Pure Temptation (11 page)

“Yes, it just…” I turned and shut off the running water facet. “Well, never mind.”

“So, it’s a date?”

“Yes, of course. I’d love to,” Hanna replied for us.

He broke into a smile. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something for the motorcycle ride.”

“It’s hot, it’s summer, and I’m in a beach town, I should be wearing strappy sandals on a dinner date.”

He furrowed his brow and frowned then opened his mouth like he had something else to say.

“I get it, I get it. I’ll wear something appropriate, Mr. Safety comes before Beauty.”

I showed him out and watched him walk away as I leaned against the door jamb. As soon as he was out of sight, my heartbeat finally slowed to a normal pace. All I could think of was John sitting on his bike and me, with my arms around him, pressed up against his muscles of steel. I wondered what he would think of me in high heels and a light summer dress and nothing much underneath but a lacy little secret.
Oh my, it’s hot in here.
 

“Michelle, get your shoes,” Emma yelled up the stairs. “We’re going to the store.” Michelle groaned and dropped her cards to the bedspread where we sat, cross legged. I was teaching Michelle to play Black Jack, but we called it Twenty-one for Emma’s sake. I didn’t want to be known for corrupting the youth of Summerville with tips on how to win at gambling, but Michelle had begged me to show her the game.

She yelled back down, “I don’t wanna go. I want to stay here with Hanna and play Bla- a-a…”

I covered her mouth with my hand and we both giggled. I put a finger to my lips making the 'shush' sign. When I let my hand off her mouth, she continued yelling down to her mother, “Twenty one, mom.” Then she burst into a fit of giggles, falling over on her side onto the soft mattress, her cards spilling out of her small hands all over the bed.

I jumped off the bed and darted over to the top of the stairs and called down to Emma, “It’s okay, Em. I’ll watch her. Go on and do your shopping. We are just playing card games up here.”

I heard the bang of the back screen door after Emma’s last reply that she wouldn’t be long. I stuck my head into the bedroom where Michelle was scooping up the scattered playing cards from the insidious floral bed top.

“Keep practicing shuffling the cards like I showed you. I’m gonna get something to drink. Do you want anything? Juice or soda?”

Michelle bobbed her head and I skipped down the stairs to the kitchen. I had my head stuck inside the fridge, debating between juice or soda. Which one would Emma want her daughter to have? Healthy juice or caffeine spiked soda? The rattle of the front door pulled my attention from my decision making process.

I let go of the refrigerator handle and poked my head out into the hallway. “Did you forget someth—
 
…What the fuck are you doing here?”

Strolling into the house through the heavy oak door frame was a scruffy looking guy with heavy cowboy boots, a worn and faded blue T-shirt that hardly looked blue anymore, with dark circles under his eyes like he’d spent the night doing laps in a swinging pool full of liquor. It was none other than the douche bag, whom I accidentally had spilled my beer upon the first night I was in town. He was peacocking his way through the door like he owned the place. His eyes burned angry and his expression was ugly.

“I’m Brian. I’m here to pick up my daughter, you bitch tease. And whatever the hell else I want to do. Where is Michelle?”

Damn, so this asshole is Brian, Emma’s crazy ex. Aw damn, what were the chances? Of the two guys I’ve met so far in Summerville, one of them was Emma’s ex and from what she had told me about him, he wasn’t allowed here in her house due to a restraining order. I put my hand on my phone, touching the outline of it through my back jean pocket, poised to whip it out if needed.

“Really? You want to pick up Michelle? I don’t think so.”

He pushed past me and checked the kitchen, searching for Michelle.

A devious smile slowly crossed his face. “I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m here to take her for popcorn and a fucking movie.”

“I don’t believe you have the right to do that.” I stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the stairs. He glared at me but I stood firm and pulled out my phone to call the police. I gasped as he snatched the phone from my hand before I had a chance to open the screen lock.

“What the fuck do you know? I am her dad. It’s my right as a parent to spend time with my daughter. Keep your fucking nose out of my business,” he hissed. “Where’s Michelle? I’m here to pick her up for her ‘daddy time’.”

I couldn’t help myself, my eyes glanced up to the top of the stairs when he spoke, and he knew right away where to find Michelle. He pushed past me and grabbed the stair railing, placing one foot on the bottom step. I lunged out and grabbed the cordless house phone from the small stand at the bottom of the stairs. He had taken only a few steps when I said, “I’m calling 911, you asshole. I know you’re on fucking parole and you’ll go right back to jail if you as much as touch that little girl. So get the fuck out!”

I pushed 911 so he could hear the beeps but hadn’t pushed the call button yet when he halted his assent. He turned slowly and paused for a moment, darts shooting out of his eyes at me. I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, holding the phone up near my ear, ready to make the final push to connect the call. Hot adrenaline raced through my veins. Was this guy really going to create a scene and drag her out of the house against her will? I had seen the look of terror on Michelle’s face when her dad’s name was mentioned. And I’d be damned if I was going to allow him to terrorize this family.

He smiled a sardonic smile and slowly came down the stairs. “You think you’re hot shit, but you ain’t nothing.” As he passed in front of me, he leaned in, close enough that I could see the excess water in his blood shot eyes. “Stay the fuck out of other people’s business. And by the way, you won’t always have your boyfriend to back you up like last time. Just remember, I know where you live.”

