Play Fair (The Devil's Share Book 3) (2 page)

“You still dating that frat strap?” She’d been going out with some preppy frat boy for a few months now. Although, I talked to her for at least an hour every night, so I wasn’t really sure when they actually spent time together. She didn’t mention him much, which was fine with me. She may be my friend, but I was a selfish dude, I didn’t want her attention to go to anyone else.

“Kind of. I guess.”

“
Kind of? I guess?
It’s a yes or no, doll.” I took out a zombie coming up on her right. “I thought you liked him.”

“I did. I do. I don’t know.”

“He isn’t good enough for you.”

She laughed. “How would you know? You’ve never met him.”

“First, no one will ever be good enough for you, because you are the best. Second, his name is Shepard. I picture tossed-to-the-side old-school Bieber hair and Polo shirts galore.”

She laughed again. I’d grown to cherish each and every one of those I got to hear. In a totally friends-only kind of way. “You aren’t far off.”

“Figured.” I paused the game when I heard a knock.

“What the hell, Jacks?”

“Sorry, someone’s at the door. Just give me minute.” I threw my legs over the side of my enormous bed. I had yet to get up and head downstairs even though the sun had been up for hours now.

“Crap! No, just call me back later. I lost track of time, I have a final in twenty minutes.”

“Physics or poly sci?” I flipped the game off.

“Physics, poly sci was yesterday.”

I grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, smelling it before pulling it over my head. “Good luck, baby doll.”

“Thanks. Same time as usual?”

B and I had a standing phone call date at nine o’clock. “You know it. Peace.” I tossed my phone onto the blue plaid bedspread and opened my bedroom door. Blue plaid. Not something I would ever choose for myself, but freeloaders can’t be choosers. The label had set the band up in this amazingly large and very
Truman Show
-ish house down in Florida. The tour was over but here we were, all living under the same roof.

Smith, our bassist and my closest friend, walked in and started looking around, confused. “Who were you talking to?”

I jerked my head in the direction of the TV. “Game.” No one knew that Bryan and I were friends. Smith had started searching for us like a madman when we’d wandered off at the music festival. He didn’t trust me alone with her, not even for a second. That’s why we figured it was easier this way. It’s not like any of them would understand. She lived hundreds of miles away and I was Jacks, the perpetual partying man whore. They wouldn’t think I was capable of being friends with a smokin’ hot chick. “What’s up, man?”

Smith took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Look, there is no easy way to say this. So…I’m just going to say it.”

Smith seemed like he was about to pass out. Holy shit. Did someone die? “Okay…” I grabbed a pair of pants off the back of a chair. Yeah, I liked to play video games in my briefs.

“There is a social worker in the living room. With a little girl. That looks a hell of a lot like you, bro.”

I paused with one leg in my pants, Smith’s words slowly sinking in.
Nope.
I shook my head and let out a little chuckle. “Haha. Very funny, man.” I pulled them up the rest of the way and buttoned. “What’s really going on?” I stared at him, willing him to smile. Wordlessly commanding him to tell me he was joking. He didn’t. He just stood there, silent and stoic. For some reason those words started to play on a loop in my head.
Silent and stoic
.
Silent and stoic
.

“No joke, man. There is a social worker downstairs, with a little girl, looking for you.” Smith clasped his hand on my shoulder and steered me out the door.

I couldn’t talk, I felt paralyzed. If Smith hadn’t been guiding me, I wouldn’t have been able to put one foot in front of the other.
Silent and stoic
, down the hall.
Silent
, down the stairs.
Stoic
, around the corner. I kept my eyes on the ground. I was afraid to look. Almost like when I was a kid and I was watching a scary movie. If I didn’t see it, it wasn’t real.

“Mr. Cole?”

Dammit. Now I had to look. A pretty older lady in a very professional pantsuit stood from her seat on the couch. “Yes?”

“My name is Diane Harris. I’m a social worker…do you know why I am here?”

I heard her talking. Like, I knew she was talking to me and that I should answer. But I couldn’t seem to look away from the little girl standing next to her. She had huge blue eyes, a button of a nose, and jet black hair. She was tiny, thin.

“Mr. Cole? Did you hear me?”

The little girl narrowed her eyes at me, her mouth a hard line. Was she giving me a go-to-hell look? “No. I’m sorry… I actually don’t know why you are here…” I tore my gaze from the girl with beautiful tough eyes and looked over at the social worker.

Smith stayed right by my side, never saying anything, just standing there next to me and looking at the child. I didn’t know what to say to either of them. I didn’t know if it was okay to freak out in front of the kid. Luckily Dylan, his girlfriend and Bryan’s sister, walked in and kneeled down by the little girl. The little girl that could be my twin. “Hi, sweetheart. My name is Dylan, what’s yours?”

The girl looked right at Dylan, no wavering. “Landry.”

Landry
. I actually really liked that name. I mentally shook my head. Not really what I should be focusing on right now.

“Well, Landry, it’s very nice to meet you.” She stood. “I just made a huge pile of chocolate chip pancakes, would you like some?”

Landry cocked her head to the side, “No, thank you. I don’t eat chocolate for breakfast.”

Dylan’s smile faltered slightly before she recovered. “Uh, okay. Well, there is still some batter left…. Can make you some without chocolate?”

