**Standard disclaimer applies. This is purely fiction (if based only slightly on actual events). Don't read if you shouldn't because you're under 18 or live in a backwards area. This is a continuation of The List. It isn't necessary to read The List, but it would help in understanding characters and references. I appreciate any and all feedback, so please email me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Enjoy the story!
The Funny Thing Is... You Can't Get it All Right All the Time
We all mess up. We all make mistakes. We all make those decisions or do those things that seem right at the time, but as time passes, we realize just how wrong they are. Just as I began to feel like I was doing things correctly, getting things right, things began to happen that proved you can't get it right every single time. You can only hope that when you get it wrong, you have someone that you can call.
The call came at ten o'clock on Thursday morning. I had just gotten home from Spencer's house, and I was about to step into the shower when my phone buzzed.
"Cooper," she said in a frantic voice that made me certain she was at the clinic and it was shaping up to be a busy day.
"Yes, Dev," I said, still puzzled as to why she was calling me. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," she replied abruptly. I heard her say something about a photocopy and a meeting with Jillian through a muffled hand. When she returned to our conversation, she sounded even more swamped. "Listen, I'm sort of in a bind. Actually, I'm in a major bind."
I sat down on my bed and pulled my towel tightly around me.
"Okay..."
"I got called to speak at a Women of Dentistry conference in Chicago this weekend. Their first keynote bailed, someone on the planning committee mentioned my name; it's a big last minute thing. It would be a huge opportunity, Coop."
"Congrats," I said, still unsure of where this was going.
"It's so last minute, in fact, that I can't take the kids with me. And besides that, I'll be gone until Tuesday; they can't miss school, and it's too late to call my—"
"Dev, relax. They can stay with me," I cut her off. I was thrown off that she even needed to ask me. What did she expect? I wouldn't have been upset if she'd dropped them off Saturday morning and called it a day. They were my kids. Of course I'd take them.
"Wow. Okay. Are you sure? You don't have plans or anything? I know it's last minute."
"Dev," I said, trying to calm her down. "They're staying over. End of story. Is there anything else you need?"
"Just two more arms and a different fucking assistant," she said, yelling into her office and away from the phone. She told me she'd call me later that day with the details, but it would be from Friday night until Tuesday when they went to school. For some reason, the four day outlook seemed like a gift from the parental gods. I hung up, flung my arms in the air, and leaned back on my bed.
The idea came shortly after the phone call. This situation could very well have been the situation that would prove if Chase was in it to win or not. Coming into my life at that point meant interacting with my two post-pubescent brats. If he could handle that, there was a solid chance we could build something together.
"I think he chokes," Spencer said when I threw the idea out to him later that night. In an attempt to keep myself from venturing into my do-not-call list, I decided to take Spencer up on his offer of hitting the town for Thursday night happy hour.
"What? Why?"
"It's a terrible idea. The guy doesn't have a single paternal bone in his body."
"You mean he's you?"
"Hey, watch it. Who went to Liz's football game with you last week? I like your kids. I just like them a lot more when they're not touching my stuff." He waved over the bartender and asked for two more dirty vodka martinis.
"He doesn't have to be perfect with them," I said, turning my back to the bar and waiting on the drinks. "He just needs to be willing to try. If he gives up, I'll know he's not serious. If he comes back after the weekend is up, I'll know he is."
"I think you're putting a lot of stock into a useless test," Spencer said, exasperated. "I would help you watch those little shits this weekend; that doesn't mean I'll make a good husband."
"Would you though? Would you help me watch the little shits?"
"No, probably not."
"Exactly. You're a terrible husband. I want a divorce," I said. I turned to pick up my drink and watched Spencer drop an obscene amount of cash on the bar. Before I could stop myself from asking it, I let the question slip.
"Did you know that Devon brings home more money than I do?"
I followed Spencer to a table at the back of the bar, passing by several college age guys who were taking full advantage of the lower drink prices and no cover.
It wasn't something I wanted to make a big deal about or spent hours and hours contemplating, but seeing Spencer toss so much money onto the counter reminded me that I didn't have as much money to toss around.
