Chapter 8

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

“Play it again, Daddy!”

Lance looked up in the rear view mirror.

“Kayleigh, I've played it five times already,” he said. “Besides, we're almost there.”

“Daddy.”

He glanced up in the mirror again and behind his sunglasses, saw his daughter with her arms crossed over her strapped-in chest, giving him a death glare in the mirror.

“Play it again,” she said.

“Such a look,” he said. “Fine, drama queen.”

He pressed the seek button on the console and saw her immediate satisfaction when Justin's voice came over the player.

“Dirty pop!” she sang along with it.

He leaned back in his seat and when he stopped at the next light, looked up in the mirror again. He couldn't help but laugh watching her bob her head to the music, watching her mouth move with the lyrics as she sang them the best she could.

“It doesn't matter...” Despite her best efforts, the music moved too fast and she could only mumble the rest of the line. “It doesn't matter...”

“Any hope of you replacing Justin in the group is out, little girl,” Lance said, glancing at her.

“What, Daddy?” she asked, stopping mid-song.

He smiled. “Nothing, Princess.”

He listened to her sing as he pulled in next to the daycare, parallel parking in his usual spot.

He was just closing her car door and watching her walk around the car to the door when he saw Rayne step out of the door.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah,” he stuttered.

Rayne disappeared into the center and as he stepped up to the curb, he looked at his daughter, standing next to the car with her backpack strapped to her back.

“What'd you do now?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

She giggled. “Daddy, it wasn't me.”

The minute he opened the door, Kayleigh ran into the center and towards her classroom, where kids were running, playing, and making plenty of noise. It was something he was used to now; in fact, it would be odd now not to step into a classroom full of screaming and running four-year-olds.

Rayne was standing at the front desk and when he stepped inside, she looked up at him as she handed the lady behind the desk a folder.

“How are you today?” she asked.

Despite her obvious manners, the look on her face he read told him she was not happy.

“That depends,” he said. “Why do I feel like I'm about to get in trouble?”

She paused. “Kayleigh said something yesterday. About you.”

“Oh, crap,” he said.

“She said something about you taking me out on a date.”

He paused a moment before letting out a loud chuckle.

“What's so funny?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's it?” he said.

“What do you mean, 'that's it'?” she asked.

“She got kicked out of her last daycare for biting a kid,” he responded. “I mean, I thought you were gonna say that she like, I don't know, pledged a gang or got a prison tattoo or something.”

“You don't take this seriously, Mr. Bass?”

He cleared his throat, noticing he was no longer 'Lance'.

“Well, of course, Ms. Parker,” he said. “But – what's that phrase? Kids say the darndest things? I mean, she's four.”

“Where would she pick that idea up, exactly?” she asked.

“I...I had a friend over on Saturday,” he said. “My friend Chris. And Chris is...he's stupid.”

He paused to judge her look; she didn't crack a smile or even a grin.

“He might have said something about it. Just being Chris, as usual. And he might have asked her about it, if it would be okay with her.”

“If what would be okay with her?” she asked.

“Well, you know, if it would be weird, or if she thought it would be cool,” he said. “To have you around outside of daycare. She said it would be cool, and I should take you out to dinner.”

She sighed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled, slightly nodding his head.

“Were you planning on asking me if it was cool with me, or was Kayleigh and Chris's approval all you needed?”

“You're mad,” he stated.

“I don't date my student's parents,” she said. “And I especially wouldn't date you.”

“Whoa,” he said, suddenly taken back. “What's wrong with me?”

“I see right through you, Lance,” she said. “I know what you're like. I know this game you play. And I'm not stupid enough to fall for it.”

“What I'm 'like'?” he asked, offended.

“I know that you're new at this,” she said, her voice lowered. “So I'm going to cut you a little slack on this one. But you need to be aware that putting ideas like this in a child's head sometimes isn't a good thing to do.”

“I didn't put it in her head,” he said defensively. “My friend was being an idiot and joking around like he always does. She caught the tail-end of a conversation that was between me and him.”

“Just don't let it happen again,” she said, letting her arms fall to her side.

She turned on her heels, clearly frustrated, and started to walk away when he remembered.

“Oh, Rayne--”

She turned, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Sorry, Ms. Parker,” he corrected. “It's probably not the best time to ask you, but...I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“A favor,” she said. “You want me to do you a favor, really?”

