CHAPTER SEVEN
Sean
Paisley came into the living room wearing her swimsuit. She had a cover thrown over her shoulders and her duffle back in her hand. I watched as she set down her bag and checked that her towel, goggles, and a change of clothes were safely packed inside. When she was satisfied, she zipped it up and went to stand by the front door.
“You don’t have to go today,” I told her softly. “If you aren’t ready, you don’t have to go.”
“I want to go,” she said. I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel her eyes roll. This was a conversation we’d had three times already, but I needed to make sure. It seemed fast. Claire died just over a week ago.
“I know you do,” I said. “But, if you don’t think you can handle it yet…”
“I can,” she promised. “There’s only a few weeks of swim camp and I’ve already missed one. I don’t want to miss any more.”
“Alright,” I sighed. I knew I was fighting a losing battle. “At least let me take you.”
“I already told you,” she said. “Hayden’s mom is picking me up. It’s all worked out.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “I would just feel better if I knew you got there safely.”
“Hayden’s mom takes me everywhere,” she reminded me. “I’ve known her since I was five.”
I fought back a grin. Paisley’s serious tone always made me both nervous and amused. She was so sure of herself for someone so young. At eight years old, her age rarely showed, but there were times when I couldn’t help but notice how small she still was. To her, five was a million years ago. Having known Hayden and her mom for three years was like knowing them her entire life.
“I trust you,” I said. “Let me get your lunch ready.”
“Hurry,” she said. She turned around to face me with wide eyes. “They’ll be here any minute. I can’t be late.”
“I’ll hurry,” I promised. I went into the kitchen and quickly grabbed a loaf of bread and some peanut butter from the pantry. I made her sandwich and threw it in a brown paper bag. After adding a cup of applesauce and some potato chips, I walked back to the living room. Paisley took the bag without a word.
We stood there together, just staring out the window for five minutes. There was so much I still wanted to say to her, but I was beginning to appreciate the silence. Paisley was smart for her age. She already had an attitude that could give me a run for my money, and she spent most of her time living inside her own head. I never knew I could be intimidated by an eight-year-old until Paisley came to live with me.
“What time does camp end?” I asked suddenly. I just realized we hadn’t discussed how she was getting home.
“Four,” she said simply.
“Should I pick you up?” I asked.
Paisley frowned, but she didn’t tear her eyes away from the window.
“I mean, I don’t have to if you already have a ride home,” I added. “Whatever you want.”
“You can pick me up,” she said.
The sentence was a simple one, but it filled me with warmth. For the first time in over a week, her words weren’t sassy or impatient. She thought about her answer and decided it was okay. It was a small thing, miniscule really, but it felt huge to me. It felt like we’d taken a step forward, however insignificant that step may be.
“Okay,” I smiled. “I’ll be there.”
“At four,” she reminded.
“At four,” I promised.
“They’re here!” she said. She grabbed her bag and threw the strap over her shoulder. With her lunch in one hand, she twisted the doorknob and ran out onto the porch.
“Hold on!” I said, hurrying after her. “I’ll walk you to the car.”
“You don’t need to,” she said.
“But I want to.”
“No.”
I stared at her for a second, considering whether I should push the issue. On one hand, I didn’t like the idea of letting her climb into a car with someone I’d never met. That didn’t seem like something a good parent would do. But, on the other hand, I really did not want to piss her off.
“I’ll just introduce myself to Hayden’s mom, okay?” I said. “It’ll be quick.”
“No,” she said again. She glared at me with as much anger as she could muster.
“Paisley…”
“I have to go.” She hurried toward the car and threw open the back door. I walked after her slowly. When she turned back and saw me coming, she rolled her eyes and pulled the car door shut. I sighed and turned my attention to the driver’s seat.
“Hi,” I said, lifting my arm to wave. Hayden’s mom rolled down the window and smiled. “I’m Sean Yates. I’m Paisley’s dad.”
“I’m Helen,” she smiled. “I think we met at the funeral.”
“Probably,” I nodded. “There were a lot of people there.”
“Claire was loved,” Helen said sadly.
“She was,” I said. I looked around awkwardly, wondering what else I should say. “Well, um, thanks for taking Paisley.”
“It’s no problem,” Helen said. “We always carpool.”
“Got it,” I said. I peered through to the back seat. “Have a good day.”
I could barely see Paisley hidden behind the front seat, but Hayden smiled and waved at me. I smiled back and tapped the car as I walked back up to the house. On the porch, I turned around and watched them pull away. It was the first time Paisley was going to be away from me since the night of Claire’s accident. I told myself it was only for a day and that I would see her after camp. Four o’clock.
