“Hey, man. All good there?”
“Yeah. Belle was getting antsy, is all. Well, I am too.” He sounds tired. “I’ve got a bounty today. I love sitting here, but it’s been all night. Where you been?”
“Sorry, man. Thanks for takin’ over for me. I’ve been at that girl’s house. The one with the ex who sells the guns.”
He laughs. “Yeah? All-nighter? You clean the pipes or—”
“Jesus. No, I didn’t clean the fuckin’ pipes.” I leave out the part about how I wanted to. “She’s fucked up, and the dude is super fuckin’ abusive. I couldn’t leave her. Sorry. I shoulda called and told you more. It was a whirlwind. I spent half the night on my phone, diggin’ through any other known contacts for the asshole.”
“Find anything?”
“Nope. How’s my girl?”
“She’s good. Did her homework, took me fishing, made me play princess dress up. We had fun.”
“Cool, man. Thanks again. You know I appreciate you.”
“Uncle Ink to the rescue. No big deal. Who’s this girl you didn’t shack up with? I gotta look her up.”
Ink has been a close buddy of mine since I came to town. He’s had his own run-ins with the law and has a backstory that puts mine to shame. That said, the man carries himself with pride and he’s worked hard to turn himself around.
“Daisy Fraiser. Twenty-five.”
“Who is she? Maybe I know something. I hear a lot down at the tattoo shop.”
“Daisy Fraiser. She’s—”
“Did you say Daisy Fraiser?”
I don’t like the way he repeats it. “Yeah, why?”
“Well, either there’s two Daisy Fraiser’s on Rugged Mountain, or she’s your daughter's third grade teacher.”
“What? No, she’s not.” I don’t actually know that Daisy isn’t a teacher because I didn’t ask her what she did all day.
Great hunting on my part.
“How do you miss your daughter’s teacher’s name? She’s been in her class for nine months.” Ink laughs. “It’s on every paper stuck to the fridge and I’m sure it’s on that slip Belle brought home for her performance meeting. Which is today, right?”
I drag in a harsh breath. My job is to look at details. If I miss them, I miss out on the bounty. It’s that simple. “There’s gotta be some mistake. The paper says Daisy Fraiser? Not Ms. Fraiser? Since when do teachers use their first name? It can’t be the same person.”
Ink laughs. “Bro, get your shit together. I’m just reporting the news, not trying to ruin your day.”
“I know. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Thought after thought kicks my ass as I drive home. I don’t have a clue what the fuck it is I’m feeling. Most of it has to do with the etiquette of dating your daughter’s teacher, because that’s where I want this to go.
No, it’s where I need this to go.
Chapter Three
Daisy
I chug an expresso and stare at the empty desks in front of me. I can’t believe the classroom is an hour away from filling with eight-year-olds. I don’t have the energy for this.
There are desks to sanitize, flags to cut, snacks to order, a stack of papers to put stickers on, and a lesson plan on nutrition that I spaced on last night. I never space on things… ever.
My job is my life. I keep a current list of things to do next to me at all times. One on paper and one on my phone just in case the other gets lost. It’s the only way to live. Without lists, nothing would get done. I even keep two separate lists. One for home tasks, and the other for work tasks. It’s the only thing about my life that’s organized and sometimes I think that maybe the list itself is medication for all the discombobulated crazy that rattles through my head nonstop.
A bit of relief washes over me as my friend Lydia steps into the classroom. She still has her bag lodged over her shoulder and the giant water cup she drags with her everywhere hooked to her index finger. I don’t get why people are obsessed with these metal mugs the size of water troths, but she swears she’s getting more water in. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun and she looks just about as frazzled as I do.