turning around to see Carly in the doorway of the kitchen holding up Lacey’s barely-there, pirate’s eye patch, fucking G-string thing off the end of spatula.

  I’d forgotten to scoop it out of the sink, where I’d thrown it in a rage after I’d cleaned the floor.

  Yeah, this parenting thing, that whole sharing a space and remembering that a twelve-year-old was under my roof was still taking some getting used to.

  Tommy Sevens

  The night that shall not be mentioned was well and truly over, done and not to be thought about at any point. Although if I was being honest with myself, really deep down, bone marrow deep, it was on my mind a lot. Front and centre, always lurking around some crevice of my fucking head.

  The day after, I sent Lacey a snarky text message telling her that Carly and I were spending the day together. I wanted her to grasp that she wasn’t needed. It wasn’t long before I received a reply.

  Lacey:

  That’s it. Fucking ‘OK.’ I wanted to launch my phone across the room it pissed me off so much, but instead, I debated for about three and a half fucking seconds before replying.

  Me:

  In hindsight, I should have acted my age, but her dismissal was pushing the wrong fucking buttons. I should have been thankful that she was acting like a grown up and dealing with things as most guys would have wanted, by just moving on. But no, it was me who morphed into an adolescent like a complete dick.

  The day after that, Carly was so excited about decorating her room, as in putting paint on real brick walls and not covering mold stains up in a trailer, that I decided we’d carry on our special edition of home makeover. Lacey had never answered my bitchy text from the day before, and that was still eating away at me, yet I still hadn’t reached the stage of being thankful that she was giving me a wide berth, and then it pissed me off that I was thinking about her, wanting her and fucking obsessing over her. I was supposed to be the grown up.

  I told Carly we’d be spending another day together, this time actually using the paint and brushes we’d brought, and I sent another text to Lacey.

  Me:

  This time she replied. I still wanted to smash my phone up, even though she’d used more words.

  Lacey:

  That bitch! Here she goes again, pushing buttons that she’s probably best not even touching, let alone prodding with a stick.

  Me: < If you’re too INNOCENT to man up and deal with our shit then maybe you should.>

  I waited nervously for a response and took a deep breath before I looked at my phone when it beeped to alert me to a message.

  Lacey:

  That was her reply. ‘Whatevs.’ What kind of fucking English was that? We’d only exchanged a few heated text messages, yet to any outsider it would actually look like we were having a lover’s tiff.

  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t actually ring Lottie and ask her to get involved with Carly. I’d had enough of a hard time trying to convince Carly that the pirate’s eye patch was the result of a past conquest. Telling her that Lacey would no longer be coming over would risk her putting two and two together. I didn’t want her attempting the math and coming up with the right fucking answer. There was also the matter of what reason I’d give Lottie as to why I didn’t want to work with Lacey any more. I absolutely knew I could not be honest. In the end, I just didn’t want to. Lacey was Carly’s friend and she’d been instrumental in getting us to the comfortable place we were at. I was too afraid of setting back her progress so I chose to use my daughter as the reason.

  It seemed I was going to have to be the one to man up and let Lacey win. She knew I wouldn’t see my threat through. I was going to have to forget I’d been played by a motherfucking virgin and move on. The fact I just didn’t want to was something I refused to dwell on any longer.

  When day two, post apocalyptic de-virginizing of Lacey rolled around, the school called and asked if Carly wanted to go and do a set of taster days. When the kid heard the voicemail, it was all I could do to stop her from bouncing off the newly painted walls with excitement. When I asked her whether she wanted to go, she actually looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. I pretended to mull it over and then let her know I was ribbing her. No way was I going to stop her from having the one thing she truly wanted and deserved—an honest and normal education like every other regular kid.

  This meant my not really a text war that was totally a text war with Lacey continued.

  Me:

  Two minutes later, I felt my cell vibrate in my pocket. My anticipation was nearly physical and I refused to admit I was actually excited by how this was putting the spark back into my day.

  Lacey:

  “That little…”

  “Who’s that, Dad?”

  “No one, just one of the drivers. Hang on.” I opened another text message and replied.

  Me: < You already did.>

  “Okay, you ready?” I didn’t need to ask. It was more than clear that Carly was ready.

  “Hell yeah!” She beamed and continued to bounce right up until she got out of my cab and refused to let me physically escort her inside the building.

  I knew I had no right to be proud of her yet, but I knew that independent streak would serve her well in life, and seeing what the prospect of a dull school day did for her meant she wanted this to work as much as I did.

  Lacey Talbot

  I’d pretty much holed myself up in my room, only coming out to do useful little chores around Grove House from the moment I woke up the morning after my ‘Tommy adventure night’, as I’d nicknamed it.

  I’d almost convinced myself that I needed to head over there and act normal when he blew me off. He actually acted like a high school teen who’d been dumped by telling me he and Carly had shit to do.

  Grow up, Tommy.

