by C. C. Koen
“Damn, that’s right. I lost track of the dates.” Unable to relax, Rick sat up.
“Well, I’m outta here. Sophia’s probably wondering where the heck I am.” At the door, Matt turned around. “However you spring it on her, don’t screw it up.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. I’d rather point out your faults since I’m so damn perfect.”
Rick whipped a pillow toward Matt. Good aim, but horrible timing.
Matt ducked outside and slammed the door before Rick could get another shot at him. He peeked his head back inside. “So damn sad. You need to work on your technique, my man.” Then slammed the door again, his roaring laughter heard through solid steel.
“That’s not my problem,” he grumbled to the empty room. Grimy and sticky, he needed a shower and leapt upstairs two steps at a time. Maybe he’d come up with some ingenuity while washing the dried sweat off his body.
The goal: get Maggie to allow Cece to go with him.
He should’ve anticipated his condition and what arose. Any time he showered and had Maggie on his mind, his situation never turned out satisfactory. Stripped bare and hot water on full blast, pounding against him, he envisioned Maggie sprawled in her office chair, nipples he hadn’t licked yet, her legs spread wide, pants unzipped, and peach panties he wanted to bite off. He would’ve slicked his tongue along her smooth mound, dipping between the folds, sucking, tasting, and savoring every bit of her sweetness.
Since that strategy failed along with several attempts to have sex with random hook-ups weeks ago, it left him with one choice—another hand job. Which deserved its own honorary title since it worked long hours and so damn hard.
“I brought coffee. Wanted to talk before you left,” Grandfather greeted him first thing in the morning on the front stoop of his home. Rick had opened the door with his briefcase in hand to find the grump with his knuckles poised, ready to knock him in the head. His arrival a surprise, but his hard-hitting position not unexpected.
“This isn’t a good time.” Rick stood in the doorway, blocking his entry.
“It’s important. I don’t want to discuss this at Gateway.”
Well, Rick didn’t want to either, here or there. Left with few choices, he stepped back and let him in. Better to have it out here than in front of his employees. No telling what his grandfather thought important enough to come by at seven a.m.
Seated in opposing chairs, a coffee table between them, Rick situated himself on the edge of his chair, another uncomfortable place to be. Since he flat-out despised wasting his time in stores, he furnished his house through online purchases. The only task in his life that could be accomplished by a simple click of a computer mouse, a virtual finger snap. But the problem with taking short cuts and hedging his bets on the images alone, his choices were a lot like gambling. He lost more than fifty percent of the time. Unable to test out the furniture in advance, he got stuck with cement encased in overpriced leather.
“So what’s up?” Rick sipped his coffee, taking the offensive, figuring the sooner he got this meet and greet started, the quicker he could leave it behind him and get to work.
Grandfather tossed a folder onto the table. As an active member of and contributor to numerous charity organizations, the senior got his rocks off on sticking his nose in other people’s business and often carried around files. It slid toward him, but he didn’t touch it. “What’s that?”
“I think you should read it.” Grandfather leaned his back along the cushions, but his stiff posture didn’t look relaxed.
Rick pulled the folder toward him and flicked it open. He got halfway down the page and figured out his grandfather’s intentions. Flipping the cover shut, he sat back too, masking his face. He needed to shore up his defense. The muscles in his thighs bunched, and he squeezed the armrests so hard, he could’ve been an astronaut preparing for blastoff. He stared into space at the bare white walls, a mental countdown ticking. After several calculated breaths, he launched, “So?”
“What do you mean so?” Grandfather countered, a scowl and disdain emanating from his ramrod posture. His bushy eyebrows pulled down, and the wrinkles on his worn, seventy-two-year-old expression multiplied.
“What did you think you’d accomplish by doing that?”
Grandfather tilted his head to the side, using a dead man’s stare to intimidate him.
A hard-nosed negotiator and patient man himself, Rick knew the strategy well and used it during business too. Unwilling to reveal his hot under the collar sweating, he waited him out. The silence dredged on as Grandfather no doubt calculated risks and profits, determining his next maneuver. Rick happened to be doing the exact same thing.
