Twist of Fate

by Louise, Tia

  “You can play. You just need to grow a little more before you can get out there with the big boys.” I stand her on her feet, checking out her nose again.

  A tiny red scuff is on the bridge, and I’ll have to hope Daisy doesn’t notice. Who am I kidding? She’s going to notice.

  “Ready to go long?” She nods, and I hold the ball as she takes off running. “Look back.”

  She looks over her shoulder, and I toss it to her easy. This time she doubles back quick and catches it.

  “Looks like somebody might be her daddy’s girl.” I turn to see my grandmother walking up in the red joggers and white sweatshirt she wore to all our games.

  “Showing your school spirit?” I step over and give her a hug.

  “I always have. We’re on the second generation now.” She nods towards my daughter, who’s dancing her ballerina dance with her pink football over her head. “Bring her over here so I can get a look at this beauty.”

  “Princess, bring me the ball.”

  She does another twirl, kicking her leg behind her awkwardly before running to where I’m standing. My grandmother bends down to where Melody stands squinting at us.

  “Hello, young lady, what’s your name?”

  “I’m the quarterback princess Melody, and this is my brave knight Daddy.”

  Gran nods sharply. “And I’m your great grandmother Alice.”

  Melody’s eyes widen. “Great grandmother?”

  “You can call me Gran or GA if you’re anything like your grumpy uncle.”

  Melody’s little nose curls, and she looks at me. “Jesse’s dad is your uncle J.R.”

  “Grumpy uncle! Grumpy uncle!” She hops around, and it reminds me of when she first learned my name.

  I hip check my grandma. “He’s not going to like that.”

  “Then he should smile more. He has everything in the world he could want, beautiful wife, beautiful son, beautiful baby girl…”

  I glance over at my brother directing the boys on the field. “I think he practiced his game face too long.”

  Melody rejoins us, pushing my leg. “Daddy, go far!”

  I immediately take a few steps, and she tosses her teeny spiral, which I’ve gotten pretty good at scooping before it hits the ground. She jumps up and down cheering, and I run back to spin her around as I “pass” it to her.

  Gran smiles watching us, and Melody takes off again, running down the pretend field for her touchdown. “What have you decided? Are you staying here or are you still headed back to California?”

  My heart squeezes as I watch my little girl cheering her solo victory with her funny ballerina dance. “I don’t want to miss another minute of her life.” Gran makes a noise of assent. “I’ve also invested a lot of time building a career on the West Coast. I finally got a breakthrough part, or what I hope is a breakthrough part. Can I walk away?”

  Our eyes meet, and compassion is in hers. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “As you can see, I haven’t made much progress with finding the answer since we talked.”

  “What does Daisy say?”

  Dropping my chin, I exhale slowly, rubbing the twist in my stomach. “I haven’t talked to her about it.”

  “Perhaps that’s where you should start.” I look over, and she squeezes my forearm. “There are no wrong choices here, but you’re going to have to decide.”

  She always says this, and while I agree there isn’t a wrong choice, inside me I know there’s an optimum choice. I need to talk to Daisy.

  My conversation with Gran is heavy on my mind as I watch Daisy move around the small kitchen in her loft apartment. She’s slicing carrots and celery, onions and bell peppers, and I’m leaning against the couch with a glass of red wine in my hand.

  “You sure you don’t want me to help? I have been cooking for myself for a while now.”

  “You stay right there.” She points at me with the knife, and I hold up my hands, which makes her laugh. “I invited you to dinner, and you’re going to take it easy. You’ve been helping me so much at the store and with Melody, it’s the least I can do.”

  “I’m glad to help you. I want to spend time with Melody.” Who is currently in a bubble bath singing a little kid song I don’t know.

  The conversation we need to have is heavy on my mind, and I know I’m running out of time to stay here if I intend to return to Los Angeles.

  Daisy moves all the ingredients to a sauté pan, and the luscious aroma of tomatoes and garlic mixed with steak and Italian seasoning fills the room.

