Earlier that day…
“Bye, Miss Lily!” Andrew screamed as his mom picked him up in her arms. “See you tomorrow!”
I grinned. Andrew was one of my favorite kids, even if he always talked at ear-shattering volume. His mom gave me a tired smile as she carried him out to the car, shushing him as she walked.
“Lily, can you help clean up?” My coworker, Anne, raised her eyebrows at me. “The kids made a real mess today.”
“I know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But they loved the finger painting so much. I wish I’d had that idea before.”
“I don’t.” Anne laughed. “This is going to be a nightmare to get out of the rug.” She gestured towards the brightly-colored rug that took up most of the floor space in the playroom. It was covered in wet splotches of green and blue paint, and I giggled. Even though I’d probably have to stay late to clean, seeing the kids happy had made it worthwhile.
Anne and I chatted while we cleaned, keeping a watchful eye on the two charges left. Peter and Shaunna were both good kids, but ever since their mom died, they’d been a handful. I watched with a wary eye as they played with the same blocks and puzzle pieces, knowing that the moment could turn in an instant. Just when I thought they actually might get through the day without a fight, Peter threw a block at his sister’s head.
“Peter!” I cried out. “No! No, we don’t do that. Go sit in time-out!” I pointed to the corner of the room covered with clock cut-outs. Peter sniffled, and I felt myself soften, but a bruise was already starting to form on Shaunna’s cheek. “Go,” I repeated, staring at Peter until he slowly got up and stomped over to the time-out corner.
“They’re something else,” Anne muttered. She rolled her eyes and handed me a pile of soggy paper towels. “Can you throw these out?” I threw a glance at the door to see Peter and Shaunna’s dad, Mark, walking in. Anne fluffed her hair, and I rolled my eyes.
Yeah, Mark was pretty cute, and he was single, but his wife had only been dead for a couple of years. I couldn’t imagine there was any way he’d even be thinking about dating right now. Anne—just like every other female at the daycare—had a massive crush on him, but it was easy to see that he just really cared about his kids.
“Hi, Lily,” Mark said. “How did things go today?”
I frowned. “Not so good,” I admitted. “They were great for most of the afternoon, but Peter got a little fussy about ten minutes ago.”
Mark looked guilty. “That’s my fault. I should have been here an hour ago.” He checked his watch. “Traffic was bad, again,” he finally said. “I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m sorry if I kept you here too late.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry. I have to stay until six anyway.”
Mark’s light blue eyes lit up. “Oh, well, it’s almost six now,” he said brightly. “Any plans for after this?”
I shook my head. “Just singing later,” I said after a beat. “I’m going to go home and try to take a nap for a little bit.”
“I couldn’t interest you in dinner, could I?” Mark asked, giving me a smile. “I’m sure Anne wouldn’t mind staying a little later than usual.”
“Oh, Mr. Simpson, that’s sweet. But we couldn’t ask her to do that.”
“Daddy!” Shaunna cried, launching herself into her dad’s arms. He scooped her up and kissed her pink cheeks, and she giggled, smiling down happily at me. I had to smile; seeing my kids greet their parents at the end of every day never failed to cheer me up.
“You sure I can’t tempt you?” Mark teased me. “And it’s always Mark, by the way.” He mimed a shudder. “Mr. Simpson makes me sound old.”
“That’s because you are old, Daddy,” Shaunna told him in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Shaunna!” I cried out. “That’s not very nice at all!”
“It’s fine,” Mark said, more to me than his daughter. “We have to be going anyway. Come on, Peter.” I watched as Peter flew out of the time-out chair and wrapped his arms around his dad’s legs. They walked out together like that, their silhouette resembling a weird half-man half-monster.
“Lily,” Anne said drily once Mark had driven off with Peter and Shaunna. “I can’t believe you.”
“I know,” I replied, blushing. “I’m sorry. I promise that I’d never ask you to stay late just so I could go out.”
She shook her head. “Not that, you dope. He asked you out, and you said no!”
I blushed. “He didn’t ask me out. He wanted to buy me dinner because he felt bad about being late.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot,” she said mildly. “He likes you, Lily. He stares at you every time he comes in here.”
“That’s because I’m usually the one who’s standing with his kids,” I said patiently. “He knows they like me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, and he’s thinking about how to wife you so you can be their step-mom. Trust me, he thinks you’re hot.”
I shook my head; the idea was too crazy for me to even fathom. “Stop,” I said, my tone quieter. “You’re making me feel weird.”
I finally left the center a little after six. Shit. Not enough time for a nap now. Instead of a nap, I stopped at the 7-Eleven on the way home and bought some Red Bull. Chugging a couple of those was almost as good as having time to sleep, or so I was going to convince myself. It only took me about an hour to wash and get ready, and I felt a lot more energized after the caffeine and the shower had worked their magic on me.
It was a Friday, and I was hoping for a big crowd at the club. The Pink Diamond was a little out of the way, but it could get pretty packed on weekends. It was my first time singing on a Friday night, and I was hoping to make a lot of money in tips. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and I hadn’t done any shopping yet.
All through warming up, I thought about what Anne had said. Was it true that Mr. Simpson liked me? Looking in the mirror, it seemed impossible. Even in my little red sequined dress, I didn’t feel sexy. I felt more like a kid playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. Or her slutty aunt’s, I thought with a giggle. My mom would have died before ever wearing anything like this; I was glad that she and my dad wouldn’t ever have the chance to see me perform.
“Lily, you’re on next!” The stage manager poked his head into the dressing room. He gave me an approving smile. “Nice dress,” he commented. “Break a leg out there!”
“Thanks!” I whispered, pushing past him and finding my way onstage. As usual, the bright lights blinded me for the first few seconds. I closed my eyes and began the lead-in to my song, a cover of Adele’s “Someone Like You.” Whistles and hollers began to sound as my voice hit a crescendo, and I opened my eyes to see an appreciative crowd. Their attention gave me more confidence than I’d been feeling, and I belted out the rest of the song and swayed my body to the sensual feel.
There was one guy in the audience with piercing green eyes and thick arms covered in tattoos. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy that I’d find attractive, but he was undeniably sexy. He locked eyes with me and I felt my mouth go dry. The lyrics to “Someone Like You” were seared into my brain, and I went on autopilot singing and swaying. The man’s gaze never wavered or blinked, and even though I was up on stage, I felt vulnerable in his presence. From where I stood, I could practically hear him growl my name. The way he was looking at me made me feel like he could see me without my clothes on. I shivered.
There was a low sound of clapping and cheering and I realized with a start that my song was over. The man didn’t clap, cheer, or whistle; he stared straight ahead into my eyes. I blinked nervously and gazed around the room. When my gaze landed back on the row he’d been sitting, there was an empty chair in the middle. He was gone.
For a moment, I stood there awkwardly. He’d shaken me up so badly that I couldn’t even remember which song I was supposed to sing next. The cheers and applause died down and the silence in The Pink Diamond was making me uncomfortable. I stepped forward and grabbed the mic with a robotic gesture.
I closed my eyes and steeled my resolve. So what if he was staring at you? I thought. He left. He couldn’t have found you that interesting.