“I’m sorry, Mr. Lancer. Whoever it is, I’ll make sure to tell them not to call this number.” I wipe my mouth and toss my napkin in the trash, my lunch cut short. I don’t understand why someone would call my work number and not my cellphone.
I run to the front desk and realize I left my purse out here when I went on my lunch break. I check my phone and close my eyes in annoyance when I see my cell is dead. Damn it. I’m lucky I got this job, and I don’t even know how I did. Mr. Lancer isn’t exactly the kindest man, but he took a chance on me even though I had no experience. He is tough and has strict rules. He doesn’t tolerate tardiness or anything that interrupts the day.
Like personal calls.
I pick up the phone and press the button for line two. “This is Alicia.”
Mr. Lancer side-eyes me before heading back into his office. This is a small chiropractic office. He takes appointments one at a time and is the only practitioner here. I like that the patients aren’t numbers. He spends time with them, explaining in detail what is wrong and what needs to be fixed. Each patient takes up to an hour and every day I hear massive cracks and pops.
It’s satisfying.
“This is Janet Silvers, the principal at Parkside North Elementary School. I’m calling about Kimmy,” she explains.
I sag in the chair and rub my thumbs over my eyebrows. “What did she do?”
The large sigh on the other end of the phone tells me whatever it is, it isn’t good. Ever since One-Eye and I stopped dating, Kimmy has been acting out. I knew it was important for her to have a good father figure in her life. Now that he isn’t, she’s been so angry.
I don’t know how to fix it. Bringing men in and out of her life isn’t an option, so I’ve decided I am not going to date again, at least not seriously. No one will meet Kimmy.
“She got into a fight with another student and broke his nose. I’m sorry, but she is suspended for two weeks. Violence is not tolerated here.”
“What did he do?”
“Excuse me?” the principal asks.
“I’m asking what the young boy did for my daughter to jump to that action. It’s unlike her. So I’m asking, what did he do?” I question, feeling defensive for my daughter. I don’t want to believe Kimmy would hit someone for no reason—if so, I have no idea what to do. This is new to me, and as a single parent, it isn’t like I have a lot of options. Between therapy, the small apartment I have, and a babysitter when I do go to therapy, I don’t have funds to create other opportunities.
If she needs help, I’ll gladly end my therapy so Kimmy can start hers. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does. So much has happened in her young life. She needs to talk to someone.
“He is also suspended for a week. He made fun of her for not having a father. He said that daddy didn’t love her, and she snapped.”
I grit my teeth together, turning my neck side to side to contain my rage.
That little fucking asshole.
“I see,” I mumble. “I’m on my way to get her.” I hang up the phone before I say something I regret.
Like maybe the little shit deserved being punched in the face for saying something so mean. Kids can be so mean and heartless. Kimmy doesn’t need to be punching people and she obviously needs to handle things differently, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I was provoked. That is what that kid did. He provoked her.
I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder, dreading the question I have to ask Mr. Lancer. I hope I don’t lose my job. I’ve only been here for a few months, and it is a position that can easily be replaced.
“Mr. Lancer?” I stop in his doorway and see him take off his glasses as he sits behind his desk. “I’m so sorry but my daughter’s school called. They need me to pick her up. I can come right back after I drop her off with the babysitter.” Hopefully, she is available. Maybe I need to look into a daycare program instead.
I expect anger and lashing out, but concern drapes his face. “Is she alright?”
“No,” I sigh. “A boy said some hurtful things, provoked her, and she broke his nose. She’s suspended.”
“What kind of things?”
“About her father not loving her and that’s why he isn’t around. I have a good kid, Mr. Lancer. This isn’t like her. I promise, this won’t be a regular—”
He holds up his hand to silence me.
“I was raised by a single mother, and if someone said that to me when I was younger, I don’t know if I would have been able to hold my emotions back either. Kids don’t know how to control themselves yet. Well, you can bring her here. I don’t mind having a child around. I never got around to having any of my own.”
“Really? You won’t mind?”
“I know I can be tough, but you do excellent work and you’re dedicated. I can tell this job means something to you. The least I can do is try to help you out with your child. I know my mother counted on our neighbors a lot for help. Without a support system, what do you have?”
My eyes burn with tears. “Thank you so much, Mr. Lancer. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. I’ll work later to make up for it. Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll close the office for my lunch. We don’t have anyone coming for another hour and a half. We have time.”
I let out a giant breath. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.” I run out the door and fish out the keys to my 1997 Nissan. It… runs.
That’s all that matters.
I hop in the car and the engine makes a terrible grinding noise before the exhaust sputters. A cloud of black smoke puffs out the end and I cringe, knowing I need to get that checked.
It costs money and that’s just something I don’t have right now.
One-Eye would do it. He never would have let me drive this car.
Ever since going to therapy, I’ve learned so much about myself, my feelings for One-Eye, and the truth.
One-Eye never would have hurt me, I know that, but I’m so afraid to get hurt.
I hurt anyway because I’m not with him. I’m not ready yet, and it isn’t because of him, but me. I need to fix myself or I’ll never be able to be happy with him.
A tear from needing him more than I need my own heartbeat drips down my face, and I wipe it away. I pull out of the parking lot and take a deep breath, sighing as I wait for the traffic to go by. My heart thumps when I hear a roar of motorcycles approaching. I look left, then right, wanting to see them more than anything. It’s been ages since I have seen any of them.
I wait patiently as the roars get closer, my heart a sledgehammer in my chest.
Will One-Eye be with them?
I squeeze the steering wheel with my hands, sweat slicking the torn and broken leather. I hold my breath as the first one comes by, then the second, and third, but it’s just a regular group of guys.
Not the Ruthless Kings of Atlantic City.
I’m relieved, but at the same time, I’m hurt, because I wanted to see a glimpse of him. I have to consider he doesn’t want to see me again, maybe ever. I deserve it. I know I fucked up, but I mentally wasn’t in a good place to accept the kind of love he had to give.
I flip on the radio, turning up the volume, and finally, there is a break in traffic. I pull out onto the road and a horrible clanking sound thuds… somewhere from the engine.