3. Daphne
“You are not going to believe who I had the misfortune of speaking to the other day.” I toss my yoga mat on the floor of Xana’s living room, rolling it out. “You remember the guy from Paris?”
She pauses, clicking through workout videos on YouTube to look over at me. “The one you scalded with the coffee?”
“I didn’t scald him; that sounds dramatic, but yes, him. The one who refused to let me on the plane because he owned the airline. Turns out, he was actually the pilot of the flight as well; that’s why they held the plane for him. I kind of feel like an idiot now for getting so annoyed that they held the plane for him, but still, it doesn’t explain why he acted like he didn’t know me.”
“Wait, I’m confused. How did you find out he was the pilot of that flight?” She turns her attention back to the TV, finally settling on a thirty-minute yoga practice for us to do, and hits play.
“I spoke to him again; that’s what I’m saying. He is the father of one of my students.”
“No way. What are the odds?” Her mouth hangs open before she starts laughing. “That is just your luck.”
“He was, of course, the last parent to come meet me and was almost two hours late. He also had such an uppity attitude the entire time.” I inhale a deep breath, bending into a forward folds per the woman’s instructions on the screen. “He kept telling me how he didn’t have time for this meeting because he had more important business to attend to or whatever. So annoying.”
“Is he hot?”
“What?” I snap my head to the side as I swan dive down, almost losing my balance.
“You’re kind of flustered talking about him so it’s a legitimate question.” She giggles.
“I’m not flustered, I’m annoyed. He’s arrogant and rude and just because he’s a billionaire who can also fly a 737 doesn’t mean that my time isn’t as important as his. He could have shown up on time. And I hate when you’re clearly upset and the person who is in the wrong acts all calm and cool, only making you more upset… He knew what he was doing.”
“Hmmm, sounds flustered to me.”
“You’re so annoying.” I laugh as I push back into downward dog.
“So we’ve established he’s hot, but is he single?”
“I never said he was hot.” I halfway lie… Sure, I didn’t say he wasn’t, but I know damn well what that man looks like. I practically swallowed my own tongue the first time I met him by the Eiffel Tower.
“The fact that you got more flustered by the question tells me he’s hot; we both know that.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see my face in our contorted positions. I think about her question for a second, fully aware he’s the unequivocal definition of hot, sexy, forbidden, and everything bad for you, dripping with regret. After our little meeting in my classroom, I researched his name to find out just exactly who he was and I may or may not have spent way too long clicking through the plethora of Google images that came up.
“I have no idea if he’s single.”
Another lie. In my deep dive of him, I also might have noticed he was a widow and proceeded to search if he was currently dating someone.
“Why are you so curious? Thinking about ending things with Ryan?” I ask, knowing full well that she has no intention of ending things with her long-term boyfriend.
“For you, silly.”
“Pretty sure fraternizing with my students’ parents is highly frowned upon, especially when they’re probably the richest and most powerful parent at the school.”
“Sounds like a fun fantasy—one of those sexy, forbidden romance novels you love to read. Speaking of, what’s his name? I want to look him up.” She abandons our workout as she reaches for her phone.
“Weston Vaughn.”
“Ohhh, sounds so mysterious, kind of like a sexy villain.”
“He’s a villain alright,” I mutter.
She lies on her stomach, her feet up in the air, as she types furiously on her screen before gasping. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?” She looks over at me and I untwist my body, flopping down beside her to look at the screen.
“I’ve seen photos of him on Instagram and TikTok. Women are always thirsting over this man hard-core. I just didn’t realize his name.” She flips over to one of her social media apps and turns the screen toward me so I can see a woman fanning herself and pretending to drool as images of him flash across the screen.
“Oh God, just what his ego needs. I bet he eats that shit up.” I roll my eyes again.
“Damn, he doesn’t have any of his own social media accounts.” She flicks through several more posts about him. “Look at his body, he’s so ripped. Holy shit, he’s forty-two? He looks like he’s thirty.”
I feel that flush growing up my neck again, a warmth spreading through my belly as I remember the way he looked down on me in my classroom. He was closer than I realized at the time, the scent of his spicy cologne teasing me. I don’t know if I was imagining it or not, but it felt like he stared at me a little bit longer than necessary. And I swear I saw his eyes flick down my body and back up in a flash.
God, I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Weston Vaughn sees me as a bug flying around his head, a nuisance that only causes him frustration.
“If I had to guess, he’s more of a triple fudge sundae, gooey brownie kind of guy and not a low carb, low sugar diet kind of brownie.”
“Huh?” Xana lifts a brow at me, turning her face away from her screen. “Explain this Daphne logic to me, please.”