"She does?" he said, sitting down and surveying the room to see if there were any pickings around. "That makes sense, actually."
"What do you mean that makes sense?"
"It makes sense. I mean, her clinic is primo right now, isn't it?"
"I helped build that clinic," I replied. "That's partly my clinic."
"Are you actually making a big deal out of this? You're well off; what's the problem?"
"There is no problem," I replied honestly. There wasn't a problem. It was just... curious. I decided it was useless to lament about being the poorest of our group to the guy who had more freedom of time and money than anyone else I knew.
I spent the rest of the night avoiding heavy subjects and indulging in heavy drinking. It was impossible to go out with Spencer and not get shitfaced. We had drinks thrown at us from guys all over the bar, thinking they had any shot in hell at Spencer the super sexy socialite.
What surprised me on that night, however, was how many people knew that I was going through a divorce. The Dallas community in which my friends and I ran was a pretty small one. I shouldn't have been too surprised that the Dallas rumor mill was working, especially in the gayborhood, but I did take pause.
By the time we got back to Spencer's loft, I was toasted and tired.
"I had so much fun!" I followed him into the loft and kicked off my shoes. "We haven't danced like that in... years."
"So long," he said, flicking on lights as he went. "Want a nightcap?"
"Yes, please. I have nothing to do tomorrow but lay out and wait for my children to get out of school."
I watched Spencer pour two scotches.
"Oh, you should come to Neiman's with Kyle and me then," he said, handing me a glass. "He needs a suit for his wedding announcement that's supposed to run next week."
I rolled my eyes and burped at the same time. The scotch was strong and hot, but smooth on the down take. By the time it reached my throat, I had forgotten how warm it was.
"I'll pass, but thank you," I said.
"No fair; move over." Spencer plopped down right next to me. "We're letting him go, remember?"
His eyes were big and clearly drunk and I wasn't too far behind him.
"Yeah," I said earnestly. "I'm trying. But that doesn't mean I want to see his wedding announcement or shop for it. Maybe I'll call Vicky at the paper and tell her not to run it."
"Don't!" Spencer hit me on the thigh when he said it. "Don't be mean. Let it go."
He waved his free hand in the air as if he were literally letting something go.
"Let it go," I repeated.
"Let it go," he chanted. "Do it with me. Let it go. Let him be."
I followed along.
"Let it go. Let Kyle marry Winston. Let those two lovebirds be happy. Let him run for office. Let it..."
"Let him what?"
Everything in that moment stopped. The words came out like verbal vomit and there was no way to catch them. I was surprised, upset even, that Kyle hadn't told him yet. It was a simple, honest mistake, but I knew immediately that I'd fucked up.
"Nothing."
"He's running for office? What office?"
"I have no idea," I said. I scooted over so that our thighs were no longer touching. Spencer tucked one leg under the other and glared at me.
"Cooper Carpenter, tell me what you know."
"I don't know anything." The glare continued. "I don't... Kyle is running for DA."
"You're kidding."
"Spencer, it wasn't my place to tell you," I said. I put my glass down, realizing I'd had enough for the night. "I'm sure he was going to tell you soon."
Of course he was going to tell Spencer soon. Spencer was his bankroll. If any of us were on the do-tell list, it was Spencer.
"But that bastard told you first. Let's call him." Spencer was up and across the room before I protested. He grabbed his phone and began scrolling for Kyle's name.
"Spencer, no, don't call him. It's late, and he'll be mad that I told you," I said, standing and following him.
"That sounds like your problem."
"Spencer, come on. It's late. Don't call."
He turned and glared at me. I could tell he was genuinely hurt that Kyle hadn't shared the news with him. From the looks of his face, Kyle hadn't even told him he was considering the possibility of running. To a guy as loyal and supportive as Spencer, that was a dagger, and it meant Kyle wasn't totally sure about his decision.
"You're right. He's probably in bed with Winston."
