by eliza_000
The blistering wind whistled over the cab of Randy’s truck, bending the branches of the aged oaks surrounding campus. He watched Karly’s departure then sat in his truck, bewildered by the bevy of conflicting emotions churning through him. She’d been in the back of his mind since their encounter, a constant reminder of opportunity found and lost in the space of one night. Just when he’d thought he’d forgotten her, someone would drop her name in passing, his heart would stutter, and he’d be right back where he started. The soft skin of her breasts and the silky slide of her hair through his fingers haunted him. He’d damn near begged their mutual friend Ally for Karly’s number, feigning nonchalance when the mere thought of talking to her again made his palms sweat.
A dozen times, he’d started to call her but hung up before it completed. Uncertain of what to say without coming across like a creepy fool, he entered her digits into the contact list on his cell and tried to forget about them. Scratch that. He tried to forget about her because he knew it could never work between them. It was nothing more than a crush, a passing obsession brought about a night of hot sex and the attentions of an attractive, intelligent female. Hoping to find distraction from her, he’d dated a few girls here and there, most of them unmemorable, all of them pale and boring compared to Karly’s vibrancy. Complications with his ex-girlfriend and their son soon took precedence over his crush and made it easy to slide into a state of denial about how Karly made him feel.
Feel. Such an ugly word. He scrubbed a hand over his face before dropping the truck into gear. In the wake of a failed relationship, he didn’t want to feel anything toward any female ever again. Pain like that could lead a man to acts of desperation, a fact he knew all too well from watching his buddy, Jack, flounder during a breakup with Ally. Desperate to clear his head, he tuned the radio to a rock station, lit up a cigarette, and forced his thoughts away from the past before they could do any more damage to his already wounded heart.
Chapter 3
Randy rang the doorbell at 2311 Ricardo Lane. He counted the seconds underneath his breath and turned to survey the tree-lined street with its cookie-cutter houses. When no one came to the door by the count of twenty, he rapped his knuckles on the heavy oak with enough force to make the side glass vibrate. This time the door opened. The delicious scent of sugar cookies wafted into the cold. Pilar stood there, tall and slender, caramel skin glowing in the foyer light, much the same as she’d been in their youth but with a few fine lines of maturity around her eyes. An air of exhaustion bowed her shoulders.
“You’re late,” she said.
Here we go.
“I tried to call. I had class this morning, and there was a wreck on the interstate. Didn’t you get my voicemail?” Mutual animosity thickened the air between them.
“Phone’s on the charger. Battery’s dead,” she said. The unconcerned shrug of her shoulders made it clear she never checked.
“I left a message on your home phone, too. I suppose your land line is out?” The disdain in her eyes caused him to swallow back the rest of his words. Choose your battles, Mackenzie. “Is Caleb ready?”
Pilar folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door frame. “He’s not here. I sent him to the Children’s Museum with the neighbors.”
He drew in a deep breath, shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Frustration swelled inside him until his ribs creaked from the strain. Finally, he opened his eyes and narrowed his gaze on his ex-girlfriend. “Why would you do that? I’m not even fifteen minutes late.” Two deep breaths cleared some of the tension from his forehead. “I’m trying here, Pilar. Give me a break.”
They stared at each other, a hundred conversations playing out in the silence between them.
You’re a shitty boyfriend, her eyes said. Serves you right.
You cheated on me, he glared back.
“Is there a problem?” Mitch crowded the door behind Pilar, looking casual in a gray T-shirt with the words Maddox County Sheriff’s Department written across the chest. The scowl on his face echoed Karly’s expression with such startling similarity that Randy took an abrupt step backward. How had he forgotten they were brother and sister? Strawberry blond hair and pale eyes, more blue than gray, glared at Randy with unveiled antipathy. To press the issue, Mitch rested a hand on Pilar’s back, claiming her and setting Randy’s blood on fire. “Is he drunk?”
