Daddy Boss

by Claire Bishop

“You could cut back, you know, or maybe hire someone to help you out,” he suggested, and we paused for a moment before laughing. “I know, they’re your children.”

  “Every single one is worth it,” I said, thinking about all of my employees and chefs and the amazing dishes of art that we created. Because while Nick literally dealt in physical and emotional art, my recipes were edible works of art. My chain, All You Can Eat, named after a funny joke my late grandfather always told about coming back until the pans were licked clean, was my blood and sweat. And preparing for another new location opening was the closest thing I’ll have to a new baby. The best part… the restaurant sounded like a diner, and yet it was a four-star restaurant chain, catering to the upper middle class in every major city and most of the smaller ones as well.

  “Make tonight count then,” Nick said as we waited for valet to bring my car. “It’s your last night of freedom.”

  I dropped him off at his house after lunch, where he pointed toward my front porch with a confused look on his face.

  “Were you expecting company?” he asked. He motioned toward the house.

  A woman stood on my porch, her face scrunched in concentration as she glanced between her phone and my front door. Her hair was long and blonde, reaching her lower back and falling like satin, and even from where we waited in the car, I could see that she was beautiful. I had no idea who she was, but my interest was piqued. It wasn’t every day I had a beautiful stranger show up at my doorstep.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I muttered and nearly pushed Nick out of my car. My driveway circled around a giant fountain, but I didn’t like strangers seeing my personal items, so I used the second driveway, a curling path that went behind my house and into the 10-car garage full of sports and designer cars. I parked, fixed my dark suit, and straightened my watch, then walked around toward the front where the woman continued to knock on my door.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, any sense of humor or inappropriateness in my tone left with Nick. The woman jumped as I hopped up the marble steps leading to my door. Her eyes were stunning, a bright blue that matched the sky on a rare sunny day.

  “Maddox Moore?” she asked with a smile. Oh no, I thought for a moment. She’s here to sell something.

  “Yes?” I offered a sideways smile. “What can I do for you?”

  “Born December 2, 1983?” She looked at her phone. “Owner of the chain restaurant, All You Can Eat, which has over 100 locations across the country?”

  “A hundred and three, to be exact. A hundred and four in two weeks,” I added with as much sarcasm as I could muster. The very top button of her blouse was unbuttoned, and I eyed it as she spewed off more facts about me that she most likely Googled. “If we’re sharing information, why don’t you tell me a little about you?”

  A smile revealed a dimple in her left cheek. It seemed she liked what she heard.

  “I’m Chelsea Gabbard,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, do we know each other somehow?” I would have remembered such a beautiful face. I stepped back as she slipped a hand into her purse and grabbed something. I wasn’t sure what she’d pull out of there, but before I could guess, she paused. Her face scrunched up a moment, before shaking her head and retreating her hand.

  “No. I guess you can say I’m a fan of yours. I want to open my own restaurant one day, too. You’re a bit of an inspiration to me.” She looked at my house. “I would do anything to live like this.” The adoration was tinged with a hint of bitterness that reflected in her tone, but I was intrigued.

  “Well, would you like to come in?” I ignored my first rule, but this woman, despite her attractiveness, just wanted some advice, it seemed. I also had 20 minutes to spare before returning to work.

  “I would love that; thank you.” She straightened her purse strap on her shoulder and followed me. That was my first mistake.

  The front door opened to my family room, where vaulted ceilings end in a glass dome and giant portraits commissioned by Nick hung on the walls. Furniture chosen by a French designer decorated the room, and rich, red and gold carpet finished it. I had two giant televisions on each end, and a saltwater aquarium that ran down the length of the room toward the kitchen. It was one of my favorite things about the place, and the peaceful glow illuminated the entire stretch as the rippling reflections from the water cast across the floor and walls. Chelsea stared at all of it in awe, her jaw dropping as she followed me into the kitchen.

  I slid my gaze across her body from head to toe. “Are you hungry?” I asked. “I could whip up something special for you.”

