by D. Morrissey
“Nightshade or Oleander.” Jade smiles.
“Or, Hemlock.” Lucy raises her brows.
“Okay, ladies.” Gabby takes over from Billie and Sami. “We get the picture. Now, I have an announcement myself. I have signed us all up to sing at the Thanksgiving Harvest Festival.”
We all gape at her and then look panic-stricken at each another.
“Oh, no. No way!” Mousy Lora is back.
“Girls, whatever else we are, we are a glee club first and foremost. That means we have to sing,” Gabby says sternly.
“Oww…” Lora huffs.
“So, mark your calendars for two weeks from today. Because we are singing for our suppers! Now, with that in mind, let’s start practicing our scales. Lucy? Do you want to start us off?”
Chapter Sixteen
One hour and seven caterwauling women later, I drag my tired ass up my porch steps, toting fast food for supper, then unlock the door and swing it open.
“There she is,” Josh says as soon as I step inside.
As I glance up, my blood pressure skyrockets to red alert levels.
Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill thy ex-husband.
For some reason, contemplating murder always brings out my spiritual side.
I muster my remaining strength and grimace in the general direction of my ex, hoping it passes as a smile. I can do this for Josh’s sake. “Hello, Michael.”
“Hi, Candy. I hope I’m not intruding.”
Well, hell, yes, you are intruding. I walk over to the bar and drop the food on the counter.
“Oh, don’t be stupid, Dad. This is your house.” Josh wraps his arm around Michael and gives him a man’s hug.
Thou shalt not throttle thy child. I ignore Josh. “What brings you here?”
Michael opens his mouth to speak, but Josh does it for him. “Dad’s going to be staying here at home with us.”
“What?” I stop dead in my tracks and gawk. “He’s what?”
I feel certain I’ve entered the Twilight Zone, or I’m being punk’d. That’s it. Come on out here, Ashton!
“If that’s okay with you,” Michael adds hurriedly. “I just need a place to crash a few days until I can sort myself out.”
“I told you, Mom. Dad and Tammy broke up,” Josh explains, as if this news should elate me.
I shake my head enthusiastically at Michael. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” Josh chimes in defensively. “It’s his house.”
If he says that one more time… “It is most assuredly not his house,” I snap. “It is my house.”
“Well, he paid for it.”
“Well, I’m not sure if you missed that memo a few years back, but he forfeited this house and everything in it for a twenty-two-year-old blonde student in six-inch hooker heels.” I throw my purse on the empty chair. “Josh, I think you need to go do your homework.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he spouts defiantly. “I’m staying with my Dad.”
Ouch! And, he sticks the knife into my heart and twists it.
“Okay. Let’s all just calm down,” Michael says as if he’s the only sane, rational adult in the room.
I want to poke him in the eye.
I take a deep breath and mentally count to three. I don’t feel any better, so I do it again. Still no results. “Michael, I’m unclear as to why you thought you could just ‘crash’ here, as you call it.”
“Josh just mentioned that you’re gone a lot and he could use the company. So, I thought if you’re never here, and he’s here all by himself…”
“Okay, first of all. I work a lot of long shifts, as you well know since I’ve been a nurse for more than ten years now. Secondly, have you looked at your son lately? He’s almost eighteen, an adult with a life of his own. Hell, he’s about to start packing up his room for college. And, not that it matters, but he’s gone away from here more than I am!”
They both sit in silence on the couch, pouting, as I throw a stink-eye in their general direction.
Josh looks at me pitifully, trying a different approach. “Please, Mom?”
“Don’t beg, son. It’s okay. I understand.” Saint Michael pats Josh’s hand.
I sigh loudly, rubbing my forehead with tense fingers.
“Fine. Stay. One night!” I hold up an index finger to make sure I’m being crystal clear. “Just one night, and you leave first thing in the morning. And, you’re sleeping on the couch.” I hate myself for caving. “I’ll go get you some sheets.”
