Play Fair (The Devil's Share Book 3)(4)

“Well, she put you down on the birth certificate as Landry’s father.”

I was expecting those words, I knew they were coming. But still, hearing them caused my lungs to seize up momentarily. “There must be some mistake.”

The social worker, Diane, smiled. It was a kind, understanding smile. “Mr. Cole—”

“Jacks.” Mr. Cole was my father, he was old and responsible. I was neither of those things.

“Jacks. I understand the shock that comes with the kind of news I’ve just delivered. And while I strongly urge you to get a paternity test—”

“Yes. One of those. I need one of those.” I knew I kept interrupting her, and I knew it was rude. But my manners were starting to escape me.

She reached into her bag and handed me a cotton swab. “Remove the cap, swab the inside of your cheek, and then replace the cap. You’ll have the results in two days. Landry’s is already on file. But Jacks, there is something you should know…Amelia, her mother, she’s gone.”

Gone? “She died?” I rubbed my cheek with the rough cotton and then handed it back to Diane.

“No. Well, I don’t know, maybe. But either way she abandoned Landry two weeks ago.”

I turned toward the kitchen. I could hear her small voice responding to Dylan with one-word answers. “Landry was alone?”

Diane leaned forward, drawing my attention back to her. “She was, yes, for about eight days. A neighbor finally noticed and called 9-1-1.”

Apparently I knocked up a horrible person. “Was she hurt? Landry, I mean.”

“No, quite the opposite in fact. She cooked her own food, gave herself a bath, and tucked herself in at night. The house was clean and tidy when social services got there.” Diane shook her head, in a very sad sweet lady way. “It appeared that Landry was very used to taking care of herself.”

That poor tiny girl. Maybe Smith should adopt her, they probably had more in common. I was a spoiled brat. My parents were insanely loving and supportive. I was never left alone a day in my life. I never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from, my next hug. I never had to worry about anything, ever. I silently laughed to myself, talk about product of your environment. “How old is she? Like twelve?” She was small, but to be able to take care of herself like that she had to be older than she looked.

“Landry is nine.”

My chest hurt. How often was she left alone that she could fend for herself for that long at the age of nine? I couldn’t even figure out the microwave at that age. “What happens to her now?”

“Well, that depends on you.”

Me? No, not me. I wasn’t an adult. I should go get Dash, he’d know what to do. “You want me to take her? What if she’s not mine?” It was possible, right? I mean, there was certainly a chance that her mom was lying. This chick abandoned her kid, so honesty wasn’t her strong suit.

“If you don’t, then she’ll have to go into the system. A foster home, until we can figure something out. Landry’s mom has another week to come forward before her rights are terminated automatically.”

“She gets another chance? Why?” That sounded like a horrible idea. Why would they want to let a clearly shitty person get her kid back?

“Jacks, kids Landry’s age rarely find permanent placement once they go into the system. People looking to adopt usually want babies or younger children. The best thing for Landry would be if her mother came forward, agreed to enter treatment and parenting classes. I assure you she would have to prove herself in order for us to let Landry go home.” Diane pulled out a few different papers and a pen. “If the paternity test shows that she’s yours, and you don’t want to claim custody, I have papers for you to sign your rights away.”

Sign my rights away? That didn’t sound good. That sounded like a really crappy thing to do. I was an immature pain in the ass, but I wasn’t a shitty person. Right? “I live here with the rest of my band…and two chicks. Oh, and a giant dog. I mean, is it okay that she’s here?” Shouldn’t she be somewhere more…normal?

“While we agree that this is a rather unusual living situation, social services feels that having her with her father is far better than putting her in the system.”

Was I her father? Probably. I’d lost count of the number of women I’d slept with. Of course I knocked one of them up. Too bad it wasn’t one of the fifty kindergarten teachers. I bet they were all great mom material. “She can stay here. Until we know for sure, I mean.”

Diane smiled; I guess that was the right answer. She stood and I followed. We were headed into the kitchen. To talk to Landry. We were going to the kitchen to tell Landry, my possible daughter, that she could stay here. Was she my daughter? She looked just like me. And she seemed to hate me. Seemed about right. “Landry, sweetheart, can we talk to you a minute?”

Diane reminded me of a grandma. Very calm, very loving. Maybe she should take Landry. The tiny little girl with the raven hair and the piercing eyes turned her full attention toward us. “Landry, this is Jacks. This is the man I was telling you about in the car. He lives here, with his friends.” Landry shifted her eyes toward Smith and Dylan. And then to me. Her gaze was intense. “Jacks would very much like it if you agreed to stay here, with him.”