  She grinned at my innuendo, but after one look at my kitchen, a chef’s dream and nightmare at the same time, it seemed as if she made up her mind.

  “You already have,” she said, and pulled something out of her purse. Pictures. Of a baby. A tiny baby with a bald head and bright blue eyes in one photograph, and it slowly grew until it had a head full of hair in the rest of the pictures.

  Bile hit the back of my throat as I snatched the small stack from her hands. This was a cruel prank indeed. “What the hell is this, some kind of sick joke?” I thumbed through the photos and then pushed them at her. “Get out of my house.” I’d never used force with a woman, but part of me wanted to drag her out kicking and screaming.

  “You don’t remember me? Well, I’m not surprised someone like you would have a shitty memory for such things, I mean, I didn’t think you would, even if you do. But you’re not getting off so easily.” She looked at me as if I were a bug she wanted to squish. “Two years ago you were drunk as shit at Trinities. You met me in the bathroom, said you had plans to open your 100th restaurant; remember?” She practically spat her words, they flew from her mouth so fast.

  I paused, searching my mind for a specific memory. It was two years ago; who the hell would remember small details like that? But the timing made sense. Two years ago, I was planning my 100th restaurant. We had a blowout celebration because of it. It was one of the things on my bucket list and I’d reached it so damn fast it made my head spin. I glanced at the woman. Shit.

  But then again, this wouldn’t be the first time some crazy lady tried scamming me out of money. It happened all too often, unfortunately; hell, I was probably the supposed father of at least 100 kids. I wouldn’t deny I’d spread it around, but I wouldn’t consider myself a careless man, either. It didn’t pay to be reckless. Not with my wealth.

  “I want a paternity test.”

  She belted a laugh like I had all the audacity in the world. “I expected you might, and I have no issue with that.” She seemed so certain, and I wasn’t going to stand around arguing.

  “Then you can leave me the details, and I’ll show you out.” I pushed the photos into her hand, and she stuffed them into her purse as if they weren’t more than used napkins for the waste bin. Then, after telling me what time and place, she left without saying much else.

  I called Nick, needing to tell someone what had happened, if only to assure myself it was real.

  The phone rang three times until he picked it up. His breath was labored, and he admitted running across his house to the phone. I imagined the thing was now covered in paint, as was everything in the artist’s home.

  I took a deep breath and prepared to drop the bomb. “A woman showed up here tonight.”

  He gave a half-hearted cheer. “Good for you, man. I hope you got laid. Was she hot?”

  “It seems I did, maybe. Hell, I hope not.” I raked my fingers through my hair and paced the room.

  “What? Slow down and explain. You sound a bit shaken, and that’s not like you at all.” The phone went silent as he waited for my response.

  I took a deep breath and let the words spill. “She says she’s the mother of my child.”

  Nervous laughter sounded and was quickly stifled, as if he couldn’t believe it. “I hope you’re getting proof of that before taking her word for it.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve ordered a test.” The b
ad thing about ordering that test was it could come back positive, and then there’d be no denying it. There was a certainty about the woman, a desperation that seemed genuine enough to make me nervous.

  Nick let out a long breath through the phone. “Don’t worry, Maddox, you know it’s not yours. She’s some gold digger looking for a quick score and—”

  “I think she’s right. Something in my gut is screaming at me that she is.” The longer I thought about it, the more nervous I became.

  “I’ll come with you for moral support if you want. You know, to make sure you don’t attack anyone like they do on Maury or Springer.” His half-hearted attempt at making me laugh was falling short, but I appreciated it all the same. He was a true friend, and it felt better knowing that I had someone on my side.

  “I’ll do this myself. I’ll let you know what happens,” I said and hung up. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a drink. After throwing it back like a shot, I left the glass and took the entire bottle, sipping it like a wino on payday.

  The rest of the night was spent in a drunken stupor in my kitchen. A baby? It was impossible. My restaurants were my babies.