I watched the thought work its way through my friend's head. It was great seeing him connect the dots one by one as he made the correlation between what I said and what he'd just thought.
"He's not with Winston because of this DA thing, is he?" he asked, slinking back into his seat. My friend was nothing if not intuitive.
"No, he's not," I said. "Spencer, he isn't."
"How do you know?"
I couldn't tell him how I knew, because the truth was, I didn't. All I had was Kyle's word, but those words were coming from the same lips that blew Rusty for an entire year before he got what he wanted.
"I'm going to be sick," Spencer said after the last swig of his scotch. He set the glass down on the center table.
"It's not that big of a deal, is it?" I replied.
"No, like, I'm actually going to be sick," he said. A second later, Spencer sprang up and upchucked straight into his kitchen sink. Two hours, three vomits, and two bottles of water later, I put Spencer to sleep, picked up a spare blanket, and found my way to his couch.
I was hurting the next morning. When I woke up, Spencer was already gone, leaving nothing but a note saying he had a medical appointment that only meant he was either hooking up with a doctor or getting his quarterly Botox boost. I picked myself up, chugged an entire bottle of water, and let myself out.
On my way to the office to get some work done while I waited for my students to drop off their third reading response, I got a message from Mason.
To Coop: Call me. We planned on releasing the news about the divorce on Sunday, but somehow the story leaked. There are four blogs running it right now, and several others waiting for a statement. Call me `sap.
I sighed, took in a deep breath, and told myself to calm down. It wasn't a big deal, I said. So the story leaked. It would have been nice to control the rollout on my own terms, but this wasn't the end of the world.
"What's the fallout?" I asked as soon as I closed my office door and had Mason on the phone.
"Not significant," he replied. "The folks at Belo called and said if you need to take some time off, they'll run some `Best Ofs' for the next few weeks. I've written up a response to inquiries, and I've gone ahead and submitted the press release to the Associated Press. It will run in the Morning News and Fort Worth Star on Saturday and Sunday. I imagine some of the other bigger papers picking it up on Saturday as well."
"It sounds like you have it under control," I said, sitting down and lounging out. "Call Christina at Knowles and tell them about it before they hear it somewhere else. And then let Max at Belo know that everything is fine. If anyone calls you, give them the stock response and tell them I have no comment."
"Got it."
"Thank you, Mase," I concluded, realizing that our relationship had frayed considerably since Chase returned to town.
Just as I hung up on Mason and decided not to let the news of a press leak ruin my day, I heard a knock on my door.
"It's open."
After a brief moment, in walked an associate professor of the English department. His office was across the hall from mine and I'd seen him quite a few times. We were cordial but not friendly. It surprised me to see his face pop in to my office.
"Hey, Jason," I said, masking my surprise with a cheerful tone. "Come on in."
"Hey, buddy. I just wanted to check on you. Everyone is kind of talking about the bomb that dropped this morning," he said, coming in, closing the door and having a seat across from me. "We had no idea this was going on."
"I appreciate it," I replied. "It's not a big deal, though, actually. It is what it is."
"Well if you need anything," he said, flashing me a smile. "I'm across the hall."
"Thanks, Jason," I said. My body language and my tone indicated that I as finished the conversation.
"So one blog said you were leaving your wife for an Olympic athlete," he said, his eyes wide. I wasn't sure where the invitation to pry had come from, but apparently he felt like I had given him one.
"I'd rather not talk about it, but thanks for stopping by."
"I completely understand. Is there really a tell-all coming out?"
I gave him any icy glare and he finally read my thoughts completely. He stood up and inched backwards awkwardly, smiling at me tentatively as he retreated. "I'm across the hall if you need anything," he repeated.
I couldn't tell if he was the Trojan horse sent in by the more established- read: cliquey- professors who already had their little gossip circle, or if he'd come in on his own accord for a very lame attempt at flirting. Either way, I was disturbed by the whole thing.
There was no way to get any work done after that, so I just hung around, checking my messages and waiting for five o'clock to roll around so I could go home and get my apartment ready for my kids.
