I glance at Hope as I leave. I’m feeling guilty. It never even entered my mind she would think I was calling her son a bastard. I wasn’t. Hell… I came over with the intent to talk calm and friendly with her. To clear the air and move forward…Admittedly it was kind of a weak hope, but there was that smell of vanilla in my room that had slowly been driving me crazy. There was this crazy urge inside of me to see her again, to try and talk to her.

I should have realized I couldn’t. Maybe it’s because of the shit I’ve been through with women and the film industry for the last few months…well… years really. Whatever the reason Hope seems to bring out the worst in me and from the way she throws her mouth at me…I bring it out in her, too.

Which means it’s good I’m leaving. It also means there’s no way there will be a repeat performance of the other night, which is regretful, but again it’s for the best. With my mind made up and feeling much calmer I make my way back to my room. I’ve already packed, with the exception of the things I will need after I shower in the morning. I’m not sure why that makes me feel sad? But I kind of am. I think it’s because this is the first time in months the paparazzi hasn’t found me. Despite Hope driving me crazy, and making me want to choke her (and fuck her again), that part has been nice.

I dig around my suitcase for my swim trunks and change quickly. I need to decide where I’m headed next. I like the rural setting. Even when I went to the bar the other night, there was no one there that really recognized me. The waitress said I looked familiar and I almost had a heart attack, but she shrugged it off—thankfully. I’m not sure you can get more rural than Clancy, Idaho but I’d really like to try. I know White is from Mason, Texas. He always said it was a slow, sleepy ranch town. Maybe I should go visit there. I grab a towel and head toward the pool, my mind still on where I’m going next and what I’m going to do.

I put the towel across the lounger and dive in. If I’ve missed one thing about my home in California it has been the pool. Still, even with the gates and security, I haven’t been able to enjoy it in forever. Going out to the pool hasn’t been an option. Last time I was there the press took so many pictures I had to come back in. Swimming has always been a way I could work off stress, clear my mind and breathe. It was the one exercise that saved me after football was over. This pool, though colder than I’m used to, feels like heaven. The one I have at home is much larger, but I do lap after lap, senselessly going through the motions. It’s as if I have my body on repeat and all I can do is concentrate on the motions and my breathing.

That is until…

“Daddy!” Hope’s son screams and he’s running towards the pool.

What the ever-loving-fuck?

“Daddy!” he squeals again.

Is she teaching her child to call me daddy? Has she no fucking brains at all?

I get out of the pool, standing on the side as water slides down my body dripping to the concrete under my feet. I’m preparing myself to stop the child from diving into the pool and drowning—since obviously it has no parental supervision. Before he gets close to the pool however, Hope comes dashing out, wrapping her arm around his stomach and swooping him up.

“Jack!” she cries, her voice panicked and body visibly shaking. “Mommy told you never to run away like that!”

“If you had been another minute behind him you may have lost your son! Do you not supervise him at all?!?!” I ask, and it’s a dick move to say it to her. I can tell she’s truly upset and honestly I know shit about raising a kid—or chasing after one for that matter. Still, like I said for some reason this woman brings out the worst in me and I say it.

Her gaze cuts across the distance and looks right at me. She’s pale and she still doesn’t have her emotions under control. There are tears running down her face. Guilt immediately eats at me and I start to apologize, but for some reason I can’t force the words out.

Probably because once again her son is calling me daddy! That can’t be a coincidence. This bitch has to be seriously twisted.

“I had him in his play-circle-thingy!” she cries. “It was supposed to be safe! He knocked it over while I was in the restroom!”

Okay. Complete honesty time. I kind of feel like an ass. She’s obviously distraught, and I don’t know anything about being a parent—especially a single parent—but I would imagine it is hard to find time for bathroom breaks. Still, I doubt standard protocol is to leave your wide awake child unsupervised, even if he is in one of those play pens. I mean, I had seen it when I was in there. It’s like an octagon plastic thing that sits flat on the floor. The child sits on the floor too and each wall has something to occupy his time. I thought it was kind of cute in a let’s-send-my-child-to-prison-and-make-it-look-fun kind of way. It looked sturdy, but judging by the way Jack ran out of the motel, it was little challenge for him. If I can see that, surely a mother can?

“Stop looking at me like that,” she snaps, bringing my attention back around to the conversation at hand.

“How am I looking at you?” I ask innocently, but I know.

“Like I’m some horrible mother!”

“I didn’t say that but…”

“You’re such an ass!”

“I’m just saying I don’t think it’s smart to leave a child of your son’s age unattended,” I shrug.

“He wasn’t unattended! He was in his—”

“Child prison. I know.”

“It’s not a prison! It’s a play circle! And he loves it!”

“Keep him in it often?”

“Oh my God! I can’t wait for you to leave!” she huffs, turning back to the hotel.

I was leaving in the morning, but her words irritate me.

“Well, I couldn’t get another reservation until Tuesday, so tough luck lady. I’m here tomorrow night too!”

“What? No. That is not happening. You paid for one week and—”

“I may have paid for one week, but I had it reserved for two and technically my first week isn’t up until Tuesday morning so…” I trail off with an easy shrug.

“They’re coming tomorrow to work on the air conditioning!” she cries.

“So? That’s not my problem,” I tell her, almost enjoying this.

“It will be when you hear all the noise and all those people are around trying to work!”

“Noise and people don’t bother me. I’m used to it with what I do for a living.”

“You mean you work? I figured you were a bum,” she says, shrugging and adding a snide smile.

“Because bums can rent your place for the week and pay cash.”

“You could have been a bank robber, I suppose. Though with your attitude, maybe a male stripper. Those guys always think they’re God’s gift to women.”

“A male stripper? I guess I should thank you. That means you like my body—but then we established that the other night didn’t we? I mean you kept moaning I was—”

“Will you stop!?!? My son is listening!”

My gaze cuts to the child she’s holding. Oddly enough he seems to be watching our exchange silently, but he’s also happy. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I have the strangest urge to join him.

“How many male strippers have you met?” I ask, idly.

“One, but he was cocky just like you.”

“Speaking of cocky—”

“We weren’t. I’m leaving. Stay tomorrow if you want, but it’s not my fault if you’re miserable,” she growls.

“I’ll need my sheets changed again,” I inform her back, and I don’t bother hiding my smile now—since she can’t see it. In response she holds her hand up in the air and flips me off. “Aren’t you worried your son will pick that up?” I ask as innocently as I can manage.

In response she slams the door. I stand there for a minute and the only thing I can think of is that I haven’t smiled in months and I really wish Hope would come back out.

I shake off that thought and go back to the pool. That’s insanity talking.

Maybe I should leave in the morning…