  “Hey, you want to open the French Doors to let some of this out? The one design flaw in this place. No hood for the stove.”

  “Daddy! Come get me!” Melody is yelling in the bathroom, and Daisy shakes her head, smiling.

  “I can get her if you don’t—”

  “No way, I’ll get her. You keep doing what you’re doing. It smells amazing.”

  French doors open, I head to the bathroom to retrieve the princess. She’s standing in the tub with a pouf of bubbles on the top of her head and shoulders.

  When I enter, she holds up both arms. “Catch me!”

  “Whoa, hold it right there, Miss. You’ve still got soap on you.” She looks down, and I scoop suds off her head to show her.

  She reaches up to feel her head, and I poke her round belly, which makes her squeal a laugh. A quick spray of the shower attachment, and I hold the towel under her arms for her to jump out.

  “Only do that when somebody’s here to hold you.” She nods solemnly as I dry her off then she takes off running naked to their shared room.

  Standing in the bathroom doorway, I look around their apartment. It’s designed for the two of them, one bedroom, one bath. Melody’s in the room she shares with her mother still singing that song, and I walk slowly to the kitchen, which flows into the open living room. There’s not room for me here.

  “How’s she doing?” Daisy glances up from where she’s stirring the pasta in boiling water.

  “We need to figure out a way to bottle all that energy. We’d make a killing.”

  The unwelcome image of my father pops into my head. All his supplements and attempts to stay young.

  “What’s wrong?” Daisy’s watching me.

  “I’ve been thinking about what we should do—”

  “Mac and cheese! If you please!” Melody marches into the room in her pink pajamas with her pink tutu on top, pumping her little fist over her head like she’s leading a parade.

  “We’re not having mac and cheese,” Daisy corrects her. “We’re having spaghetti and meat sauce.”

  “Mac and cheese!” She pumps her little fist again. “If you please!”

  She faces her mom, and I’m fighting hard not to laugh.

  Daisy narrows her eyes at me, and I step up. “I’m actually pretty good at making mac and cheese. I can whip up a little for her.”

  “You are spoiling her rotten.”

  “I’m making up for lost time.”

  She points me in the right direction, and I take out a small boiling pot, elbow noodles, a block of sharp cheddar, and a carton of half and half.

  Melody climbs up on a stool beside me, and she watches as I season the water. She makes me tell her everything I’m doing, and she’s so cute in her getup, I put a hand around her waist and kiss the top of her head.

  Daisy puts the lids on our dinner and slices a loaf of French bread into bite-sized pieces before coating them with butter and popping them in the oven.

  “What were you trying to say when the little boss marched in?” She leans against the counter watching us.

  “It can wait til later.” We exchange a smile, and her eyes are so warm.

  I’m pretty sure I know my decision.

  We have a lively dinner in which Melody declares my mac and cheese almost as good as Mr. André’s.

  “Almost as good?” I pretend to be offended, until Daisy explains André invented a New Orleans style mac and cheese poboy spe
cifically for Coco and now Melody.

  I decide I’ll have to try it next time I’m in the store. “Sounds like I’m not the only one doing the spoiling around here.”

  Daisy just shakes her head, and again I note how seamless their life is here. People know them and love them, customers come specifically to Daisy for vintage finds, and she’s so serious about helping them, she’ll drop everything and drive an hour to try and convince a reluctant seller.

  I’m sitting on the sofa in the living room, turning these thoughts over in my head as I gaze out the open French doors at the starry night sky. Daisy is putting Melody to sleep when my phone buzzes, and I slide it out of my pocket.

  A text is on the face from Lorraine. Big news. Good time to chat?

  I touch her name to place the call and walk out onto the balcony. “Lorraine? It’s Scout, what’s up?”

  “Scout!” She cries out my name, and I hold the phone away from my ear. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over town for you.”

  “I had a little break. I’m in Fireside visiting my family.”

