Fathers and Daughters
Seventeen-year-old Bailey Andrews plopped on her bed, peeled off her ankle socks and threw them next to her sneakers, wishing she’d never gotten out of bed this morning. Or left school early and missed the game since tonight had been a bust all around.
Her feet hurt. No matter how much she and the other cheer squad members shouted, danced, and pumped up the crowd for the football team, those clowns still lost. The icing on the garbage cake was her father not showing up to see her performance in the final game of the year.
She was a senior, so technically it was the last high school football game she’d ever cheer at.
And Daddy missed it.
She wasn’t sure why it hurt her so much. In the last few months, her father broke his promises more than he kept them. His allegiance was to his motorcycles and some stupid club. A bunch of middle-aged men doing whatever . Recapturing their lost youth. Performing wheelies. Racing.
She didn’t know because he wouldn’t tell her. For the entire month he’d promised her he would attend tonight’s game. Two days ago, he’d called and said he probably wouldn’t make it. No explanation and no apology. Just a big old load of my club’s more important than you .
Folding her arms, Bailey huffed. He probably wouldn’t make her graduation either.
“That’s months away,” she mumbled. “Stop torturing yourself. It is what it is.”
It was what it was.
Leaning over, she flipped on her lamp, tired of sitting in the dark. She frowned at the framed photo of her and her father that she kept on her nightstand.
Stretching out on the bed, she stared at the ceiling.
Before she got under the covers, she needed a shower.
Hot water and sleep would help her mood.
Then, she’d awaken to the sunlight streaming through the windows in her room, gleaming against her light blue walls and wreathing her white furniture in brightness.
Hope . Memories of all the times her father didn’t disappoint her.
Even if she hadn’t been a senior, the football team was a lost cause. For her entire high school career, they lost more games than they won.
A knock came on her door.
For the first time, she picked up on the lemon scent. Their housekeeper must’ve cleaned her room today. Not that the lady had much to do. Bailey was methodical in her neatness.
“Bailey?” Momma called .
Bailey’s lips trembled, but she sucked back her tears. She barely concentrated on her routine, praying her father came to her last game when he’d missed all of them this year, her first as team captain.
She’d even skipped a bathroom break at halftime to run to the sidelines and look closer at the stands. He hadn’t come.
“Bailey?” Another knock. “Baby, open the door.”
Momma always, always excused Daddy’s behavior. She couldn’t understand why her mother never sided with her, even when Daddy crushed her. Like now.
Swallowing, Bailey pasted a smile on her face and sat up. “It’s open, Momma.”
She practiced an even tone religiously. As long as she remained calm, so too did her mother. Sometimes, Bailey and her sisters, Alexia and Carissa, role-played various scenarios and acted out the best reactions to keep everything running smoothly.
The door creaked open and her mother walked in, gorgeous in a sparkling fuchsia-colored designer gown.
Her hair was wild and crimped, her makeup was bold and daring, and her diamonds gleamed.
At thirty-seven, she was one of the most beautiful women Bailey had ever met.
She was so proud to have her as a mother.
Thanks to her marriage to Creighton when Bailey was eight, they were at the pinnacle of New Orleans Society.
Momma turned over the house she owned to Meme, her mother, but Bailey knew her mother and stepfather were having issues.
Momma was down-to-earth and straightforward.
Creighton was sneaky and overly impressed with himself, his family name, and his status.
Duke, their son and Bailey’s nine-year-old brother, had moments of snobbery and Creighton-like behavior.
Then, there was Creighton’s right hand man, Joyner Amfinger, who Bailey detested. He had evil written all over him.
Momma glided to the bed. Automatically, Bailey scooted over, comforted when her mother sat and settled her arm around Bailey’s shoulder.
“Oh, sugar. I know you wanted your daddy there. I sent him a bunch of pictures.”
If he wanted to see her so bad, he should’ve been there. “It’s okay, Momma,” she said instead. She didn’t want her to feel bad or as if her efforts were unappreciated. “You were there and that’s all that’s important.”
No matter what, her mother went out of her way to be there for Bailey. All her children. It didn’t matter that she kept switching college majors and Creighton accused her of wasting his money and her time.
That had gone over well. Not. He was stupid and arrogant, but he had a lot of connections. Momma didn’t want to lose Duke, although Bailey doubted she still loved Creighton.
Sometimes, she felt as if Momma still loved Daddy, which must’ve been so miserable.
“You daddy’s so upset he couldn’t make it.”
Bailey nodded, then laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I know, Momma.”
What else could she say ?
“One of his brothers…” Momma’s voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. “He visited once when you were a small girl. He has a daughter two years younger than you…”
Sitting up, Bailey fell silent. Referring to men who weren’t related by blood as brothers was stupid.
“They ran into some problems. K-P…he couldn’t come, Bailey.”
“It’s fine, Momma. You look so pretty,” she said, adept at setting aside anything she couldn’t deal with.
She found ways to distract herself. She’d lose herself in novels.
Or study for the SAT. She’d read about her chosen career.