“She has an ex in prison, a bratty kid, and is nothing more than a food-stamp-carrying taxpayers’ burden.”
Without disclosing the explosive eruptions inside of him, Rick wandered to the fireplace and flipped on the switch. The flames provided a perfect place to throw the garbage. As he watched the orange and red flickers, Grandfather dug the knife deeper. “You’re the one who said you’re never getting married and don’t want kids. What’s your intention then? You keep telling me you want nothing to do with Julia, yet you’re willing to play around and jump in the fire with a welfare gold digger? What? So everything you’ve worked hard for can end up in the gutter? I’ll protect you until I can’t anymore, and even when I’m taking my dying breath, I’ll still be looking out for you. You’re all I have left now, and I won’t let anyone take away something that means a great deal to you.”
All the cards laid out on the proverbial table, Rick’s own arguments came back to bite him. His grip tightened on the mantle, and he used every mental trick he knew to stop his nervous twitches and quiet his labored breathing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Grandfather, still propped up on his superior, all-knowing throne.
In that moment, Rick came to a realization. He’d been stuck all along. Not between a rock and a hard place. Nope—only one way out.
A DOZEN HELIUM BALLOONS WERE gathered in her hand. Maggie went out to the front yard to tie them on the porch railing and mailbox. Wanting to help too, Cece had three of her own. “I five now. A big girl.”
Her daughter had been raring to go from the time she woke up. Two hours before any of the preschoolers were expected to arrive, Cece put on the party dress purchased for the special occasion. They’d gotten the hundred-dollar gown from the Princess Pea, a girls’ only clothing store located a few blocks between Westlake and Le Gourmet. The kelly green, sleeveless sequined top and tulle tiered skirt with a satin bow at the waist resembled New Year’s Eve wear. She tried to talk Cece out of the selection, but no matter how many sensible and cheaper choices she had Cece try instead, that was the “pretty one,” according to her everything-has-to-sparkle-like-a-princess daughter. She found it difficult to deny her and caved in. Now that Cece had it on, sunlight streaming along flaming orange curls, her heart clenched and her stomach flopped. With Cece’s Irish side shining through, she had a sudden flash of teenage boys chasing after her daughter. A painful eventuality she didn’t look forward to. As quick as time went, thirteen would spring up before she knew it.
“Mama, I can’t tie 'em.” At the bottom of the stairs, Cece had the strings of the three balloons twirled at least twenty times around the railing. Her fingertips pinched the itty bitty scraps at the tail end.
“Here, hold these.” Maggie handed her dozen to Cece and began unwinding the twisted and knotted threads.
“Max.” Cece’s shout sounded farther away than right over Maggie’s shoulder, where she’d been a second ago. In an instant, Maggie jumped up from her knees and sprinted after her daughter galloping toward the street, and as Cece reached out to grab Rick, the balloons floated into the air.
Parked on the other side of the road, Rick jogged across, yelling, “Stop,” at the same time Maggie did. All three of them came to a standstill at the curb. He
swooped Cece into the safety of his protective arms before her feet touched the pavement. Maggie wrapped her arms around her daughter’s waist and caught a piece of his T-shirt too. Smashed together, one of his hands loosened from Cece’s back and captured the hollow of Maggie’s in a stranglehold. The cars passing by and her startled, heavy breathing faded away as she got lost in their heart-pounding embrace. A squeeze on her hip pulled her head off Cece’s shoulder and up to Rick’s enlarged and a little freaked-out eyes.
“It’s my birfday.” Cece grabbed both of his cheeks, smashing them together as her megawatt-level announcement ensured everyone within five blocks understood the significance of the all-about-me occasion.
“That’s why I’m here, sweet pea.” He placed an endearing kiss on Cece’s temple, resting there for quite a while.
Unaware of the potential tragedy or that she’d done something wrong, Cece asked, “Whatcha get me?”
The happy-go-lucky responses he used when talking to Cece hadn’t made an appearance yet. Instead, his serious business tone remained. “What do you see behind me, Cece?”
