Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ANDREW
“Can we have it now?” Kaia asks as I pick her up and put her into the shopping cart on the padded blanket to sit beside her sister.
“Not yet.”
I push them across the parking lot and toward the supermarket. “Now?” Birdy asks.
“Not yet.”
Four little eyes stare hopefully up at me as they wait.
“Now?”
“Not inside yet.” I smirk.
“Walk faster,” Birdy demands. “You’re going too slow.”
“Use your manners or you won’t get them at all.” We walk over the pedestrian crossing and toward the front doors as they bounce around in excitement.
Peace is a wonderful thing.
If someone told me pre-kids that I would bribe my children so that they sit still in the shopping cart while I do the weekly grocery haul, I would never have believed them.
They hold their breath as we walk through the front doors and I widen my eyes.
“Are we inside yet?” I ask. “I’m not sure about it.
” I glance around as if I don’t know where we are. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” they both gasp. “We’re inside now.”
“I don’t know.” I put my leg out as if I’m going back outside. “We’re not all the way in yet, maybe we should go back to the car for a while and come shopping tomorrow.”
“Dad. Go in,” they both cry. “Hurry up!”
I pull out two Mickey Mouse Pez dispensers and hold them up. They giggle, hunch their little shoulders up in excitement, and honestly, this particular bribe is a weekly favorite for me too. “Eat them one at a time, very carefully and very slowly,” I tell them.
“I’m sucking mine,” Kaia announces. “They last longer.”
“Even better,” I agree as we walk into aisle one, these Pez pens are the best invention of all time, I used to die a slow death every time we came here, two crying babies in a shopping cart, fighting and screaming while I perspired in what felt like a game of Survivor.
Every outing was an extreme sport, but lately, things seem to be getting a little easier. And maybe it’s because they’re getting older, or maybe it’s because I’m getting out more now and get to blow off some steam that I can better handle the pressure.
Either way, Mickey Mouse Pez are the best babysitters of all time.
I pick out our meat for the week and then head to the fruit and veg section.
I’m actively trying to concentrate on no additives in what I cook, but it’s not easy.
The only food Kaia actually likes is processed crap.
If it were up to her we would eat hot dogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner and pepperoni pizza for our snacks.
I need a few meals that are easy to prepare, I’ve got a busy week ahead.
Miss Harrington.
I smile as anticipation runs through me, I get to see her tomorrow night.
Nothing happened with that woman last night, I bought her a few drinks and we talked for a while, but in the end she didn’t have anything that interested me.
So here I am, shopping in Walmart with my thoughts firmly focused on the woman I cannot stop thinking about.
Tomorrow.
I get a vision of Mabel in her cream silk gown, the way her hair hangs over her forehead. The way she looks up at me….
“What, Dad?” Kaia interrupts my thoughts.
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“What’s funny?”
I glance around. “Why would something be funny?”
“You’re smiling.”
“Well.” I widen my eyes I tap her on the nose. “That’s because you are being such good girls today.”
They puff out their little chests and smile proudly.
“Uh-huh.” I keep pushing the cart along. “What are we going to bake today, girls?”
“Cookies.”
“Yep, what else?” I go through the ingredients on the shelves. “What about some….” I peruse the ingredient choices. “Shall we make chocolate or vanilla cake this week?”
“Chocolate,” they both mumble around their lollies.
I make a concerted effort to do girl things, I don’t want them to miss out on the things they would have done with their mom. We play hairdressers, we paint nails, we color in and play Barbies, we bake stuff and play dress-ups.
I know it’s for them but if I’m honest it helps me too, it makes me feel like I’m carrying the torch and making their mom proud. It brings with it a sense of great achievement.
“Fries.” Kaia points. “Can we have fries?”
“Hmm.” I twist my lips as I look them over. “Let’s make our own fries, they’re healthier.”
“No,” she snaps.
“Eat your Pez or I’ll have to put them away for later.”
She narrows her eyes at me and throws another one in her mouth and we shop for a while longer.
“You know what we can do?” I tell them. “We can have pizza tonight.”
“We can?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
Daddy’s got a hangover.
MABEL
SUNDAY NIGHT
I walk up the hallway, turning off the lights as I prepare to go to bed.
The apartment is silent, the glow of the New York skyline is lighting up the wall of windows. It’s been a weird weekend.
Busy but somehow quiet, I’ve entertained and had friends over for dinner on both Friday and Saturday night.
