Chapter 27 Cat-O’-Nine-Tails for the Cat Daddy
Calder
“Where are you off to?” my mom asks as I step out of the guest bathroom located on the main level of her house in Boulder.
I finish buttoning up my flannel, wincing like I’ve been caught red-handed. She wasn’t here when I arrived after work, and
I was hoping to duck in and out without being noticed. Tonight is not my night, I guess.
I often stop at my mom’s for a shower after work if I need to stay in town for something, so she’s used to me letting myself
in. But she’s not used to me stopping by for a shower before a date... so to speak.
Not that tonight is a date with Dakota. We’re just going shopping.
Sex toy shopping to be more specific.
I’m not highly experienced when it comes to sex toys, but I’ve seen plenty of items at the sex club in the random times I’ve
been there throughout the years. Vibes, dildos, butt plugs, anal beads, nipple clamps... you see all types of things at
Lexon.
What will be the most interesting part of today is discovering what Dakota goes for. I feel like the type of sex toy a person
picks out says a lot about their character. And for some reason I still can’t fully comprehend, I’m enjoying learning more
about Dakota.
The other night at my place was hot. She understood the assignment for spontaneous sex, and I was all too willing to help
her check that task off her list. I can see her confidence growing the more time we spend together. Or maybe I should say
I can see her confidence returning. She’s always been confident. I think she just lost sight of it when things took a turn
with Randal.
None of this shit is something I should be thinking about in front of my mother.
“Just going out for drinks,” I reply gruffly as I roll up the sleeves of my shirt.
“With Dakota?”
My brows shoot to my hairline. “What makes you say that?”
“Word gets around in this town, Calder.”
“You mean baby Luke opened his big fat mouth.” I stomp over to the door and begin stuffing my feet into my shoes. “Nothing
serious is going on with me and Dakota.”
“But there is something going on?” my mom asks, her eyes wide and full of hope like I’m about to tell her I’m giving her another
grandchild. Good God, this woman needs to get a grip.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom.”
She sighs heavily. “One of these days, you’re going to see the light.”
“What light?”
She shrugs. “The light that life is more than fun and games.”
“But then who would be the family screwup?” I huff out a laugh and lean in to kiss my mother’s forehead before opening the
front door to leave.
“You sound just like your father.”
This stops me in my tracks, and I turn on the front step to stare at my mom propped on the doorframe with a knowing look on
her face.
“How do I sound like Dad?” I ask as a heaviness presses down on me. I always felt like Dad was a perfect mix of Max, Wyatt,
and Luke, and I was this weird outsider that could have a different father if only I wasn’t the spitting image of him.
Dad could be bossy like Max, somber like Wyatt, and generous like Luke. He was never the funny, boisterous one like me. Sure
he’d laugh at my jokes, but most days, it felt like Dad and I spoke two different languages and he was constantly disappointed
in me.
“Do you know how many jobs he screwed up before he made the business what it was before he passed?” My mom says this with no emotion, no pain or regret or heartache... just matter-of-fact business.
The look on her face has my chest expanding with shock. Normally just the mention of my dad brings tears to her eyes and a
tightness to her mouth that cuts me to the core. It’s made it almost impossible to work through my own feelings over the loss
of him, because I’m too busy worrying about hers and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Is it possible she no longer needs that
from me? I’m not sure how I feel about that. It might mean I have to start reflecting on my own grief, and I am not prepared
for that.
“Dad always had his shit together. We were nothing alike.”
“Calder,” she scoffs and shakes her head. “The truth is, your father was a mess until he met me... in his personal life
and his business. If it wasn’t for me, he would have been whoring around town and working road crew for that concrete company
still.”
My jaw drops. “Why didn’t he ever mention that?”
“Because he wanted to be larger-than-life to you boys, obviously.” She laughs, and her eyes twinkle with affection. “He never
wanted to be anything less than perfect in front of you. But the hard truth is he needed someone to take him seriously before
he could take himself seriously.”
I frown and stare down at the ground, having a hard time wrapping my head around that. Even if I could believe this of my
father, it doesn’t mean I’m like him. “Lucky for me, no one takes me seriously.”
“Pretty sure Dakota wasn’t laughing at you in Mexico,” my mom chirps with a glint to her eye. “Saw her looking at you a lot,
but she wasn’t laughing.”