He turned and headed for the front door.

“Wait,” I blurted out. He stopped. “You have my phone. Give it back, shit for brains.”

“Oh this?” He point to it, then released his grip, letting it drop out of his hand it on the hard surface of the entryway. “Oops.” He said with a sick grin and then left, shutting the door behind him.

Mother fucker.
I reached down and scooped up my cell phone from where it had fallen. The glass was cracked but I swiped my finger across the glass and punched in my screen code. I tested it out with a call to Emma and told her what had just happened. My phone still worked, but the text messages would require some serious squinting. I explained what Brian had said about taking Michelle to the movies. I didn’t want to alarm her, but I think she needed to know he was creeping around the property. Emma was furious and said she would come home as soon as possible.

I ended the call and stared at the spider vein cracks in my screen. Fuck. Now I needed a new phone. I pushed my hair back behind my ear and sprinted up the stairs to check on Michelle. Even though Brian was gone, I was filled with a sense of uneasiness. The man was a psycho. Who knew if he had enough brains to heed my advice or the restraining order?

 
As I reached the top landing of the stairs, I heard a muffled noise coming from the bedroom where we had been playing cards. Was that crying? Damn it, had she heard our conversation at the bottom of the stairs?

I walked into the bedroom and there was Michelle, curled up among the floral prints of the bedspread and ruffled pillows, like a little lamb with her head buried amongst the flowers.

“Oh, Michele, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

I rushed over to the bed and pulled her into my arms, comforting her, with her head on my shoulder. “Everything will be okay. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I hate him,” she sobbed.

I stroked her hair with the palm of my hand. “He’s your dad, Michelle, you shouldn’t hate him.” Though he was an asshole and deserved to be hated by his child. Who could blame the kid?

“I hate him, I do, and he’s mean.” Her breath caught in short gasps as she struggled to talk through her tears. What is that they always said, think of the child’s welfare first? The child was what was important after a divorce and I shouldn’t turn her against her father.

“I don’t think he would hurt you Michelle, he’s your father.”

“Yes, yes, he will. He hit my mom. I saw it.”

“Oh my God, you did? You saw it?”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a squeak now. She had stopped hyperventilating and her breathing had slowed. “I saw him hit mom and I was scared…scared that he was gonna hit me too.”

I cradled her trembling body in my arms, rocking her as I put my head down. My nose touched her brown hair where it parted into pigtails and I closed my now watering eyes. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry you were scared.”

I was taken back in time to my own childhood. Back to when I lived with my mother who was deep into her addiction to alcohol. My insides were torn to shreds as I remembered an incident had left me as terrified as Michelle. Parents were supposed to protect their children, not be the source of fear.

I comforted her like it was my own small self I was holding and talked in a soothing crooning voice. “It’s not right for grownups to make you feel scared.”

The memory of that one terrible night, when a so called ‘boyfriend’ of my mother wanted a mother-daughter three-way, came to mind. She was drunk off her ass as usual.

“I know exactly how you feel, honey. But don’t be scared. Things will be great.”

“Did you hate your daddy too?”

“I never knew my daddy, sweetie, but my mummy wasn’t very nice. She had a lot of problems.” She was the adult, she was supposed to protect me, not bring shit faced mother fuckers into her house with a young daughter present. She wasn’t totally heartless, though. She refused him, but then I had to watch as he beat her for it. That was the last night I lived with my mom. Next day, Grammy picked me up and later she got custody over me. My mom had enough sensibility left to call Grammy after the incident. I believe it saved my life.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Michelle. I won’t let anyone hurt you and your mom won’t either.”

I released Michelle from my arms and laid her back on the bed as she sniffed. “Do you feel better now?” She nodded and I handed her a tissue from the box on the bedside stand. “Why don’t you rest now, take a little nap here in my bed.” I stroked the loose wisps of hair back from her face and smiled at her.

“I’m going down stairs to wait for your mom to help her unload groceries from the car. Okay?”

“Hanna?”

“Yeah sweetie?”

“I like you staying here.”

“Me too, hon.”

I stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut. I knew Emma would be home momentarily, and I didn’t want Michelle to hear our voices.

I paced the floor, waiting to hear the sound of her car engine in the driveway. As soon as Emma burst through the door, I lunged forward and nearly crashed into her. The words spilled out of my mouth like water from a faucet.

 
“Emma, I’m so sorry. I should’ve reacted faster…it all happened so quickly. I should have stopped him from coming in the house, but he just barged right in.”

“Why am I not surprised? He’s nothing but a loser, he always has been.” Emma came in balancing a paper sack of groceries on her hip, with her oversized heavy purse slung over one arm. Emma was one of those women who carried everything but the kitchens sink in her purse. Her car keys dangled from between her fingers and jingled as she moved briskly into the room. She panted. “He’s not going to bother us again. He doesn’t want to go back to jail. One call to his probation officer will settle him right down.”

“He said he could do whatever he wants with Michelle. That it was his rights as her dad.” I touched my fingers to my lips. How crazy was this guy anyway?

“Bullshit,” she spat the word and dropped her bag of groceries on the kitchen table with a thud. “Wait, on second thought, let me just call the police. That asshole is in violation of his restraining order, that’ll show him what he
can
and
can’t
do.”