Her eyebrows scrunched together, and Cece shrugged, not understanding. But Maggie caught on. Curious how he might handle the matter, she let him take the lead. After the party, she’d take her turn at the lecture, which she’d given before.
“See the cars? See how fast they’re going?”
Cece ducked around his shoulder, bobbing her head as a mini-van and sedan passed by. Situated in a circular cul-de-sac, their neighborhood had a twenty-five-mile speed limit and didn’t have highway traffic. Regardless, Cece should have realized the possibility of being hit existed.
“What would happen if you went out there and a car didn’t see you or couldn’t stop?”
Her head tucked against his shoulder and face flushed as Cece whispered against his neck, “I get a booboo.”
He pressed his mouth to Cece’s ear and said with tears pooled in his eyes, “If you got a booboo, I’d be so sad. It would break my heart.”
Unable to contain her own waterworks, one after another trickled over Maggie’s cheeks and dripped off her quivering chin. She fell in love with him right then and there, nestled in his arms, emotions exploding all over the place. The seriousness of what might have happened and reeling from her overwhelming discovery, the realizations should’ve dropped her to her knees. Yet his firm hold steadied her and kept her on her feet.
“Do I have to do all the damn work again?” Kat’s screaming broke the intimate moment.
Maggie kissed Cece on the cheek after Rick did and got caught in his sympathetic gaze. He swept his thumb under her eyes and dried her tears.
Cece popped her head up from his shoulder and hollered a pitiful-ol’-me response. “Kitty, I gotta booboo.”
Mouth-gaping concern replaced Kat’s stern look. She jumped down the four steps from the top of the porch and ran toward them. “What happened? Where you hurt?”
With her arms stretched out, Cece pointed to a nonexistent spot on the inside of her wrist, in the crease of her elbow, and on her heart, repeating a grumbly variation of “here” each time. Kat’s eyes tracked Cece’s movements, no doubt expecting to see blood after her dire report. “Where? What happened?” Kat examined her non-injured hand and sequined chest.
“Gimme a Band-Aid,” Cece continued with her pitiful pleas. “A bunch of 'em.”
Worn out from the draining events, Maggie put Kat out of her misery. “She’s fine. Not a scratch on her.”
“Uh, ah.” Cece twisted around, pleading to Rick. “Tell 'em. Cars gimme booboos.”
Kat shot Maggie a glare instead of at the messenger. “What the hell?”
Maggie rolled her eyes and placed Cece on the sidewalk, gripping her make-believe injured hand. “Save your yelling for later. We have too much to get done.” She glanced at her watch and made a mental note that they had an hour and a half before the guests arrived. “Did you get the tables set up?”
Willing to do anything for her niece, Kat zipped her lip for once and stormed toward the backyard. But not before shooting Maggie the evil eye. With lots to accomplish on the to-do list, Maggie ignored Kat and dragged Cece toward the porch. Behind her, Rick’s shuffling footsteps and khaki slacks rubbing together made her hypersensitive to his every move. Cece jabbered away, telling him all about her princess party, which would be held in the courtyard: her fort decorated with streamers and pillars constructed from painted gray boxes to resemble a castle, a chair covered in glittery red fabric for a makeshift throne, and her subjects who would be seated at two tables covered in gold velvet.
About ten children were expected. Maggie sucked up the panic and put on her happy face, prepared to provide the best birthday party possible. Her daughter deserved it. Cece might be impulsive, quick to react, and resistant to rules, but she was also lovable, affectionate, and a sweetheart too.
After they got inside, Maggie went straight to the DVD player to keep Cece preoccupied and away from any more catastrophes. She popped in The Lion King, another of her daughter’s favorite movies, and pressed play. As Rick and Cece settled down on the couch, she scooted toward the kitchen, giving him time with the princess of honor.
“Maggie, can you hold up a sec?”
She stopped in the archway between the living room and kitchen. From his back pocket, he pulled out a slender box and a flat package, both decorated in Barbie paper. His glances flicked from her to Cece. “Is it okay if she opens these now?” After Maggie nodded, Cece climbed into his lap, bouncing up and down, clapping with excitement.
