CHAPTER NINE
Sean
After I picked Paisley up from camp, I did my best to put the meeting behind me. Seeing my brother for the first time since everything happened made my entire body feel like it was engulfed in flames. The second I saw him, a million unpleasant memories flooded my mind, and I remembered everything I hated about him. He sat there in our father’s office like he owned the place. I had to fight the urge to strangle him on sight.
I knew I behaved poorly. Tara was right to snap, but it didn’t make me feel any better. When I stormed out of there, I seriously considered never going back. It would have been so easy to just drive home and never go back to Phoenix again. I knew I could get shifts at the repair shop anytime I wanted. I could even pick up some side gigs and maybe I would be able to make enough money…
The second I saw Paisley, all those thoughts disappeared. This job was too good to pass up. No amount of hatred toward my brother could keep me from doing what was best for Paisley. She deserved everything I could give her, and with this job, I could give her anything she could ever want.
The next morning, Paisley woke up early. She was already dressed and waiting by the door by the time I walked into the living room.
“Wow,” I said lamely. “You’re up early today.”
“Yeah,” Paisley said.
“Excited for camp?”
“Yup.”
“I made your lunch last night,” I said. “It’s all ready for you.”
“Thanks.”
“How ‘bout some breakfast?” I asked. Paisley just shrugged so I went into the kitchen and poured us each a bowl of cereal. When I walked back into the living room, Paisley was already sitting on the couch waiting for me. I smiled and handed her the bowl.
She shoveled the cereal in her mouth too quickly. I thought she was going to choke, but I didn’t say anything. I wondered if she was too hungry. Did I not feed her a big enough dinner the night before? I shook my head at the thought. She’d been eating better lately. Those first few days after Claire’s accident were rough, but she was slowly getting her appetite back. I told myself not to question things.
“So, I was thinking maybe I could drive you to camp this morning,” I said casually. I took a bite of my cereal without looking at her. I didn’t want her to think it was a big deal in case she got spooked and lashed out again.
“Hayden’s mom takes me,” Paisley said simply. Her voice was firm, but she didn’t sound angry.
“I know,” I nodded. “I just thought it might be fun for me to take you.”
“I don’t want you to,” she said. She ate more of her cereal, and I let the subject drop. My heart felt like it was in my stomach, but I bit my tongue. I would try again tomorrow.
“That’s okay,” I said. My voice sounded normal and I was grateful. “I’ll just pick you up after.”
“At four,” she said.
“At four.”
There was a short honk outside. Paisley and I looked over to see Helen’s car pull into the driveway.
“Gotta go,” Paisley said. She handed me her bowl and grabbed her bag.
“Don’t forget your lunch,” I said. “It’s in the fridge.”
Paisley ran to the kitchen to get her lunch. In less than two seconds, she was back in the living room heading straight for the door. I rose off the couch to say goodbye, but she was already running outside. I sighed and walked over to close the door behind her. I watched through the window as she climbed in the car and Helen drove down the street.
Once they were gone, I sat back down to finish my breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. I didn’t expect Paisley to warm up to me immediately, but I was at a loss as to what to do. Nothing I did seemed to help her. She felt like a stranger to me. I wanted to push her, to poke and prod until she opened up, but I knew that would only do the opposite. She had to come to me in her own time.
Still, it was hard to pretend like her attitude didn’t hurt. I didn’t know what it meant to be a father. My own had failed me at every turn, so I had no idea what a good dad looked like. All I wanted was to do right by my daughter. I wanted to help her through things. I wanted to be there for her. But I didn’t know how.
Ever since I could remember, I was cold and closed off. I didn’t let people in. I spent years focused on the MC. Back then, I had one goal: to work my way up in the club. All my ambitions were centered around the MC and my brothers there. I didn’t have time for anyone or anything else. Deep down, I always knew that was why I lost Claire. She didn’t leave me for another guy just for kicks. She just couldn’t take it anymore.
Regardless of the reason, it broke my heart when she betrayed me, and I hadn’t trusted anyone since. Even after putting the MC behind me, I still lived the same way. Cold. Closed off. Not exactly the recipe for successfully nurturing an eight-year-old little girl.
More than anything, I wanted to feel close to my daughter. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t a total failure as a parent. If she could just trust me a little bit, I would feel like I was doing something right. It hadn’t even been two weeks, and I knew I should be patient, but it was hard. The more time I spent with Paisley, the more I realized just how much we had in common. She was so much like me when it came to her emotions. Cold and closed off. She kept things close to her chest just like I did. Only with Paisley, I wanted something better for her.
