Christmas Daddies

by Jade West

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “It’s already been decided.”

  I kept looking, but there was nothing, not even a crappy pencil. What kind of useless as shit meeting room was this supposed to be? I sighed. “Give me a pen, please.”

  He stood quietly for a few seconds, staring. I held my hand out, waiting.

  And then he reached in his inside pocket and pulled out a pen. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said. “This programme is for people who really want to be there.”

  “Just button it a minute,” I said, and my fingers were scrawling.

  “This isn’t going to affect my decision, Katie. I’m sorry.”

  But he was wrong.

  Wrong about my dad, and wrong about me, too.

  I continued regardless, scribbling and scrawling through all the questions, and he didn’t move, didn’t leave, didn’t say another word to distract me.

  I finished and closed the pen lid, handed him the form with a flourish of triumph.

  I watched his face as he read it, watched his eyes. Watched the way he looked at me, and then looked at me again, over and over.

  “So?” I said. “What now?”

  He pulled out his car keys, held them up. “I’m going to Cheltenham, like I said. I have people waiting.” He opened the door, swung it wide. And then he held it there, open. “It’s where the internship is based,” he said. “You’d better come with me.”

  “I’ll check,” he said. “I’ll check everything on that form. I always check.”

  “Be my guest. I’m not a liar.”

  “I’d certainly hope not.” His eyes dug into me, made my knees feel weak as we made our way through reception. Everyone looked. Everyone.

  The automatic doors swooshed open and we stepped outside. He pressed his key fob and I heard the bleep of the Range. I’d walked straight past it on the way in without noticing, in prime position to the left of the main entrance. I can’t believe I hadn’t fucking noticed that. Idiot.

  “I’ve got my car,” I said. “I can follow you.”

  He shook his head. “Get in. I’m driving.”

  I didn’t argue.

  I watched his face as he reversed from the space, grateful for the opportunity to check him out when he was otherwise occupied. Scary hot. Scarier hot now I’d seen him in his natural environment.

  “They are impressive stats,” he commented. “Quite impressive.”

  “I needed the money for Samson’s livery. The bonuses were good.” I leaned against the window. “I give my all. Always. You haven’t seen it so far, not apart from when I was… well…” I smiled. “That doesn’t count, but even with that. I always give my all. It’s who I am.”

  “If you don’t, you’ll be out on your ear. That goes for everyone on my programme.”

  “Understood.”

  “You lied to your father, said you knew me through Rick.”

  “It’s not a lie. I do know you through Rick.”

  “Misled him, then. Implied we’re just casual acquaintances.”

  I smirked at him. “Aren’t we?”

  “Is that what you think?” He pulled a pair of shades from his pocket and slipped them on against the glare, and I wished he hadn’t. He was impenetrable in shades. Unreadable.

  “What did you want me to say? Yeah, we’ve met. Hey, Pops, I took Carl and Rick in my snatch this weekend. Both of them at the same time. It was a hoot.”

  “You could have made it clear we were friends.”

  “Friends. That’s what we are?”

  “Aren’t we?” He looked at me but all I saw was my own reflection.

  “I don’t know what we are,” I admitted.

  “Like we said before, Katie. That depends on you.”

  “And like I said before. Why on me? Surely it’s your gig?”

  He pulled the Range onto the main road. “Us working together, that won’t affect our arrangement, no?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not planning on it. It’s separate. I can deal with that.”

  “I hope so.”

  It seemed funny suddenly — fate. What a dickwad. The universe sure had a sense of humour. “I’ll be fucking the boss,” I laughed. “How totally rad.”

  “It’s not going to win you any favours, I promise you.”

  “Wouldn’t assume for a second it would.” I watched Stroud pass by the window as we headed towards Cheltenham. “What a crazy six months it’s lining up to be. Six months with you and Rick, six months in this programme. Then Harrison Gables. Then my little yard. Definitely my little yard.”

  “You’re doing this purely for some horse whisperer? Not for the money, or the experience? Just for him.”

  I nodded. “Just for him.”

  He steered around a bend, and I watched his hands on the steering wheel. Big fingers, long. He had great hands. “What if the programme had been a year? Two years?”

  “It’s not,” I answered. “Luckily.”

  “But if it had?”

  “I’d have had to think about it.”

  He tipped his head. “You’d have done it, wouldn’t you? Sacrificed a year, maybe two, for what you wanted? Something that could change your life forever?”

  I let out a breath. “I guess. Probably. Yeah, probably. I mean, for one shot like that, one chance at something. Harrison Gables doesn’t normally take students.”

  We sped towards Cheltenham, and I looked at my tatty jeans. I was tempted to ask Carl if we could go back to my car, grab a change of clothes from my case. Should have thought. Should’ve. Should’ve.

  Wouldn’t do me much good now to think of should’ve.

  “What about the yard? What if a couple of years could set you up in a yard of your own?”

  I laughed. “I already told you, nobody is going to give me that kind of cash. Not even with your snazzy six month training programme under my belt.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” he said, and he sounded serious. His tone made my mouth dry.

  “If you say so.”

  “What if they did? Would you take it?”