“A big favor,” he said, his desperation coming out in his tone.

“What is it?”

“Christmas is coming. And I'm...clueless,” he said with a chuckle. “I haven't really celebrated Christmas in years. I don't do decorations and I really don't do presents very well. My sister tells me what to get her kids for Christmas and that's what I get. I've never had to do this on my own.”

“And what do you want from me?” she asked.

“Help me make Kayleigh's first Christmas with me special,” he said, softening his voice. “Help me shop for presents and decorate the house. She's already had to deal with so much this month. Christmas is sacred to a kid, and I don't want to be the one to ruin that for her. I finally have her trust, and I don't want to mess this up, but I need help.”

She pursed her lips, her chest rising deeply before letting out the breath through her nose.

“I'm desperate, Ms. Parker,” he said. “I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for Kayleigh.”

She slightly rolled her eyes; chances are it wasn't at his desperate plea, but instead of the guilt trip he was laying on her. But he meant every word of it. He wanted to make his daughter's first Christmas with him everything she hoped for. He didn't want the holiday to be another disappointment to add to all the other issues she had to work through.

Rayne sighed. “I'm free at seven. Will that work for you?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod.

“Meet me downtown around that time,” she said. “In front of the Starbucks. If you're late, I'm not waiting for you.”

“I won't be late,” he said.

“Then, I'll see you at seven.”

Before he could respond, she turned around and started walking away, back towards the classroom where the children were running.

He sighed, shaking his head before jangling his car keys in his hand and walking back out the door.

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He made sure to be downtown by ten minutes before seven, which was just enough time to slip into the Starbucks to get a coffee and slip back out to wait for her with a couple minutes to spare. He didn't want to risk being just a couple minutes late and her immediately leaving if she didn't see him – especially after the way she had approached him that morning.

After he had left the daycare – with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs, no less – and gone to work, he started thinking about Rayne's behavior. He realized there was something odd about it. Sure, he hadn't known her very long, but every encounter they've ever had with each other had been cordial and warm. Not only that, but he had learned – from Rayne – that Kayleigh was quite a storyteller with a bit of an overactive imagination, and she was always saying off-the-wall things during the school day that her and the other teachers brushed off and laughed about. It was entertainment to them, from what he heard, and there had never been a time that he had been confronted about a problem with one of her wild stories.

There was definitely something weird about her reaction. In fact, after thinking it over for hours at his desk, she had almost taken a defensive, protective stance against him.

And after a bit more of thinking, it led him to believe that it wasn't at all about Kayleigh. But if it wasn't about Kayleigh – what was it about?

He had no more time to think about it as after a few minutes of standing outside the Starbucks, he saw her walking toward him in the parking lot.

“You're actually here,” she said as she threw her purse over her shoulder.

“I told you I would be,” he said.

“I guess maybe you do keep your word sometimes,” she said as she threw a light scarf around her neck.

The days in Florida during the so-called “winter” weren't too bad, being in a mostly tropical climate, but the nights had a tendency to get slightly chilly, especially now that they were so deep into the winter season. Even he had thrown on a medium-weight coat and grabbed a scarf, laying it lazily around his neck before he left the house that night.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked her. “What is up with you lately? The other day we were friends. Now it's like...I killed your dog or something.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I guess...I guess I'm just grumpy lately, that's all.”

“Grumpy?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“How about we just get this done,” she said.

He was dumbfounded when she went quiet and serene, turning and walking away from him. Nevertheless, he turned to follow her.

“So, do you have any ideas what she might want for Christmas?” she asked as they walked.

“Not a clue,” he responded. “I've known her all of ten days.”

“Well, let's start with something easy,” she said. “What's her favorite color?”

“Pink,” he said matter-of-factly. “My house looks like it puked up pink all over the place.”

She laughed. “We can work with pink.”

An hour and a half and almost three-hundred dollars later, he was fully loaded down with all the things that Rayne had deemed necessary for a four-year-old to have.

“Barbie's Dream House costs a lot more than I remembered,” he said as he loaded the last of the boxes and bags into the back of his SUV and shut the hatch.

“Inflation has hit us all hard,” she said with a smile.

“Poor Ken,” he said, throwing his keys in the air before catching them. “He's working seventy hours a week just to pay for the Dream House, the Dream Car, and all those expensive clothes and shoes. Barbie's a selfish, shallow bitch.”

