Call Me Daddy Page 7

  “Good girl.” He tips his head. “How are your eggs?”

  I’ve barely noticed them. “Perfect,” I say, and it’s true. They’re just right. Just the right amount of runny.

  I dip my toast in and they sure taste great.

  Everything is great around Nick.

  He slides my phone across the table. “I’ve saved my number in your contacts. You’re on an unlimited plan.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll call you, at lunchtime. Just to check in on you.”

  I can’t stop my goofy smile. “Thank you.”

  “There’ll be other rules,” he tells me. “But they aren’t for now.”

  I nod. “Ok.”

  Ok. Everything really does feel ok.

  Better than ok.

  I feel all the words in my throat. Words about last night, about how good it felt to have him beside me. About how much I like him, how grateful I am, how he’s the best thing ever, and I really mean it.

  But they don’t come out.

  I just smile, like an idiot, and eat my breakfast.

  He takes my plate when I’m done and loads it into the dishwasher with his.

  “Get ready,” he says. “We leave in fifteen minutes. We can’t be late, Laine. I’m never late.” He fastens up his cufflinks and slips on his suit jacket from a hanger on the door, and I’m staring, gawping like a silly fool, until he raises an eyebrow. “Chop-chop,” he says, but his eyes are sparkling. “You don’t want to try my patience, sweet thing.”

  I don’t try his patience, not even a bit. But there’s a weird flutter between my legs at the thought.

  Nick

  She cradles her lunchbox in her lap, looking at it as though she’s never had one before. Maybe she hasn’t.

  It pleases me to see her so taken aback by simple gestures. It’s one of the things I love the most about Laine, the way everything is a wonder, everything is such a gift.

  Spoiling Laine Seabourne brings me great pleasure.

  Disciplining Laine Seabourne will easily bring me equal pleasure.

  But I don’t let myself consider that. Not yet.

  Not before we’ve worked out the ground rules.

  I pull up at the college and she looks so hesitant.

  “All set?” I ask, and she nods. “I’ll call you at lunch.”

  She nods again, but she doesn’t move. “Thank you, for the ride.”

  “My pleasure,” I tell her, and her little fingers grip the door catch before she changes her mind and leans in my direction.

  Her lips brush my cheek for just a moment, but I feel the contact right the way through to my dick.

  “See you later, Nick.”

  Nick.

  That will have to change.

  All in good time.

  I watch her leave, her college bag thrown over her shoulder, her tiny frame wrapped up tight in her new coat. She’s still holding her lunch as she makes her way to the entrance, and it fills me with a sense of satisfaction I’ve been missing for far too long.

  It feels so good to have someone to take care of. Someone to care for.

  Someone to love.

  I’m about to pull away when I see a girl bound up the steps and grab hold of Laine’s elbow. The girl has a mass of dark curls, a face full of makeup, and I know, instinctively, that this must be Kelly Anne. Laine’s useless, selfish non-friend.

  I see Laine shrug, and Kelly Anne is looking in my direction. She sees the car and says something, and Laine shrugs again before she carries on walking.

  I wait until they’re out of sight before I drive away.

  I think it’s time Kelly Anne was added to the ground rules.

  I make a mental note of that for later.

  Laine

  “So? What the hell, Laine? Who’s the Mercedes guy?”

  Kelly Anne won’t let up, and it’s annoying. It makes me feel awkward and uneasy, like she’s poking at something too private to be shared.

  “That’s Nick,” I tell her, like my answer stands a hope in hell of cutting it. “The guy who rescued me.”

  “Nick,” she says. “And what’s the deal with Nick?”

  “He’s looking after me.” I try to outpace her but she’s having none of it.

  “Looking after you how?”

  “I’m staying with him… while my house gets sorted… you know, the house you gave the key away to, the house that got totally invaded by a load of deadbeats from a shitty club while I was stranded in the rain.”

  She looks so horrified, and I’m glad.

  I nod my head. “Yeah, Kels, that house.”

