Daddy’s Temptation by Kelly Myers
Ryan
After helping the new tenant with the heavy box, I wander back to my corner apartment, pull my shirt off and stand in front of the air conditioning unit in the window. I tilt my head back and let the icy air blow on over my sticky chest and face, trying not to think too hard about Hailey Lane.
The girl is gorgeous, no doubt about it. And, she seems like a sweet kid. That’s right, Fox. A kid. Keep your mind out of the gutter.
“Christ,” I swear and drop my head between my shoulders, letting the cool air dry the sweat on my body. I haven’t been interested in a woman in a long time and the first one I notice happens to be the same age as my daughter.
Speaking of which…
I give my head a shake and pull my cell phone from my back pocket. I pull up my favorites and there’s only one name listed there. Bella. Unfortunately, I don’t dial it too often because my daughter doesn’t want much to do with me.
With a sigh, I begin to type a text to her. After debating what exactly to say and just how to say it, I finally settle on a message ten minutes later: Hi, Bella-Vanilla. I just wanted to wish you a Happy 23rd Birthday. I’d love to catch up over lunch. Love you, Dad.
Before I can think too hard about it, I hit send.
Bella is the most important thing in my pathetic life and she likes to pretend that I don’t exist. I feel a stab of pain and set my phone down. I never planned on becoming a father at 20, but it happened and I tried to do the right thing so I married Paige.
I don’t know if we were ever really in love. But, I knew I had a responsibility to help take care of the baby. My job wasn’t great at the time and I’d always wanted to do something bigger and better with my life so I ended up joining the Army.
It didn’t take long to see that I had a knack for flying. You know that scene in Top Gun where the jets take off and land on the aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean? Yeah, that was me.
I had talent and was a damn good pilot so joining the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR) was my goal. 160th SOAR soldiers, also known as Night Stalkers, fly classified missions using highly-modified Black Hawk, Chinook and Little Bird helicopters, among other things.
To be a Night Stalker pilot, I went through rigorous training to become mission-ready to fly in the most challenging conditions, including bad weather and enemy fire, all while relying on infrared and night-vision equipment to navigate through the darkness.
As a SOAR soldier, your ultimate goal is always to complete flight missions safely under pressure. Bad weather, enemy fire and tricky terrain are all secondary to the fact that your missions take place in the darkest part of the night.
Operating in the shadows, I was one of the elite pilots responsible for getting DELTA Force and Navy SEAL special operators into and out of some of the most secret and dangerous operations of the US military. We’d rather die than quit. Hence, our motto-- “Night Stalkers Don’t Quit,” often shortened to “NSDQ!”
It was an amazing, extremely dangerous job, but I felt like I was finally doing something worthwhile. Unfortunately, the shaky relationship I had with Paige crumbled since I was gone so much. We ended up divorcing after a few years and Paige took Bella while I immersed myself in my military career.
Over the years, I saw Bella when I could, but we were never very close. I always got the feeling that Paige blamed me for things not working out and let Bella know that. Then, five years ago, I retired from the military and took the money I had saved and bought Sunset Terrace.
The apartment complex gives me something to do and a source of income, but I’m not going to lie. Ever since I left the military, I’ve been floundering. There’s a reason that they say it’s hard to transition back to civilian life. I’m still struggling.
In a way, I know I’ve stopped living. I should put myself out there more and try to have a normal life like everyone else, but I can’t. Not everything during my career as a Night Stalker pilot ended in sunshine and flowers. Bad things happened, things I blame myself for and can’t fully get over. Good men were lost on missions and, though it wasn’t directly my fault, it’s a hard pill to swallow.
Guilt has a way of holding you back, not allowing you to move forward, and the faces of the men who I dropped off on a mission, but then never picked back up because they didn’t make, haunt me. The only way I know how to drown the guilt is to hide away and isolate myself from the world where I can suffer in silence. Locked up in the confines of my apartment, I can drink a few beers and rehash everything. It’s a bit like self-mutilation, I suppose, but the idea that good men died serving their country and protecting the ones they love bothers me.
I always thought I was a pretty mentally-tough person, but I’m not fucking Superman. There are times when I wish I had someone in my life that I could talk to, a soft feminine body that I could sink into and a future that might actually mean something.
Dammit.I hate when the darkness sucks me down, but sometimes it’s inevitable. A shiver runs through me and I step away from the air conditioner and head into the kitchen. I open the fridge and grab a beer. As I twist the cap off, I know it’s going to be one of those nights. Long and lonely. Best to start drinking now, I think, and take a long swig.
Luckily, the building keeps me pretty busy. There’s always something to fix and I spend most of my time puttering around the complex with my toolbox. Most of the tenants are in their 20s, out here in search of a dream, and I look forward to catching up with them on Sundays. That’s when I pull the grill out, throw some burgers and hotdogs on it and listen to them talk about their lives.
Since I don’t have a life of my own, it’s nice to hear about theirs. Sometimes, they even ask me for advice. I like playing the father-figure role since I don’t have much opportunity to do it with my own daughter.
Hell, who am I kidding? Bella has never once asked me for advice or help in her life. To her, I’m just this guy, practically a stranger, who reaches out every once in a while and tries to force a relationship with her. Sometimes, I feel like a gnat, small, powerless and annoying, bracing myself for her inevitable swat.
