“I bet she did.”
“She says it’s disgusting, and you’re killing your lungs with black stuff.”
I sigh. The last thing I need is Bell harping on me about this. I happily changed my entire lifestyle for her. I learned to cook healthy food. I stopped drinking every weekend. I only get to ride my bike when she’s not with me. I don’t get close to anyone who might hurt us. This is one small thing I keep for myself, and I never do it around her.
“Aunt Sadie lied,” I say.
Bell looks skeptical. “I don’t think so. My teacher says smoking is bad for you.” She pulls on my t-shirt. “Please, Daddy. I don’t want you to put black stuff in your lungs. How will you breathe?”
“We’ll see, baby.” Guilt gnaws at my heart—which is surely blackened by tar as well. “How was school?”
“Fine. Miss Hughes told me she wants you to come in for a conference.”
“For what? Were you bad?”
“No,” she nearly yells, completely affronted.
I pull back, sticking a finger in my ear. “Jesus. Calm down.”
“I was good,” she says. “So good, she wants to give me more work.”
“Great,” I mutter. “More homework for you means more homework for Dad.”
She tilts her head, looking pensive. “Why does my teacher always want to meet with you?”
I would laugh if I weren’t so annoyed. It’s at least the fifth time this school year Miss Hughes has requested a meeting with me, and it always turns out to be stupid shit. I wouldn’t mind hearing her gush about what a great student Bell is if it weren’t a thinly-veiled attempt to come onto me. “Um . . .”
“Aunt Sadie says—”
“Aunt Sadie needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut.”
Bell squeals, wriggling in my arms. “She says Miss Hughes wants to kiss you.”
“Christ.”
“Daddy.”
“Bell-y.”
“A lot of the teachers talk to you. And the bus lady. Do they want to kiss you too?”
I shake my head. “You’re too young to be talking like this.”
“But you always tell me to speak what’s on my mind.”
“I was wrong. Don’t always listen to what Daddy tells you.”
She giggles, and like always, it’s a knife in my heart, but in the best way. She knows exactly how to melt me. “Don’t worry about Miss Hughes, all right? I’ll handle it.” I put her down and take her hand to walk the last block to the garage. When we get close enough, she takes off sprinting.
The guys who work for me perk up for the first time all day. I’m constantly on their asses about being friendlier to customers, and they constantly ignore me. Bell is the only person who can not only make them smile on a dime, but basically turn them to mush.
Pico wipes his hands on a rag. “Hey, boss,” he calls. “You know what next month is?”
“Hmm.” I pretend to think. “Shipment of fan belts?”
“It’s my birthday,” Bell says with exasperation.
Pico frowns. “It is? I forgot all about that.”
“No you didn’t.” She puts a hand on her hip. “You’ve been talking about it for weeks.”
“I just can’t believe you’re going to be ten already.”
She stomps her foot. “I’m going to be seven!”
“Really? That’s it?” He suppresses a grin. “What do you want for your birthday? Anything but a bicycle.”
She drops her mouth open, narrowing her eyes on him. “All I want is a bicycle. And it better not have those dumb training wheels.”
“Oh. That might be a problem.” He shrugs. “Your dad thinks it’s too dangerous.”
She whirls on me. “What?”
I raise my hands. “You don’t even know how to ride a bike.”
“I’ll learn. My friends already know how, so it can’t be that hard. I’ll do it right now if you want.” We laugh, but she keeps a stern expression. “I’m serious. I can do it.”
“We’ll see,” I say, exchanging a smile with Pico. He and I are custom building one for her and storing it at his place. Bell’s never been one to ignore details, and I know what she wants down to the color of the stitching on the seat. Once Bell flits off to bug another one of my guys, I nod at the Chevy Pico’s working on. “How’s it coming?”
“Fed up setting the timing. Can you try?”
“Yeah.” I take his place under the hood and aim the timing gun at the engine.
“Ready for next month?” Pico asks.
“Will I ever be ready for a backyard full of twenty kids under ten?”
He chuckles. “The kids aren’t who you should be worried about. You’ll have your hands full juggling twenty moms.”
