by Lena Little
17
Daniel
“Are you sure, Daddy?” she asks, and it’s not her reverting to little. She’s in shock, so I scoop her up and carry her into my apartment, drawing a bath for her, finally glad I don’t have a proper shower, but instead a bathtub with a hose. Once she’s soaking, I comb her hair, and read her a few passages from some story in her Kindle by an author appropriately named Lena Little, based on the content of her work.
That seems to put her at ease, and allows me to ease out of the room for a minute to grab her some juice from the fridge…and call my friend who simply goes by ‘The Fed Fixer.’
Thirty minutes later he’s at my door and I explain to him how I knew something was wrong when I arrived at the apartment. The telltale I’d slid into the door had fallen, letting me know someone had entered or exited at the time, and a quick check of the tiny security camera I just had installed, with live view hooked up to my phone, only confirmed it when I saw a body slide into the building beyond suspiciously.
I didn’t even bother going in the front, knowing he’d had the door shut and possibly a hostage situation. Luckily the other night I’d already climbed up to her window so I knew it could be done, quickly, quietly, and stealthily. And the best part is there was a nearby window that would provide a reflection so I’d be able to see everything that was transpiring inside her apartment.
The Fixer shakes his head. “Clear cut self-defense, or at least it could be swung that way pretty easily in court. But here’s the easiest part about it…I ran his name and that school you said he worked at on the way over. He’s not an off-duty cop. As a matter of fact he’s not qualified for any type of security profession. He shouldn’t even be allowed to guard…” his eyes look around the room, “one of these stuffed animals he’s so incompetent.” He pauses. “His name is obviously an alias, the Epstein choice beyond a bad joke, and how he pulled off the off-duty cop thing we’ll have to look into, but we have federal offenses here most certainly so my being here is justified. The question is how do you want to play this?”
“We can have an anonymous person call it in later in the day, you happen to be in the area and show up, putting together all the pieces based on his fake IDs.” I pause. “Or we just play it like it is and I’m stuck here in town probably a month or two, and my location is revealed since I’m attached to the crime. That only gives both the good guys and the bad a chance to track me and my woman down.”
The usually stoic Fixer jerks his head back. “Did you say…my woman?”
I smirk. “Yeah, I’m surprised as you are that I met the one.”
“You never even dated.”
“Not gonna waste my time with that stuff. I was never available, but what I realize now is I was available, but only for her. I was waiting on her to find me, or vice versa, whether I knew it or not.”
“Case closed then. Since there’s a woman involved that means it’s called in later in the day. I’ll look for a diner to sit in for a while until then. You know a place?” He smirks back, clearly having put the pieces together by now and figured out I was involved in the thwarted robbery attempt at Diana’s old place of employment within the last week.
“I know a place, but clearly you do too.”
“And I know you’re going to land on your feet, you always do,” he reinforces, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Once all this blows over and you feel like chasing bad guys again you give me a call and you can come play on the winning team, with the big boys.”
“The only ‘big boys’ I want in my future are watching my sons grow up, and the only chasing will be my kids around some beach in the sun. And the only blowing will be a nice afternoon breeze while I spend the rest of my days focused on what matters most. Family.”
“I’m glad you solved the puzzle that most of us never do. Most are destined for backaches and dodging bullets until our bodies are too broken down to move, only to shovel ourselves onto oversized red city-tour buses to ‘explore’ European cities.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me.”
“Something tells me I might see you there.”
“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not.”
“Good luck, amigo.”
“Thanks, man.”
I quickly pack up all of Diana’s things and give the keys of her apartment to The Fixer, feeling like I’m in a James Bond movie…which is a huge relief.
Not an hour ago I thought the story that was my and Diana’s life was about to have a different ending, one where the good guy doesn’t win. But then again, that’s not really a possibility.
I’m her Daddy and that means I make the rules for her own good, my number one responsibility is to keep her safe and happy. And although that nearly got compromised, there’s no way we’ll ever come that close again. I’m taking my baby girl and we’re outta here. She comes first, always.