  I met Chelsea in the early morning two days later in front of a family planning clinic to take the test. I didn’t say more than good morning as she led me inside. I couldn’t help but wonder how familiar she was with the place as she signed us in and took a seat in the dingy lobby. We both stared ahead in silence for the first few minutes until she took a magazine from the table and thumbed through it. I wasn’t sure how she could focus. My mind was racing a mile a minute.

  Finally, they came in and took me to the back to a small triage-type area, and I gave them a sample. Then it was back to the drab lobby with the fake plants and tattered chairs that were a leftover from decades past to await the results. I sat next to Chelsea to be polite, but still didn’t speak. I had nothing to say.

  Instead, I thought of every sacrifice I’d ever made to make my mark on society, to make a name for myself. I thought of all the hard work it took to even make my first restaurant, all the years of slaving away in a shitty kitchen in the middle of the ghetto. I thought of my future, branching out to 200, 300, maybe 500 All You Can Eat locations across the country. It was a pipe dream, but if I could pull it off, I’d go down in history with the greats of restaurant creation.

  “Mr. Moore?” the nurse called, and I looked up. “We’re ready for you.” I stood, and followed her into the room.

  And then I thought about how a baby would ruin it all.

  Chapter Two

  Everly

  There was nothing I couldn’t do. I held my up head and walked proudly across the stadium, smiling like a crazy person as the President of Northwest Culinary Institute handed me my certificate. The paper was thinner than I expected, considering how much it cost, but my heart soared to new heights. I was officially a chef. Or, at least I would be as soon as I got a job as a chef.

  The sky was as dreary as ever as I left graduation, but that wasn’t going to ruin my incredibly happy mood. I deserved some happiness. I considered all the restaurants I was going to apply at, making a list in my head as I walked through the crowd of families who had attended the graduation. I had a mental list of five restaurants, possibly even that new one opening in two weeks, when I found my own family. More so, my niece found me as she attacked my legs.

  “Everly!” She slammed into me so hard that I wobbled a bit and then lost my balance. Before I could right myself, my knees caved and I found the ground.

  Belle stared at me with wide eyes and a curled-up bottom lip. I’d dragged her down with me and the both of us were struggling to get up.

  “Belle!” My sister, Lacey, scolded her 3-year daughter as Belle leaned against me to get to her feet. Lacey grabbed her by the shoulders and heaved her up. “I’m sorry, Everly; she only gets this excited when she sees you.”

  I cringed a little, wishing I could say the same. It wasn’t as if I hated her, but she had a way of annoying me, and for some reason, she took to me like a bee to a flower, but instead of bringing me honey, she more times than not stung the crap out of me.

  “It’s okay,” I said, and smiled as my mom and Lacey helped me up.

  “Say you’re sorry, Belle,” Lacey said, and the little girl apologized. Her hair was the same as the rest of the women in our family; dark red and silky, and she had a dusting of freckles that only I shared. Lacey’s red, curly hair was clearly in need of a deep shampoo and cut, and stood out in stiff waves in a ponytail. My mom had her red hair cut short, and all four of us shared green eyes, though I’d been told mine were always the brightest and biggest. Lacey had once told me how she’d always envied them and thought hers were the color of moss.

  “Congrats,” Lacey said as she hugged me. “I’m so proud of you; I knew you could do it. Now you get to be the family’s personal chef.”

  Our mother scoffed and pulled me into a tight hug. “You’re going to need a better job than that. If an MBA in finance wasn’t enough, you just had to get a useless culinary degree. Now you have to pay them both off.” Lacey rolled her eyes and mouthed an apology.

  I winced, though I was not surprised at how quickly our mom spoiled the afternoon. For some reason, me pushing myself to take more credits in school than anyone else annoyed her. Having completed my bachelor’s in three years and my master’s in a year wasn’t celebrated, but rather had become a point of contention. It was almost as if she didn’t want me to push myself. Tough shit. I was who I was. And being a chef was something that came up after I’d gotten my master’s.

