Trick Read online

  "You shouldn't have brought her anything," I don't want him to give her false hope.

  "Nah," he pushes away the protest as we enter the same room we were in yesterday. "It's something we can do together."

  She opens the bag, her eyes bright. "Mom, it's a My Little Pony coloring book!"

  "They're her favorite," I glance at him, wondering how in the hell he could have known that.

  "Lucky guess," he shrugs and I believe him. Lord help me, I believe him.

  "Why don't you pick out a page for you and Mr. Patrick to color, and I'll sit over there and read my book," I hold up my Kindle.

  "Call me Trick," it's meant for both of us. "I don't go by Patrick to anyone except my mom and the law."

  I can't help the puff of air that comes out of my mouth from a laugh I tried to hold in. "Either way, I'll be right over there. Just pretend I'm not even here."

  Trick

  Pretend she's not there? I'd have to be blind to even attempt it. She ogled my dick like she was a starving woman in a desert earlier but she made no move toward me, and I appreciate the restraint. I still feel the same pull she had on me yesterday, but I've promised myself this is about the hours I need to serve and the child I'm going to help. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice what a beautiful woman she is and I can ignore the obvious interest that sparks when she thinks I’m not looking.

  I pull out the chair for Riley to have seat. She climbs on, sitting up on her knees so she can easily see over the edge of the table.

  “Which page do you want to color?” I grab the box of crayons. They’re small in my big hands, and it reminds me I need to be careful with this little girl. People like me can easily break others if we aren’t mindful.

  “You do this one,” she tears out a page, putting in front of me. “I’ll do this one.”

  She pulls her lip in between her teeth and looks back at her mom, who’s not paying us any attention. I like that; even though Hadley’s there, she’s letting me have time with her daughter.

  “Do you think we should ask Mom?”

  “Nah,” I shake my head. More than likely Hadley doesn’t get much time to do what she wants by herself and she truly looks as if she’s comfortable. “We can do this ourselves.”

  She nods and sets forth coloring her page. I want to ask questions but I don’t want to make either of them uncomfortable, so I start with the basics.

  “Do you go to school?” I find myself shading the hair of a pony, much like I’d shade the pin striping on a bike. What the fuck is wrong with this picture? How did a guy like me, who works with his hands and seen some of the shittiest sides of life end up here? Coloring a picture with a six-year-old?

  “Yeah, I’m in the first grade,” she holds her tongue in between her teeth as she colors. “How old are you?” she asks.

  So this is how it’s going to be? Question for a question. I like that she’s inquisitive and she’s not willing to just let me take and keep the lead.

  “Twenty-nine,” I answer, wrinkling my nose. “I’m old.”

  “That’s how old mom is, that means she’s old, too.”

  From where she’s sitting, I hear Hadley. “Hey, age is only as old as you feel.”

  “Well then I feel much older than my years.”

  We’re quiet for a few minutes before Riley speaks again. “My dad’s older than you and Mom.”

  “Is that right? How old is he, Sprite?”

  There’s an edge to her voice, like she’s trying to tell me something important, but I’m not sure what it is.

  “He’s forty-two,” she says with such clarity it strikes me as odd. “He went through a mid-life crisis at forty and he didn’t want us anymore.”

  I stop coloring, because I’m sure she’s heard her mom talking about this to others. I don’t blame Hadley because it sounds like the guy is a dick, but my heart breaks for the way Riley’s face has changed. I reach over and lightly grasp her chin. She pulls away from me, but I don’t take it to heart. She’s not trusting, and I’m okay with that.

  “Hey, that’s his loss. If he hadn’t been so stupid, I wouldn’t be sitting here spending one of the coolest days of my life coloring with you. Now would I?”

  The words seem to put her at ease, and five minutes later, we’re coloring again like we have no cares in the world. I, however, have a ton of questions about the man who broke this little girl’s heart.