And we’re gonna be the first two at the bank when it opens, and the first ones to board our plane to…
Epilogue
Daniel
Two months later
I give my wife a quick swat across her butt as she walks past me in the kitchen. Her head spins around to catch a glimpse at me as she bites her bottom lip but doesn’t say anything else. Then she skips off in the other direction, shaking her ass to entice me even more than I already am…and I’m constantly at my limit when it comes to her.
“Is that all you got,” she hollers back as she turns the corner out into the shop.
“Watch yourself there, neighbor!” I joke. It’s a running joke we’ve had since moving to Portugal that we’re still neighbors. She serves customers in our little cafe and I prepare the pastel de nata, Portugal’s most famous dessert, and orange juice that go like wildfire throughout the day.
Thanks to our investment in property and a business here in Lisbon we were able to get residence visas…with the Portuguese change to our last names to Desilva, which went nicely with, ironically, our very Portuguese first names. I guess we were meant for this place, and there is no guessing if you ask me if we were meant for each other.
An alert pops up on my phone and I take a quick break after our morning rush, taking a look at the Google Alert I set up. More women have come out against the man I killed that night in the window. I don’t feel bad about it, as if I need the justification to have done what I did. Just the fact that he impersonated a police officer and harassed my own wife was enough. And about a week after the event, when she was able to recount things more clearly, she recalled he said something about how he was going to kill me too. When you add in premeditated attempt to commit murder, well that was all the icing on the cake I needed.
“We need one with whipped cream,” Diana says, sticking her head back in the area where I’m cooking.
“Coming right up,” I say, scooping a generous helping of vanilla bean onto a pastel de nata and handing it to her, but before she goes I pull her in for a kiss.
“Hey, I’m gonna spill it.”
“We’ll make them another one. We came here for us anyway, not anybody else.”
“Well, us is about to take on a new meaning.”
The ice cream tub slips from my hands before I can slide it back in the freezer.
“What does that mean?”
She swallows hard, her eyes opening big as the saucers we serve our pastries on. “Remember this morning how I had to go out and get some supplies for the day?”
“Yeaaaah?”
“Well, I got all our normal supplies, but I picked up a…pregnancy test too. I was feeling like something was off.”
“I knew it!” I yell out, jumping up and down. “That first time was a charm. The way our bodies fit together so perfectly. I knew we conceived, knew we bred like the filthy animals we are in the sack.”
“Daniel!” she says, but it’s no use. “The customers are gonna here.”
“I’ll give them something to listen to, to talk abo
ut.”
I scoop my wife up in my arms and carry her out into the area where our customers sit.
“Senhoras e senhores,” I begin, my Portuguese language skills still very much lacking. “Everything is on the house. We’re expecting!”
“O que?” an older fellow says, and I remember that although Portugal has a very high rate of English speakers, not everyone understands my mother tongue.
“Bebê,” I say, taking my hand and placing it below Diana’s chest and extending it outward in a half circle until I reach her belt.
“Bebê? Excelente!” the man says, and the old codger comes and gives me a high-five, American style!
“He learned that watching your American football,” his lovely wife says. The pair must be pushing eighty years old each, and still look incredible. I guess that’s what a life by the ocean, good friends and good family, and a whole lotta days of sunshine will do for you. “But I still don’t understand why they call it football, when they almost never use their feet?” she ponders.
“Me too, ma’am. One of life’s great mysteries, right up there with the chicken and the egg.”
We all laugh and I carry my wife back into the prep room, grabbing a new whipped cream bucket from the fridge and putting a dollop on everyone’s dessert.
“We did it,” I say, giving her a big kiss to the cheers of the crowd. “We left the old behind and we made a life together, starting anew as one.”
“And we love it here just as much as these people love us.”
“Hardly any crime, none to speak of really…a city where we can push a baby in a stroller at midnight down just about any street if we want, so we can smell the fresh ocean breeze, and…”
“You!” we say simultaneously.
I see someone take our picture and Diana’s phone chirps, letting us know we’ve just been tagged on Instagram.
I’m not worried. It’s just a profile shot anyway, and we’re safe here, together. Nobody is looking for Daniel and Diana Dixon, let alone Mr. and Mrs. Desilva.