  “I need you in L.A. tomorrow! Bob Donner got a screener of your movie, and he loved it. He said you’re like a young Paul Newman!” She takes a breath, and I’m thinking I’ve heard that before. “I’m telling you, it’s those baby blues. They’re your meal ticket. Anyway, he’s beating down my door. He wants you in his next film Fight for Justice, and get this… It’s the lead role!”

  She emphasizes the last bit, and my chest squeezes. “What’s Fight for Justice? I haven’t heard of that.”

  “It’s new!” She’s shouting like it’s the greatest thing since Titanic. “He’d wanted Bradley Cooper, but no one can touch him since A Star is Born.”

  “What is it? A legal thriller?”

  “No!” She exhales loudly, which means she’s smoking. “It’s an action movie. It’s about an MMA fighter who gets jumped at a bar. You kill the guy, but then you’re accused of murder because of your training. So you have to fight… for justice!”

  She says it with so much drama, her enthusiasm is contagious. Daisy enters the living room carrying a glass of red wine, and I turn to face her, pointing to the phone as I repeat, “You said it’s a low-budget action film?”

  “With tons of potential. This could lead to big things. Bob is a very prominent director. And did I mention it’s the lead role?”

  “You did say it’s the lead.”

  Daisy’s eyebrows rise as if she’s impressed, but her eyes drift away from mine.

  “Tell you what, let me think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

  “Scout, my boy! This is not a ‘let me think about it’ situation. This is a yes, please and thank you situation. It’s your big break. After all we’ve been through, this is it!”

  “I hear you.” A knot is at the base of my throat. “I’ll give you my answer first thing.”

  “I’ll send you the link to a plane ticket.”

  We disconnect, and I enter the living room. “Sorry, it’s only five in L.A.”

  “That was your agent?” Her smile is quiet, and I shift uncomfortably.

  “Lorraine. She’s one of the best in the business. She sounds like she’s straight out of Brooklyn. Heck, I think she is straight out of Brooklyn.”

  “Not Compton?”

  I exhale a laugh, looking at my phone when it buzzes with a text. Link to $89 plane ticket from Charleston to L.A.

  “What did she say?” Daisy’s still watching me from the couch, swirling her glass of wine.

  “This director wants me to be the lead in his new film. She thinks it could lead to big things.”

  “Wow…” Her voice is quiet. “That’s really exciting.”

  “She wants me to fly out to L.A. tomorrow.” I walk over to sit on the couch beside her. “What do you think?”

  A sad smile curls her lips. “I think it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

  Inhaling deeply, I look over at the turntable she brought up from the store. “Spencer made you a pretty nice offer. The Southeast region?”

  “Yeah,” She exhales shifting in her seat. “But I have time to think about it.”

  “It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Our eyes meet, and hers wince a bit.

  “It was, but it’s funny how things change over time. Things that sounded so exciting then can be less attractive now.”

  Pushing off the couch, I walk over to the French doors overlooking the one street through the village. The sky is a blanket of stars, and the light breeze carries the scent of the ocean. It’s the kind of night where you make a wish and know it will come true.

  I feel the warmth of Daisy beside me. She stops, and her voice is laced with resignation. “I think you should do it.”

  It hits me so hard. Emotions clash and spiral in my chest. I’m frustrated and curious, sad and elated. I feel validated and restored, flattered… and when I look into her big brown eyes, I’m miserable.

  “What about Melody?” My voice is thick, and I clear it.

  “We can work out a way for her to visit you. You can video chat… We’ll figure it out.”

  “If this takes off it could change my life.”

  She nods, blinking slowly, and her words are wistful, but kind. “It’s your dream coming true.”

  My dream… Standing here, I’m not so sure anymore.

  Twenty-Eight

  Daisy

  Leave it to Betty Pepper to have albums. Turning away from the heartbreak of Scout’s incredible opportunity, I walk to the old turntable and pick up a cardboard sleeve.

  “Which one is that?” His voice is changed, the sunshine not as bright.

  “I think these belonged to Bucky.” I flip past UB40 with a shudder and pause at an old Boyz II Men album. “Oh, no… Not this.”