Devon's detailed message came around four. She outlined everything from beginning to end. She was leaving at the crack of dawn on Saturday, so I was going to pick up CJ and Liz after Liz's game that night. The team was playing Boswell High in Fort Worth, so by the time the busses got back, it'd be around ten o'clock. Devon said she was already packed, so I made plans to be at the house around 9:30, 10:00.
I had nothing to do before then, so I called Chase and asked if he wanted to go to dinner.
"Sure," he said. "But I think we should stick to a place that's public."
"Why's that?"
"I'm not sure I can deal with a night of take out on your floor, without wanting to make out on your floor."
I smiled. "Did you actually just rhyme that? That sounds like something I would say."
"I might have read some of your column entries," he chuckled. "The writer's rubbing off on the poor stupid jock." We agreed to meet at Forgione's downtown for the most amazing pizzas and Italian food this side of the Trinity River.
I hung around as long as I could, throwing in the towel at 4:58. I gathered the hard copies of each paper and retreated to my car, wondering why I was so married to the archaic method of paper copies. It was how I read my news, did my edits, and graded my papers. I was old school, and I made no apologies.
As I drove home, elated at the prospect of spending the weekend with my kids like the old times, I got a phone call that nearly stopped me dead as I crossed Blackburn Street to Lemmon.
"You're a fucking bastard," Kyle's voice rang loud and clear. I was glad I had pushed the voice button and not the picture button to avoid having to see his stoic and angry face.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You had absolutely no right to tell Spencer I was planning on running for office. You had no right to insinuate to him that this thing with Winston was an arrangement. Where the fuck do you get off, Cooper?"
"Kyle, I didn't tell him your engagement was an arrangement."
"Really? Because he got the idea from somewhere, and you're the only one who's even brought up that possibility." I could tell he was fuming. I could almost picture him pacing back and forth in his office, taking his anger out on some unsuspecting legal brief or filing cabinet.
I tried to keep my voice even keeled. "Did you ever think that maybe it's not such a novel idea?"
His silence was deafening. I could hear him breath, but after a decent pause, I continued.
"I'm just saying, Kyle. I let it slip about the race, but I didn't say a word about a publicity wedding, I swear to God. Spencer drew that conclusion on his own. But the fact that you're so paranoid about it-"
"Don't do you dare finish that sentence," he hissed through clenched teeth. I shook my head in mild frustration.
"Kyle-"
"Cooper, listen to me. You had no right to tell Spencer anything. You have no right to question my relationship. I just... I can't keep doing this with you. Let it the fuck go, or leave me the fuck alone."
Kyle hung up. It was that simple. If I didn't get over it, I would lose so much more than just an ex-lover. If I didn't let it go, I was poised to lose a good friend.
By the time I pulled into my parking spot and turned off my phone, I was in less than a stellar mood.
I spent the evening putting the final touches on the apartment and keeping my mind off of Kyle's harsh words. The kids' rooms were finished, complete with a TV in each. The game console I'd confiscated from CJ was set up in his new room. I figured a new place required a new slate. I knew that Liz liked her room chillingly cold, so I turned down her thermostat and cranked up the fan.
I hadn't gotten around to hiring a cleaning lady yet, so I swept, mopped, and vacuumed the living area myself. I wanted the place to look good and feel comfortable for the kids. We'd stock up on groceries as a family in the morning.
Two hours and two dust cloths later, I showered, changed into jeans and a button down shirt, and set out to meet Chase.
Everything about the evening screamed first blind date. I got to the restaurant seemingly before him, asking for the Pallendrino reservation. They said he wasn't there yet, so I hung out at the bar, ordered a drink and waited.
Twenty minutes later, he crept up behind me with his hand on my shoulder saying he'd been waiting for me, and that he'd called the reservation in under Carpenter.
"Sorry for the confusion," he said, leading me to our table in the back. "The place had no spots tonight, but when I said it was for Cooper Carpenter, a table magically opened up."
"We'll need to get the cars to pick us up from the back then," I commented, sliding into a dim and cozy corner booth. "No doubt they think they've scored a free photo op at my expense."