  “Jeez, Laine, I’m sorry. Mum saw Mrs Barnes from down your street yesterday, said your house got all fucked up. I’m a total fucking ass.”

  I don’t reply in the affirmative, even though I probably should. “Nick’s letting me stay at his. He sorted me out with some clothes. Brought me to college.”

  She stares at the lunchbox I’m still clutching to my chest. “Made you sandwiches…”

  “Yeah, made me sandwiches.”

  She tugs at my elbow, but I don’t let her see inside the box. “Don’t you think that’s a little…”

  “A little what?”

  She pulls a strange expression. “I dunno, a little creepy? Some random guy rescues you, buys you dresses and packs you a lunchbox. That’s a bit creepy, no?”

  I shrug. “He’s not creepy. He’s really nice.”

  “He could be a serial killer. Ted Bundy was a really nice guy, you know.”

  I laugh. “You’ve been watching too much CSI.”

  “Yeah, and you’re really sweet. Too sweet. Like take advantage of sweet.”

  She’d be the one to know. If only I was bitch enough to point that out.

  “I may not be worldly wise like you, but I’m not stupid. He’s a nice guy. I like him.”

  And I guess I say like him with a little too much conviction, because her eyes widen and she gives me that look. The interrogation look.

  “You like him?! Like really like him? Like want his dick like him?”

  I sigh, back myself into the wall to let some people pass. “Yeah, I like him. I like him like that.” And now I’ve said it I feel it all over again. The tickles and the flutters. That feeling of burning up. The memory of his body against mine.

  Kelly Anne’s mouth is open, and she looks so shocked. The most shocked I’ve ever seen her look.

  “But he’s… he’s…”

  “He’s what?”

  She struggles for words, which is totally unlike her. “He’s like… old. Like an old guy.”

  “He’s not an old guy.” I laugh, and it sounds so high-pitched. “He’s forty-two, that’s not old.”

  “My dad’s forty next summer, Laine. Forty. And he’s an old guy.” She sighs. “This Nick guy’s old enough to be your dad, Laine. Isn’t that weird?” She screws her face up. “Gross.”

  The thought makes my heart pound, as though she’ll know. Know the dirty thoughts I want to keep all to myself.

  “I haven’t really thought about it like that,” I lie. “I just like him.”

  “And does he like you?” Her eyes are right on mine, and I can’t lie. I don’t know where to look. “Has he… tried anything?”

  I shake my head. “No… it wasn’t him… it was…”

  “It was what?”

  I feel my cheeks burning, and I put my finger over my lips until another crowd of students pass us by. “It was me…” I whisper. “I… I tried something…”

  The grin spreads right across her face. “You tried something?! For real?”

  I nod. “Yeah, and it was stupid, alright? I made a fool of myself.”

  She’s trying not to laugh, I can tell. “I’m sure you didn’t…”

  “Yes,” I say. “I totally did.”

  “And what did he do?” she’s smiling so bright.

  “He… he told me I didn’t have to say thank you that way.”

  “And you do
n’t, Laine. Using sex for that is totally skanky.”

  I don’t even try and work out where Kelly Anne’s rules on skanky sit. In her world it’s ok to put it about to anyone who looks hot after a couple of tequilas, but clearly not to express gratitude that way. It’s ok to ditch a friend to go running after a piece of random dick, but not ok to fancy someone old enough to be your dad.

  “Well, he didn’t take it.”

  “I’ll bet he wanted to, though.” She nudges me in the arm. “He must like you, Laine. Cute little blonde thing like you. I bet he’s jerking off to the thought every five minutes. Dirty old man.” Her laugh cuts right through me. “Seriously, though,” she says, “you should come stay with me, not some random old guy.”

  The thought fills me with dread. “I’m good,” I tell her. “I like it with Nick.”

  “Daddy Nick, making you sandwiches and buying you dresses. Very cute.”

  Daddy Nick. The thought has me burning up, and my heart keeps pounding and my mouth is all dry.