“Jesus! I am not drunk. When have I ever showed up drunk?” What a dick. Anger simmered within him. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Losing his temper would only keep him further from his goal of seeing Caleb. “So what time will he be back?”
“I don’t know. Late. You might as well leave.” Pilar shifted, leaning back into Mitch for support, a subtle movement meant to show their unity against him.
“Pilar, be reasonable.” Randy willed his voice to be soft and cajoling. “We have a visitation agreement.”
“When you get a decent job and a decent place to live, we can talk about it,” Mitch interjected. “You live above a bar, for Christ’s sake. What kind of environment is that for raising a kid? I don’t want my boy exposed to your kind of lifestyle.”
My boy? Randy’s temper snapped. “First, he’s not your boy. He’s my boy. Mine and Pilar’s. As far as I remember, you were nowhere around when he was conceived. And second? It’s not your place to judge my lifestyle.”
“It is my place when the boy lives under my roof.” Mitch nudged Pilar to the side and filled the doorway, leaning out onto the porch. He wasn’t tall or muscular, but he was in good shape and wore a cocky air of intimidation like a shield. “I’m the one who puts him to bed at night. I’m the one he runs to when he’s hurt. I’m the one he calls daddy. Not you. He doesn’t even know you.”
All of the air whooshed from Randy’s lungs as if he’d been gut-punched. Daddy. Pilar sucked in a horrified breath and wrapped slender fingers around Mitch’s bicep, pulling him into the house, knowing he’d gone too far. Randy’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he debated the penalties for punching a dickhead cop. Totally fucking worth it.
“Mitch. Please?” Pilar shook her head in mute warning, recognizing the fire in Randy’s eyes.
Mitch turned to go back into the house but not before pointing a finger in Randy’s face. “I don’t like you. And I especially don’t like your friends.”
“That’s hysterical coming from you. You were my friend until you fucked my girlfriend,” Randy said.
“Only because you weren’t man enough to keep her satisfied,” Mitch spat back.
“I’m standing right here, guys,” Pilar said with an exasperated shake of her head. “Enough already. Give us a minute, will you, Mitch?” She stepped between the two men, pushed Mitch into the foyer, and shut the door behind her to face Randy alone.
“This is not fair,” Randy said. “Not fair, and you know it. I’m a good father. And my friends are decent people. Hell, they were good enough for you over the last three years.”
“Felony’s no place for a kid. The shit that goes on there…” Pilar’s pretty mouth twisted into an ugly frown.
“You act like I’m some kind of monster, when I’m not. You want to point fingers? What about him?” Unable to contain his growing frustration, he jerked his head in the direction of the house. “You live with the dirtiest cop in the city.” The volume of his voice soared along with his temper. She flinched as if he’d struck her. “If anyone’s unfit to be a father, it’s him. Did you ever wonder where he gets the money to afford this house? The cars you drive? Cops don’t make that much money, Pilar. Think about it.”
Unable to look him in the eye, she stared past his shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. The stubborn set of her jaw made it obvious he’d struck a nerve, but she’d never admit it. She was too damned pigheaded.
“At least he cares about me,” she replied. The reproach in her sideways glance cut him with calculated precision. “At least he spends time with me and l
istens to me.” She took a breath to continue, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. He wasn’t a patient man by nature, and he’d had enough.
“You don’t have to remind me of all my shortcomings. You’ve told me enough times that I’m pretty clear about it. I know this isn’t about Felony or my friends. This is about you and me. You’re still pissed at me.” Randy shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to glare, forcing his voice to soften. “And I get it, Pilar. I really do. I hurt you. We hurt each other.” The downward cast of her eyes and guilty expression gave him no satisfaction. “I can’t undo what’s already done. We’ve got to get past this. You’re punishing Caleb for my sins.”
“He is so like you,” she whispered, eyes still trained on the steps, sparkling with unshed tears. “How can I forget you when you’re in everything he does, every expression on his face? He even laughs like you.”
