Page 14 of Paddy

“So now I have to pay him more than what we already agreed to.” Of course, he’s more upset about the money than anything else.

“Vernon, you wouldn't have to pay himat allif you just helped out more. I don't mind doing the bulk of the load, but if you could just be around for Elijah more, I wouldn't get on your case so much. That boy is drowning and needs his father. Even when you’re home, you barely pay him any attention.”

“Pretty we've gone over this. I give that boy what he needs. A roof over his head. Fine clothes to wear. A chance at a good education and neighborhood to be proud to live in. That's a hell of a lot more than my daddy gave me.”

Every time we had this discussion, he’d just say the same thing. That he was already doing more than what most fathers did for their children. “But boys are different. When they have their fathers, they look to them for validation, not just for their ability to provide.”

Which if we were being honest, was really me providing, since none of those things would be possible without my music paying for everything.

“Well, I have to keep this wheel going. Otherwise, how can I keep you in pretty dresses, diamonds and pearls?” The comeback comment I’d had for that argument, I kept to myself to spare Vernon’s ego. Truth be told, I’d be in nice things whether he was my manager or not. But when I was winning the argument, he’d find some way to make me come off as more emotional.

All of a sudden, he’d come down with a bad case of amnesia, because whenever it pertained to him and money, he forgot that I fell for him broke.

A knock on the threshold to his study diverted both of our attentions to the door. In all our arguing, I’d forgotten I’d left him in the garage. He must have followed the arguing.

“Would you two prefer I come another time? All it would take is a ring to one of my brother’s?—”

“That would be best?—”

“That won't be necessary—” My husband and I said in the same breath.

“What my wifemeantto say was, you're already here. Why don't we give you a tour?” Vernon suggested before joining him in the hallway.

“How do you handle the mouth on that one?” Mr. Sullivan laughed in a condescending manner.

Vernon was lucky all he said was, “She's not always like that.” Otherwise he would have had another subject we’d be arguing about later.

There was something off about that man that clearly my husband was too blind to see. He evenstrutlike a criminal. Mr. Sullivan was young, or at least he didn’t look very seasoned to me. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five but he could have just had good genes.

In my industry, you could never trust a man that handsome. Quite often, they were snakes in the grass. Interestingly, I'd never found myself attracted to blonds much, and while I'd never admit it out loud, blond hair never looked so good. You could tell he wasn't bottle blond either, as the color of his neatly trimmed beard matched.

But outside of that self-satisfying smirk he wore, I knew nothing about him. So, you better believe I was paying closeattention to his every step, because if anything turned up missing, the authorities would be getting involved.

The phone rang from a distance, prompting Vernon to excuse himself, leaving me alone with the nightmare with dangerous dimples. “Not bad.” A comment I assumed was due to the tour of the house.

“Not bad for what?”

“Stop taking offense to every damn thing. I'm only complimenting the fact you've got a nice place. You must be talented, if you could put all this together.” Truth be told, talent paid for most of it, but I will admit it was a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of hard work.

“Well, Vernon is a good manager. Kept me booked up until Elijah. Now, he juggles a few clients and new gigs just to pay for the luxuries.”

Mr. Sullivan looked to each side of him before asking, “By the way, where's the kid? Figured if I'm going to be working with him, might as well rip the band aid off?—”

Before I could answer, Vernon stormed back into the hallway wearing his suit jacket over his forearm, assumingly in a hurry. “Listen, Pretty. Something came up at the office, and if I don't handle it, I'm going to lose a contract.”

“But baby, Ijustgot home. I was going to make something special for you and Elijah.”

“If anything, I’ll just heat it up when I get home,” he dismissed, kissing me on the forehead in a rush. “Honestly, depending on how my night goes, I may be catching dinner with a colleague, so no need to waste a meal on me. I'll try to be as quick as I can, but I don't want you to wait up for me.”

“But Vernon!” He didn’t even give me a chance to convince him before he was already slamming the garage door. Our reunion was off to a beautiful start.

Forgetting there was a stranger in my home who had witnessed that exchange, with an attempt not to lose face, I insisted Mr. Sullivan follow me in hopes it masked the fact Vernon’s absence bothered me.

Even though I held back tears of loneliness, who I was most upset for was my son. I was an adult, so I could recover from rejection. But Elijah didn't understand why his father didn't make time for him. And I couldn’t get Vernon to see how much it was affecting Elijah’s self-esteem.

“Elijah's a sensitive kid, so he doesn't just take to anybody,” I gently warned. “No hard feelings if you're not a good fit for the job,” I said, as we approached Elijah’s room.

“We'll see about that.” Mr. Sullivan spoke with a little bit too much confidence for my taste. I’d made it clear that Mr. Sullivan wasn’t to approach until I brought up the possible caretaking arrangement. If Elijah rejected him, gave me one bad feeling, or evenlookedat him with fear in his eyes, he was out the door.

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