It wasn't unheard of for me to leave a restaurant, especially a high profile one, to the tune of three or four photographers waiting outside. It came with the territory, especially right after All Cooped Up first dropped. While most of the circles I traveled with were hardly ever star-struck, I had a big tabloid following that loved to see how cooped up Cooper still was.
Dinner was pleasant if not staccato. Chase told me about what he was doing in the area now that he was set on staying for a while. He said he'd put in a bid for an apartment at Victory Place, the tower right across from Kyle's loft. They had a three year waiting list, but the property manager was a friend, and he was sure he'd get the space.
"Living in a hotel has its perks. I haven't bought shampoo in a month," he smiled. "But it's time to settle those roots in."
"I agree," I said. It was hard to imagine that a few weeks back, I'd considered letting him move in with me. We'd fallen pretty far since then, but we were building it slowly back up.
"What do you plan to do while you're here?" I asked. I couldn't imagine a guy like Chase sitting around and doing nothing all day. Swimming was definitely on the schedule, but he'd have to leave the pool sometime.
"I'm in the process of moving my foundation down here," he said casually, like uprooting an entire headquarter was no big deal.
"I guess the underprivileged children of Dallas are about to learn to swim," I said, remembering the details he'd told me that first week.
"That's the goal. So many of these kids could have bright futures in an underexposed sport," he said with a shrug.
"Okay, Pal. This is not a fund raiser, but I appreciate the pitch," I replied. He smiled.
"Actually, a pretty interesting opportunity came up just the other day." I opened my eyes wide in genuine interest. "It turns out an old buddy that I used to swim with just got promoted to be Athletic Director at St. Mark's School, leaving a spot open in their high school swimming program."
I put my fork down gingerly.
"You're going to teach?"
"I was approached," he replied. "It's not something I ever considered, but it's what a lot of ex-swimmers do."
I nodded. "That sounds interesting."
"You don't sound interested," he said. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't. In truth, it was a good opportunity. St. Mark's had a great athletic program for a private school. Their tennis and lacrosse was top notch, bar none, and I was positive Chase would love working there.
It seemed sort of invasive, however. That school, where my son went and where I gave copious amounts of philanthropy money, seemed like my place, part of my world. It felt like the lines were being blurred again; and this time around I was more adept to spot it.
"It isn't set in stone yet," he said, sensing my very real hesitation. "I'm meeting with Tim and the athletic dean on Monday and we'll take it from there."
I cleared my throat and swallowed my need to object. Chase was a grown up and had every right to make his own decisions. If he chose to teach at my son's high school, it was up to him.
"You have to try this," I said, changing the subject and cutting a piece of chicken Marsala. I pushed the fork towards Chase and he leaned in and bit it.
"Oh, that's wonderful," he said. He made an orgasm face as he swallowed that made me laugh and swoon at the same time. Unlike so many other guys, Chase had a beautiful orgasm face.
"How's the lasagna?"
"To die for, gamin. E molto buono," he said holding up two fingers, melting me with the perfect Italian. He brought his fork up to me, and as he leaned in, I felt him adjust his leg, grazing it past mine. I took the big bite of lasagna and smiled, trying hard not to push my leg further into his.
The eye contact that followed, mixed with the silence, was an electric current that could have lit a room. So much of our relationship was physical, this attempt to separate it was excruciating. I willed my boner down and decided if push came to shove and it didn't retreat, I'd be forced to order dessert.
Normally, I would have supported lounging out and having a few drinks before we left, but I had to get to Highland Park in an hour and so, after a glass of lemon semifreddo, Chase and I paid our ticket and snuck out through the back.
"I had an amazing time, gamin," he said, standing close to me in the dark alley as we waited for our cars.
"So did I," I replied. It felt good to know we could see each other without the glitz and glam. At the end of the day, a date was a date.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I'm spending the day with my kids, who are both grounded," I replied. "So I'll probably be drinking wine downstairs while they lock themselves in their bedrooms."