“Thanks, Candy. Here. I’ll help you,” says the homeless idiot on my couch.
Michael follows me into the hallway, and I pull open the closet door, poking through sheets and extra blankets. Was that my phone ringing? Suddenly, I hear Josh’s voice in the living room.
“No. She’s in the bedroom with my Dad.” Emphasis on Dad. “He’s back home.”
What the fuck? I shove an arm-full of sheets at Michael, nearly knocking him over, and race back to the living room. Too late, Josh has already hung up.
“Who was that?” I pant.
Josh flops down on the couch, belligerently defiant. He says nothing.
“Joshua Martin Putnam! Who was that on the phone?”
“Who do you think it was?” he yells. “Your gigolo, what’s-his-name. Dan?”
I stand there, fuming. Never in the almost eighteen years this kid has been on this Earth have I wanted to punch his lights out so much. So, for both our sakes, I decide to leave. Or I just might do it.
I walk calmly toward my bedroom, stepping around the asshole standing in the hall with an armload of sheets, and close my door. Grabbing my overnight bag, I begin stuffing my things inside.
Five minutes later, I emerge and head back to the living room for my purse and my keys, pausing at the door as I look back.
“Josh, I love you, but I’m really disappointed in you.” I shake my head at him. “I can’t even be around you right now.”
He looks down at his feet, sulking.
I turn to the other man on my couch. “Michael, I mean it, just one night. I’ll be home at eight tomorrow morning, and I expect you to be gone when I get here.”
“Look here.” Michael stands up. “I didn’t mean to cause all this drama. I’ll just go.”
“Too late.” I hold up my hand, signaling him to shut the hell up and sit back down. “Enjoy the evening with your son, but don’t ever come back here expecting to ‘crash’ again. Because it ain’t happening. And stay the hell out of my bed.”
I open the door and step outside, vaguely recalling how exhausted I was when I first got home tonight. I close the door behind me and march, determined, to my car.
Oh, God. What am I going to say to Dan?
I stare at the red light, my elbow propped on the car door as I massage my forehead. Right after he tells me he doesn’t want me to see anyone else, on top of it! I could just choke Josh. I only pray he lets me explain. Maybe I should leave my bag in the car? I don’t want him to think I expect him to let me stay the night. That makes me look almost as bad as Michael. Or, does it?
I wrestle with my confused, twisted thoughts the entire way to Dan’s house, hoping like hell he’s home. Yes! He’s there. I pull in behind his truck and get out, making my way slowly to his front door.
Standing awkwardly now on his porch, I brush off my scrubs, straighten my hair, and examine my sneakers. Why didn’t I change clothes before I left? Satisfied it’s the best I can do, I exhale, puffing out my cheeks like a squirrel as I bounce from foot to foot. Finally, I stand up straight and knock.
I hear Dan shuffling around inside, and the door cracks open in short order. He stares out at me with a look of sheer panic on his handsome face. Or is that horror? What’s left of my heart shrivels into a peanut.
“Candy? What are you doing here?”
“I—” The sound of a mixer erupts from the kitchen behind him, and then someone, a female someone, giggles.
My mouth gapes as I’m
stricken by the realization that he’s not alone. I shake my head slowly, fighting back the tears, the stupid, fucking tears. I’m such an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt as I turn around and haul ass back toward my car, my legs so weak that I’m not sure I can even make it.
“Candy, wait!” Dan grabs my arm as I reach the car and spins me around to face him.
I let the tears flows freely. Fuck it. I have no more shame and no more fight left in me.
“Listen. It’s not what you think,” he shouts, grasping my arms firmly, forcing me to stand there and look at him.
All I can do is shake my head and wave the white flag. I give up.
“Daddy?”
What? My red, bloodshot eyes bulge out of my head.
Dan gives me a serves-you-right look as his mouth turns into a straight line. He turns and calls over his shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, my God, Dan.” I don’t even know what to say at this point. I want to crawl in a hole and die. “I’m so sorry. I thought…”
He sighs. “I know what you thought. Don’t apologize. I was just surprised to see you, is all, especially after talking to your son.” He rolls his eyes.