Things hadn’t been easy over the past week, but it was worth it. I knew Paisley’s attitude was just her way of dealing with everything. Her entire life changed in one night. It only made sense that it would take her some time to adjust. At least three times a day, I reminded myself to be patient. Even though she didn’t know it, she needed me. And I was beginning to think I needed her, too.
I walked into the kitchen and checked the time on the oven. Seven thirty. I was due at work in a half hour. I poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. It would only take about twenty minutes to get to Phoenix if I drove fast, but I knew I should leave soon. Being late on my first day wouldn’t look good. Still, I waited until my coffee was gone before I grabbed my keys and walked outside.
***
It took me exactly twenty-two minutes to drive from my house to Ray Yates’ Motorcycles in Phoenix. When I pulled into the parking lot, I wasn’t sure where to park. I drove my bike around to the back of the lot and found an empty space. Taking my time, I unhooked my helmet and turned the bike off. I was in no hurry to get inside that building.
As I climbed off my bike, I looked up at the three-story building in front of me. I hadn’t seen it in years. It seemed different, bigger almost. Me and my bike both felt small by comparison. I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets. This was the last place on Earth I wanted to be.
Forcing myself to move, I walked around to the front of the building. My pace was slow, slower than it needed to be. I dragged my feet and tried to think of a good reason to bail on the whole idea. What I wanted, more than anything, was to climb back on my bike and hit the highway. I wanted to drive until I made it back home. I wanted to sit on my couch and not think for a while. I wanted to pick up a shift at the repair shop where I was comfortable and where I could be myself. Then, after work, I wanted to pick Paisley up from camp and ask her about her day.
Instead, I walked up to the front doors of Ray Yates’ Motorcycles and stopped. There were a few customers inside, but not many. I could see employees moving around, adjusting displays and talking amongst themselves. The show room looked nice, but I was unimpressed. I knew the show room here was miniscule compared to their other locations. This building was the corporate office. The real action took place on the top two floors, where my father and brother worked.
I took a deep breath and pulled the glass doors open. Stepping inside, I felt a rush of cold air. A wave of leather cleaner accosted my nose, and I grimaced. Thankfully, no one was around to see it.
“Good morning, sir!” one of the employees called out. He hurried over to me. “What can I help you with today?”
“Nothing,” I said shortly. I stepped around him and walked deeper into the showroom. My eyes roamed freely over the bikes as I moved.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” the employee asked. “A new bike or customization options?”
“No,” I said. I could feel his frustration growing, but I didn’t bother to stop and explain myself. I wove a path through the bikes until I reached the back hallway.
“Sir, that area is for employees only,” the guy said. I didn’t realize he’d followed me over until I heard his voice.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll mind.”
I walked over to the elevators and pressed the button. Standing back, I waited for the doors to open. Beside me, the same disgruntled employee was looking around for help.
“Relax,” I said. “I’m related to the boss.”
“The boss?” he asked. “Mr. Yates?”
“That’s the one,” I said.
“Oh.” He took a giant step backward and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”
I didn’t say anything, but he turned around and went back to the showroom. I watched him go, wishing I could go with him. Spending the day downstairs in the showroom was much more appealing than seeing my father again.
The elevator light came on and the doors pulled apart slowly. A woman about my age stepped off and extended her hand to me. She smiled brightly.
“Sean,” she said, her dark green eyes taking in my appearance. I wondered if I should have dressed better. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally. I’m Tara. Tara Isaac.”
“Oh,” I said. I shook her hand. “The woman I spoke with.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Come on up. We have some exciting things to discuss.”
I stepped onto the elevator with her. I didn’t feel any excitement. I only felt a strong sense of dread. Tara stood slightly in front of me while the elevator doors closed. Her long blonde hair fell in ringlets down her back. I shuffled my feet and cleared my throat.
“Well,” she said, turning around to face me. “I think you’re going to be pretty thrilled when you see what we have planned. We’re all just so happy to have you here. I can’t tell you what this will mean for the company. Your image is exactly what we’re looking for.”
“My image?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Your authentic, biker look. It’s perfect. The customers will eat it up.”
“It’s not a look,” I said. “It’s just me.”
“Which is exactly what makes it perfect.” Tara’s smiled was forced, but she held it in place while she spoke. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and stared at her. She looked back, clearly waiting for me to speak.
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” I said. I did my best to keep my voice level and professional, but the sarcasm seeped in without my permission. Tara’s smile faltered slightly.
“It will be,” she insisted. “We’re going to meet with your father first. That way we can make sure we’re all on the same page. How does that sound?”
I grimaced at her as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. We were on the third floor. My father’s office was just a few feet away. In that moment, a grimace was the best I could do.
“Swell,” I said. “Sounds just swell.”