Page 10 of Heartsick & Lipsticks
“Hey, Nick!”
I looked up and saw Daria St. Royce waving her French-manicured fingers at me as she walked on the sidewalk with her son Chester. I’d hooked up with her about a year prior. It was only a few times, nothing serious.
Before having Bella, I’d casually dated women, sometimes for months. I’d had three official girlfriends, but none of those made it to the one-year mark. Inevitably, the relationship would end because I was a shitty boyfriend. I’d never cheated or lied, but I had always put my professional life ahead of my personal life. I’d been a workaholic since I got a work permit at the age of fifteen. When you don’t grow up with the safety net of a family, you realize that the buck stops with you.
Instead of going the classic route of college, I interned at a radio station while working three other part-time jobs to make ends meet. That worth ethic, or addiction, depending on the lens that you looked at it through, had carried me into my adult life.
That is, until Bella arrived on my doorstep. Since becoming a single dad, I’d had to find a work-life balance. I was home most nights for dinner and only traveled for work if it was absolutely necessary. But a personal or romantic life was not part of that equation. Not that I was a monk. Far from it.
I dated women but never spent more than a few nights with them. I’d found that hooking up any more than that indicated a certain level of commitment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to give. And none of the women I slept with ever had contact with Bella. If they stayed the night, I always made sure they were gone before she woke up. There was no way I was going to allow Bella to get attached to a woman only to have her be gone in a few months, or worse, years.
Every woman I spent time with knew what the deal was before anything happened between us. They didn’t go into the encounter with any delusions of a committed relationship. Some women did try to pursue something more. Daria St. Royce was one of those women.
“Hi!” I waved at her.
“My grandma’s coming to live with us,” Bella stated proudly.
“Your grandma?” Daria looked up at me in confusion.
During our dinner date over a year ago, she’d asked about my parents, and I’d told her the same thing I told everyone else: that both my parents were dead.
I grabbed Bella’s hand and continued past Daria and Chester. “Nice seeing you.” I smiled as I walked away with purposeful strides.
As we drove home, I contemplated how I was going to deal with people asking me about Naomi. There was no way that I was going to ask my daughter to lie about the fact that her grandma was staying with us, but I also didn’t want questions asked.
For over ten years, I’d been somewhat of a local celebrity. My fame started to grow in my twenties when I hosted a drive-time radio show, which was number one in a very competitive market. My notoriety only increased when I bought the station, and several news outlets ran it as a rags-to-riches story. Those same outlets had followed my journey as I acquired several other stations and then formed Locke Media Group.
I was concerned that the press would get a hold of my story. If this story got out, the headline clickbait alone would be out of control. I didn’t want my life, or Bella’s life, to be defined by or reduced to the mistakes my mother made.
I’d required all medical staff who were caring for Naomi to sign NDAs but I couldn’t exactly ask Bella to sign one. My mind was troubleshooting solutions as I pulled into the garage of my home.
“Can I go see Grandma?” Bella asked as she unbuckled herself out of her booster seat.
“She was sleeping when I left to go get you. We can check to see if she’s awake, but we have to be quiet.”
Bella cheered and clapped as she hopped out of the backseat and skipped inside the house.
So much for quiet.
Once inside, she grabbed her Wonder Woman cape from the coat rack and put it on over her backpack. That cape had been a constant staple in her wardrobe since Halloween. She wasn’t allowed to wear it to school, but she donned it from the second she walked in the door until she walked back out again. She even slept in it.
I followed behind her, and when we got to Naomi’s door, I reminded her, “Remember, we need to be calm because she’s sick.”
“I know; you told me already.” Bella whispered. Her big blue eyes stared up at me, and once again I was struck by just how similar she and Naomi looked.
I knocked lightly on the door before opening it. Gary, who was built like a tank and looked more like he belonged on the defensive line of the 49ers than in scrubs, was seated beside the bed. Naomi was awake, and the hospital bed I’d ordered was in its full upright position.
When she looked at me, I could see that she was nervous. “Hi,” she said quietly.
“Hi, this is—”
“Hi, I’m Bella.” My daughter took over the introductions as she walked into the room with the unabashed confidence only a six-year-old in a cape could have.
Naomi’s face lit up when she saw my daughter.
“I made you something at school.” Bella took off her backpack and set it down. Then she pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Naomi.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful. Thank you.”