  5

  Trick

  "G,” I sigh, running a hand over my unshaven face. “I've worked with you more than any other motherfucker who brought their bike in here to me without the money to pay for the work I did. I’ve cut you deal after deal.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. Rolls his eyes. This little shit standing in front of me is about to feel the wrath of my anger. If it wasn't for his mom, he would have felt the wrath two weeks ago when I started working on his damn bike. He’s wearing his hat to the side in a way that irritates the fuck out of me. He has tattoos on his arms and those piss me off, too. They’re typical, they don’t mean anything to him. I found this out when I asked what the Chinese symbol on his arm meant. He had no fuckin’ clue…said he’d just picked it off the wall.

  That’s the kind of person I’m dealing with here.

  "Dude," he starts.

  "First of all, I'm not your dude," I rise to my full height, squaring my shoulders. I see he's mistaken my kindness for weakness. I'll make sure he doesn't again. "Second of all, I'm doing this shit as a favor to your mom because we've known each other since we were kids. If she knew what a shit you've been to me about payment, she'd probably knock your snot-nosed eighteen-year-old ass out. I'm gonna save her having to deal with you and do it myself."

  "Hey, hey, hey," he holds his hands up in front of him, eyes wide, as he retreats.

  Wanting to appear calm, I deceptively cross my arms across my chest and lean against the wall like I got all day. "Now, I think you realize the severity of the situation. I cut you a fucking deal for the work I did, and you disrespect me like this? I want my money tomorrow, G. I know you have it." He’s dealing dime bags to every high schooler within a five-mile radius. I’m not saying he’s rollin’ in the dough, but he’s got enough to give me my five hundred that I’m owed.

  "What if I don't?" he asks, his hazel eyes green bright, cocky ass smirk on his face. He’s turned around, taking his bike with him, walking out of the open garage door.

  This kid thinks he can play me? "If you don't, you know how to get it. Don't mistake me for a dumbass. I was fourteen when I did my first stint in juvie. I’m not playing around with you. You’re an adult who needs to take care of his own business."

  "Aren't you on probation?" he throws over his shoulder as he takes a seat on the bike.

  "That's your parting shot? It’s none of your damn business and makes no difference when it comes to our situation. I want my money tomorrow," I yell, making sure he can hear me.

  I watch as he leaves, letting out a deep breath, willing my shoulders to relax. Never has a kid not old enough to buy alcohol pissed me off so badly. God, kids today. If my kid ever talked to me like that, I'd show him a thing or two about respect. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I text G's mom, letting her know if he doesn't pay me tomorrow, I'm going to teach him a lesson.

  T: I won't hurt him.

  She texts back quickly.

  G’s Mom: I know, I just don't know how to handle him anymore.

  There are a million things I can say, but I don't. I want nothing to do with the cocky little prick. He reminds me too much of me, and some days, I can’t even deal with myself. I’m too pissed to even finish the job I’m working on. Instead of taking my anger out on parts that’ll cost me money, I decide to close down for the night. As I shut up the shop, I wonder how Hadley would handle the situation if Riley had been such a brat.

  Easy, I don't think either of them would be in this situation. I back my bike out of the garage with my feet on the ground. I haven't gotten to take a pleasure r
ide in at least a week because I've been so backed up. It's time. I need a release of some sort, and this is the lesser of all evils. If I ride the bike, I don’t have to wake up with it in the morning, with it expecting breakfast. If I ride a woman, she’s gonna look too deeply into it.

  As I turn towards the bridge, my breath catches. The sun is setting over the river, making the backdrop of the city a gorgeous painting. These are the views I'll miss if I don't man up and do my hours.

  Riley would love this. The thought comes out of nowhere. But the way she’d colored those pictures? She’s definitely artistically talented and I have no doubt she’d enjoy the way the orange is melting behind the buildings. On impulse, I pull over, reach into my jacket and grab my phone. I tell myself I’m taking the picture for me, but I’m taking it for her too.

  More resolute than ever, I tell myself I'm never going to miss a view again.

