Possessive Baby Daddy

“Before it became just a feeder for The Challenge.”

She laughs and nods. “Exactly.”

“The Challenge is a great show though.”

“Eh, it’s getting a little overproduced these days.”

“You really think you can make that happen?” I ask. “I mean, you think Americans will go for that?”

“I think they will,” she says. “Terrace House was really popular with US audiences. I think people are craving something real from their reality TV, and not just Bachelor-style sheen. Or that horribly written Kardashians stuff.”

“Hm,” I say, slotting a few more pieces. “I mean, I think you have something there. Do you have an idea for a show?”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Tell me.”

“No, you’ll just make fun of me.”

“Aw, come on. I won’t.”

She glances over. She frowns at my board and is quiet for a little bit as we both work. I’m still ahead, and the image is becoming clear. I can see a man and a little girl standing on a beach, smiling with each other. The man has his arm around her. I just need to finish out the top right corner and I’ll be done.

She’s not too far behind.

We race to get it done. I grab the last few pieces, shoving them in. She’s throwing her own pieces in there, pushing them, turning them, making them fit. Her jaw is clenched and we’re inches apart.

“Done.”

Ryan comes over and peers over my shoulder. “You’re the winner,” he says.

I laugh and step back. “Oh, shit, that was close,” I say.

She glares at me for a long moment then shakes her head. “Congratulations, Shaun. You decided to show up.”

“You almost got me and I had a serious head start.”

She shrugs. “Whatever.”

“And look.” I tap the image. “Isn’t that you?”

“It’s definitely her,” Ryan says.

I stare at him. “Really, dude?”

“Right, sorry.” He walks over to his chair and slumps into it. “Third wheel, I guess,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she says, coming over to stand next to me.

We both stare at the image. It’s definitely Klara when she was a little girl, maybe nine. She smiling, a big goofy grin. Her red hair is a wild mess but I can see the hint of the beautiful woman she’ll grow up to be in the sweep of her jaw and her sparkling blue eyes.

And her father is next to her, an arm around her shoulders. He doesn’t look like the pompadoured asshole he is today. He’s tan, but not too tan, and his face is clean-shaven. They look happy together, like they’re just having a good day at the beach and asked some stranger to snap a picture of them.

“You ever see this before?” I ask her.

“No,” she admits. “But I’m pretty sure that’s the same beach we were on the other day.”

“Huh.” I tilt my head. “Interesting.”

“What?” She gives me a look.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, say it.”

“Well, the first contest happens to be at the beach you used to go with your dad all the time. And the second contest is a huge picture of the two of you from back when you guys were probably pretty close.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and bites her lip. “So what?”

“Don’t you think your dad is trying to say something?”

She stares at the pictures for a long time without speaking. “Maybe,” she says. “But the asshole could’ve just said it instead of going through this power trip.” She turns and walks toward her car.

I want to say something but, hell, I know she’s right. If her father is trying to use this whole experience as some crazy elaborate way to tell her that he loves her, the message is getting lost.

She climbs into her car. I watch her sit there for a long moment before she bashes her hands against the steering wheel. Ryan starts cleaning up the puzzles as Klara’s horn goes off. He jumps a little then shakes his head and just keeps taking things down.

Her car pulls out and she speeds away.

I turn and walk over to help Ryan. He smiles at me and nods as I help him put the pieces away, take the canvases down, and get the shit packed into the back of his truck.

“See you next time,” he says.

“Hey, do you know what the next contest is going to be?”

He shrugs. “There’s a clue.”

“Wait, what?”

“For the winner. You didn’t let me finish the rules, so I figured you didn’t care.”

I give him a look. “Tell me.”

He reaches across the seat and throws me something black and light. I catch it and frown. It’s a sleep mask with the words “Ask Me Anything” written across the front.

“What the hell is this?” I ask.

“I have no idea,” he admits. “I was just told to give that to the winner.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, rolls up his window, and heads out, leaving me alone in the parking lot.

I stand there for a long moment until I remember that this is an elementary school and it’s the middle of the night, so I get in my car and I get the hell away from there as fast as I can.