Daddy's

by Helen Goodman

  "Jasmine?" he called out. The bathroom door was open, champagne already poured, one glass missing. "Jasmine?" Bubbling water led him to the balcony.

  Jasmine was sitting in the hot tub in a black bikini and large, black sunglasses. Her arms spread along the width of the tub, a glass of champagne in one hand. The water bubbled just below the line of her bikini. Where it met the water, the material clung closer to her flesh.

  "Remember this bikini, dad? I promise to keep it on this time." She laughed.

  Try as he might, he could not help but read too much into her smile.

  **********

  Tim went back inside and shut down his laptop. Had she seen what he was looking at? At least he knew what the waiter was smiling at now, seeing Jasmine stroll pass. He changed into his swimming trunks and took is champagne. Acting automatically, trying not to think, he climbed into the hot tub and joined his daughter, staring into the distance, keeping his thoughts as far away as possible.

  It didn't work. She slid along the hot tub seat, thigh to thigh, and rested her head on his chest. Her arm floated lazily on his legs.

  "This has been an amazing day." She said, sipping champagne.

  Was there a chance? He thought to himself. The slightest chance she harboured similar fantasies? Even if so, they were just fantasies. He was a father, he had a lifetime of responsibility towards her. Yes, she was beautiful. No, stunning. But she wouldn't think of her father like that, would she? There was a love there. But it was chaste... yes. That was the word. But even if she did have fantasies, to act on them would be destructive.

  "I should be pampered like this more often."

  Tim nodded. "Yup. You deserve it." He kissed her hair.

  "Josh was never like this."

  "Who's Josh?"

  Jasmine let out a sigh. "Just some guy who dumped me."

  "When was this?"

  "Last month."

  "And I never met him?"

  Jasmine looked up at her father. "Relax, dad. He was nothing."

  Tim hugged her closer.

  "I guess we're both losers in love." She said.

  Tim kissed the top of her head again, resting his face there. As he looked down, he noticed his fingertips were lightly touching the upper line of her bikini top. He let them rest there.

  ***********

  The mood was more subdued that evening. They tried to joke their way out of it, but it was forced and unsustainable. Jasmine started her beauty regime, and Tim searched the internet for two things. Firstly a night club that he might send Jasmine to. Secondly, that brunette girl again. He took the address of the first, and the number of the second as Jasmine walked around in her dressing gown, singing badly, preparing herself.

  "Dad? You got that blue linen suit? You should wear that with your pink shirt."

  "The pink shirt? You sure?"

  "It works, trust me."

  "You saying I'm a gay boy?" Tim joked.

  "God, dad. If you were some skinny little wuss, then it would look gay. But you can get away with it."

  "Well I bow to your superior knowledge, hun".

  "Good!" She flashed him a smug smile, and it worked. He ran up behind her and started tickling her. She whooped and started laughing, trying to get away from him. He chased her across the room and she jumped onto the bed, arming herself with a pillow. He dove onto her, absorbing the pillow blow and shoving her to the bed. More screams. He straddled her, finding ways past her guard to tickle her ribs. She laughed too hard to speak properly, and struggled to keep her dressing gown together.

  "Whose superior now, hun?" he joked. The excitement in him started to change in nature. As she struggled, still laughing, still trying to get away, he let her half escape, only to pin her down again, his right leg between hers. As he lay and rolled on top of her, her dressing gown rose up her thighs. He allowed himself to look, briefly. He quickly surrendered, not pushing it too far.

  But it worked; she had only finished laughing by the time she took her clothes into the bathroom to get changed.

  Tim waited on the balcony, with his second glass of champagne. It's a beautiful city, he thought to himself.

  "Dad?" A voice called behind him. He turned.

  She was beautiful. He told her so. She smiled. "I'm ready."

  They clinked glasses, drank and left. Both wearing the broadest of smiles.

  *********

  They walked through the lobby. Once again, Tim noticed people staring at them. Maybe they thought he was her sugar daddy, but he didn't care. And Jasmine was enjoying the attention too.