  Why he was getting his old guy breeches into a bunch because I’d run out, shit knows. I’d figured avoiding the awkward conversation would be preferable for him, too. Jesus, I’d done him a favor!

  When his text came through and it was obvious Jake had blabbed my date lie to Carly, I giggled. Together with the text messages I’d received since then, I could tell he was irked by it all.

  I’d gotten under his skin and really rattled him.

  Playing hard to get seemed to be his thing and he was clearly into games. Well guess what, Tommy Sevens? I would play. I had nothing to lose, or so I told myself. Until he sent a text message back suggesting someone else work with Carly.

  Um… No.

  Hell fucking no.

  I continued to play the game for fear that he’d actually pull the plug on my professional life, hoping he’d be more scared of Lottie and Oli than me. It was all a matter of timing. I couldn’t approach him with Carly there and I had no need to go to his home without her as an excuse. My opportunity struck when his whiny text message came
through telling me she’d be at Hawkstown High. I’d filed the paperwork after Carly and I went to visit. I was just waiting on the rubber stamp for the next step. As Tommy was listed as her guardian, he’d gotten the call and I knew he’d head into the cab office once he’d dropped her off. The perfect place to discuss a cease fire, essentially, it was neutral territory. I wanted to play fair, but not that fair because I was still a girl out to get her guy, so I styled my hair, put on an old, frayed denim mini skirt and a vest top that said ‘F.B.I. Full Body Impulse’ on it and wore my comfy wedged flip-flops. My self imposed confinement meant my mani/pedi situation was current and in my opinion, definitely battle ready.

  “Hey, Tara, is the boss man in?” I enquired on entering the little waiting area at the front of the shop.

  “No, he’s on a ride, but he won’t be long. You go through and make yourself comfy in his office. He’s radioed in after his drop off, so he’s inbound.” I wasn’t expecting him not to be there so I wasn’t prepared for the extra waiting time in the battle zone. My psyche was ready to walk in, shock the shit out of him and knock him on his ass. I looked around his little office and considered the best waiting place—his visitor’s chair, perched on top of his actual desk, or in his own, comfy leather boss’s chair?

  Yeah, definitely his chair… Sitting in that would give me the edge and probably set him off balance. Just as I was lowering my butt cheeks to the seat pad, the doorbell dinged to signal an incoming customer.

  “Surprise in your office, boss,” I heard Tara tell him.

  Shit. Showtime.

  “Excellent, please let it have French mustard mayo on it.”

  Tara began to laugh. “Not quite,” she told him as he walked through the door and found me crossed-legged, pivot-spinning back and to on a blood red toe nail in his chair with my hands clasped casually.

  I watched his mouth fall open in shock, his jaw harden in annoyance and then a shadow fall over his face. “T,” he bellowed, “take an early lunch.”

  And on the return of, “Righty-ho,” the door bell dinged again and it really was show time.

  “Get the fuck out of my chair.” Oh my, was he grumpy.

  “Is that any way to treat a visitor?”

  “An uninvited and unwanted one? Absolutely.”

  “Ouch. Tough crowd,” I mumbled.

  “Get to your point and run off again, little girl,” he snapped in confirmation that I was working his very last nerve.

  “I wanted to apologize and say thank you.” I was hoping that would calm things down, take the wind out of his sails, but it didn’t. He stood there and said absolutely nothing. “Well?”

  “I still haven’t heard the apology and that was a shit thank you. Although what I’m interested in is whether you’re apologizing or thanking me for fucking you.”

  His course manner caused me to shudder, something that I couldn’t stop, and he smirked when he spotted it.

  “I… ah… probably both on that subject, but mainly thank you for not stopping me from working with Carly.”

  The sharp nod he gave me was him trying to stay mad at me, but I’d let him have that. His cell rang and he kept his eyes on me while he answered it.

  “Clint,” he said, “yeah, Purps. Later.” And just as quick, he had hung up and dumped the phone back in his pocket. I made my way to the door, understanding I’d achieved what I wanted when he stood in front of it, blocking my exit. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted you,” I told him with complete honesty. I could see his stubble and the memory of how it felt was right there in an instant. “No come back, Tommy?”

  “Don’t play this game with me, little girl.” He leaned in to me, so close that it was all kinds of hard to keep it together and stop my knees from knocking.

  “Wake up, Tommy. We’re already playing.”

  He opened his mouth to counter my statement when the doorbell rang again and Tara’s voice shouted, “This time I do have something with French mustard mayo for you, boss.”

  Seizing my opportunity, I ducked around him and got the door open, and as I was about to make the doorbell ding again, he called after me, “Hey, Lacey, fancy looking after Carly tonight?”

  “Sorry, boss.” I smiled. “I’ve got a date.”