A rush of sympathy coursed through him at the defeated slump of her shoulders. They hadn’t always been at odds. Once, a long time ago, they’d been best friends as well as lovers. True, she’d cheated on him, but he took responsibility for her defection. She wanted what he could never give her—his heart. In the heat of their battles, it was easy to lose sight of those small but relevant tidbits.
“Are you okay?” he asked. At the touch of his fingers to her arm, tears spilled onto her cheeks. “If anything is wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right? If he isn’t treating you right…”
She shrugged away his hand, her tone bristling. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. He’s not a bad guy if you’d give him a chance. And he’s a wonderful dad to Caleb…”
“There you go again.” Randy threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “I’m Caleb’s dad. Not Mitch.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t his father.”
“It sure sounds like it to me.” The matchstick of her insult ignited his combustible temper once more. She looked away. He stood his ground. “No matter what you do, you can’t change that fact, Pilar. And I won’t let you keep him from me.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about this.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look. You might as well know. I want full custody of Caleb. I’ve got an attorney. You’ll be getting the papers.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Randy staggered back. Caleb was more precious to him than his own life. How could she rip his guts out then stand there, calm and unaffected, as if announcing cocktails before dinner? He searched her face and swallowed hard at what he saw on her fine features. Pity…remorse…regret…but mostly self-righteous determination. His mind groped for words, dumbstruck.
“Randy, it would be the best thing for everyone.” She touched his arm, and the sadness in her smile wrung his tortured heart. “If you think about, you’ll realize I’m right.”
He pulled back, reeling from her verbal assault. “You mean it’s best for you. It’s always about what you want.” With a heavy sigh, he tugged his baseball cap lower on his forehead until the brim shielded his eyes from her. “I won’t let him go without a fight.”
Chapter 4
With two bags of laundry in her arms, Karly cursed the "Out of Service" sign taped to the elevator doors in the apartment lobby. The freaking thing had it in for her. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't. Of course, it chose to act up when she had an armload of clothes, and her feet ached after working the bar until close at The Thirsty Scotsman. An exasperated groan slipped from her lips. She wrestled a better grip on the laundry bags and steeled herself to climb the dizzying flights of steps to her apartment.
A one-bedroom on the city's lower east side was the best she could afford on her minimal income. After six months, she no longer noticed the trash on the stairs, the graffiti scrawled over the walls, or the putrid stench of apartment 3B, where the shut-in lived. Someday she would live in a real house. Someday she would be able to sleep at night without hearing the shouts of drunken neighbors, occasional gunshots, or the constant slam of the door from the crack dealer’s apartment above hers. Someday...
As she rummaged through her purse for the elusive door key, her cell phone rang. A glance at the screen showed the caller to be Ally.
"You have uncanny timing," Karly said. She hugged the phone between her chin and shoulder, balancing the laundry on her knee while struggling to put the key into the lock. "Do you have some kind of radar or something?"
"What's wrong?" Ally's voice instantly held a note of concern.
"Well, it might be easier to go over what's right." She gave a small kick to the bottom of the door. It popped open with a squeal of rusty hinges.
"I'm listening," Ally said.
Despair filled her chest. She choked it back, unwilling to fall apart, grateful for a kind ear to listen. Ally would understand. They’d been college roommates, and since that time, Ally always had her back, though they didn’t see each other much anymore. Ally graduated and moved in with her boyfriend, Jack. Their hands were full managing Jack’s bars, Felony and Jameson’s Pub. Karly spent all her time working and going to class. It didn’t leave much time for socializing, but they still managed to keep in contact.
"I'm tired of working my ass off and never getting ahead." Karly let the laundry bags thud to the floor with a thud, toed off her shoes, and fell into the tattered armchair across from the tiny TV.