“Just something my mom would say.” I smile to myself, remembering her talking about this hotshot quarterback I was head over heels in love with in high school. Her logic wasn’t that I couldn’t attract someone like him; it was that oftentimes guys who only offer looks and popularity weren’t the ones you wanted to waste your time on. “She’d say that a man like Mr. Vaughn, powerful, richer than God, and looks like that—he’s the sundae. Decadent. The kind of dessert that makes no pretense about what it is—nothing healthy yet sinfully delicious. But most likely will leave you filled with regret when the excitement wears off.”
“And the low carb, diet one?”
“It pretends to be the real thing, but when it’s gone, you’re still wanting more because it wasn’t fully satisfying.”
“Well damn. So what are we supposed to? Settle?” she asks sincerely.
“Honestly, I dunno. I don’t think my mom’s logic was legitimate advice.” I laugh. “She’d always say go for the classic, a chocolate chip cookie because even a bad cookie is a good one.”
I lie on my back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, now wondering if my mom did settle. She met my dad when she was young, at fifteen. They were high school sweethearts and she always said he was her soulmate, the love of her life, but maybe it’s only because she’d convinced herself he was.
“By the way, any more random invites from creepy Steve across the hall and his mystery roommate?”
“Not lately,” I say, referring to my awkward neighbor who has become increasingly interested in me. I feel bad calling him creepy. His casual invites to watch a movie or watch him play video games were nice enough at first, but after catching him staring out his cracked front door at me coming home from work a time or two, it’s bordering on weird. “I did see him in the lobby when I got home from Paris. He peppered me with questions about where I’d been and said he was worried since he hadn’t seen or heard from me in the last week.”
“Eww, that is way too creepy, Daph. You need to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt and get a camera or something for your door and tell your building manager.”
I shrug. “I think he’s harmless, honestly; he’s probably just lonely and a touch socially awkward.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be lonely with his supposed ‘roommate’ that you’ve yet to ever see. I’m not convinced it’s not a Norman Bates situation. You sure there isn’t a skeleton sitting in a chair in there? Does it ever smell funny?”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that? I’ve never met his roommate, but I did see him a few times. I even introduced myself to him, but he just muttered to himself and walked past me. Anyway, enough about creepy Steve and his roommate. I’m too preoccupied now trying to deal with the fact that Mr. Eiffel Tower is really just an arrogant prick.”
“So you do admit you thought about him in that way?” She giggles, causing me to roll my eyes yet again.
“It did seem like it would be a classic meet-cute when it happened; the thought crossed my mind, yes, but after the airport, that fantasy went up in flames.” Turns out my knight in shining armor was just an asshole in an expensive suit.
I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before turning my attention back to the TV, getting back into the workout to take my mind off Weston Vaughn.
* * *
“How come onlymy daddy is late? Did—did he forget me?” Daisy pooches out her lower lip, and it quivers a little as she tries not to break out into a full-blown cry.
“Oh, sweetie, he’s just a really busy and important man is all. It’s not because he forgot.” I crouch down in front of her, lifting her chin up so she can see me. “You are his entire world. I promise you he’s going to be here any minute.” I offer up a huge smile to reassure her, but the truth is, I have no idea if he’s even on his way yet. He left a message with the school’s administrative assistant, letting her know that he’d be just a few minutes late today.
“Come on,” I say, reaching for her hand and I stand back up. The classroom is empty. I walk over to grab my bag and turn off the lights and shut the door. “We’ll go wait down by the front entrance. I’ll show you my new paint by numbers picture if you want to see it?”
“Yeah!” she says, tugging my hand in excitement, her frown instantly turning into a smile.
My first week of teaching here has flown by and it’s been so fulfilling already. I’m not sure if it’s irony or what, considering her father doesn’t seem too fond of me, but Daisy has become my little shadow at school. She’s developed a keen interest in my hobby of crafting random things I find off the internet. This month my obsession has been paint by number photos and she loves looking at photos of all the ones I’ve completed.
We head down to the front lobby where I let the admin know we are waiting for Mr. Vaughn. The parents waiting room is large, complete with fancy coffee machines and ergonomic chairs that probably cost more than my rent. Nothing like the schools I’ve taught at previously.
“Let’s sit down here.” I motion toward the floor next to a large coffee table so that I can pull out my iPad and show her the picture. “Do you like horses?”
“I love horses,” she says dramatically, emphasizing the statement by fanning out her little arms.
“Well then, you are going to love this picture.” I slide open the screen and show her the painting of two horses surrounded by a majestic forest filled with fairies and woodland creatures.
“Glitter!” she shouts enthusiastically. “Glitter is like my favorite color.”
“Mine too!” I smile as she fawns over the painting. I used glitter paints for the fairies and the horses’ manes, bringing a more whimsical approach to the photo.
“Can I see the butterfly one again?” she asks, referring to a photo I did in all neon paint a few weeks back that I’d previously shown her.