I give him a look. “Don’t you start in on me too. First it was Sadie. Then Bell just gave me the third degree about why her teachers flirt with me.”
“Poor baby.”
“Yeah, I am. I just want to be left alone.”
“Fuck you,” Pico says. “You could have any chick in town, even the married ones, and you have to be a dick about it. You’ve got Denise Jackson, Prom Queen runner-up, wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even care.”
“Want some advice?” I say, only half listening as I work. “Don’t try so hard. The girls’ll come to you.”
“Yeah right. It’s that easy. My sister says you’re disturbingly hot, but I’m just disturbing.”
I shake my head. “I have to agree. Rev the engine.”
He gets behind the wheel and hits the gas while I check the timing. I motion for him to stop, and he gets out. “Anyway, I wasn’t referring to the party,” he continues. “I meant are you ready for the other thing.”
I glance up at him. The other thing is Shana. Since she left a couple weeks before Bell’s third birthday, everyone treats me like glass around this time of year. Not that I really blame them. I was a mess afterward. But last year was better. And this year, it’s the first I’ve thought of it.
“Where’s the wrench?” I ask.
“Right in front of you.” He waits as I loosen a bolt. “Sorry to bring it up, but I had to ask, bro.”
“I’ll be fine.” I am fine. I have to be, for Bell. Shana left without any explanation, and I could’ve easily turned into my dad—a worthless drunk who drowns his feelings of inadequacy in alcohol and gambling. But Bell needed me.
“Boss,” Randy calls from the office. “Phone. It’s your sister.”
I put down the wrench and wipe my hands on my jeans. I’d tell him to take a message, but Sadie rarely calls me at work, especially after I’ve just seen her. I head into the office, shut the door, and pick up the receiver. “Everything all right?”
“Sorry I wasn’t there when you picked up Bell last night,” she says. “I had a raspberry sorbet craving so I went to the market.”
“Nathan told me. Isn’t that his job?”
“I’m trying to walk as much as possible. Keep the weight gain to a minimum.”
I shake my head. She’s having a baby for fuck’s sake. If Sadie and Amelia are any indication, I wonder if there’s a single woman in that city who knows how to eat. “Just don’t starve my niece or nephew.”
“Did you have a nice weekend?” she asks.
“Yep. Already told Nathan all about it.”
“Really? I asked, and he
said you told him it was good.”
“It was.”
“So that’s not telling him all about it. What’d you do?”
Sadie must be fishing for something. Amelia’s the first thing that comes to mind. The only way Sadie’d know anything is if Amelia mentioned Friday night, and she wouldn’t. She has more reason not to than me. “I kicked it,” I say, which is true. “Shot some pool Saturday night.”
“Did you try that pizza place I suggested?”
“Yeah.” My mouth waters. I can almost taste the tomato sauce I sucked off Amelia’s cheek. “It was pretty good.”
“Everyone in the office loves that place.”
“Even your boss?”
“My boss? Uh, no, but she doesn’t like anything. Especially not carbs.”
Feeling something gummy on the sole of my boot, I scrub it on the concrete floor and glance through the office window into the garage. Bell is chattering to Pico about something or other. “What’s her deal anyway?” I ask.
“Who, Amelia? I know how she comes off, but she’s not that bad. A lot of it is for show, I think.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s been through some stuff with an ex and came out a little damaged.”
I frown, tightening my grip on the phone. I already know all this from the source herself but hearing it from Sadie just reignites my disgust with Reggie. Before Bell, I had little patience for men who jerked women around. When I’m with a woman, she always knows where I stand. But now that I’ve got a little girl? Have mercy on gutless fuckers who cross my path.
“Funny you should ask,” Sadie goes on, “she’s especially schizo today. Her mood was all over the place this morning.”
My frown eases into a small smile. She was in a pretty shitty mood when I met her. And a great one when I left her. It was a night I won’t forget anytime soon. Her legs entwined with mine in the tub. Her long fingers in my hair. I didn’t want to leave her, but I did out of respect. If I’d stayed knowing her feelings could develop into something more, I would’ve felt like shit in the morning. She’s scared. So am I. I’m okay living in fear. It reminds me of the damage one pretty girl can do.