  The restaurant was on the top floor of a hotel a few moments' drive away in a taxi. Its panoramic views reached from the hills to the ocean. The food deserved all the stars the guides said they had, and Tim was impressed by the wines. Even Jasmine managed to find a red she liked, rather than the sweet whites she usually ordered. The talk was free and easy. They had spent too much time apart and had much to talk about, but both avoided the separation, the impending divorce and home. Neither wanted to sully the evening.

  Over desert, Tim broached the subject of sending Jasmine to the premier night club in the area. She asked him what he would do. He shrugged his shoulders and said head back to their hotel, read a paper in the bar.

  A coldness swept across her face.

  "No, I don't like that." She said.

  "Oh come on. You want to spend some time with the young crowd. You're in Barcelona, hun."

  She shook her head. He knew that look: she wouldn't give in. "I know what I want, and it's not leaving you alone on our second night."

  He could tell there was more going on. Something had upset her.

  "Well, ok. What do you want to do then?" He didn't want to make an issue of it and mar the evening.

  "Just stay here. It's nice enough. There's a band and DJ in the bar next door at eleven. I looked it up on your laptop."

  There was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she said it. Tim took a sip of his wine to hide his smirk. His little girl had seen his laptop, and was trying to keep him away from women of ill repute.

  "Sure you don't want to find yourself a cute Spanish boyfriend?"

  "Well maybe if you dance with me, you'll find some nice Spanish senorita. A nice one."

  "Oh yeah, how will that work? Wouldn't you scare off the competition?"

  "It's psychology dad. If a girl sees you with another woman, it says two things."

  "Go on."

  Jasmine's glass hung from her hand, affecting an almost Audrey Hepburn-like pose as she lectured her father. "Firstly, it pre-selects you. If I think you're ok to hang out with, then other girls will think you'll be ok for them to hang out with."

  Tim nodded. "Ok. So far so good."

  "Secondly, she'll get jealous, and try to win you over."

  "Really?" He said, enjoying his daughter's forthrightness and basking in her intelligence.

  "Haven't you noticed?"

  "What?"

  "Those looks you're getting when we are out together? Especially when I take your arm?"

  Tim felt a slight pang. "Oh, so that's why you were doing it?"

  "No." she said, exaggerating her hurt. "But I noticed it."

  Tim raised his glass. "Ok, then. Here's to psychology."

  *********

  The bar was cast in blue light, lending a sultry feel over the easy jazz quietly coming from the small band at the back.

  Jasmine led the way to the bar and, in accordance to her little ruse, Tim entered about a minute behind her. He walked over to her barstool as she studiously ignored him.

  "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

  "Not yet. You can keep it warm if you like." She said, giving her best sultry look.

  She must be a handful, he thought, as he took his place beside her. "Well can I get you a drink while I keep the spare seat warm?"

  "Champagne."

  "Really?"

  "We don't want to look cheap, do we?" He couldn't fault her logic, and got himsel
f a large bourbon, one ice cube.

  "So, are you single, senora?"

  "Recently, as it happens."

  She is good at this, he thought. "So who have you got your eye on?"

  "Well, wait ... for you or for me?"

  He decided he didn't want an answer just yet. He let it go, and just smiled at her.

  They shared jokes, laughed like old times. For a moment, all was well with the world. An old Louis Armstrong standard. One of his favourites. He began strumming his fingers against his thigh.

  "May I dance with you?" She said.

  "My pleasure."

  She smiled, took his hand, and walked him to the dance floor.

  She slipped her arms around him, and he rested one hand on her soft, naked shoulder, one on her back. They moved closely together through the dark room to the gentle jazz. He twirled her once, and pulled her in, a kiss to her forehead. Her smile was radiant, her eyes hypnotised him. Was he falling in love? It felt like it. But love was ok, wasn't it? The song passed in an instant, lost in her charms.