“Of course.” I flip through until I find it when I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us.
“Daddy!” She jumps up, running over to where Mr. Vaughn is standing. He leans down, scooping her up into his arms.
“There’s my girl. How was school?”
“Fun. We learned catipols today.”
“Catipols?” he asks, confused and it makes me chuckle.
“Capitals. We learned about capital letters today.” He looks over Daisy’s shoulder, almost as if he’s just noticing me standing here.
“Ah, capital letters.”
“Daisy has a big D,” she says, pointing to herself, “’cause, ’cause it’s my name.”
“Yes, it does.” He smiles, kissing her cheek and making her squirm.
“Oh, Mr. Vaughn, pleasure to see you, sir. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” our administrator, Mr. Fein, interrupts.
Mr. Vaughn puts Daisy back down on her feet as he reaches out to shake Mr. Fein’s hand.
“Miss Flowers, I assume you’ve met Mr. Weston Vaughn before?” he says, gesturing toward him as if he’s some important dignitary that I should bow to.
“Yes.” I nod, reaching for my bag as Daisy runs back over to grab hers as well. “We’ve met a few times and his daughter is one of my students.” I smile nervously at the way Mr. Vaughn’s eyes find mine but look away quickly. I clutch the straps of my bag, holding it on my shoulder tightly.
“Mr. Vaughn is our most important parent and supporter here at Crestwood.”
I glance up at Mr. Vaughn who’s staring right at me, past Mr. Fein like he isn’t even there.
“You know my brother actually worked for one of your companies; he was in the finance department.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Vaughn says, his eyes still trained on mine like they’re slowly undressing me.
“Yes, doesn’t anymore unfortunately…” Mr. Fein’s voice trails off as Mr. Vaughn turns his attention away from me and toward him. “Anyway, can I just say, sir, we were all just overwhelmed with joy and gratitude when you decided to continue on with Daisy’s education here after kindergarten.”
Weston smiles but it doesn’t seem genuine, but rather more hollow. The only time I’ve seen a genuine display of anything remotely human is when he’s with his daughter.
“My pleasure, Rick. I need to get going. Daisy,” he calls to her and she comes running over as Mr. Fein excuses himself and apologizes profusely for interrupting.
It’s kind of pathetic the way he’s pandering to Weston. I wanted to interrupt and say aren’t all of our parents important?Especially the ones who actually care about their kid’s school. But I know with people this wealthy, it’s the politics you have to play.
“You didn’t want to tell him where we met before?” Weston asks, his voice lower as he takes a step closer to me.
“Uh, no. I didn’t think it was pertinent to the conversation.” I clutch the straps of my bag tighter as Daisy preoccupies herself by playing with a toy from her backpack at her father’s feet. My eyes slowly drift up his body, clad completely in black. His black button-down stretches across his chest as he slides his hands into his pockets.
“Thank you for sitting with her. I am very sorry for being so late.”
“Again,” I say, causing a slow grin to tug at his lips.
Wow, guess there is a human inside there after all.
“Yes, again. I can’t promise you it won’t happen again, but I will try to make sure that it doesn’t.”
“It really upset her. She was crying because she was the only student whose parent didn’t pick them up on time.” I try to keep my voice level as he stares down at me.
“Am I being lectured again, Miss Flowers?”
“You know, Mr. Vaughn, someone once told me that time management was a valuable skill. Maybe you too can learn to develop it with a little discipline,” I repeat his words from earlier this week back to him.
His head falls back, a loud laugh erupting from his chest. He pulls one hand from his pocket, bringing it up to run through his thick hair that flops right back into place. “At least you were listening.”
“Yeah.” I smirk. “Although I think when the guy who told it to me said it, he was being a bit of a condescending prick.” I mouth the word so Daisy doesn’t hear it. “But with me, it comes from a place of sincerity and self-reflection.”
He takes a step closer, only a few inches between us now as his smile disappears just as quickly as it appeared. He tilts his head to look down at me, an almost menacing look on his face. “You’ve got a smart little mouth on you, don’t you? I bet that too could be taken care of with a little discipline as well.”
Where the hell did that come from?
I don’t know if he’s threatening me or coming on to me, but my body goes into full-blown panic mode. I feel sweat break out on my forehead. My stomach flips, and my mouth goes completely dry. I know without seeing my reflection that my cheeks are probably glowing red.
“Daisy, time to go,” he says, keeping his eyes on mine for another lingering second.
“Bye, Miss Flowers,” she says as she follows her dad out of the room and around the corner.
“Bye,” I say in a dry croak, lifting my hand slowly to raise it. My hand lowers, resting my fingertips gently against my lips as my body calms down. However, he meant those words, my body only interpreted them one way.
I might have just gotten myself in way over my head by going toe to toe with a man like Weston Vaughn.