***
“In here,” Tara said when I walked inside. She pulled me over to a side office and told me to sit down. Her professionalism was gone. She no longer wore her fake smile. She was cold and firm. Bossy and stern. I couldn’t tell which version of her I liked the least.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Before the shoot can start, we have to take care of the paperwork,” Tara said. “Your contract.”
Tara laid a stack of papers down in front of me and handed me a pen. She pointed to the signature line at the bottom of the first page and looked at me expectantly.
“Can I read it first?” I asked.
“Of course,” Tara said. “But make it quick. We have to start soon.”
Tara leaned against the wall and waited while I skimmed through the contract. It was long and verbose. There was legal language that I didn’t understand, but the general gist seemed straightforward. I would be the face of the company. I would model and pose. I would be on the cover of their magazines and on advertisements all over the world. The thought made my skin crawl, but when I turned to the last page everything changed.
My annual salary would be $500,000, plus bonuses for each successful ad. I would be given stocks in the company that, hopefully, would appreciate enormously in the next few years. Everything looked amazing, but I was stuck on the salary. I’d never made so much money in my life. Half a million dollars every year… It felt like a dream.
I signed the contract on each page and initialed the first and last. I dated the proper lines and clicked the pen closed. Without a word, I handed the signed contract to Tara.
“Great,” she said. “Let’s get to work.”
Tara led the way to the showroom. Everything was brightly lit and rearranged to form the perfect photography set. There was a giant white screen placed against a back wall and three different motorcycles positioned off to the side. I walked immediately toward the bikes.
“Let’s get you dressed first,” Tara said. She grabbed my arm and led me over to a small tent. “Your clothes for today are hanging up inside.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t just wear my own clothes,” I grumbled.
“Because your babysitter says no,” Tara smirked. She looked annoyed, but I smiled nonetheless. It was nice to see her drop the act for once.
“Funny,” I said.
“Get dressed,” she ordered. I ducked inside the tent and changed quickly.
My dad was right. The clothes were similar to what I always wore. I traded my black t-shirt for a white one and slid on jeans that were one shade darker than my own. The jacket they laid out for me was black with the Ray Yates logo on the shoulder. I slid it on easily. The fit was perfect, but it felt stiff. I flexed my arms and tried to loosen it up before I left the tent.
“Do I wear my own shoes?” I asked Tara.
“Yes,” she said. I slid them back on my feet and followed her over to the bikes. “Which one do you want to pose with first?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. “Whatever.”
“You certainly have less opinions today,” she noted.
“Well, my father isn’t here,” I reminded her. “Neither is my brother.”
“I see.” Tara nodded. She turned quickly and shouted a few directions to the photographers. They descended upon me quickly.
Someone moved the first bike into the shot while more people pulled at my hair and fixed my collar. They poked my face and talked among themselves about the possibility of putting makeup on me.
“Not a chance in hell,” I growled.
“It may be necessary,” the first photographer said.
“We want to get the best shots possible,” the other agreed.
“Authentic,” Tara reminded them, walking back over to us. “We’re going for authentic. Do you really think everyday bikers walk around with blush and concealer on their faces? Come on, guys. Work with me.”
“Fine,” the first photographer said. “Whatever you want.”
The shoot wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. They sat me on the bike and told me to act natural. I straddled it and flexed my fingers over the handlebars. They shouted instructions to me, and I obeyed without much trouble. Everything they wanted was natural to me. “Sit this way” and “Look over here” were simple directions.
Still, it felt strange to have so many eyes on me. I had to remind myself why I was there. I pictured Paisley’s face. I thought of all the art supplies I could buy her and the new swimsuits she might want. She was the one thing that kept me going during the shoot.
When Tara had the idea for me to kneel and pretend to work on the engine, everything seemed to fade away. For a split second, I wasn’t in the middle of a Ray Yates’ showroom. I wasn’t working for my father. I was back at the repair shop, back in my element.
The photographers raved about the shots they were getting, and when we finished, even Tara was smiling. She walked over to me and nodded approvingly.
“That wasn’t terrible,” she said.
“That’s quite a compliment,” I fired back.
“Tomorrow, we move on to public speaking,” she said, ignoring my response. “We have some things planned for you and it would help if we could—”
“Public speaking?” I asked. My good mood faded entirely. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Tara asked with narrowed eyes.
“I won’t speak on behalf of this company,” I said firmly. “Modeling is one thing. If you want me to pose with a few bikes, I can do that. But I won’t speak.”
“You have to,” she said simply.
“I won’t.”
“It’s in your contract, Sean,” she said. “You don’t have a choice.”