He smiled. "If you want company..."
It was the very thought I'd been tightroping since Devon asked me to take them for the weekend. Part of me wanted him to meet them, hang out with them, win them over. But Spencer might have been right. What if he did choke? What if it was too soon? I'd rushed things once before, and I didn't want to do it again.
"I'll get back to you on that," I said, cocking my neck to the side.
"Okay."
"I'll ask them if they're interested in meeting you. If so, you can come over for... Monopoly or something. Liz is crazy good; don't let her get Boardwalk."
"Sounds like a lot of fun," he said skeptically. I could see the sheer horror at spending a Saturday night with two brats, but it came with the territory. If this month was about seeing how much Chase and I could build together, he'd have to warm up to my kids eventually. I was pretty sure he'd need a lot of time, so maybe it was best for him to start sooner rather than later.
Our cars pulled up, resulting in the awkward goodbye for the night. I wanted to go in for the kiss, but I knew the kiss was the peak of a slippery slope. So I went in for the hug instead. As I hugged Chase, I felt on my torso the distinct outline of something that wasn't a roll of quarters. It wasn't completely hard, but the fact that I could feel it through his slacks meant it was definitely excitable.
At that point in the hug, Chase's face came down for a kiss. Distracted, I lifted my head, and his lips met the side of mine. Not taking no for answer, Chase moved my face effortlessly to the side and kissed me softly on the lips while his semi-hard boner ground into my belly button.
"I love you, gamin," he said softly, cupping my face. I almost ended the month right then, twenty-eight days too soon. I smiled up at him, cleared my throat and walked to my car, in desperate need of a chardonnay and a cold shower.
As soon as I stepped into my car and headed towards Highland Park, my phone rang, and Britney's face popped up on the screen. This bitch's number had a knack for bringing me down from some great dates, I thought.
"Hello," I answered, dreading what she had to say.
"Coop, it's Sebastian."
"Do you not have your own phone anymore?" I griped.
"Mike just told me you aren't letting Liz go to his party," he said in an even tone. While planning the weekend, Devon and I had decided that Mike's birthday party wasn't grounds to exempt Liz's grounding.
"Yeah," I replied, surprised that the other half of the equation was even letting Mike have his party after what those kids had done. "She's grounded, Bass."
"Coop, come on. The kid's turning sixteen. He's crushed that she won't be there," Bass answered. "He wants to cancel the whole thing."
"I don't know what you want me to say," I replied. "I think the kid is on to something."
"Coop..."
"Bass, the kids were caught in bed together. Am I the only one that remembers that?"
"He only turns sixteen one time."
"What the fuck is the big deal? She's grounded for seeing your son. She's not getting a free pass to go and see your son. I'm sorry; tell the little shit he should have kept it in his pants until after his little party."
"Cooper, I'm in a really awkward position here."
"Here's one for you and your position, Sebastian," I said, my attitude swelling. "You reward your kid for screwing up, and I'll continue to discipline mine."
The silence from the other side of the line indicated that I had definitely struck a nerve. I didn't care about being offensive. He was the one who insisted on calling out my parenting style when, to me, this was cut and dried. How he was still allowing Mike to throw a party was beyond me. And then I realized why he was dialing in from Britney's phone. She had put him up to making the phone call.
"Listen, Bass, I'll ask Devon what she thinks when I get to the house and we'll see."
He said he appreciated me thinking it over and that it would mean more than everything to Mike if Liz was there.
"I know we agreed on grounding her, but honestly, I don't have a problem with her going," Devon said twenty minutes later after I pulled into my old parking spot. It was almost eleven and the Highland Park cheerleading van would be rolling up to our corner any minute. "I think Sebastian might be right. It isn't just any regular party. This is Mike's sweet sixteen and they've been friends forever. You wouldn't dream of cancelling Liz's sixteenth birthday."
She had a point there. We had an obscene amount of money set aside for Liz's sixteenth birthday in February that would cover a big party and a car for her gift. It was something both my and Devon's parents had done for us, and it was a non-negotiable part when it came to our kids.