"You worked another double, didn't you?" Ally's disapproval traveled through the phone line. Karly bit her lip and said nothing. "I don't know why you stay at the Scotsman. The pay is bad, the hours are shit, and you're always tired. And don’t get me started on the motel. You deserve better than cleaning toilets."
"Yeah, well…" Karly's voice trailed off. It was a good thing she was too tired to be emotional. She didn't want Ally to know how bad things really were. Ally had enough problems of her own. She hastened to change the subject. “I ran into Randy. He’s in one of my classes. We sat together.”
“Really? Give me details. I bet that was awkward, huh?” Ally’s tone brightened with interest.
“Very. He asked me why I never called him. He said he asked you for my number.” She bit her lower lip before continuing. “Is that true?”
“What?” Ally paused as if thinking. Karly heard the rustling of papers in the background and had a mental image of Ally behind the dented metal desk in Felony’s office. “Your number? Maybe. Yeah. He did. I totally forgot. I’m so sorry.”
Karly’s heart skipped a beat. “When was that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I think it was right before Jack and I went through that rough patch. Things were kind of blurry around then, and I guess I forgot. I really am sorry.”
Suddenly, the game changed. He’d asked for her number. Her heart skipped a beat, recovered, and stuttered once more, a painful reminder of her attraction to him. Hope warred with denial. Could he truly be interested in her? The second after her heart soared, it plummeted back to earth, slapped with a healthy dose of reality. Even if he was interested, day-to-day survival left little time for distractions like romance. She propped her aching feet on the ottoman and closed her eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed.
"Do you want me to say something to him?" The note of hopefulness in Ally’s voice brought a smile to Karly’s lips. “We could double date. That would be fun, right?”
“Stop right there. I’m done with men.” Karly waved a hand in the air to dispel the notion.
“Randy’s a cool guy. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out, would it?” The sound of muffled voices in the background caused Ally to groan. "Look, I've got to go. Jack's yelling for me. But we’re not done with this conversation. Think about it."
"Okay." She heard the quiet anxiety in Ally's words. "Is everything alright? How's Jack doing?" The unexpected arrival of Jack’s pregnant ex-wife had thrown a wrench into Ally and Jack’s relationship.
"Jack's a nervous wreck, and Chelsea's a total bitch. Not that I blame either one of them. Since their divorce, the gloves have been off bet
ween them. Now, the poor girl's enormous, and the baby’s due any minute. I've spent the last four hours trying to keep them from killing each other. I can't wait for this to be over." Ally covered the phone with her hand, and Karly heard the muffled exchange of voices. “Shit. Chelsea’s here, too. I’ve got to go. Catch you later, okay?”
Chapter 5
Sunlight slanted through the giant front window of Gordon’s Soda Shop, illuminating the black-and-white checkered floor tiles and the red vinyl barstools from a bygone era. The kind, gray-haired man behind the counter placed a steaming cup of real hot chocolate in front of Emma. The little girl’s eyes widened when he topped off the rich goodness with a dollop of whipped cream and tiny marshmallows. With a wink, he slid a pair of huge chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, onto a plate and nudged it toward her. Emma clapped her hands in delight. The man seemed as bowled over by Emma’s reaction as Karly. She never tired of Emma’s appreciation for the smallest treats, a result of growing up poor that Karly understood all too well.
“Those are on the house,” Mr. Gordon said. His broad grin revealed a gap between his front teeth. “I know the owner. He won’t mind.”
“Thanks, Mr. Gordon.” Karly flashed a sincere smile.
Once a week, she picked Emma up from school, and they spent the afternoon together. When the weather was nice, they went to the park. Bitter cold kept them inside today. The old-fashioned soda fountain was one of their favorite hangouts on days like this. She only had twenty dollars to last the rest of the week but spared enough change to buy Emma a treat. Cookies weren’t in the budget.
“Thanks, Mr. Gordon,” Emma chimed in, whipped cream hovering over her upper lip. “That’s some good stuff.”