Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (12 page)

"Oh, stop," she said, playfully smacking his arm.
 
"You caught me in a moment of weakness."

"Yeah, right.
 
You didn't feel weak when you ripped my clothes off."

"Jack," she whispered.
 
She fought amusement and embarrassment as they touched each other.
 
A few more parents and teachers left the lot.
 
She put her hands on his chest and grew serious as he hugged her around the waist.
 
"I'm afraid I have to say no to sex in the parking lot.
 
But how about I go home, take care of a few things, and then I swing over your place?
 
You can cook me something quick and tasty, and then we can pick up this conversation."

"Now we're talking," Jack said.
 
They embraced and kissed once again.
 
"I'll slip Tiffany a bottle of Benadryl when I get home."

She frowned and wagged her finger.
 
"Jack—"

"I'm kidding!
 
I'll see you in a bit."

It was nearly eight o'clock when Jack stepped inside the living room and closed the door behind him.
 
Tiffany and Andee, the babysitter, sat on the couch.
 
They were engrossed in the TV, but that didn't last long when Tiffany's eyes fell on her father.

"Jack!"

He smiled and tossed his workout bag aside.
 
"There's my little partner."

Tiffany leapt from the couch and crossed the living room in a second.
 
Her pigtails bounced in the air as she ran with her arms out, a huge smile on her face.
 
He dropped to one knee and nearly fell over as she tackled him.
 
They hadn't seen each other since he dropped her off for school, and Tiffany was on a select list of people that he actually missed when they were away.

She kissed him on the cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I missed you," she said.
 
"Do you see my pigtails?
 
Andee did it."

"I see.
 
They look…like pigtails.
 
So cool."

"Did you get done what you had to get done after school today?"

"Indeed, I did."

"Good.
 
I don't like other people getting me from school.
 
Pick me up."

"You're too big for that."

"No I'm not.
 
Pick me up."

He rolled his eyes as he scooped his daughter in one arm.
 
She had gone long enough thinking she didn't belong to anyone, that she didn't have a family.
 
Being carried around at nine years old was perhaps beyond her age, but if that's what she wanted, Jack would carry her anytime she wanted.

He looked down at Andee.
 
She was a decent enough babysitter.
 
Polite girl, over-sized glasses, charged a fair rate.
 
The only thing that annoyed Jack was when she unleashed her teenage speak, a seemingly foreign language in and of itself.
 
But Andee had a few benefits other babysitters didn't bring.
 
She was seventeen, and had her driver's license.
 
Jack wasn't sure he could handle her if he had to tote her back and forth to her home.
 
For a few extra dollars, she also had no problem picking up Tiffany after school.
 
His daughter also simply liked Andee, which carried significant weight.

Deep down, if he was pressed to answer, he didn't hate the girl, either.
 
She made him laugh.

"Hi, Mr. Jack."
 
He winced.
 
He always insisted she call him Jack, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
 
"How did the PTA meeting go?"

"Well, Mrs. Galloway got so mad at me I thought she'd spank me in front of everyone.
 
I compared her to Hitler, and told her that her husband doesn't like hugging her."

Andee's eyes shot open as she adjusted her glasses.
 
She burst out laughing.
 
"Are you serious?
 
Oh, I wish I could have seen that.
 
I always hated her."

Jack laughed with her and gave the first floor of his home a quick glance.
 
He could see clear into the eat-in kitchen.
 
Nothing was out of place.

"Any problems on this end?"

Andee shook her head.
 
"Nope.
 
Picked up Tiff after school.
 
She did her homework.
 
We watched a cartoon, and then some TV."

"Did you bring any guys over?"

She frowned.
 
"Mr. Jack, please.
 
That would be so…unprofessional."

He looked at Tiffany.
 
"Did she bring any boys over?"

"No.
 
She just talked to one on the phone.
 
His name's Chris.
 
They talked about how they were gonna sneak out this weekend—"

"Okay, Tiffany!" Andee interrupted.
 
"He gets it.
 
Anyway, we've eaten dinner already.
 
We ordered a small pizza, since, you know…you won't let me cook in the kitchen."

"No one touches that kitchen but me, Andee," Jack said.
 
He lowered Tiffany to the floor and dug out his wallet.

"But I swear, I can cook.
 
Seriously.
 
I wouldn't have to charge you an extra twenty bucks if you let me cook something for Tiffany."

"I know you think you can cook, but…you can't.
 
That kitchen is too much power for you."

The corner of her mouth lifted.
 
"I bet I can cook better than you."

"No, you can't.
 
I know a guy not too much older than you who said the same thing, and I kicked his ass.
 
Besides, I'd still have to cook anyway.
 
Erica's coming over."

"Awww."
 
Andee stood up and gently placed her hands over her heart, batting her lashes.
 
"Is Mr. Jack gonna get himself a lil sumptin sumptin wit Miss Eeee Hernandez?"

Jack and Tiffany glanced at each other in confusion.
 
Tiffany could only offer a shrug, and then returned to the couch.

"No.
 
I'm not doing…whatever the hell it is you just said."
 
He counted out her fee.
 
"What I
will
do is cook Erica a nice, light meal.
 
Then, after Tiff goes to bed, I'll take her upstairs to my bedroom.
 
Then, the clothes come off.
 
Probably the shirt first, so we can play a bit—"

"Whoa!" Andee said, covering her ears.
 
"What the hell?
 
Keep that crap to yourself."