  I barely register the fact she’s still talking.

  “So, where do you sleep? In his room? Please tell me it’s not in his room…”

  I shake my head. “In his daughter’s room.” I focus on a safer topic, tell her about Jane’s lovely things, and the writing on her wall, and how great it feels there.

  Kelly Anne doesn’t look impressed, at all. Her eyes screw up and she looks at me like I’m some kind of crazy.

  “You’re staying in his kid daughter’s room? With pink curtains and a mad hatter tea set?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not his kid daughter’s room now. She’s all grown up. She doesn’t live there anymore.”

  Kelly tips her head to the side, and she’s thinking. It makes me feel uneasy, and I’m glad class is starting soon.

  “So… if she’s not his kid daughter… then she’s an adult now, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. Probably moved away.”

  “So… if she’s grown up… why is her room still like some kiddie shrine? I mean, where’s all her teenage shit? Surely she’d have like Backstreet Boys posters up, or some other crap like that. Maybe some makeup… some grown-up kid shit…”

  “Maybe she liked it that way… the way it was…” My answer is lame, and it’s because I don’t have one. Because I haven’t even thought about it.

  Haven’t thought about the fact Jane’s room is still like she’s five or six years old, even though she doesn’t live there anymore, hasn’t lived there for a long time.

  “Maybe she lived with her mother…” I ponder aloud. “Maybe she didn’t live in there… not all the time…”

  “Still,” Kelly Anne says. “She’d still have some grown-up shit, Laine. I mean, who wants a fairy castle when they’re at high school?”

  Me, I think, but I daren’t say it.

  “I’ll ask him,” I tell her. “About Jane. I’m sure maybe there’s another room she had or something. Or maybe she didn’t live there…”

  Kelly Anne pulls a spooky face, waggles her fingers like a ghost. “Or maybe she didn’t exist… oooooooh… maybe he’s like the guy from Psycho and you’ll find his dead mother in his cellar…”

  That thought really does make me laugh. “You’re an idiot,” I tell her. “You really have been watching too much CSI.”

  I brush past her to make my way to class, and she follows, shrugs at me. “Tell me that when you realise he’s some freaky pervert and you’re running barefoot to my house as he chases you with his imaginary daughter’s dildo or something.”

  “You’re gross,” I tell her, but I’m grinning.

  “No,” she says. “You’re gross. I’m not the dirty little bitch with a creepy daddy fetish.”

  I laugh at her words but I’m not really sure what she means. I mean, she doesn’t know Nick. Doesn’t know how he saved me, how he cares for me. Doesn’t know how safe I feel when I’m with him.

  “He’d make a really good daddy,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Tell him that while he takes your V card, Laine. That’ll really get him off. Dirty old pervert.”

  I don’t reply. I can’t reply. In my mind, I’m sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck as he…

  “Laine?”

  I snap back to reality, and the heat in my face betrays me.

  “I’m worried about you,” she says.

  But I’m not worried at all.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick

  “Morning, Mr Lynch.”

  A sea of the same old Monday morning greetings. I smile my usual smile, ask after people’s weekends, and their kids, and their Saturday nights at the karaoke. I make my way through to my office with my usual take-out coffee and check my emails just like any other regular work morning. But it’s different this morning. I feel so different this morning.

  Jane stares out at me from the same old picture from the corner of my desk, grinning in the arms of her mother as they stare up at the camera. Stare at me. I touch the frame, a regular ritual, only this time my heart doesn’t pang in quite the same way.

  It’s the loneliness. Or more specifically the lack of it.

  A beautiful sense of relief washes over me as I discard my regular work routine and call my secretary through.

  Penny looks great this morning. A new blouse, I think. She smiles and scribbles down notes without even a hint of surprise as I instruct her to call in a cleaning team to Laine’s property. I tell her they need to be able to handle hazardous waste, complete a thorough job from top to bottom. Decorators, I tell her. We’ll need decorators when they’re done.

