Chapter Two

ELI

“How's my silly girl?” I asked, stepping into the back room of the tattoo parlor.

While I'd been meeting with her teacher, I'd had to leave Harley at the shop and she was hanging out with Mitch, one of my friends at the studio.

“I'm feeling extra pretty, thanks for asking,” Mitch said. “Oh, you were talking to Harley.”

Harley had put lipstick on Mitch, along with some bright blue eye shadow. She giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. And Mitch looked so ridiculous, that it was probably pretty close to it.

“He's very pretty, don't you think, daddy?” Harley asked, staring up at me with her big, brown eyes.

She still had the eye shadow brush in her hands, holding it up like an artist, ready to put brush to canvas.

I stared at Mitch and scrunched up my nose. With a long, ZZ Top-style beard, a septum piercing and several eyebrow piercinga, he was by no means a pretty man. And as a woman, he was downright hideous. But he grinned back at me and I couldn't help but laugh.

“Sure, baby, he's beautiful,” I said. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“I always knew you had a thing for me,” Mitch teased.

“If I ever decide to date a big, burly man, you're the first person I'm gonna call,” I said. “But seriously, thanks for keeping an eye on Harley, man. I appreciate it and will pay you next Friday, as promised.”

“No worries,” he said. “I had fun. And I think she had fun, didn't you, Harl?”

“Uh huh!” she said. “Mitch lets me eat all the Cheetos I want – ”

Mitch playfully covered Harley's mouth with his hand. “You're not supposed to tell your daddy that. That was just between us.”

“Oops, my bad,” she said with a laugh that never ceased to fill me with joy.

And to think, according to uppity Ms. Cleary, my kid wasn't being raised right. All because she spent a few evenings a week around this place. The people I worked with were all cool, they were clean, and they were friends of mine. Despite Ms. Cleary's snotty attitude and very obvious assumptions about me, I wouldn't bring Harley to an environment that wasn't safe for her.

Considering the high price of childcare, there wasn't any alternative for me anyway. And tattooing was what I was good at. It's what paid the bills. No one else at a reputable place would hire me anyway – not given my lack of skills or my past.

“Do you have any homework, Harley?” I asked.

“Just some stupid drawing thing for art,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Stupid? Why do you think it's stupid? You love drawing,” I said.

“I'm supposed to draw my family,” she said.

“Well, that's not all that hard, is it?” I asked. “You have me, you, mom – ”

“Mom isn't my family anymore,” she said softly.

Mitch gave me a look of sympathy, and then excused himself from the room to give Harley and I a little privacy.

“I gotta client coming in soon,” he said. “Better get set up. I'll let you know if we need you up front for anything.”

“Thanks, Mitch,” I said, joining Harley on the couch. Once he'd gone, I turned to her. “Why do you say that? Why do you think that mom isn't family anymore?”

“Because she's gone,” she said simply. “She left us.”

“She didn't want to, Harley. Believe me, she didn't leave us willingly, baby,” I said. “Well, not really.”

Truthfully, she had absolutely left us willingly. I couldn't tell Harley that though. It would absolutely shatter my little girl. But when I told Amy she had to choose between the drugs or us – perhaps, stupidly believing she'd choose her daughter over heroin – I'd been very wrong about what she'd choose. It took me a minute to get over the rage within me about it – truth be told, I was still trying to get over it. But I knew I had to hold it together for the sake of my little girl.

Last I'd heard, her parents had checked her into a treatment center – one of the best in the country for addiction services. But she hadn't gone in voluntarily – or very willingly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harley said, pushing a strand of her dark brown hair from her face. She looked just like her mother with the barest dash of me thrown into the mix. “It just makes me sad.”

“Is that why you usually prefer to draw monsters and stuff? Because you're sad about your mom?” I asked, remembering the drawings Ms. Cleary had showed me.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just like them. It's fun to draw them.”

“Where do you get your ideas for your work then?” I asked.

She looked at me and cocked her head, the expression on her face telling me the answer was as obvious as the nose on my face. When I shook my head and gave her a lopsided grin, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

“From the walls around here,” she said. “The artwork on the walls.”

Ahhh. She meant the flash on the walls and in the books the customers could flip through before they decided on a design. I remembered that Harley had spent some time flipping through the books – and studying the walls around her. It all made sense now.

“So do you want to be an artist someday?” I asked.

“A tattoo artist? Heck yeah,” she said, her smile returning. “Just like daddy.”

Just like her daddy. Hearing her say that made me balloon up with pride. Granted, she was a kid and her career path would change about a thousand times, but still. To know that she wanted to emulate me made me feel good. Of course, I hoped she might lead a better life than the one I lived right now, but it was all up to her. Whatever she decided to do, I was going to support her. I'd also do everything within my power to keep her safe from falling into the same traps I did. I had to. She was all that I had left in my life. In my whole world. And I wasn't going to abandon her. I'd be there with her and for her every step of the way.

And damn that Ms. Cleary for bring out more of my insecurities and self-doubts about my ability to raise her. I already feared I wasn't cutting it as a dad, that I was doing more damage than I was good for my little girl. And yet, in my heart, I knew I was doing the best I could with what I had. No, we weren't living in the lap of luxury with all of the latest, fanciest things. But Harley never had to question whether or not she was loved.

And that had to count for something, right?

ooo000ooo

Harley was asleep, curled up on the couch in the back room, by the time we headed home. I carried out to the car, drove home, and then carried her inside. She was so tired that she didn't stir – not once. Holding her in my arms, I looked down at her little form and couldn't help but smile. No matter how big she got, she was always going to be my little girl. No matter how old she was, I would never be able to see her as anything but that.