Or volunteer. Or exercise. She’d find something to keep her busy.
“Are you and Creighton going to a charity event or out for a good time?”
“Neither. It’s a private function with a bunch of sadity motherfuckers.”
Bailey laughed.
“Where’s Rissa and Lex?”
“At Meme’s. We can always drop you off there on our way to English Turn.”
“Big balling,” Bailey said.
English Turn was an upscale community on the West Bank. They lived in Eastover, another high-end subdivision, in New Orleans East, which was on the opposite side of town.
“It’s okay. I’m tired anyway.”
Momma kissed Bailey’s temple. “Sometimes, it’s good to let shit out, sugar.”
“I’m fine, Momma.”
“You’re hurt, baby. I understand, but your daddy—” Momma heaved in a breath. “I told K-P he has one more fucking time to disappoint you. I’m bringing my ass to Hortensia to cut his fucking ass.”
Exactly what Bailey didn’t want to happen. Her mother losing her temper. It was the reason Bailey always demanded herself to keep calm and carry on. One little flinch and Momma would burn a swath of destruction to avenge any of her children.
Usually, Daddy was exempt.
Her mother’s change of heart annoyed her and she scowled.
“Maybe, if you hadn’t given him a pass for so long, he wouldn’t keep doing it.”
Either he wouldn’t have promised to be there for days and saw no compunction in pulling out at the last minute or he would’ve kept his word.
“First, check your fucking attitude, Bailey. I’m trying to play devil’s advocate for him and you . Second, express yourself but respect me. I’m on your side but what the fuck you’re not doing is shitting on me because you’re angry with him.”
“According to you, he’s a saint,” Bailey grouched.
“Girl, pick up the fucking phone, call your daddy, and open your fucking mouth. Tell him not only did he hurt you, but he pissed you the fuck off.”
“You’re saying that now. Tomorrow, you’re going to tell me he’s the best thing since sliced bread.”
Momma sighed. “Bailey, only time will make you understand what a good man your daddy is. He isn’t perfect, but he does his best by you, me, and your sisters.”
Creighton wouldn’t allow Daddy near Duke.
Bailey’s shoulders sagged. “Sometimes, it feels as if you love Daddy more than you love anyone. Including me.”
“Oh, sugar, that can never be. You and your sisters and your little brother are my world, baby. Wait until you’re a mom.
You’ll see what I mean. How hard it is to watch your child suffer.
Even when her daddy means well and does the best he can considering all the fuckery.
He still tries. More than you’ll ever know.
And when you’re a mom, then we can talk and I can say, ‘see, told ya.’”
Motherhood was years away for Bailey. She didn’t want to leave her mother, aware of the coming storm when Momma finally had enough of Creighton’s bullshit and walked away.
“There’s nothing more important than a girl’s relationship with her father,” Bailey said quietly.
“I know, Bailey. Believe me, I do. When my daddy died, I missed him something fierce. I still miss him, years later. Visiting him at Mount Olivet can never compare to having him here, alive and well and laughing. Always encouraging me and loving his wife and kids. He was a good, hard-working man. But so’s your daddy. K-P is a good man—”
“Then why’d you leave him? ”
“For reasons I don’t want to discuss. He was good. His lifestyle and some of the motherfuckers around him wasn’t.”
“You keep saying he’s good, Momma.” Bailey couldn’t stop the tears pooling in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it right now. And it hasn’t for months.”
“Bailey—”
“It’s okay, Momma.” She sucked back her tears again, regretting showing them. She had to keep up a facade of calm, so they wouldn’t be thrown into upheaval. Status quo beat turmoil any day of the year. “When I do have children—daughters—I’ll always be on their side. No matter what.”
“Fine, sugar.” Momma got to her feet. “Creighton’s probably foaming at the fucking mouth.” She bent and kissed her cheek.
Bailey went over the words in her head and realized how she’d fumbled them. She grabbed her mother’s manicured hand, loving the long, hot pink nails. “I’m sorry, Momma. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Momma smiled and took Bailey’s face between her hands.
“You’re hurting right now. Go and shower, then if you have it in you, call your daddy.
He’s upset too.” She pulled away. “As for always siding with your kids, just make sure they deserve your allegiance. Being a Mama Bear is fine. Being a stupid bitch isn’t.
That’s the quickest way to let loose on the world a bunch of selfish, entitled little motherfuckers that nobody likes. ”
“You can’t be a Mama Bear without unconditional support.”
“You most certainly can, sugar. I’m a Mama Bear, but you all know if you fuck with me or are wrong, I will bat the piss out of you.”
She wouldn’t really. But she would put the fear of God into them.
A minute later, Momma glided out of the room, her expensive perfume trailing in her wake.
Bailey dragged herself to her shower, washed her hair, and soaped away the dirt, grime, and despair from her body. Once she dressed and took care of her hair, she grabbed her phone from her purse, crawled between the covers, and called her father.
Never telling him how crushed she’d been and, instead, pretending everything was all good.