  And before my now nervous legs could actually fail me and put me on the floor, I waved, turned and left the office. I was mentally high fiving myself for the look of sheer displeasure on his face when I used the word date. The date didn’t exist… but one would even if I had to drag some stranger into that club by the skin of his teeth.

  Round one to Lacey.

  Tommy Sevens

  My blood was boiling.

  Like nearly on fire, mixed with petrol and being teased with a lit fucking match, boiling.

  The game she was playing was getting dangerous.

  Picture the scene…

  I’d committed to meeting Clint, although having no one to mind Carly was a challenge I hadn’t been expecting.

  Fucking Lacey.

  So, I mentioned it to Tara and because she was the mom I’d always wanted, she took it upon herself to offer. She decided it was time to get to know her ‘sorta step-grand-baby’ and I agreed. Carly and Tara were important to me so it was right that they should bond.

  Carly was still buzzing from her school day. The insight into the lessons, structure and current subjects had given her focus. I didn’t really understand. I hated school, but if she was happy, I was with her. I took her via the library, again, and we exchanged one lead weight in paper for another lot. Whatever, my girl had a nuts thirst for knowledge.

  I was ready to have a night out and catch up with my buddy. We’d become close over the years. He’d started working for me and it hadn’t panned out, but I didn’t let that affect our friendship. He was a frequent player at Purps, had some big notion that he’d find ‘the one’ there. I’d tried more than once to dispel that myth for him. I mean, fucking seriously, you were unlikely to find the love of your life wearing beer goggles in a night spot that was so close to a whore house they may as well have charged the booths out by the hour.

  Yet, there I was on wingman duty, watching him eye up the ladies, all the while thinking none of the women held a fucking candle to her.

  Fucking Lacey.

  I signaled for a fresh drink. It was still early and I was undecided about leaving the cab or being the DD when I spied the ass that had been toying with my sanity.

  Fucking Lacey.

  She was doing some god-awful bump and grind that all the kids seemed to be into. How they danced to that shit was anyone’s guess, but still, she was making it work. The black lace speck of material she’d poured her tits and ass into was like an extended piece of underwear, so much so that I could actually see it out through the lighter patches of lace.

  So yeah… my blood was comfortably simmering at this point. Her hands were up high, clasping her little purse and her feet were toe tapping, like she was listening to something entirely different. She was captivating, so captivating that I’d tuned my pal out by this point. When he said he was going on the prowl, I felt immense relief when I realized the ass he was heading for was not Lacey’s, and then began to survey the audience to see who the fuck she was on a date with.

  She was hypnotic without realizing it. The temperature of my blood rose a couple of degrees when I watched men bray around her like she was prized cattle at an auction. If I’d had any sense, I’d have walked away. She was a grown ass woman and was able to take care of herself, but I was beginning to feel proprietary over her. Pinning that feeling down upped my blood’s heat a little more.

  I knew I was ready to pounce, and shocking the shit out of the guy at the bar next to me, I slammed my bottle down with timed perfection. I felt my blood reach peak velocity when I saw some cruising chancer move in for the kill, and I reached her at the same time.

  Fucking Lacey.

  “Move the fuck on now, dickhead. And do not think it’s a good idea to h
ave me repeat that,” I threatened as he laid a single, measly paw on her hip from behind. He was younger than me and closer to Lacey’s age, but my temper alone meant I’d beat him without breaking a sweat.

  “You—” I pointed in her face, “—over here. Now.” The sharpness of my tone led her to respond with immediate obedience. She knew I was not to be toyed with. I knew she was behind me as I made my way to a secluded corner. It was a place where I’d felt up my fair share of ladies over the years. I knew she was with me because the heads of the guys in my path pivoted to take her in as we walked by. When I came face to face with that dark corner, I spun around and pushed her into it. “Are you trying to get someone killed?”

  “What? I don’t understand,” she retorted, clearly confused.

  “This game stops now, Lacey, it fucking stops.”

  “Again,” she snapped, folding her arms under those perfect tits. “I don’t understand.”

  “This teasing… You got what you wanted. You’re killing me. Pushing all that in my face when it’s…” I was losing it. I was coming unhinged.

  “When it’s what?” she pushed, stepping into me so closely that I could smell her.

  “When it’s what makes me so damn hard, harder than I’ve been for years. When it’s fucking wrong and when I can’t have you.” I stepped back away from her. Her close proximity was causing this meltdown and making me confess shit I’d been trying to repress for a while.

  Lacey stepped with me and was about to reach out when Jake appeared. “Fucking hell, Lacey. Not again. Hey, Tommy, sorry about this,” he said, looking really pissed off.

  “About?” I urged him on.

  “Our little Lacey here getting fresh in dark corners with dicks she shouldn’t be with. Did you dismiss him already? Thanks, saves me the job, although you’re making me kinda redundant.”

  Lacey didn’t answer him. Her expression was a mixture of shame and anger.

  Now it was my turn to play the game with my rules. “Does she do this shit often?” I enquired innocently.