  “I’ll treat all of us to lunch; come on. Lacey, you need to save your money for Belle’s gymnastics, and don’t get me started on how much money you have to save, Everly.” She clutched her handbag tight against her breasts and shook her head, as if to shake that very thought from her brain. Lacey and I followed our mother to her car, where Belle was showing me how she could strap herself into her own car seat. I faked a smile and pretended to listen, but all I could think about was my mother’s disappointment in me. Nothing I’d ever do would be good enough. Not many people were good enough in my mother’s eyes. She’d always been hard on us and tough as nails. She took that strong single mother role to a new level, but only when she was single. When she had a man, she ignored us, and oh, how I wished she had a man.

  “Everly, couldn’t you at least try a little harder, and would you please answer, Belle?” Lacey gestured toward her daughter, who still hadn’t gotten her car seat buckled properly.

  “She said she could do it herself,” I muttered under my breath as I reached over and clicked her in properly. Lacey rolled her eyes and squeezed Belle’s hand. It wasn’t my fault if I just didn’t feel the same level of attachment to Belle, and I wished Lacey would understand that. I didn’t want my own children, so what made her think I would want to deal with hers? Don’t get me wrong, I loved the little fiend, but I didn’t quite have the instincts or the interest to pick up Lacey’s slack all the time.

  “Are you in the mood for sushi?” Mom asked. Lacey and I didn’t bother responding. It didn’t matter what we were in the mood for because our mother would have her way, as usual. “Good, let’s get some sushi.”

  After finding out that the wait for Mom’s favorite sushi place was two hours long, we settled for a burger joint. We took our seats, me grimacing as Belle demanded to sit next to me but refused a booster seat. I picked up the menu and scanned it.

  “They have a wonderful lettuce burger here,” Mom said. I glanced at her.

  “I eat my burgers with buns,” I said. Belle and I exchanged a glance, wrinkling our noses at the thought of bunless burgers.

  “I’m just saying you could use a little moderation,” she said, and Lacey groaned. My mother had always been on the two of us about our figures, even though we were not unhealthy.

  The waitress took our order, and I ordered a burger with a double order of fries just to see the grimace on mom’s face. She pu
rsed her lips as our food arrived.

  “So, what about that new guy you’ve been seeing?” Mom asked Lacey. She wrinkled her nose.

  “Oh, Fred? No, our third date was a disaster. I haven’t called him since,” she said. “Plus, he freaked when he found out about Belle anyways. I don’t need that kind of man in my life.”

  “You can’t blame him,” I said. “You didn’t tell him you had a kid until the third date.” Mom glared at me and gestured toward Belle. “Oh, come off it. She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”

  Belle and I dipped our fries into her milkshake and munched on them as Lacey and Mom discussed their future plans for Belle.

  “I can’t believe I have to start considering where to take her to preschool next year,” Lacey said. I glanced at the younger version of all of us. She was growing up fast, and soon enough she’d be a young woman. I remembered being her age, back when I had a better outlook on children and families. I had wanted to grow up and marry a rich prince and live in his huge castle and have lots of children so I could have a big playground on the castle grounds. I’d even dreamt of a moat, only I’d wanted to make it into a giant ball pit. Looking back, I was an unusual child.

  I watched as Belle tried to sit taller so her elbows reached the table, and she could almost do it. She gave up and took to her knees, leaning over her milkshake where she dipped a fry to the bottom. “She’s getting so big,” I said.

  “Forget about Belle’s future; what about yours?” Mom asked me. “What are your plans now?”

  Lacey sat her burger on her tray and looked at me. I wondered if she was losing her appetite. Mom had a way with that too.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Does it matter? Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen regardless of whether it’s planned or not. You know I like to experience life without fussing over unnecessary things. There’s no point in thinking about the future.”

  Mom scoffed. “Whatever’s going happen is going to happen? Really? Que será, será? I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you’re living in, sweetheart, but take it from me, that Doris Day was full of crap.” Mother sipped her drink and Belle giggled.