“So, you didn’t believe him, then?” I look at Dan, hopeful.
“Well, honestly, the first thing I wanted to do was drive over there and beat the shit out of your ex, but I figured there had to be more to the story than I was getting. I mean, I know how much Josh likes me and all.”
I half-ass chuckle and wipe my snotty nose on the back of my hand.
“But I couldn’t see you crushing me like that,” he says, stroking my hair. “At least, I hope you wouldn’t.”
Crushing him?
“I wouldn’t. I would never. We got into a big fight. So I just left and came over here but I had no idea your daughter was here. I’ll go. I can go to Billie’s.”
“Not a chance.” He pulls me to him forcefully. “You’re not going anywhere like this.”
“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to do this. I can—”
He cuts me off. “I don’t have to do anything but die and pay taxes, I know. I called you tonight to tell you that my ex was dropping off my daughter, and I was going to say that I wished you had come over, after all, so you could have met her. Now…” He kisses me on my forehead. “Here you are. So slap a smile on your pretty face, and come meet my daughter.”
I laugh and swipe at my eyes as we make our way slowly back to the door, arm in arm.
“Oh! I forgot my bag in the car.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.” He smiles. “By the way, we’re making a cake,” he informs me before we step inside.
“Oh, we are? What kind of cake is it?”
“A box cake.”
“A box cake?” Is that like a Coke cake? A recipe that I haven’t heard of before. Hm. I’m impressed.
“Yeah. It's the kind that comes in a box.”
“Oh! I’ve had that kind before. They’re pretty good.” I laugh.
I pause at the edge of the kitchen, standing up straight and fingering my hair before wiping the smudged mascara from beneath my eyes, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I whisper to Dan.
“You look beautiful,” he lies, but I appreciate the gesture. “Amelia, there’s someone here I want you to meet.”
Suddenly, I’m staring into the sweet blue eyes of a little blond haired-angel, otherwise a spitting image of Dan, with flour smudges on her round, freckled cheeks.
“This is my friend, Candy,” he says as he wraps his arm around me.
“You mean Candy like a Jolly Rancher?”
“Well, I guess I’ve been called worse. Yes, like a Jolly Rancher, or a Ring Pop.” I laugh.
“Are you daddy’s girlfriend?” she asks, almost shaming me, as she stirs the cake batter.
I stare at Dan with my mouth open, not sure what to say.
“Yes, she is, Miss Nosy,” he teases as he walks around the counter to inspect her progress.
I am? Yes, I am! I smile brightly.
“She’s pretty,” she says to Dan, and I fight the urge to go stuff dollar bills into her pocket.
“I know.” He smiles. “Did you put the eggs in?”
“Yep.” She nods, her little chest puffing out proudly.
“What about the water?”
“Mm hm.” She nods again.
“And the oil?”
“Uh…” She looks around the counter nervously.
“Why don’t you see if Candy will help you do that while I go get her stuff out of the car?”
“Okay. Is she going to spend the night with us?”
I look at him expectantly, waiting to see how he responds to that one.
“Maybe. Would it be alright with you if she did?”
“Sure!” she shouts excitedly. “She can help me build my fort.”
He turns to me, smiling. “Do you know how to build a fort?”
“Are you kidding? I have a seventeen-year-old son. I am a master fort builder,” I brag.
Dan’s phone rings, and he walks away as he answers. “Cole.”
“My daddy’s a policeman,” Amelia informs me proudly.
“Yes, I know. Do you think he’d arrest me if I took off my jacket and helped you?”
“No.” She giggles. “Can you show me how much is a quarter cup of oil?”
“Of course, I can. Here.” I squint, looking for the quarter-cup mark.
“He gave us his statement?” Dan nods into the phone. “Okay. Let him go. We have what we need,” he says sharply. “Goodnight.”