"How do we tell her she can go without undermining the fact that they were in bed together?" I asked.
"Coop, you know as well as I do that those kids are going to see each other. They're going to do what they want to do and us trying to lock them up isn't going to stop them."
Again, I felt like she was right. I knew we couldn't keep her chained in her room forever. Plus, with Devon flip-flopping, if I stayed firm on this one, I'd be the sole bad guy. I sighed deep and resigned.
"Fine, I guess she can go," I told Devon as my ex-wife pulled her robe tighter and folded here arms. It was almost as if she'd been waiting for us to make the decision, because not a second after the words left my mouth did Liz and her friend Gil come bounding into the living room, dressed in their darker colored away uniforms and holding oversized embossed gym bags.
"Hey Mom. Hey Dad," she said glumly.
"Ladies," I replied. "How was the game?"
"Good," she said shortly. "They won fourteen to three."
"Listen, Elizabeth, your father and I were talking and we decided, if you still want to go to the Kennedy's it'll be okay."
The shriek that followed would have registered a 120 on the decibel scale. It was followed by a dropped bag, a shriek from Gil, who I'm assuming had sacrificed her night to keep Liz company while the rest of their close friends were at the Kennedy's. A round of hugs followed, and seconds later, the girls were racing upstairs to change clothes.
"I'll drop them off if you want to get back up to bed," I told Devon. Luckily for me, the party wasn't being held at their house in Southlake, but rather at a restaurant in Downtown that Kyle had rented out as a gift to Mike.
By the time CJ and Liz loaded the car, said goodnight to their mother, and we pulled up to the event, the restaurant was packed with a couple hundred of Mike's closest friends.
"Hey, kiddo. I'm going to go in and say hi to Uncle Bass, alright?" I told CJ as I watched the girls waltz into the venue. He grunted his response and continued playing some game or another on his tablet.
I found Bass and Britney standing at the restaurant's main bar with a few of their booster friends from Southlake. No one was doing any real chaperoning, but what more could I expect from a group of WASPS sipping vodka tonics and unsure who a third of the kids in the next room were.
"Cooper," Bass said with a smile. I saw the look Britney gave him as he walked over, arms wide, pulling me into a gin soaked hug.
"Hey, Bass. Really neat set up y'all have here."
"You know, it all came together last minute. I'm thrilled you let Liz come. I'm sure Mike is going to be thrilled as well."
"Yeah," I said. "I caved, I couldn't help it."
"Want a drink?"
"No, no, thanks. I have to get CJ home. He has karate early."
"Great yeah. Okay, well. Um, this ends at two, so I will make sure Liz gets home right after that."
"She knows her curfew is one o'clock on the weekend. No exceptions on that."
"Fair enough, buddy. Listen, I'm glad you let her come. Thank you very much." He gave me another hug and rejoined the other folks. As I passed the main party room, the music blaring far too loud, I thought about sneaking in, finding Mike and giving him a stern warning. Devon and I had already instilled the fear of God in Liz, so I decided to let it go and trust them.
CJ was in his room checking out his new TV before I could even point out where everything else was. He knew where his room, the fridge, and the bathroom were and that was really all he needed.
I graded papers until just before one o'clock then went upstairs to check on CJ, who was fast asleep, his TV staring back at him. I could have gone to bed, but I decided not to for a couple of reasons. Liz hadn't been to the apartment yet, and I wanted to show her around when she got there. I knew she wasn't a little kid, but I felt like it would ease the whole thing if I was awake when she got to the new place.
Secondly, I didn't trust that she'd be home from the party in time. The conversation we had with Devon before we left the house was specific. One o'clock, you get a cab and come home. No questions. No excuses.
When 1:15 hit, I started to get a little nervous. There's that moment when you realize that you're being deliberately disobeyed and anger begins to simmer. Then there's the moment right after when you begin to worry that something terrible has happened.
Both moments hit at the exact same moment, but I forced myself not to panic. Liz was alright, if not a little defiant. She'd be home soon.