  The car felt hot, stuffy. “I’m not sure. Depends on what it was. I’d have to think about it.”

  “A year out, maybe two, away from your dream in exchange for a yard of your own. Would you do it?”

  I smirked at him, clapped my hands. “This is like the would you rather game. I knew you enjoyed it really.” I laughed again. “I knew you loved it.”

  “I’m serious,” he said, and I felt it in my gut. In my jittery knees. A sign zipped past us. Cheltenham 5 miles. Part of me wanted this day to be over, part of me didn’t.

  “Serious about what?” I said, and I was still laughing. “Serious about some random company giving me an unbelievable sum of money for two years in some undisclosed job role? How am I supposed to be serious about that? How am I supposed to even answer that?” I picked at the threads on my torn jeans, heart thumping and I didn’t even know why. “Yeah, I’d do it. If I could, I mean, probably. Who wouldn’t?”

  “You’d do it?”

  I shrugged. “Jeez, Carl, I dunno. This is the cruddiest would you rather I’ve ever played. Yours don’t even make sense.”

  And neither did he. Not when he veered the car from the road and into a pull in. It was quick, last minute, throwing me around in my seat while I gripped the arm rail.

  “Shit!” I said. “What was that?”

  The engine was still running, the car still rumbling as the traffic passed us by.

  “Two years,” he said, “and the yard would be yours. Would you take it?”

  “The yard is worth over two hundred grand, Carl.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Who the hell would give me two hundred grand for a couple of years? And what for? What would they even want me for?”

  He pulled off his shades and leaned in, and my heart pounded, and I clutched the side of my seat and I didn’t even know why.

  “There’s something they would want…” he said. “But it wouldn’t be a
job, Katie, not a nine to five. Not another internship programme.”

  “What then?! A kidney?” I laughed a nervous laugh.

  He shook his head, and smiled a little. “No, not a kidney. But it’s not too dissimilar… not really…”

  “And you know these people?” I laughed to ease the tension. “These weirdos who’d buy my not a kidney for two hundred grand?”

  He leaned further, reached out a hand, rested it on my shaking knee and squeezed. It sparked, and I wanted it. Wanted him.

  “What are you saying, Carl? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  I wanted to understand, but more than that I wanted to feel. Wanted to feel him. There was a brooding in his eyes. A darkness. A desperation. It made me feel all fucked up, all goofy and wired and desperate myself.

  “Katie…” he said, and I was back on the Brighton balcony, when I thought he would kiss me, right before Rick came out.

  And I was scared again, nervous again, needy again. Just like I had been in that moment.

  “What?” I said. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”

  He took a breath, and he swallowed, and cleared his throat.

  And then the fucking Bluetooth rang through the speakers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carl

  Loverboy calling.

  It flashed up on the dash, the bleep bleep bleep blaring through every bastard speaker. It connected automatically, and Katie’s eyes were still wide, waiting for the words on the tip of my tongue.

  “Hey, hot ass, where are you? Are you in the car? I can hear myself. La la la, ooh ah, I can hear myself…”

  “Yes, in the car,” I said, but he wasn’t really listening, he was still chirping on to himself, caught up in his own echo. I could picture him in his loose jeans, tracking about the house with a hand down his boxers. He usually called then. “I’ll call you back…” I said, but he continued on regardless.

  “She stayed until almost lunch. And it’s love, man, it’s fucking love. I’m in fucking love with that girl.”

  I watched Katie’s cheeks flush, they pinked in front of my eyes, and her mouth hung open.

  “…She’s incredible. She’s so fucking funny, Carl. And she’s sweet, and cute. And fuck, the ass on her. Seriously, Carl, she’s the fucking dog’s bollocks. Next weekend it’s a double team, I’m potting the fucking brown and don’t try and stop me. You can fill her pussy, and I’ll take my time on her sweet little asshole.” He laughed to himself. “Don’t try and tell me you don’t feel the same about our pretty lady. I know you fucking feel the same. She’s it. Our fucking keeper. I just fucking know it.”

  I kept my eyes on Katie’s. “She’s here,” I said. “Katie’s in the car with me.”

  Silence. Then he laughed. “Nice fucking try, dickhead. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “She’s here.”

  He laughed again. “Why the fuck would she be in the car with you?”

  “Because she had a meeting at my office today. Because her father is David Faverley. Because she’s in my internship programme, we’re on our way back to the Cheltenham office now.”

  It took him a few seconds, and Katie grimaced. Screwed her eyes closed and pinched her bottom lip.

  “Katie?” he said. “Katie, are you really there? What the fuck?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m really here.”

  “Fuck!” he said. “Is this for fucking real? You’re David’s daughter?!”

  “Yeah,” she replied, and she looked horrified. “I’m David Faverley’s daughter. Biologically.”

  He blurted out a laugh before composing himself. “Shit. This is like something from daytime TV. I fucked my boss’s daughter, and so did my boyfriend.”

  “Thanks for that,” I said, and my hand was at the dash controls, all set to cut him off.

  “Look, Katie, I’m sorry for that a minute ago. I was just gushing, you know? Getting carried away, excited.”

