Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“Not exactly,” I dodged, knowing she was going to call me out on my answer.

“Not exactly what?”

Might as well get it over with. “I ran into Nathaniel Bowmen.”

“Uh-huh. And what? You lost your panties and your mind along the way?”

This was why I loved the girl. She’d call me on my shit as I did her. “No. I gave him a ride.”

She was quiet a second before repeating my statement. “You gave him a ride.” Though it wasn’t a question, the statement was full of accusation.

“He was wasted, and I couldn’t let him drive himself home.”

“Wasted at this time of day? He’s an even bigger turd than the reports say he is.”

Though I wanted to hate on him like Haley was doing, I had a father who was occasionally wasted at this time of day or even earlier. I also knew that Dad’s drunkenness wasn’t because he was a jerk. It was because he was dealing with shit and didn’t know another way to cope. And Haley should know better—her mother wasn’t a shining example of virtue. I didn’t say it though. Haley had enough to deal with. “Just call it my good deed of the day. I’ll be at your house soon. I have your wallet.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Can I ask you another favor?”

She was like a sister to me, and I could never say no. “Sure.”

“Can you watch Zoe? Mom said she can’t, and I need to go in for my shift.”

So what it was my day off, and I had plans to do nothing and lounge the day away? I heard myself say yes, because Zoe was a joy. She was with me more than her grandmother and probably better off for it. If her dad hadn’t been a no-show in her life, maybe things would be different. And Haley was trying her best to make something of life with limited resources. Besides, it would give me an excuse to watch movies about cartoon princesses that many would think silly if I watched alone. “I’ll stop at home first to check on my dad before I come by, okay?”

“Sure thing, and thanks, Avery. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You know it’s no biggie. I love Zoe.”

After we hung up, my mind drifted back to Nathaniel. What are his demons? I thought to myself. Only any goodwill I’d given him would blow up in my face the next time we met.

FOUR

Nate

It felt like there was a heavy metal band playing in my head when I woke up. What had I been thinking? Dear old Dad had cut me off and I’d been the lost child needing an escape from the pain.

Slowly, I shifted to a sitting position and cradled my head in my hands. I squinted my eyes. Even the slightest shred of light made the pounding in my head worse.

As I got my bearings, I slowly opened my eyes to find I wasn’t at Aiden’s house, but my childhood home. The place I’d been avoiding.

Then it came back to me. The hot little number who could sing her way into the heart of any man had come into the bar and called me on my shit. That had been enough to get me out of the bar. I’d planned to call an Uber. Though they weren’t plentiful in town, I’d heard there were one or two people who worked for the ride-sharing company. If not in town, then one of the surrounding towns, for sure.

But my Cinderella, who had yet to give me her name, had said she was my Uber. I reached for my phone, and it wasn’t in its normal spot. I spotted it on the floor and grabbed it. After waking it up, there wasn’t much of a charge. I quickly sent a text to Aiden to see if he could come get me. Then I checked Uber. I hadn’t ordered a ride. She’d lied and had somehow known where I lived. That could only mean she knew who I was.

I’d been played. The woman was messing with my head. She was playing games like she wasn’t into me, yet she knew exactly who I was. Not that I was surprised. It was a small town, and everyone knew everyone. I played for Major League Baseball, which came with a level of godhood in a town like mine. I could hope for otherwise, but it was what it was.

My experience with women hadn’t been good since my rise to fame. Women had always come easy, even around here, but all women wanted one of two things from me: my dick or my money.

Early on, I hadn’t cared as long as my dick was happy. But things had changed when women had tried to trap me with a kid, by fishing condoms out of the trash or poking holes in the wrappers. Luckily, I’d caught both.