Tiffany looked up, puzzled.
 
"I don't get it.
 
Are you gonna give Miss Hernandez a bath?"

Jack smiled.
 
"I guess that's one word for it."

"Ewww, gross!" Andee said.
 
"Give me my money before I get sick."

He slapped the bills in her hand.
 
"Thanks again, Andee."

"You're welcome."
 
She looked at Tiffany.
 
"Give me a hug before I go."

Jack smiled at the simple sight.
 
Tiffany had been through a lot.
 
She'd experienced men trying to hurt her, had even seen a horde of demons with her own eyes.
 
She still had nightmares, but here she was, hugging the babysitter in the living room with a warm smile on her face.

"I had fun, Andee," she said.

"Me, too.
 
I'll pick the cartoon out for next time.
 
Remember, Mr. Jack, about cooking—"

He pointed to the door.
 
"Get out."

Andee left, and Jack let out a breath, enjoying the teenage-free quiet.
 
He mentally prepared for the next phase of the evening.

"Okay, it's time to cook some dinner.
 
Do you want to watch a movie, or give me a hand?
 
You've got an hour before bed."

"Help you!" she said, throwing her arms in the air.
 
"Come on, Dad.
 
I always help you cook for Miss Hernandez."

"Alright then, partner.
 
Let's hit it."

Jack didn't need Tiffany's help, but let her retrieve a spatula, salt and pepper, simple things.
 
He planned the meal carefully out in his head.
 
A simple dish of grilled chicken with a small side of rice.
 
Just enough to satisfy the appetite, but not enough to feel stuffed.
 
He had plans for her after dinner that a food coma wouldn't help with.

Tiffany stood on the tips of her toes to peer over the stove.

"Can I have some?"

"You already had pizza."

"I know, but it smells so good."

"No."

"Please?"

"Don't make me beat you with this spatula."

"Well, since I can't have chicken, can I stay up past my bedtime?
 
Just so I can hang out with you guys?"

Jack laughed and shook his head.
 
Tiffany and he had only been together for a few months, and as close as they were, they were still in the process of feeling things out, learning about each other.
 
She constantly tested and pushed her boundaries, like all children do.
 
Staying up past her bedtime, watching movies she wasn't supposed to watch, spending extra time surfing the Internet, eating ice cream for breakfast.
 
He refused all her attempts, with the exception of ice cream for breakfast.
 
That was actually a good idea.

"Tiff," was his answer, as he shook the spatula at her.

"Okay, okay.
 
Jeez."

She sat at a stool at the breakfast bar behind him, resting her head in her hands.
 
She kicked the bar lightly with her feet, which threatened to drive Jack crazy.
 
He was convinced children had some kind of supernatural power to rattle an adult's nerves with little to no effort.

"Daddy…."

Jack smiled, but dreaded what was to come.
 
Tiffany had three names for him.
 
Jack, Dad, and Daddy.
 
He was equally fine with all of them, but noticed Tiffany went to
Daddy
when she wanted something.

"What is it, partner?"

"Can Robbie spend the night over our house this weekend?"

He nearly dropped the spatula.
 
He moved the chicken and rice to the other half of the stove so they wouldn't burn.
 
Turning in place, his eyes met Tiffany's.
 
She looked up at him, projecting cute, trying to flash that smile of hers.

She was serious.

"You're shitting me, right?
 
Robbie's a boy."

"I know.
 
So?
 
Can he?"

"Hell, no."

She pouted.
 
"Why not?
 
Miss Hernandez spends the night over here all the time.
 
And you're a boy, and she's a girl."

"We're also old.
 
That's what old people do."

"Okay…so, when can he spend the night?"

"When you're twenty-five years old."

"Twenty-five?"
 
She looked down at her fingers, silently counting them.
 
"That's too far!"

"Jesus, Tiff, give me a break.
 
Don't you have other things to think about?
 
Do you even know what you're dressing up as for Halloween yet?
 
You haven't picked out a costume.
 
How about a ghost, or maybe even a witch?"
 
He lifted the corner of his mouth, silently musing with himself.
 
"Old Glinda would just love that."

"I don't wanna dress up like those scary demon monster things.
 
I…still have bad dreams sometimes.
 
I wanna be a ballerina."
 
Her eyes lit up.
 
"Oh!
 
Maybe I can dress up like a bat!
 
Then I'd look just like Alex!"

Jack rolled his eyes at the thought of Alex Teague.
 
Alex could keep his wings and ghostly demonic powers in Baltimore where they belonged.

"A ballerina will do just fine."
 
He shifted the subject.
 
"Anyway, girls your age aren't supposed to think about spending the night with boys.
 
You're supposed to think about…shit, I don't know…Barbie dolls, and little dresses.
 
Hanging out with your little girlfriends in school, and sleepovers with
girls
—"

Her face brightened.
 
"I can have a sleepover?"

"No.
 
No, no.
 
That's not what I said—"

"I can invite Jenny!"

"Jenny's a moron.
 
I'm telling you, she's not all there in the head.
 
She breathes with her mouth open—"

"And Melissa!
 
Everyone likes Melissa."

"I'll bet they do.
 
She's a stage-humper in training."

Tiffany wrinkled her nose.
 
"What's a stage-humper?"

"Unfortunately, sweetie, you'll never find out."

"Yeah, I will."
 
She crossed her arms.
 
"I'll just look it up on the Internet."

"Then I'll cut the wifi.
 
How about that?"