Harley was my little girl. My princess. My world. She was the only good thing I'd ever done in my life. One of the only things I could point to and be proud of. She was my reason for living and she was my reason for finally cleaning up my act and getting back on the straight and narrow.

Once inside our apartment, I gently placed her in bed and tucked her in, pulling her blankets up to her chin. To think, her mother was missing out on all of that – all of those special little moments that only came around once and would never come around again.

Hell, at one time – not all that long ago, realy – I might have missed everything just like Amy was. Had things not changed for me. Had I not grown up and made sure things changed. It was because my little girl was worth it. She was worth changing for. She was worth being a better person for.

Harley slept peacefully, wrapped up tight in her Harley Quinn bedding – picked out because she'd been tickled that the comic book character bore her name, of course. I kept the bedroom door partway open as I walked own the hall, into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Popping it open, I was about to turn on the television when I noticed I had several missed calls and some text messages. Groaning because I recognized the number of a few of the missed calls, I checked them out.

Phone call wise, it was like I figured it was – mostly Amy's mom. And the voicemails were all from her. I couldn't bring myself to call her back though, not after her daughter had abandoned Harley and me for her drugs. It wasn't like I had anything in common with her folks and honestly, I really didn't have anything to say to them. Eventually, I supposed I'd need to deal with them – for Harley's sake.

Sighing, I punched the button listened to the most recent voicemail.

“Elias, this is Debbie, Amy's mother. Again,” even her recorded voice carried the same condescending tone I hated about her so much. “I've been trying to reach you to discuss Amy, as well to talk about visitation with my granddaughter. Please call me back when you get this.”

Visitation? Like hell. As much as I'd love for Harley to get to know her grandparents – the only grandparents she had left – there was no way in hell I was going to allow them visitation. I despised Amy's parents. They were controlling. Manipulative. And they were the biggest reason Amy was as fucked up as she was. There was no way in hell they were going to get anywhere near my daughter. Not if I could help it.

I deleted the messages. Next, I checked my texts and rolled my eyes at a lot of the usual bullshit. The first one was from a guy named Terry – a guy I used to deal to back in the day when I was doing that sort of shit.

Hey man, I know you're not into that life anymore, but I really needed to check and see if you have anything to sell me tonight?

Delete.

“No longer in that business, dude,” I muttered. “I've told you that a million times already.”

The next message came from a number I didn't recognize. And all it said was, Elias, we need to talk.

I looked at it for a few moments, curious – but also wary. There was only one way to find out who it was and what they wanted though, so I texted the mystery number back. Who is this?

I didn't expect a response, since it was getting late in the evening. But my phone buzzed a few seconds later with a response.

We need to talk. Soon.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. It was probably just another drug addict expecting me to help him score his fix.

“Sorry, bro,” I said. “Not my deal anymore.”

I went to delete the message, but another one popped up.

I'm with the Black Torment MC. We need to talk.

I felt a stab of adrenaline shoot through me like a lightning strike. Shit man, really? I was done with that life too – all of it went hand-in-hand. I just wanted it to go away. Forever. I wanted to make sure my daughter didn't get caught in the middle of it all. I didn't want that world even touching her world. I wanted her to remain completely ignorant of it all.

And just in case Amy's parents decided to come after my daughter, I didn't need my criminal record being a reason to lose custody. It wasn't lengthy and it wasn't especially terrible, but I'd accrued a few petty charges over the years. Things I knew they could use against me. Would use against me given half a chance. Knowing that was one reason I'd stepped away from the MC, and they'd let me. For the most part.

I typed out a quick reply. I'm done with the MC. Have been for years, so lose this number.

I expected another text, but instead, my phone rang. Same number as before. I rolled my eyes and contemplated not answering, but I needed to get it through this guy's head that I was done and that he needed to leave me the hell alone, so I answered.

“What part of I'm done was in any way unclear,” I snapped. “Does Mav know you're calling me?”

“Maverick's actually the one who told me to call, asshole,” the voice said on the other end of the line.

The voice was familiar enough, but I couldn't quite place it. Not at first.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“It's Jay,” he said. “And frankly, I'm a little hurt that you don't you remember me, Eli. Has it really been that long?”

“Nah, I just didn't realize you'd moved up the ladder high enough that you were washing Mav's balls now, that's all, princess,” I said. “What's this about? I'm done. I was done when I left five years ago. Maverick signed off on it and you know it because you were there. I'm out of the life entirely.”

“You're never out entirely, shithead,” Jay said, cackling as he spoke. “Mav needs a favor. Nothing major, but you owe us, kid. You owe us a lot.”

I didn't owe them shit, but my voice caught in my throat and I had to work hard to keep the dark anger bubbling up inside of me from flowing over. I knew that the MC was full of bad guys who could ruin my life in no time flat. They could do the unthinkable. And most of them wouldn't hesitate to do so.

I stared down at the hallway, to the door at the end. Harley's door. They could take everything away from me if I didn't do what they wanted. But I also knew that working for them could cause me to lose everything, anyway.

It was a lose-lose situation no matter which way I turned, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

“I'm done, Jay. Done. I can't be doing anything for the MC anymore,” I said. “I have my reasons.”

“We know your reasons, dude,” he said. “We know that Debbie and Patrick Archer are trying to get custody of your kid?”

“How did you – ”

“We know a lot. More than you realize,” he said. “And we can help you with that. Or we can make things worse for you. Your choice.”