  The next song was slightly more up tempo, prompting Jasmine to move more. She turned her back to him, and danced close to him. He could feel her backside against him... she reached back with one hand around his neck, he allowed his hands to find her waist. A table of three women stared at them. He ignored them, preferring to concentrate on the young woman moving against him.

  Too soon, she turned around again. She leant into him and whispered something. But he was too distracted by her closeness and scent to pay attention. Tim allowed his hands to slip down his daughter's back, and drew her in for a brief kiss. He didn't try to hold it. He felt in control now, it was ok.

  He led her back to their drinks.

  "Did you see the girl in the white and black dress. Back to the right?" Jasmine asked.

  Tim shook his head. "I only have eyes for you .... dear." He crooned.

  "Agh, don't sing, dad!"

  "Well at least you know where you get it from".

  She leaned forward and slapped his leg in mock punishment. Both sipped their drinks.

  She told him about the woman in the monochrome dress, about how she was trying to catch his eye while giving her disdainful looks, but Tim only caught the barest details of it, captivated by the intelligent beauty in front of him.

  "So, it's a plan then?" She said.

  "Erm, what is?"

  "Tim!"

  "Tim?"

  "Well I'm not going to call you dad in here and blow the game am I?" she explained.

  "OK, so the plan again."

  She sighed, slightly annoyed that her master plan was not getting the full attention it so clearly deserved.

  "Keep an eye on her drink, when it's finished I'll go and dance, and I bet you she comes right next to you to order her drink."

  "Won't her boyfriend get..."

  "She's out with girls. Do you not listen, dad?"

  "Tim, you mean."

  They shared a smirk, and Tim noticed her hand had stayed on his thigh through her lecture. He wondered for a moment, then realised it was part of her show. Get a grip, Tim.

  She turned her head. "OK, let's do it!"

  She slipped off her stool and made her way to the centre of the dance floor, capturing centre stage with all the confidence of youth.

  Tim watched her intently, looking at her as a stranger might, watching those curves move as she danced.

  It wasn't long before a few local men, all ages, had gravitated towards her, trying to catch her eye. He wanted to swat them off, and wondered to himself if he was being protective as a father, or was just jealous.

  "She's beautiful."

  Tim turned towards the voice. Sure enough, the woman Jasmine had singled out had approached him.

  "Yes. She is."

  "You're a very lucky man to have such a beautiful partner."

  Tim took her in, early 30s, make-up a touch heavy. But no denying her figure. He looked back to the dance floor. A young man, mixed race, was dancing close to her. Whispering something to her.

  "She's just a friend. A colleague."

  The woman smiled. "Good..." She twirled her empty glass on the bar.

  "Oh, let me get you a drink. What are you having?"

  "Sex on the beach."

  Tim nodded. Of course she was. He ordered the drinks and noticed her move closer.

  "She looks high maintenance". Her hand rested on his thigh. "If you're interested, I can be a very easy woman to please..."

  "Not exactly what I am looking for." He said, paying for the drinks.

  "You're hoping to find love in Barcelona? I can make you feel it." She said with a practiced ease.

  Jasmine was making her way over to them. A smile not concealing her determined walk.

  As she reached her father she leant forward and kissed him on the lips. She held it, a long soft kiss, but Tim was too confused to enjoy it.

  "Come on Tim. Take me home."

  ********

  Jasmine was silent in the taxi, staring out through the window. He didn't press her. It could wait.

  Barcelona was beautiful at night. But his eyes kept coming back to his daughter. Eventually, thankfully, she spoke.

  "Sorry, dad." She lent in and rested against him.

  It would do.

  They strolled through the lobby with Tim wondering how the mood had managed to change so much. Moments earlier they had been as thick as thieves, playing games on an unsuspecting public.

  "Senor?" The concierge called out to him. It was a message from Tony. Jasmine said she would go up to the room as he called in.

  A few rings and Tony answered. "How's it going fella?"

  "Yeah, ok. What the hell do you want? I thought I was on a break?"