There are no deadbolts on our doors, no wires hanging out where electrical sockets should be, and nobody and nothing in the way of what’s most important…us, together, side-by-side. Forever.
“I love you my Little Pastel de nata.”
“I love you my Papai.”
We kiss and it sure feels like home, because that’s exactly what home is. It’s not a place on a map, it’s wherever she is, and that’s where you’ll find me. Forever.
Extended Epilogue
Diana
Ten years later
“Let me fasten ya up, buddy.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I turn and give Daniel a knowing look at the words our nine-year-old son, Declan, just uttered. We both smile, but keep our cool.
I fasten our five-year-old Delilah’s life jacket and then do the same with David, our seven-year-old.
After a few years abroad in Portugal we decided it was time to come back. We chose the Carolinas and haven’t regretted our decision yet. The people are wonderful, the boating scene is spectacular, and the weather is really nice. Southern hospitality and charm really go a long way, especially in the world we live in today.
Daniel fires up the boat and we’re off!
After a solid five or six hours of swimming, fishing, and lunch, the kids are caput, in the sleeping cabin catching some well deserved zzz’s.
“So, Daddy,” I play, pulling Daniel’s rock hard body closer to mine. “The kids are asleep and all this Vitamin D I absorbed has made me think it might be time for the two of us to enjoy a little catch and release if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know what you mean, Little Coconut Cake,” he jokes, seemingly always naming me after a dessert I get addicted to depending on where we’re located.
He turns in my arms and eyes me up and down the same way I eye a piece of dessert up and down after finishing off a meal.
“You don’t think I’ve…gained too much weight over the last decade?”
One of his eyebrows shoots skyward. “Little girl, you watch your mouth or you’re going to get punished. You know one of our rules is no self-deprecation.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, rolling my bottom lip out.
“But I will answer your question with a question. How would Daddy be able to let loose on you like he’s been able to these last few years without some extra padding. Girl, I’d break you if you weighed what you did when we first met.”
“I was just a girl back then.”
“Back then? You’ll always be my little girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the back of the boat, underneath the tarp we have to block the sun.
I grab a hold of a pole as he spins me around, taking a firm grip of my hips with his hands as he yanks my swimsuit outta the way.
“I didn’t eat all my lunch, Daddy. I dragged sand into the boat, Daddy. I forgot to wear my life jacket in deep water, Daddy.”
“Sounds like Daddy needs to punish you real good then, doesn’t it?”
“Uh huh,” I say, keeping my face forward so he can’t see the big smile that’s now plastered across it. I just went on a confession spree right there, making sure I got my own little version of fun in the sun today too.
The kids had theirs and now I want my little time, and I know Daddy wants to be, well…Daddy.
It may not be a dynamic that works for everyone, but does it ever set off fireworks in our relationship. Every. Single. Day.
“Uhhh,” I grunt, as his open hand finds my cheek just before he slides his thickness into my wet folds.
“It’s been five years and you’ve been a bad girl, not giving Daddy anymore babies.”
I nod.
“Are you gonna give me a baby this time?”
“Yes, Daddy!” I cry out so loud I bet the other boats a mile away can hear, but I know when our kids pass out after having a big day on the water they couldn’t hear elephants stomping five feet from them, so I’m not concerned.
“Good girl,” he says, filling me deep and I know the moment is already close. I feel it myself and know he won’t finish until I do first…because that’s what daddies do. They put their little first, and after we finish I’m going to be the first to tell him I’m already pregnant…with another child.
Because I might play the little girl role sometimes, but the real joy in life is having little girls, and little boys of our own.
It’s a completely different dynamic of course, but what’s universal in all this is the one thing that’s the super glue to a bond that’s unbreakable.
Our love for one another.
He fists my hair, pulling my head back. “I love you, Little Peaches,” he says, taking me back to when we first met.
“I love you, Daddy.” Because whether ten years ago, ten minutes ago, or ten…heck one hundred years from now…he’ll always be that exactly. My Daddy Next Door that became the daddy who shares my same address, and I share his last name.
Forever.
THE END
~~~
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