He turns around to face us, placing his phone near the edge of the counter and grinning at the two Barefoot Contessas. “Keep your eye on her, Amelia. I’ll be right back.”
He winks at me.
“Okay, Daddy,” she says without looking up from the measuring cup where I’m holding my finger on the quarter-cup line as she pours.
I glance down at the counter as he walks out of the room. Dan’s phone! And it’s unlocked!
I shift my eyes back to Amelia. “Okay. That looks good. Can you pour it in and stir it up real good now? I’m just going to move Daddy’s phone over there so we don’t get cake batter on it.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I pick up the phone just as it starts going dim, poking it clumsily with my finger so it doesn’t lock. Then, holding it closely to me, I turn around and scroll through the various texts.
Fuck! What am I doing? This is crazy!
Suddenly, I see a text from the LRPD that reads “Confidential HIPAA Protected Information.” That must be it. I open the attachment as I sweat bullets. Bingo! I flip through the various attachments.
“Is this enough?” Amelia asks as she holds the bowl in my direction.
I glance over my shoulder, still shielding the phone with my body. “Oh, that looks perfect! Can you pour it in the pan now?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
I turn back around and continue skimming the documents. Prostatitis, high blood pressure, high cholesterol… The man is a heart attack just waiting to happen. Aha! Coronary Artery Disease! He’s taking beta blockers. Looks like Dr. Sheppard prescribed fluoroquinolone and Bisoprolol.
The front door opens, and I hear Dan come back inside. It scares the shit out of me, and I nearly jump out of my skin, flipping the phone right out of my hands. I fumble and juggle it like an idiot before I finally manage to catch it.
Amelia laughs behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Trying not to break your father’s phone.” I laugh nervously, barely managing to exit out of the documents and place it back on the counter without going into coronary arrest myself.
“Okay. Let’s see if the oven is ready,” I say, tiptoeing back over to the counter beside Amelia.
“It beeped already.”
“Did it?” I have my hand on the oven door, but I’m watching the phone
, praying that it locks before Dan comes back into the kitchen. I hear his footsteps in the hallway. “That’s good. Let’s go ahead and pop the cake in, then.”
“Here you go.”
She hands me the cake pan, and I open the oven door and shove it inside.
“Is it ready?” Dan smiles as he walks back in.
I toss the potholder on the counter over his phone and smile innocently as my heart thumps wildly against my ribcage.
Amelia laughs. “We just put it in the oven, silly!”
“Oh.” He grins. “Well, it smells delicious. Listen, kiddo, it’s getting late. Do you want to take a bath while your cake is cooking?”
“Yes. Candy, will you watch my cake?”
“Sure! I’ll be on cake duty. I’ll make sure your daddy doesn’t try to eat it before the timer goes off.”
“Don’t touch it, Daddy!” she orders as she skips off down the hall.
“I think she likes you.” He winks.
Then, his gaze travels around the countertop, a confused look on his face. Finally, he lifts the potholder and finds what he’s looking for. He palms his phone and stuffs it into his pocket as I swallow the hard knot that’s formed in my throat.
“She’s a beautiful girl.” I smile.
“Well, by my calculations, we have about fifteen or twenty minutes before she’s finished with her bath. I’m trying to figure out the best use of that time.” He waggles his brows as he steps toward me.
“Oh, no! Dan!” I whisper-scream, giggling as he grabs me around the waist and buries his face in my neck.
Chapter Seventeen
“There!”
I finish the final touches on the big, pink Barbie fort we’ve been working on for the past hour.
“It’s so lovely!” Amelia sinks to her knees and crawls inside, her little butt sticking out of the opening. “Can we show Daddy?”
“Of course. Do you think he’ll like it?”
She crawls deeper inside and turns around, poking her head back out of the opening and nodding. I smile at the chocolate icing on her lip from the piece of cake we stole.
“I think he’s going to want to sleep in here with us,” she informs me.
With “us?” I glance nervously at the fort. It’s big, but I’m not sure it’s big enough for the both of us.