  Neutral colours. Maybe some fresh curtains to match. Yes, curtains to match.

  New flooring, too. The place will need new flooring.

  And a locksmith, to be safe.

  I know I’m still lying to myself. Still maintaining the illusion that I’ll ever want to see Laine move back into that place. It’s a pretence that irks me, even the thought, but the girl needs to know she’s in good hands, strong hands, hands that can save her from any of life’s unfortunate situations.

  And there’s her mother to think about. If you can call the woman a mother in anything other than the biological context.

  Anything else? Penny asks, and her smile catches my eye as her pen hovers so eagerly above her notepad. I notice the simple little pendant around her neck, sparking in the light. I notice the perfect pastel pink of her new blouse and the subtlety of her makeup.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’d like you to choose me some jewellery. As a gift for someone. Something tasteful.” I pause. “Something you’d like, Penny. Something really special. I trust your judgement.”

  The compliment lights up her eyes.

  “Sure thing, Mr Lynch,” she says. “Do you have a budget in mind?”

  I shake my head. “Something you’d choose for yourself, Penny. Budget is secondary.”

  She nods, dithers on the spot a little. I can tell she’s plucking up the courage to pry, and I don’t give her any cues, just stare at her with a professional smile on my face.

  “Is she, um…” she finally begins.

  “Is she..?”

  “A friend?” she asks. “A relative?”

  “Both,” I tell her. “She’s someone special.”

  She nods. “How old?” she asks, then checks herself. “So I know what style to go for, I mean.”

  “Eighteen. Just.”

  She looks at me as I say just, and I know she’s wondering.

  She doesn’t ask any more questions, but I can say with certainty that my extra-curricular business will be the talk of the photocopier this morning.

  That would usually bother me, but not today.

  There isn’t one single thing that will bother me today.

  I call up my office calendar and mark myself as unavailable from four p.m. from this afternoon.

  Sweet little Laine needs to get home safely from college.

  And after all, it’s a universal tr
uth. A truth that everyone who is luckily enough to know it is blessed by.

  A truth that I’m blessed with for the first time in years.

  Family comes first.

  In the meantime it’s business as usual.

  I ask Penny to bring in my nine a.m. client.

  Laine

  Nick calls me at lunch. It feels so strange to hear him on the phone. His voice is warm and deep, but there’s a curtness to it. Work Nick.

  I imagine him there, partner in some swanky accountancy firm. Solid handshakes and rich clients. I wonder if he has a secretary. I wonder if he has a big team of people hanging onto every word he says. He is the boss after all. Or one of them, at least.

  Nick seems like a boss. He’d make a good boss.

  Just like he’d make a good daddy.

  And a good lover.

  I get those crazy flutters again, butterflies in my tummy as I tell him I’m having a nice day, and my sandwiches were lovely. Ham and cheese. Posh ham, really thick cut. Not the watery stuff I buy for myself. I tell him my classes went well. That I’ve been working hard.

  He sounds so pleased, and it makes me smile. When I hang up I’m grinning so hard I barely notice Kelly Anne gawping at me.

  “New phone,” she says, like it isn’t obvious. “Quite a gift.”

  “I’m just borrowing it,” I tell her, and that’s how I see it, too.

  She doesn’t say anything, just gives me that look. That grossed-out look. But I don’t care.

  I meet Nick in the carpark at half past four, just where he left me. I see people staring at his Mercedes and it makes me feel strange, to be cared for by someone who wears a tailored suit, drives an expensive car and buys thick-sliced ham.

  I’ve never had money before. Mum never even had a car. Not that it mattered.

  I doubt she’d have driven me anywhere if she had.

  Nick tells me he’s had a good day at the office. Many meetings, he says, just an average Monday. I wish I knew what an average Monday was like for him. I wish I knew everything about him, but the questions in my head all sound stupid, and I really don’t want to sound stupid.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks, and there’s that kind smile on his face again. He’s interested. I know he’s really interested, and that feels nice.