Page 34 of Mayhem

“Of course not,” she says, matter-of-factly. As if the thought is the stupidest one in the world. “While the route you took is questionable, the results speak for themselves. I can’t deny that. And neither can Brad once he looks at it more closely.”

I’m only partially relieved to still have a job. Mostly, I’m still roiling with guilt at my mistake. Not only did I cross an ethical line, but I broke the trust I was building with Brad. The relationship we were building now lays in ashes at my feet. That’s more important than any job. That hurts the most.

While Eliza can most likely patch over whatever professional bridges have been burned between me and Brad, I’ll never be able to repair the personal ones. Any thought of something sparking between the two of us is now doused completely.

I’ve ruined it.

I’ve ruined everything.

21

BE YOURSELF

BRAD

The entire ride home was excruciating, with Charlie lobbing questions at me like it’s an Olympic sport, and she’s going for the gold medal. I can only deflect so much since she’s so fucking smart. She knows something is going on, and from her questions, she has an idea that it has to do with Tess.

Fuck me.

It’s hard enough to deal with my own thoughts and feelings in this, but I also have to contend with Ren and Jude breathing down my neck from across the world. Today, I am not a fan of technology. How quickly Ren knew about the post, saw the post, and then called to bitch at me about it is mind boggling. It had to have been only a matter of minutes from going up or coming down for her to react so fast.

But I also can’t blame her for her reaction since it mirrored mine. Charlie is off limits to any outsiders, including press and social media. As parents who happen to be in the limelight, we agreed on that years ago. Of course, back then, it was more because she was married to Jude Lockwood of Indigo King. My spotlight is recent, but that doesn’t make it any less glaring when it comes to my daughter.

To be fair, Tess and I never discussed the boundaries regarding Charlie in that way, but I don’t feel like fighting fair right now. No, I want to rage because I still feel betrayed. It’s not even what she posted, because, yeah, it was a fucking great video of me and Charlie. I actually love the video. Or at least I did.

But she didn’t fucking ask.

She just took it upon herself to post a video of my little girl to social media for all the troll piranhas to eat her alive. Not a single fucking thought of what that means to me or her mother, or to fucking Charlie herself. Yes, she took it down, but God only knows how many assholes captured it somehow to use in ways I don’t even want to imagine.

My blood curdles at the horrendous thoughts running through my mind. People are sick fucks.

“Daddy, can I have some ice cream?” Charlie’s voice cuts through my downward mental spiral.

I need to blink a few times to bring her into focus. “Sure thing, baby girl,” I say, standing from the couch I just fell onto and rolling my shoulders, trying to release the tension building up inside of me.

“I’m not a baby,” she whines, just like a baby, as she trails after me into the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, you’re my baby, and always will be. Don’t you forget it.” I grab some bowls from the cupboard and start scooping the ice cream for both of us. “You’ll be thirty-five, married to some dude with a desk job and a tie, with your own hoard of rugrats, and you’ll still be my baby girl. Got it?”

She giggles as she scrunches her nose at me. “Eww. A tie? Really?”

I stop and stare at her, playing up the disbelief. “What? You don’t like ties?”

She shakes her head at me, still smirking. “Nope.”

“Oh, that’s right. You like beanies.” I smack my forehead. “I totally forgot about that.”

Her cheeks flush almost as red as her hair, but she snatches one of the bowls of ice cream and a spoon from the counter and rushes to the living room without another word. That’ll keep her quiet for a few minutes at least.

As much as I love teasing her about shit like that, something in my gut twists at the thought of little Charlie eventually dating. If I’m honest with myself, that time is going to come a lot quicker than I want it to. I am not going to handle that well at all. Especially if this video incident is any fucking indication. I’m going to have to lock her in a tower or something, like in one of those Disney movies we enjoy trash-talking together.

If only.

After a few hours of dealing with Charlie’s sugar rush and subsequent crash, there’s a knock on the apartment door. I haven’t looked at my phone this whole time because I don’t want to see any of the fallout. Not yet. I’ll deal with it once Charlie goes to bed and I can focus my attention on it. Not to say it hasn’t been in the back of my mind, because it has been. A lot.

My first instinct and thought are that it’s Tess. She somehow got my address and is here to apologize. My adrenaline pumps up a little, a small flicker of hope rushing through me that we can put this all behind us. But then I remember what she did, and that hope fizzles. I can’t want to work things out. So why the fuck do I all of a sudden?

“Dad?” Charlie asks, her brow creased with concern.

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