  Tony laughed at him down the phone. "It's a test, Tim, see how early you got back on a Saturday night. And it turns out -- far too early for my liking."

  "Hey, don't worry. It's been good."

  "Well I'm going to make sure of it. I've sent something to your room."

  "Shit, Tony, you know I am here with Jasmine don't you?" he panicked.

  A raucous laugh bellowed through the receiver. "Don't worry. I'll let you choose your own hooker. Go back, enjoy."

  He headed back to the elevator, relieved. The last thing he needed was an unexpected guest surprising Jasmine.

  He pushed the button for his floor and tried to make sense of the evening. Flashes of Jasmine dancing close to him crossed his mind. She wanted him to find someone. She set it up -- it was her idea. Just a show, a game.

  Best let it go.

  He used his key card and entered the room. The gift from Tony was there: a bottle of champagne, already opened. Jasmine was already on the balcony with a glass.

  He poured a glass and walked over to her. He cuddled her from behind and again kissed her head.

  "You OK, honey?"

  She nodded silently. A gentle, plaintive sigh rocked her shoulders.

  "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" he said, gently rocking her.

  "I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

  "What? No. As long as I am with you, it's a perfect evening".

  She chuckled between small sobs. "It's just... just ... one of the guys at the bar said that girl was a prostitute."

  "Yeah, I kind of got that impression."

  She turned, makeup smeared with tears. "Well you don't deserve a prostitute. You deserve so much better." The tears came easily now and she hugged him, tears and mascara staining his shirt.

  "Hey, beggars can't be choosers." He joked. It didn't work.

  She hit him on the chest. "You're not a beggar! It's that bitch that's spoiled everything!"

  "What bitch?"

  "That fucking bitch at home." At least, that's what he made out through the tears.

  "Hey, don't blame your mum. It's difficult for both of ..."

  "It is her fault! All her fault. You think she's been moping around the house since you left? It's non-stop, every weeken
d."

  "What is, hun?"

  "The men. She's been a fucking whore."

  He smoothed her hair, doing what he could to placate her. "Hey, she's still your mum. You still can't talk about her like that."

  "But it's true dad." She had calmed slightly now. "You deserve better. She ruined everything. I just ... I just want you back."

  "Hey, babe." He lifted her chin with a finger. "I'm right here."

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling. She stood on tip toes and kissed him, holding him tight.

  There was a softness to the kiss, a tenderness.

  "I know it must be difficult for you. Being a man, being alone."

  "It's not too bad. I get by."

  "Oh, please. I saw what you were looking at on the web. I saw you in the bath. I've seen how you've been looking at me sometimes."

  "Hey, it's not what ... I don't mean anything, I'm just..."

  "Don't worry. I understand. We all need love, dad."

  He couldn't argue.

  She moved to the bathroom, picking up her make-up bag on the way. "Excuse me. Let me tidy myself up."

  Tim walked back into the room. This evening had taken more of its share of strange turns and it had left him disorientated.

  He finished his champagne, as if that would help, and poured some more. He distracted himself with his laptop. Some music, perhaps. Something gentle, mellow. Sinatra should be perfect.

  Jasmine came back in. She offered her empty glass and Tim refilled it. She was still beautiful, but drained. Even her subtle make-up couldn't hide it.

  "I'm sorry, dad. Really. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

  "You haven't. Trust me."

  "Do I look ok?"

  "Electric."

  She moved in to him and started dancing again.

  "For a moment there, I thought you said Electra."

  They gently moved to the old jazz. "Electra?" Tim asked, not really interested in the answer.

  "She was from Greek mythology. Freud referred to her. Or Jung. Don't know."

  "Ahh. Psychology again. And what sort of head case was she?"

  "Oh, he meant it as a stage some girls go through. Where they want to kill their bitch of a mother and have their father all to themselves." She hugged him closer, as if to emphasize the point.

  "I hear he did a lot of coke, that guy." He could feel her smile against his chest.