“She wasn’t looking at me,” I volley back defensively, feeling my neck turn hot under the collar.
“If you say so.” She licks her lips and smiles like the cat that got the cream, and it’s weird and uncomfortable. My mom is getting bizarre in her old age. She needs to focus on her sons that will give her grandbabies and leave the black-sheep middle child alone.
I say my goodbyes, and as I drive toward Dakota’s store to pick her up, I do my best to reaffirm everything I know to be true
in my head. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want a future with someone. The one time I let myself consider that with
a woman, it went to complete hell and I nearly lost my relationship with my brothers.
And it’s a painful reality that my family is all I have in life. Losing my brothers is not an option. No amount of great sex
with one person is worth that kind of risk. Even my dad would agree with that.
I shake off any thoughts of my family as I walk into The T-shirt Shop to pick up Dakota. The sounds of a screaming child draw
my attention toward the back of the store as I look around. There’s a college-aged girl at the checkout counter who eyes me
curiously.
“Can I help you?” She scans me up and down, her lips curling in disgust at my appearance.
“I’m just picking up Dakota,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets and glancing down to figure out what I’m wearing that’s
so offensive to this girl.
“She’s just finishing up a day-care group. You can head on back.” She points to the doorway in the back of the store, so I
make my way there, adjusting my shirt and still puzzling over what that girl’s problem was.
However, that interaction is completely forgotten when I step into the back room and see a group of moms and preschoolers
running around the colorful space like animals.
Dakota has a white apron on that’s covered in dye like the one Ethan wore last week, and her hands are gloved as she holds
a wad of white fabric in her hands. “Okay, your tie-dye shirts will need to sit overnight, and moms you can pick them up by
the end of the week.”
“I want to take mine home now!” a little girl cries from beside Dakota’s leg, and her lower lip sticks out into a large pout before she erupts into tears.
Dakota looks around, clearly trying to find the child’s mother who is nowhere in sight. “Anyone know where this one’s mom
is?”
“Bathroom!” another woman calls back.
Amused, I cross my arms and prop myself on the doorway to enjoy the show. The girl continues to cry, and Dakota grows more
and more frazzled as she deposits the T-shirt onto a rack holding other wadded-up, dyed shirts and pulls her gloves off. She
walks over to the little girl and sits down on the floor where she’s throwing her fit.
“There, there,” she says, awkwardly patting the little girl on the head. “You’ll still get your T-shirt, but it needs to dry
first.”
“But I want it,” the girl says, crying harder.
“I want a time machine, but I’m afraid that’s just not how the cookie crumbles.”
The little girl shoots Dakota a confused look before resuming crying, so Dakota tries another tactic. “Do you have a dog,
Tay?”
She nods and wipes her running nose on her shirt.
“What color is your dog?”
“White.”
“If you take your T-shirt home today, then your pretty white dog might get dye on his nice fur. You’d have a rainbow puppy,
then. That’s not good!”
The girl immediately stops crying, and Dakota looks relieved.
When the bathroom mom appears beside them, the girl jumps up onto her feet and smiles. “Mommy! We can make Rizzo a rainbow
puppy!”
“What?” Dakota’s eyes are wide as she stands up and shoots the mom an apologetic look. “That’s not what I said.”
“Rainbow dog! Rainbow dog! Rainbow dog!” the girl chants.
“I want a rainbow dog!” a little boy says from the other side of the room.
“Me too!” Two other kids join in.
All the kids begin whining to their mothers about wanting to bring home their shirts to make rainbow dogs.
You can feel that the mothers are on the verge of their own meltdowns.
Dakota presses the back of her hand to her forehead and murmurs a curse to herself as she turns around and spots me in the doorway.
Her arms drop, and she shoots me a glower as my shoulders shake with silent laughter. She walks over and drops her head down
low. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long enough,” I reply with a laugh. “I would have come earlier if I knew you were putting on a show. This is performance
art!”
“The rainbow dog thing totally backfired on me,” Dakota murmurs and crosses her arms.
“What makes you say that?” We both look out at the mothers consoling their crying children. I gently nudge her with my elbow.
“You ready to get out of here?”
“God yes.”
I can’t decide what’s more entertaining: watching Dakota Schaefer do a horrible job at consoling crying children, or watching
Dakota Schaefer peruse a sex toy store.