  Hadley

  We should have been home two hours ago, but errands for the Etsy shop have eaten up my evening. I must have been featured on a blog, or Instagram...something, because I picked up fifteen orders last night. When stuff like this happens, I wish I could figure out why because I’d love to make it consistent each month, instead of the feast or famine.

  I squint against the sun setting over the river, pushing the visor down as far as I can. The low-lying rays are reflecting off the metal of the bridge, and I’m reminded why I hate to make the journey, this time of day.

  "Mom?" Riley quietly questions from the back seat. "I'm hungry."

  Glancing at the clock, I see it's going on seven. Her damn bedtime is eight. How am I supposed to make this work? There are never enough hours in the day, never enough days in the week, and by the time the month is over, I wonder what the hell’s happened to all the things I was going to do on my to-do list. "I know you are, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. We'll get home as soon as we can. It’s been a busy day for the both of us, huh?"

  I feel like a shitty mom because inevitably she comes second to making money, and I come a much distant third to the previous two. Risking a look back at her, I take my eyes off the road for a millisecond. The amount of time so tiny, it shouldn't even matter in the grand scheme of things.

  But it does. It always does with me.

  I don't see the board in the middle of the road until I hit it, and the car bumps against the hard asphalt. Immediately, I feel the pressure of my tire go down in the right rear passenger side.

  "Shit," I grip the steering wheel tightly as the car swerves. A car honks in the opposite lane as I fight to straighten it out. We're not off the bridge yet, and I send a little prayer up to let us please get to safety across the river. There’s no place for us to go if I can’t get us off the four lanes that span the water. No shoulder, no emergency lane, and we’ll be sitting ducks to anyone behind us that’s not paying attention to what’s happened.

  We have less than ten feet to go, and I'm coaxing the car to the right lane, with my hazards on, gritting my teeth and gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. Tension seeps into my shoulders and I already feel a headache behind my eyes. This is not at all how I planned the night to go.

  "Mom?"

  I can hear the fear in her voice, make out the shakiness and it kills me. I hate when she's scared, when I can't make things alright for her. Inhaling deeply, I press the accelerator, hoping like hell we can make the exit and then coast down to the shoulder.

  "We're good, Riles. Things are fine."

  I'm such a fucking liar. I don't think I have a spare. Things are definitely not fine. When we finally make it down the exit, and I'm able to coast it to the shoulder, I take a second, leaning my head against the steering wheel.

  I wanna cry, but crying's never helped anything in the past. I wanna get angry because I don't know how to change a damn tire, but again anger won't help anybody. I’m doing my best to control my breathing and not lose my mind at the situation that’s been dropped at my feet tonight.

  "Mom!" Her tiny voice is urgent now.

  "One second Riley." I need to get my shit together. My hands and legs are shaking, my teeth are clenched.

  "Look!" The urgency is back as she tries to get my attention.

  When I hear the knock on my window, I scream, not expecting anyone to stop to help us.

  "I've been trying to tell you," Riley informs me.

  I turn my head, and I can't believe the person standing on the other side of the glass. Looks like Patrick Tennyson is gonna be our knight in shining armor.

  6

  Hadley

  Pushing the button to roll the window down, I try not to weep as I realize who’s stopped to help us. At least it’s not a stranger – not that we know Patrick any better than one – but it’s a familiar face. My hands shake as I brace them against the steering wheel, trying to calm my galloping heart. If I still had those Xanax I used to take when the careful life I’d planned for myself had spiraled out of control, I’d pop one of those things in a fucking nanosecond right now.

  “Hey,” I fake a bravado I don’t have. I’m two seconds away from crumbling into a sobbing ball of mush. Everything inside of me wishes stuff like this doesn’t bother me, that I’m able to take care of incidentals like this on my own. The truth is I can’t, and I don’t know I’ll ever be able to. But for the last two years there’s been no one for me to lean on or ask for help. The fact he’s here right now, means way more to me than it should.

  “You okay?” he asks, taking his glasses off his face. His hazel eyes roam the car, check me out, and then flash to the backseat where Riley sits.

