Fake Daddy (Blue Collar Daddies #4)

1. Darling

CHAPTER 1

Darling

H umming to myself as I mix colour for my client, I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me. My mom used to let me work on her hair when I first showed an interest in becoming a stylist. Since then, something happened, and she’s decided I’m not good enough anymore. I don’t know what, but it’s been six years without any kind of interaction that hasn’t devolved into a screaming match where she tells me everything that’s wrong with me.

I’m too flamboyant with my multi-coloured pastel hair that I’ve had for over three years now.

My career choice isn’t good enough because it’s not some high-paying CEO job or something.

I should be married to a rich guy by now.

The list is endless.

This past year, I’ve kept my distance more often than not. Even when she calls or texts me, I give curt answers and always have a reason not to see her. Honestly, it’s for my own mental health.

When I was seventeen, I slit my wrists after she spent a month bullying me incessantly and then began to withhold food because she said I was getting too fat. I’m five foot three, and at the time, I was a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.

She’d left for a weekend trip with some new man, and I was alone. I was so entrenched in my depression and not expecting company, so I took a straight blade to my wrists and cut deep enough I swear I saw bone. It was at that moment that my father decided to surprise me for dinner and arrived just as I passed out. He saved my life that night and took sole custody of me after I spent some time in a psychiatric facility.

Once I graduated from their program, Dad got me a tutor to help me finish high school, and I attended beauty school, graduating at the top of my class. Life with Dad had always been ten times more wonderful than life with my mom.

I have so many fears due to my lingering depression. Living on my own is the biggest one. The intrusive thoughts are suffocating at times. They attack and attack until I’m drowning, and there’s no end in sight. And so, we share a house.

Dad refuses to take money from me for the mortgage or bills. He says being his daughter is enough. Plus, he gets a lifetime of free hair care.

“Darling?” My boss, Linda, touches my arm. “Are you alright?”

I smile at her. “Sure, why?”

“Well, you’ve been staring at that bowl for a couple of minutes now. Just wanted to make sure.”

Linda was one of my teachers in beauty school and offered me a position as soon as I graduated. She’s one of the few people who knows about my history with depression, and she’s always so kind to me.

“Lost in the swirls, I guess.” I force out a laugh. I’m content. This week has been especially good for me, so I’m not entirely lying.

“All right, well, Mary is waiting.”

She smiles as she walks away, and I turn towards my client. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Okay, Miss Mary, let’s get you transformed!” This time, my smile and excitement are genuine. I love my job. I love helping other women, and sometimes men, create a change in themselves.

“You seem very familiar, Darling. Have we met before?”

Parting and sectioning her hair in preparation for her foil highlights, I tilt my head to try and remember, but nothing connects.

“I had the same feeling,” I respond. “But nothing is coming to me.”

“Hmm. We must just have those familiar types of faces, then.”

Placing some foil to her head, I lather the dye along her hair and agree with her.

I’m halfway through her colour when she snaps her finger in an aha moment. “You’re Kelly Lavigne’s daughter, right?”

I freeze at my mother’s name, and as I glimpse myself in the mirror, I see I’ve gone pale, as well.

“I am.” Inwardly, I’m freaking out and trying to convince my body to carry on like a bomb hasn’t gone off.

“She was married to my ex, Cort Baker, for a short time about–”

“Twelve years ago,” I whisper in horror. Not that there was anything wrong with Cort, he was always kind to me, but he wasn’t around for long.

“That’s right. I think we only met a time or two. You have grown into a gorgeous young woman.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, dreading the rest of the afternoon now.

“Hey,” Mary says softly. “I didn’t mean to dredge anything up. Ignore me. I’m just a silly woman who’s shocked to remember anyone from so long ago.”

“Thank you,” I reply, quietly continuing my work but hating myself for shifting the mood.

I apologize to her after finishing the colouring and wrapping of her hair before taking her to one of the heat machines. “It’s not you or Cort. He and your boys always treated me well. I’m just in shock, is all.”

As we stand face to face, Mary grips my hands in hers. “The boys always had wonderful things to say about you, too. They were sad when they didn’t see you anymore.”

I nod in response because I don’t know what to say, and then I lead her over to one of the dryers to continue the process.

“Can I get you anything to drink or a magazine?” I really need a minute to breathe. I hadn’t expected my past to come back for me.

“A coffee would be lovely, dear. Just black is fine for me.” Her smile is still so kind and genuine that I feel like an ass for being so edgy.

“You got it. I’ll be right back.”

After double-checking that the timer is right and her hair is all tucked in, I head to the kitchen in the back for her drink. Thankfully, Linda had the forethought to start a fresh pot, and it’s just completed brewing as I grab a mug.

Once I’ve got Mary settled, I take a dip out back to breathe and try to quell the mounting anxiety. I don’t understand why I’m so unsettled about seeing Mary. The Baker family was genuinely kind to me for the short time I knew them. Maybe it’s because that was the last time I felt any sort of love in our house.

Cort and Mary were always friendly with each other, a contrast to my parents, and I envied it so much. I wanted to be loved. Not just by my dad, but in the romantic sense.

I want the husband, the kids, the white picket fence, and a dog. I want it all. I’m just terrified I’m too broken to achieve it.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Linda asks as she walks up behind me in the alley.

“Mary’s ex-husband is also my mom’s ex-husband. I wasn’t expecting a blast from the past today.” Or the way it would make me feel.

“You seemed congenial.”

I lift a shoulder casually. “She was nice to me. No reason not to be.”

Linda nods, her eyes acknowledging my internal freakout. “Look, Darling, I know you work for me, but you can always talk to me when you’re having a hard time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Linda.”

She’s gone again, and I head back inside to grab a bottle of water and a granola bar before checking on Mary again. Afterwards, I clean up my station so I can get her washed, styled, and out the door without any more meltdowns on my part.

By the time I finish up, Mary’s timer has gone off, so I take her to wash her hair and then back to my station for a blow-dry and curl.

“What do you think?” I ask when I’m done, and she can really notice the multi-hued highlights.

“Wow!” she gushes, turning her head left and right to take it all in. “You are incredible. This is stunning.”

She stands up, gives me an impulsive hug, and I freeze before allowing myself to relax and reciprocate the gesture.

“Thank you, Mary. I’m pleased you’re so happy.” I truly am. It’s gratifying to have a client leave with a smile on their face.

“Would it be alright if I brought the boys by for haircuts? Evan has been dying to colour his hair, but I wouldn’t know where to start. Maybe you can give him some guidance so we can come back when you have time in your schedule?”

She’s so hopeful that I have difficulty saying no.

“Sure, Mary. Let me check the calendar and get them on my schedule.” After processing her payment and the way-too-generous tip, I peruse my calendar. “I have time for the two on Saturday if that’ll work for them?” She agrees, and I schedule them for cuts and a consultation first thing in the afternoon before saying goodbye.

I’m exhausted after she leaves. Drained emotionally, and all I want to do is go home, grab a bottle of wine, and binge-watch the Jurassic Park movies for a day or two. Unfortunately, I have another client.

“Mrs. Green, why don’t you follow me on back?”

The woman is in her seventies and loves to gossip about the other residents in her retirement home. She comes twice a year for perms and once a month for a good wash and styling. She’s one of my oldest clients and sometimes reminds me of my Nana.