Page 1 of Fake Daddy

CHAPTER 1

Darling

Humming to myself as I mix colour for my client, I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me. My mom used to let me work on her hair when I first showed an interest in becoming a stylist. Since then, something happened, and she’s decided I’m not good enough anymore. I don’t know what, but it’s been six years without any kind of interaction that hasn’t devolved into a screaming match where she tells me everything that’s wrong with me.

I’m too flamboyant with my multi-coloured pastel hair that I’ve had for over three years now.

My career choice isn’t good enough because it’s not some high-paying CEO job or something.

I should be married to a rich guy by now.

The list is endless.

This past year, I’ve kept my distance more often than not. Even when she calls or texts me, I give curt answers and always have a reason not to see her. Honestly, it’s for my own mental health.

When I was seventeen, I slit my wrists after she spent a month bullying me incessantly and then began to withhold food because she said I was getting too fat. I’m five foot three, and at the time, I was a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.

She’d left for a weekend trip with some new man, and I was alone. I was so entrenched in my depression and not expecting company, so I took a straight blade to my wrists and cut deep enough I swear I saw bone. It was at that moment that my father decided to surprise me for dinner and arrived just as I passed out. He saved my life that night and took sole custody of me after I spent some time in a psychiatric facility.

Once I graduated from their program, Dad got me a tutor to help me finish high school, and I attended beauty school, graduating at the top of my class. Life with Dad had always been ten times more wonderful than life with my mom.

I have so many fears due to my lingering depression. Living on my own is the biggest one. The intrusive thoughts are suffocating at times. They attack and attack until I’m drowning, and there’s no end in sight. And so, we share a house.

Dad refuses to take money from me for the mortgage or bills. He says being his daughter is enough. Plus, he gets a lifetime of free hair care.

“Darling?” My boss, Linda, touches my arm. “Are you alright?”

I smile at her. “Sure, why?”

“Well, you’ve been staring at that bowl for a couple of minutes now. Just wanted to make sure.”

Linda was one of my teachers in beauty school and offered me a position as soon as I graduated. She’s one of the few people who knows about my history with depression, and she’s always so kind to me.

“Lost in the swirls, I guess.” I force out a laugh. I’m content. This week has been especially good for me, so I’m not entirely lying.

“All right, well, Mary is waiting.”

She smiles as she walks away, and I turn towards my client. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Okay, Miss Mary, let’s get you transformed!” This time, my smile and excitement are genuine. I love my job. I love helping other women, and sometimes men, create a change in themselves.

“You seem very familiar, Darling. Have we met before?”

Parting and sectioning her hair in preparation for her foil highlights, I tilt my head to try and remember, but nothing connects.

“I had the same feeling,” I respond. “But nothing is coming to me.”

“Hmm. We must just have those familiar types of faces, then.”

Placing some foil to her head, I lather the dye along her hair and agree with her.

I’m halfway through her colour when she snaps her finger in an aha moment. “You’re Kelly Lavigne’s daughter, right?”

I freeze at my mother’s name, and as I glimpse myself in the mirror, I see I’ve gone pale, as well.

“I am.” Inwardly, I’m freaking out and trying to convince my body to carry on like a bomb hasn’t gone off.

“She was married to my ex, Cort Baker, for a short time about–”

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