“I have two gifts for you,” he explained, setting the thinner of the two in Cece’s outstretched hand. Without waiting, Cece ripped half the paper off in a second. Relaxing his back along the cushions, he chuckled at her enthusiasm.
“Mama, Simba,” Cece shouted, waving a rectangular slip with that character on it.
“It’s for the musical next Sunday. Matt and I wanna treat the girls.”
Well damn, how in the world could she deny her daughter that? Bad enough that Cece already rattled off a thousand and one questions about the ticket, and what it meant. Unwilling to crush her daughter’s spirit, she nodded okay.
After Cece ran out of things to ask, she must have remembered the surprises weren’t done yet. “I got two, Mama.” She picked up the next one, waving it like an air traffic controller wand, almost smacking Rick in the nose a couple times. Again, Cece threw more wrapping paper on the floor, but instead of doing the same with the box lid, her erratic movements came to an abrupt stop. Maggie observed Rick, who’d been watching Cece’s overexcited craziness with a beaming smile. “When’s ya birfday?”
He blinked a few times, not answering at first. “March twentieth.” The first day of spring and the same date Maggie’s mom was born.
Her nose scrunched, and Cece looked up at the ceiling, and then toward Rick. “Next monf, like Mama?”
“Uh, no, my birthday’s a long time away. It’s past already.”
“I gotta get ya a present.”
“You gave me one.” He pulled his arm away from Cece’s back, touching a braided band on his wrist. “Remember? You made this for me.”
When he put the playset together Maggie saw the bracelet on him but didn’t know Cece had given it to him. It looked fantastic on him then. Now she loved it even more. That thought made her smile and sent a pang to her heart.
A frown tugged at Cece’s mouth, and she collapsed, dropping her head on his shoulder. “Here.” She lifted the box and set it in his hand.
“What’s wrong, sweet pea? That’s for you.”
“I gotta get ya two first.”
Maggie gasped, pressing a hand over her mouth to cover her reaction as much as possible. In her ear, Kat whispered, “You and your damn rules, Mags. God, the kid can’t even enjoy her birthday. ‘It’s better to give than receive, don’t take more than you give’ BS ruined this for her.”
Under her breath, Maggie grumbled, “Shut up. When you
have kids someday you’ll understand.”
Kat snorted, pinching her waist. “Ha, not a chance.”
“Well, sweet pea, how about this? Next week when you’re at school you make me something. Besides, you invited me to the friendship tea, and that was a gift.”
Cece’s head popped up, frowns and sadness all gone. “'Kay.” He placed the box in her lap, and she removed the lid. “Pretty. See, Mama?” She displayed a silver link necklace with a shamrock pendant that matched the shimmery green sparkles of her dress.
“Want to put it on?” After Cece’s confirming head bob, he put the chain around her neck and secured the clasp. He cuddled her in his arms and in a soft timbre said, “Once upon a time there was a leprechaun, a fairy, who lived all alone. He didn’t have any friends or family and nobody to love him. The more time that went by, he got sadder and sadder, lonelier and lonelier. One day when he was walking through the forest, he heard a noise. Above him, hanging from a tree branch, was a little girl stuck in a net. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry, but she was afraid. You see, she got lost when she went walking in the woods. The leprechaun knew what it felt like to be scared. He didn’t like living by himself. And he hated seeing her stuck there because he knew the trap was set to capture him. But did you know that leprechauns are magic?” Cece shook her head no.
“If they get caught, then they can use their powers to get free. But they can’t use their magic on humans, so he couldn’t help her that way. Since he didn’t live far from there, he promised the girl he would be right back. At his house he had tons of tools because he’s a shoemaker. When he returned, he took out the ones he needed, put them in his pockets, and climbed the tree. Cutting a hole in the net, he helped the little girl get out. Together they climbed down the branches, holding on to each other until they reached the ground. The girl was so happy, but the leprechaun was not. He knew that she would go away like many others, leaving him all alone again. Grateful the leprechaun saved her, she wanted to give him a gift. She removed her necklace, kissing each of the three petals before putting it on the leprechaun.” Rick picked up the pendant and showed it to Cece.