  “Scared the crap out of me,” I admit, because I still can’t stop my hands from shaking and my voice trembling gives me a way.

  He leans in putting his hand over mine. “Scared me, too. I was behind you in traffic when I saw you hit the debris. You did a good job keeping it straight.”

  My gaze moves down to where he’s touched me. I absorb the strength in his grasp, letting it wash through me, taking away the shakes. A zip of electricity shoots all the way from my fingers down my arm and to my belly. Whenever my ex-husband would touch me, it was nothing like this. It was cold, calculated, and designed to hold me under his control. This is warm and reassuring. Now I’m breathing deeply for another reason, trying to make my heart regulate.

  Turning my attention to the words he spoke, I try not to let my face broadcast the emotions going through me right now. The praise makes me feel better about our situation and I don’t want to admit his recognition of my ability to handle emergencies makes me happy. However, I’m still unsure if I want to give anyone the ability to make me happy or sad ever again.

  “Thanks,” I clear my throat and cut my eyes to where he still has his hand over mine.

  “Your hands are so cold,” he mumbles, prying my fingers off the wheel and holding them between his two palms.

  It’s reaction and shock setting in. I know because I’ve been here before. The minute I got the divorce papers, I’d shivered and been almost as cold as I am right now. Instead of trying to stop his trying to warm me up, I let him continue. It’s nice to feel the warm skin of another human being.

  “You okay?” he throws a look into the back seat at Riley, for the first time acknowledging her.

  “I’m hungry,” she complains as she sighs.

  Great, just great.

  Trick

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the chuckle to myself. Right now, I’m not sure Hadley can handle it, but damn if Riley isn’t a fucking breath of fresh air.

  “You are, huh?”

  She nods, and it looks like she wants to say more, but she’s holding her tongue. Is she quiet because she’s been taught not to speak her mind, or is she worried about how her mom will react? Both thoughts run parallel in my head, and I eventually tell her what I’m thinking, because no kid should have to censor themselves – at least not in my presence.

  “Mom had errands to run, and we ran out of time,” she supplies
as I glance back at her.

  “Is that right?” I’m holding back another laugh as I take in her mom.

  I looked at Hadley the day we met, but I’m seeing her in a whole different light now. That day, she was calm, cool, put together, and the epitome of a single mother who had all her shit straight. What I’m seeing now, isn’t that persona at all. Tonight, here on the side of the road, I feel like I’m getting the real person. Her cheeks are red. Embarrassment? Anger? Irritation? There’s no way to know without asking her.

  “Sprite back there gonna get in trouble because she’s speaking her mind?” I indicate Riley with a tilt of my head, my gaze directed on Hadley.

  Her eyes flash with anger and irritation. “Let me out of the car,” she pulls the words from between her clenched jaws.

  I let my hand slip away from hers, missing the connection as soon as it’s severed. Opening the door for her, I usher her around to the side of the car that’s not beside the busy intersection.

  “How dare you question if my child is going to get in trouble for speaking her mind.”

  She lays into me, and damned it all if she’s not sexy as hell while reading me the riot act.

  “I don’t know you,” I remind her. We’ve known each other for a total of two days.

  “Exactly, you don’t know me. So I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that most of the women you spend your time with aren’t of the hearth and home variety.”

  The assumption pisses me off, but I’m willing to give her one. “Your face was red and it looked like you wanted to say something,” I explain. I’ve spent a lot of years reading people’s emotions and anticipating what their next moves will be. It’s how I stayed alive and escaped a part of my past I don’t care to relive.

  She lowers her voice and steps closer to me, her eyes losing a bit of their fire. “I’m embarrassed. It’s going on seven o’clock, her bedtime is eight, and I haven’t even gotten her dinner yet. We’re stuck on the side of the road, and I can’t change a tire to save my life. If you hadn’t showed up, the fact is,” she blows out a deep breath, “I’m not sure what I would do.”