I glance down at the kitchen table where a folder sits with the new tenant’s paperwork. Hailey Lane. I hope she swings by soon because I plan on getting stinking drunk tonight. Maybe I should reach out to one of my military buddies. I haven’t talked to Ryker Flynn in awhile. Last I heard, the Navy SEAL had worked through his oppressive PTSD, fallen in love, gotten married and had a baby.
I’m really glad Ryker overcame his demons and found a way to live again. Shit, he was worse off than me after losing his whole team in a Columbian jungle. Thank Christ, I wasn’t involved in that clusterfuck of a mission. Last thing I need is another weight on my shoulders.
I’ll text him in a day or two, I think, and drop down on the couch. Right now, I want to forget about anything military-related. I just want to sink into my couch, drink until I’m numb and forget about life. When my phone beeps, I reach over and grab it.
I sit up straight when I see Bella’s name. Normally, she takes a day or two to respond so I’m surprised and happy as I open her message: Thanks. I’m busy for the next few days, but I’ll let you know.
My heart sinks. God, I fucked up with Bella. When I should’ve been here, helping to raise her, I was off flying secret missions all over the world. I don’t regret my time as a Night Stalker, but maybe I should’ve retired earlier. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to make things work with Paige.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Hindsight is always 20/20. The fact is I’m a lonely, divorced man with an estranged daughter. I have no real relationships in my life and can’t even remember the last time I had sex. I rub my knuckles on my chin, feeling the light growth of scruff coming in, and think hard.
Fuck.Seriously, when was the last time I took a woman to bed? Last year?
I think the bigger issue is why don’t I care as much as I should.
With a sigh, I finish the beer then go and grab another one. Maybe I should try online dating. I’ve considered it before, but then always end up rejecting the idea. I’m not very computer savvy and I think I’m far too old-fashioned to meet a woman that way.
Call me crazy, but I want to see her in person. I want to feel that spike of heat when our eyes meet for the first time. I want to hear her voice and smell her perfume. Maybe touch her hand or arm and feel the silkiness of her skin. See if there's electricity between us. You can’t do any of that online. And, you’ll probably have a couple of pictures that are so photoshopped that they barely resemble the real woman.
Maybe if I actually left Sunset Terrace every once in a while, I’d have the opportunity to meet a woman. Yeah, right. I swallow down a long drink and prop a hip against the kitchen counter. My gaze wanders out the window and zeroes in on the new girl moving into Savannah’s old apartment.
Hailey Lane walks down the sidewalk to a beat-up looking pickup truck. She opens the creaky passenger door and leans inside, stretching across the seat, obviously reaching for something. She wears a tank top and tiny denim shorts, and I can’t help but appreciate the way they accent her slim legs and curves. As she’s rummaging around, her ass lifts higher, and I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
A wave of desire.
I watch her pull back out and stand outside the truck for a moment. She pulls her rich chestnut hair with caramel highlights up into a messy bun and then grabs a notebook off the car’s seat. After she shuts and locks the door, she heads back up the walkway and I can’t look away.
Oh, Christ, I’m turning into the creepy, old, lonely man who watches the young girls.
When she glances over, our eyes meet for a second before I spin around. I do not want her to peg me as the building pervert. I take another swig of beer, push away from the counter and head back to the couch.
It’s going to be a long night of doing nothing again.
But, back on the couch, my thoughts return to Hailey. I remember the way the sunlight highlighted her big, brown eyes. So wide and full of innocence, ready to start her life and a new adventure here in California.
She said she was from the Midwest and I wonder where exactly? And, she mentioned being a singer. I wonder if she’s any good?
I don’t know why I care about any of this. For Christ’s sake, the girl is probably 20. Actually, I can find out exactly how old she is, I think, and stand up. I head over to her folder laying on the table and flip it open. My fingers lift her application and I scan through it.
Hailey Lane. Twenty-three years old.
Something in my gut tightens and not necessarily in a good way. She’s a little older than I guessed, but for fuck’s sake that’s Bella’s age. What is wrong with me? Enough. I shut the folder and stomp back over to the window. I spot Hailey talking to Jasmine, her next door neighbor.
Jasmine Torres is a good tenant and a little older than the other girls which makes her the mother hen of the group. She’s always giving everyone advice and seems to have her life together. Wish I could say the same for myself.
The girls talk for another minute and then part ways. A part of me envies how easily these kids make friends. I don’t ever remember it ever being that easy. I guess because I was always a little different than everyone else. My parents had me when they were much older. They had tried to get pregnant for years and when they finally gave up, boom! At 46, my Mom was pregnant with me.
I was their only child, a miracle baby, and grew up surrounded by their influences instead of any siblings. I learned to be polite, kind and a gentleman. I developed an affinity for vintage jazz and used to sit on the front porch with my Dad every evening after dinner and listen to it while greeting neighbors who walked by on their walks. Then, I’d watch reruns of Three’s Company and Golden Girls with my Mom before bedtime. My summers were spent fishing with my Dad on a nearby lake.
Growing up in Ohio was laidback, quaint and not overly exciting, but my parents were the best and my upbringing was perfect. I never wanted for anything and they were my best friends. The sad part is, since they had me so late in life, they both passed away by the time I was 30.
I miss them. But, once they were gone, there wasn’t any reason to return to Ohio. Paige and Bella were here in California. So, here I am. Trying to have a relationship with my daughter, maintain the building and start living again.
I guess I’m keeping the building up pretty well. As for the rest, I’m sucking pretty badly.
