Desperately Seeking Epic(75)

Paul steps out onto the porch and takes my face in his hands. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, and then my mouth. “I promise I’ll take good care of her. Please go have fun.” Then he kisses me again, long and slow, his fingers sliding up into my hair. When he pulls away, my body feels limp. His dark eyes beam onto mine as he grins. Fucker. He knows I’m like putty in his hands. “Last night was amazing,” he whispers with a smirk. “Let’s do it again real soon.

And it was amazing. He’d told me so a million times this morning. But I’m not tired of hearing it yet. Then turning me, he swats my ass and sends me on my way.

When I climb in the car, Ally’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but it’s Vanessa that starts first. “You look like you’re walking a little funny today, Clara,” she heckles from the backseat.

“Clara got some brown chicken, brown cow,” Ally teases, imitating the classic porno music. That’s her hilarious way of saying, bow chicka wow wow.

They both laugh as I chuckle, my face heating slightly.

“How was it?” Ally asks, her tone indicating her desperation for details. She looks all cute and innocent to the outside world, but she’s really a horny little freak.

I shrug as I put the car in drive. “Pretty damn awesome,” I admit.

“Good for you,” Vanessa laughs.

“I didn’t know it could still be so . . . hot,” I confess.

“What?” Ally questions me, her face scrunched up. “Sex?”

“Well, yeah. It was . . . kind of dirty—in a good way. I kind of thought I’d never have that again.”

“Why?” they both ask in unison.

“I don’t know,” I groan, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I feel like the thirteen-year-old that hasn’t started her period when all her other friends have. “I guess I thought with age and a kid, and . . . I don’t know.”

“So Paul is a super freak . . .” Ally notes with admiration.

Images of him beneath me, watching me, thrusting in and out of me flicker through my mind. Ugh, the sex was amazing. I needed that so badly.

“Judging by the look on her face, definitely,” Vanessa snorts.





Neena and I spend the day watching movies, lounging on the couch. Around four, her phone rings and she goes to the kitchen before she answers. Then she walks back in the living room, phone to her ear.

“You’re here? Right now?” she says, to whomever is on the other end. I sit up and mute the television and watch her as she opens the front door.

It’s Mills.

Mills is here.

Mills that makes my daughter cry.

Great.

“Hi,” she manages as she drops her phone to her side. Her other hand fingers her scalp nervously. She’s not wearing her scarf. The brown fuzz that covers her head is as dark as mine and offers a vast contrast to her pale skin.

“Hi. Sorry to just show up, but . . . I wanted to talk to you and your mom.”

“Mom’s not here,” Neena says.

“But Dad is,” I offer loudly as I stand and approach the door. Mills’ eyes widen slightly and he fidgets a little, shuffling in place.

“Oh, hi, Paul,” he offers. Pushing his bangs from his face, he looks at me. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew I could get them. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get tickets to Masters of the V. I finally scored some this morning.”

Neena’s eyebrows haven’t fully grown back, but I can tell they’d be touching her hairline if they had. “Really?”

Mills darts his gaze to me, nervously, then back to Neena. “I thought, if your parents were cool with it, maybe you could go.”

Neena lets out some kind of crazy squeal/shriek sound as she grabs my arms and tugs. “Please, Dad! Please let me go.”

I kind of want to throat punch Mills right now. He should have asked me before telling Neena. How in the hell am I supposed to say no to her? But I should. For starters, concerts are loud and busy and people are pushy. Secondly, I’m pretty sure Clara would say no.

“I got a third ticket for you or Clara to go, too,” Mills murmurs.

“How thoughtful,” I counter dryly.

“Pleeeassseee, Dad!” Neena begs. She’s been peppy today. More so than she has in a long time. Today is a good day. Maybe one of the last good days we have.

I’m already leaning toward answering yes when Mills throws out his final card. “I got us backstage passes.”

And . . . we’re going. Clara is not going to like this. Fuck.



I don’t call Clara. My reasoning is nothing is wrong. Neena is fine. She’s happy. And if I call Clara, all it will do is worry her to death while she should be relaxing. Besides, I’m going to be with Neena the entire time. Everything will be fine.

We meet Masters of the V before the show. Zack, the lead singer, who looks like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket this morning, his hair sticks out so much, is actually a pretty cool guy. He gives Neena an autographed poster and the coveted wristband she’s wanted so badly for so long. Neena has not stopped grinning all night.

And Mills, to his credit, has treated her like a queen tonight. I’ve had mixed feeling about the kid. But before we got out of the car to come inside tonight, Neena looked in the visor to adjust the purple scarf around her head. What happened next surprised me.