I called her phone at 1:30 and it rang through before going to her inbox.
To Liz: Get home, now. Call me if there's a problem.
At 1:35, I called Bass.
"Hey, Sebastian. Is Liz still at the party?"
"Umm, no Coop. She got a ride a home about half an hour ago. Why? She's not home yet?"
"No, she's not. Is Mike still there?"
"Coop, he wouldn't leave his own party." My friend sounded like he'd sobered up considerably since I saw him a couple hours before.
"Could you check, please?"
"Cooper, you're overreacting." Maybe I was, but I felt like I had every right to, considering the circumstances. The last thing I wanted was Mike and Liz to sneak off in Mike's new car and fool around somewhere before they navigated their way home.
"Just check and send me a message," I said, not wanting to sound crazy. If Bass wasn't worried, why was I? Because it wasn't his child that was going to get saddled with a baby and a boy who wouldn't marry her.
I took a deep breath and did what my dad had done on several occasions when Dylan and I missed curfew growing up. I took a blanket from the closet and a pillow from my bed, set my phone on clock mode and crawled into the upstairs bathroom.
I knew from the two or three times before when Liz had missed curfew that her first stop was always the bathroom when she snuck in. It might have been a teen thing, or even just a girl thing. Either way, I knew where she'd go first. And because I had to take CJ to karate in a few short hours, I sprawled out in the tub and slept as well as I could.
I heard the rustling, opened my eyes and checked the time. It was nearly 2:30. Hearing her opening and closing doors as she tiptoed upstairs, I felt my worry melt away and my anger replace it.
I listened as she found her room and clicked the light on. A second later, she opened the bathroom door and stepped in.
"Shit!" she shrieked. "Dad you scared me. What are you doing in there?"
Without saying anything, I handed her the clock.
"Okay, I know I'm late, but Dad—"
"It's 2:30 in the morning and you're crawling into the house? What the hell are you thinking young lady?"
She clammed up and gave me her best innocent face.
"Where'd you go after you left the party?"
"I got a cab and came home."
"Don't lie to me, please," I said evenly.
"Dad."
"Where did you go when you left the party?" I punctuated each word, glaring at her in a way that meant business. I saw a tear form in her eye as she shook her head, unable to say the words.
I knew when Liz was lying. Her face sold her out like a tabloid on a Tuesday, and it was suddenly perfectly clear. She had gone home, just not to my house. There was a perfectly empty house six stop lights away, and it didn't take a genius to realize that's where she'd gone.
I realized there was no use yelling or making a big deal about it. We could have turned this into a big yelling match, me telling her how she'd broken my trust and was grounded forever and ever. I could have yelled and threatened to keep her away from the boy she was clearly infatuated with, but at that moment, there was no use in doing so.
"I'm really disappointed in you, Liz," I said. It was the worst words a daughter wanted to hear from her father, and so for emphasis, I said them again. "Extremely disappointed. We'll discuss this tomorrow."
With that, I took my phone from her, and left my little girl standing there at the brink of tears.
After checking to make sure the lights were off and the doors were locked, I finally got into bed, my emotions swirling in circles. I'd screwed up my first night with the kids, going against my intuition, and ending up with a daughter who very well may have lost her virginity that night.
Kyle was pissed at me. I was pissed at Spencer. I felt like the worst father in the world. I couldn't sleep, but there was nothing to do. I stayed in bed for nearly five minutes before I realized there was only one person I could call. Every piece of me wanted to invite him over, but simply hearing his voice would be enough to ease my temperament.
I reached over, dialed his number, and three rings later, he answered.
"Hey, Coop, is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I said, ignoring the obvious effect he had on me from head to toe with just the sound of his voice. "I had a bad night and I just wanted to talk."
"Okay, gamin," he replied, calming me down almost instantly. "Let's talk."
I hope you're enjoying the series so far. More to come soon. As always, comments and reviews are the only currency for Nifty writers, so your feedback good or bad is always greatly appreciated. Contact me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Thanks again for reading my story!