“Wow, how have you never been married before?” she asked sarcastically.

“Give me a break,” he said as they started walking away from the parking lot. They had already decided to load the presents into his car and grab a bite to eat at the Chili's across from the outlet mall they had been walking. “You have to admit that there are some women out there who don't care about men for their looks or personalities. It's all about the money.”

“Of course,” she responded. “But men aren't any different. There are men out there who do nice things like take a woman to a movie or out to dinner and pay expecting something in return.”

“Like a thank you?”

“Like sex,” she said with a chuckle. “You should know; you're one of them.”

“I take offense at that, you know,” he said. “I'm buying you dinner and I don't expect sex afterward.”

He could see her smile out of the corner of his eye as he walked beside her.

“Of course,” he said, “if you really wanted to...”

“I don't understand how you can get laid as often as you do. You're not too slick with the ladies,” she said as she smiled and walked ahead of him.

He stood there, mouth hanging open. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I see right through you, playa,” she said with a giggle as he caught up to her. “You see a woman you want and you immediately rummage through your stash of cheesy pick-up lines, load 'em up with a couple cocktails, and get them in your bed in a matter of hours. The next morning, they're gone.”

“Do those damn glasses of yours have magical man-reading powers or something?” he asked.

“Oh please,” she said. “You're as translucent as plastic wrap but a lot less smooth. You show up with a daughter that you didn't know you had until four years later, frantic because you have no idea what you're doing, relying on anyone you can to help you clean up your mess. The day you dropped off Kayleigh, you were stunned stupid the minute I walked into the room. I'm guessing you hadn't been able to pick up a woman and take her to bed for a couple of days since Kayleigh was around.”

“I don't know why Kayleigh likes you so much,” he said with a smile. “You're not nice. You're actually kind of mean.”

“Careful, I might have to put you in a time-out,” she said, glancing over at him.

“See, now that's confusing,” he said. “Are you threatening me, or are you flirting with me? Because it really seems like you're flirting with me.”

She only chuckled, staring straight ahead and speeding up her steps to walk in front of him.

“Rayne,” he called out.

But she kept walking.

“Rayne?”

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“How did it go?”

Chris was up off the couch the minute Lance walked into the door that night, already putting his coat on when Lance sat the keys down on the side table.

“That woman is...a tough nut to crack,” Lance responded.

Chris paused. “Is that a euphemism? Or are you actually being philosophical?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Where's small fry?”

“Upstairs,” Chris responded. “In bed. She's fed, bathed, and in one piece. I taught her how to count cards. Next week, we work on lock-picking.”

“You know, Chris, you're that weird uncle that no one in the family wants to sit next to at get-togethers.”

Chris only smiled. “Gotta run.”

Lance and Chris said quick goodbyes before Lance shut the door behind him, pausing a moment before throwing his jacket across the back of the couch and collapsing in a heap on it.

He laid on his back several moments, feeling his eyes close.

“Daddy?”

He was slipping off to sleep when he heard her voice from the top of the stairs.

“Kayleigh, what are you doing up honey?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his eyes as he sat up.

“I heard you come home,” she said. “Was your date with Miss Rayne good, Daddy?”

He smiled. “That wasn't a date, Princess.”

“But Uncle Chris said you went out on a date.”

He lifted her onto his knee as she came down the stairs to him.

“Well...Uncle Chris was dropped on his head as a baby,” he said.

“Daddy...”

He smiled at her scolding, 'I don't believe you' tone. She leaned into his chest, her wavy hair falling to hide her face.

“Daddy?”

He looked down, moving hair out of her face to see her glancing up at him.

“Is Miss Rayne going to be part of our family?”

He sighed; nobody told him that one of the hardest parts of being a parent was answering the tough questions – the ones that you hoped they wouldn't ask. Ones that he couldn't answer.

“Bed, Kayleigh,” he said, choosing to ignore the question entirely. “It's late.”

With her head hung, she begrudgingly lifted herself up off his knee and to her feet.

“Love you, kiddo,” he said, grabbing her head and pulling it toward him to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Love you, Daddy,” she said. “Night.”

He watched as she ran toward the staircase, slowing down as she reached it to walk slowly up. She was so small that each stair required a large step, and she hung tightly to the railing with one hand as she climbed up. It wasn't long before she disappeared around the curve and he heard her footsteps run back toward her room above him.

He shut his eyes tightly, letting out a breath.