Went out to lunch with friends on Saturday and then to the ballet this afternoon.
But as everyone talked, laughed and enjoyed the festivities, I felt disjointed from the conversation, detached, and the only word I can describe how I felt was contemplative.
It’s the weirdest thing, I don’t know who Andrew Watson is and yet somehow with just two meetings, he’s got me into a complete spin.
No matter how hard I try to clear my mind, I can think of nothing else but his hands upon my skin. The way he looks at me, the tone of his voice. The strength in his fingers, but more than anything, it’s the way he’s made me feel.
I’m fascinated.
Emotions that have lain dormant for years have reignited, and I find myself imagining things that I haven’t for a very long time.
It’s a good thing that I don’t have his phone number because at 2 a.m. I would have embarrassed myself by calling him for an X-rated massage of things I’m not even sure that he’s interested in.
I walk into the great room and hit the button for the blinds and as they go down something sitting on the floor in the corner catches my eye.
Shoes.
“Whose are they?” I pick them up and look them over. “Who would’ve…?”
Wait….“Did Andrew leave his shoes here?”
Surely not.
I walk around the room looking to see if anything else has been left, no…just a pair of shoes. Then the words come back to me: I hope you don’t mind, I took my shoes off. I like to feel my surroundings and it makes it a more organic experience for me.
“Oh.” They are his shoes, I stare at them in my hand as I try to make sense of why they would be here.
Did he leave the other night without shoes on…surely not.
Hmm, maybe he had another pair of shoes in his bag and he unknowingly took these out and forgot to pack them when he left.
That must be it.
I carefully place them back down and smirk as a thought runs through my mind.
I wonder how they’d look under my bed?
MONDAY, 9 A.M.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Joseph,” I reply. “I have someone I need you to run a background check on.”
“Of course.”
“They’ve applied for a position and I want to make sure there aren’t any skeletons in the closet.”
“Wise. What are the details?”
“His name is Andrew Watson.”
“Uh-huh,” he replies. “Personal or business?”
I bite my bottom lip as I contemplate my answer. “Both.”
“Alright. Is there a last known employer?”
“He currently works for a company called Healing Hands, but I think he may have been a physiotherapist before that, although that’s not confirmed. Just making sure his résumé is correct and current, and that there are no scandals waiting in the wings.”
“Got it. Do they use a booking agent or….”
“Yes.” I read from my notes. “His booking agent is Murial Cook, she’s the owner of Cook’s Employment Agency.”
“So you want past work history?”
“I want all of it. If there are any past criminal offenses. Wife or partners, is he a player, any children, any scandals, his family. As much information on his backstory as possible.”
“Okay, I’ll run some searches. When do you need it by?”
“It’s an urgent matter.”
“I’ll get straight to it and have the report to you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” I hang up and swivel on my office chair as I think. “Mr. Watson….”
I pick up my coffee and smile into it as I take a sip, this should make for good reading.
ANDREW
MONDAY, 1 P.M.
Ring, ring, ring, ring…. I wait as it rings. “Hello, Andrew,” Murial answers happily.
“Hi, Murial. I’m just checking something, my massage with Mr. Harrington tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Is that confirmed?” I hesitate as I try to get my wording right, “I forgot to confirm it before I left last week.” I was otherwise preoccupied. “I mean, I’m assuming still it’s all on because they told me to come four times a week.”
“Just a minute, I’ll check.” I hear her typing on her computer.
“Thanks.”
“Hmm, it doesn’t say that you’ve been rebooked.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
Fuck.
“Can you check that for me for sure? I don’t want to not turn up if they are expecting me.”
“I’ll call them now. Actually, you know what, a new position did come in this morning that made me think of you.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a caretaker role just come up.”
“What do you mean, a caretaker role?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to really look in depth yet but it sounds amazing. It’s for a caretaker on a large estate and comes with its own three-bedroom house on the property as part of the package.”
“Where’s it at?”
“Hudson Valley, New York State. It’s a three-hundred-acre estate. The photos look incredible.”
“What does caretaking involve?”
“It’s….” She pauses as she reads. “Property maintenance, care of farm animals, pool care etc. The owners don’t live there so I guess you would just be keeping everything in working order for when they visit.”
“Hmm.”
“I thought it would be perfect because you could just have the girls with you while you work on the property, you wouldn’t need a babysitter and you wouldn’t have to pay rent. It’s a double win.”