  Scout reaches for it, and when he reads the title, his eyes flicker to mine. “It’s fate.”

  Sliding the shiny black vinyl from its cover, he places it on the Victrola and positions the needle, switching it on. The thump of drums precedes an electric organ playing “End of the Road.”

  “Dance with me.” He holds out his hand.

  My heart aches as his strong arms close around me. Our hands are clasped, and I close my eyes, moving closer to press my cheek against the warmth of his chest. When I inhale, I’m surrounded by his special blend of citrus and sweat, masculine and strong.

  I never believed I could hold him. I never knew why he would ever want to hold me. Now we’re at the end of the road. Still, I can’t let go…

  Of all the songs at all the moments in our timeline, this is the saddest of them all. Mist burns my eyes, and I struggle with the war in my chest. He deserves this chance. He’s worked so hard, and he’s overcome so much.

  “Hey…” He nudges my chin with his finger, and I lift my face. When I see the shine in his eyes, a single tear spills over, dropping onto my cheek.

  He touches it with his thumb.

  His brow collapses.

  His mouth covers mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck. The warmth of his body melts into mine. His hands slide to my waist, under my thin tee, palms against the smooth skin of my back unfastening my bra.

  I exhale a noise as he lifts me off my feet. My arms are wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist, and our mouths seal together. Our tongues curl and heat burns between my thighs. His dick is a steel rod against me, and my back hits the wall.

  He lifts his face to find my eyes. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” I want this so much.

  Our mouths clash again, and my feet hit the soft pine floor. He turns me to face the wall, a warm palm pressing against my stomach before sliding lower, into my sweat shorts, into my panties, covering my clit. Thick fingers circle and massage, and I rise on my tiptoes, arching my back as the waves of pleasure surge in my veins.

  He’s moving quickly behind me, unfastening his pants. His fingers never stop moving between my legs, and I rest my cheek against the wall as he leans into me
, pressing his firm chest to my back. His lips are at my ear, and it sends delicious shivers down my shoulders and along my legs.

  Warm kisses against my skin, little bites to the side of my neck. I’m so wet and slippery when his cock nudges at my core. With a firm thrust, we both moan with relief. It’s so good.

  He’s pumping faster, holding my breast in one hand and steadying me by my clit with the other. The thick rod of his cock moving faster, raking my insides has my knees bending, melting as my toes curl.

  Faster… harder… We’re desperate for touch, lost in the rising heat of orgasm, blazing hotter in my belly, tightening every muscle in my pussy, whipping me higher and higher with every frenzied thrust.

  He’s breathing hard in my ear, groaning low and saying dirty words… yes, fuck me, so good… My thighs are trembling. It’s erotic and delicious and with three more thrusts, three more insistent circles of his skilled fingers, he pushes me into that pool of bliss.

  I plunge into sparkling waves of ecstasy, legs shaking, knees collapsing, but he holds me, burying himself completely as I feel the pulse of his orgasm.

  “Daisy.” His voice is shaky at my ear, and my eyes squeeze tighter.

  We’re panting, floating on the afterglow. His arms wrap like iron bands around my body, holding me in a strong embrace infused with longing and wishes and regret.

  The room is quiet, song ended, and without a word, he lifts me off my feet, carrying me to the bathroom. We clean up silently, my hand on his shoulder as he touches me gently with the washcloth. We never stop touching. He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom where our baby sleeps.

  Keeping me close, he helps me into the side of the queen-sized bed. I gently slide Melody over, crawling into the center. He’s behind me, spooning his long body against mine, and I hold our daughter in my arms.

  A short while ago, I watched as he purchased the plane ticket to California. I watched the tightness in his blue eyes, his full lips pressed thin. Then we danced. Then we made love. Now we’ll sleep, because tomorrow, as fast as he came into our lives, he’ll leave.

  I can’t change this.

  I can only hold onto this dream and believe it exists somewhere in another time, in a different reality we’ve never been able to construct.