  “It’s ok,” she said, but she had her palms to her cheeks.

  “And the ass thing, that’s only if you want to… I’m not gonna… Jeez, crap. You know what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant,” she said. “It’s all good. It’s cool. I’m cool.”

  “David’s daughter. That’s mad.”

  Of course it’s fucking mad, idiot. I tossed Katie a look. “Look, Rick, we’ve got to get moving. Time’s getting on.”

  “Yeah, sure. Cool. Where are you, anyway? You parked up?”

  “We were, but we’re leaving now.”

  “Right, cool,” he said. “See you later. Love you guys. Both you guys.” He laughed, and then he hung up. A crackle on the line and then a bleep. I turned it off.

  I rested my head back against the headrest. “He wears his heart on his sleeve, that one.”

  “I kinda gathered,” she said and there was humour in it.

  Her eyes twinkled as she stared at me, and I saw David again. Saw David Faverley’s daughter in front of me.

  Take care of her, Carl. Take care of my little girl.

  “What were you saying?” she said, and she was nervous, I could see the tremor in her hands, despite the smile.

  Give it a fucking minute, man. Give it a fucking minute.

  I’m in love with that girl, Carl. I’m in love with her.

  David’s face. Take care of my little girl, Carl.

  I took another breath. Stayed quiet.

  “You said you needed something. Do you need me to do something? What is it?”

  My boss’s little girl. As if things weren’t complicated enough already.

  I looked at her as I put the car back into gear, flicked the indicator.

  And then I selected the audio control on the dash, smirking as the Rocky theme started up.

  “I need you to sing for me,” I said.

  She was perplexed for a moment, trying to figure out what voodoo I was spouting. Trying to figure me out, her pretty mouth opening and closing as she wrestled with words.

  “It’s part of the programme,” I said, pulling out onto the road. “Everyone sings for me, no exceptions.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.”

  “The Rocky theme?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to sing the Rocky theme? Now?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  At least she asked. Most don’t. “Music changes state, music changes mood, it’s an anchor you can use for performance. Singing lowers inhibitions, makes those walls come down, pushes you out of your comfort zone. And that’s what’s needed, Katie, in a training schedule like ours. You need to be flexible, adaptable, confident, and immediate. Not afraid to push through barriers.”

  I didn’t rule out that she’d baulk and show off, like Verity. Fully expected her to hum a little, sing in a little mousey voice that I could barely hear, but as seemed to be the case more often than not, little blue-eyed Katie Serena surprised me.

  She launched into song, loud and clear, and she wasn’t half bad.

  She laughed when I joined in, and together we drowned out the stereo, and she was air punching, giggling through the vocals, and I air punched, too. One hand off the steering wheel, as other drivers stared in at us. I didn’t care.

  She was breathless by the time we’d finished, relaxing into her seat with a smile on her face. Tension gone, at least for the time being.

  “That was fun,” she said. “I love Rocky.”

  “You do?”

  “He’s the underdog, right? Rises up against the odds. Eye of the tiger.” She flicked her hair from her face. “Yeah, I love Rocky.”

  “Did you hear the story about how Stallone wrote the script himself? Insisted on playing the lead role and the movie company said no?”

  She sat forward, angled her to face me. “Yeah, I heard about that. He was offered quarter of a million or something, but not the lead. He said no way and turned down all t
hat money, and had to sell his dog, just to buy food.”

  I nodded, smiling. “And then it came good, and he sold the script and got the part.”

  “And went straight and bought his dog back, paid a fortune for it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Amazing story,” she said.

  “One of my favourites.”

  I felt her eyes on me. “Slick subject change.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you really wanted?”

  “Yes,” I said. “One day. When it’s time.”

  Part of me wanted her to push it, insist that I stop the car and tell her what the fuck was going on with me, what was so important that I’d throw a few hundred grand at her, what the hell I wanted so badly that I’d veer the car off the road and stare at her like a wolf after prey.

  But she didn’t. She let it go.

  I pulled into the business park, and Katie sighed.

  “I feel stupid,” she said. “Dressed like this.”

  “Treat it as a lesson.” I pulled into my space, and a wall of glass reflected our car back at us. Our car? Katie peered up at the building. Five storeys of corporate hustle. “This is us,” I said. “At least for the next six months.”

  She slipped from the Range and met me at the doors. I felt the strangest urge to take her hand, grip her dainty fingers in mine and parade her through the place. Parade her as mine. I put my hand in my pocket instead.

  A sea of greetings. Afternoon, Mr Brooks. Afternoon, Carl. Hey, Carl, how’s it going?

  She waited until we were in the lift heading up before she spoke. “So, you’re like the head honcho around here?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Neat.”

  “Most of the time. Sometimes it’s stressful, busy, frustrating.” I smiled. “Sometimes it’s incredible. Often it sits around the middle.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You love it all the time. It’s written all over you.”

  “Tell me that when I’m having a bad day.”

  She nodded, and her smile was beautiful. “I will. Don’t worry.”

  And I wasn’t worried. I was strangely invigorated in her presence, her gentle manner both soothing and enlivening. Katie Serena was a strange and delicate little creature. A real beauty.