Landry looked up at the social worker, not in an asking-permission type of way. More like she was observing her thoughts on the matter of chocolate-free pancakes. Then she looked to me. Her pretty blue eyes narrowed again. Shit. This kid was not a fan of mine. She silently let Dylan lead her out of the room.

My eyes went to Smith when he cleared this throat. “We’ll just be in the kitchen if anyone needs us.” He sent me a small smile and then left me alone in the living room with the pretty social worker.

“Mr. Cole—”

“Jacks. Please, call me Jacks.” I held my hand out, a polite gesture for her to sit. I sat. I had to. My knees felt like they would buckle at any second.

She followed suit, and then opened up her briefcase and pulled out a bunch of very official-looking papers. “Jacks, do you remember a woman by the name of Amelia Johnson? You would have met her in Louisiana?”

Laughing would probably be the most inappropriate response imaginable. But that’s what I felt like doing. Did she know who she was talking to? I was in a famous-as-fuck rock band. I met lots of women. “No, ma’am, I can honestly say I do not.”

“Well, she put you down on the birth certificate as Landry’s father.”

I was expecting those words, I knew they were coming. But still, hearing them caused my lungs to seize up momentarily. “There must be some mistake.”

The social worker, Diane, smiled. It was a kind, understanding smile. “Mr. Cole—”

“Jacks.” Mr. Cole was my father, he was old and responsible. I was neither of those things.

“Jacks. I understand the shock that comes with the kind of news I’ve just delivered. And while I strongly urge you to get a paternity test—”

“Yes. One of those. I need one of those.” I knew I kept interrupting her, and I knew it was rude. But my manners were starting to escape me.

She reached into her bag and handed me a cotton swab. “Remove the cap, swab the inside of your cheek, and then replace the cap. You’ll have the results in two days. Landry’s is already on file. But Jacks, there is something you should know…Amelia, her mother, she’s gone.”

Gone? “She died?” I rubbed my cheek with the rough cotton and then handed it back to Diane.

“No. Well, I don’t know, maybe. But either way she abandoned Landry two weeks ago.”

I turned toward the kitchen. I could hear her small voice responding to Dylan with one-word answers. “Landry was alone?”

Diane leaned forward, drawing my attention back to her. “She was, yes, for about eight days. A neighbor finally noticed and called 9-1-1.”

Apparently I knocked up a horrible person. “Was she hurt? Landry, I mean.”

“No, quite the opposite in fact. She cooked her own food, gave herself a bath, and tucked herself in at night. The house was clean and tidy when social services got there.” Diane shook her head, in a very sad sweet lady way. “It appeared that Landry was very used to taking care of herself.”

That poor tiny girl. Maybe Smith should adopt her, they probably had more in common. I was a spoiled brat. My parents were insanely loving and supportive. I was never left alone a day in my life. I never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from, my next hug. I never had to worry about anything, ever. I silently laughed to myself, talk about product of your environment. “How old is she? Like twelve?” She was small, but to be able to take care of herself like that she had to be older than she looked.

“Landry is nine.”

My chest hurt. How often was she left alone that she could fend for herself for that long at the age of nine? I couldn’t even figure out the microwave at that age. “What happens to her now?”

“Well, that depends on you.”

Me? No, not me. I wasn’t an adult. I should go get Dash, he’d know what to do. “You want me to take her? What if she’s not mine?” It was possible, right? I mean, there was certainly a chance that her mom was lying. This chick abandoned her kid, so honesty wasn’t her strong suit.

“If you don’t, then she’ll have to go into the system. A foster home, until we can figure something out. Landry’s mom has another week to come forward before her rights are terminated automatically.”

“She gets another chance? Why?” That sounded like a horrible idea. Why would they want to let a clearly shitty person get her kid back?

“Jacks, kids Landry’s age rarely find permanent placement once they go into the system. People looking to adopt usually want babies or younger children. The best thing for Landry would be if her mother came forward, agreed to enter treatment and parenting classes. I assure you she would have to prove herself in order for us to let Landry go home.” Diane pulled out a few different papers and a pen. “If the paternity test shows that she’s yours, and you don’t want to claim custody, I have papers for you to sign your rights away.”

Sign my rights away? That didn’t sound good. That sounded like a really crappy thing to do. I was an immature pain in the ass, but I wasn’t a shitty person. Right? “I live here with the rest of my band…and two chicks. Oh, and a giant dog. I mean, is it okay that she’s here?” Shouldn’t she be somewhere more…normal?

“While we agree that this is a rather unusual living situation, social services feels that having her with her father is far better than putting her in the system.”

Was I her father? Probably. I’d lost count of the number of women I’d slept with. Of course I knocked one of them up. Too bad it wasn’t one of the fifty kindergarten teachers. I bet they were all great mom material. “She can stay here. Until we know for sure, I mean.”

Diane smiled; I guess that was the right answer. She stood and I followed. We were headed into the kitchen. To talk to Landry. We were going to the kitchen to tell Landry, my possible daughter, that she could stay here.
Was
she my daughter? She looked just like me. And she seemed to hate me. Seemed about right. “Landry, sweetheart, can we talk to you a minute?”

Diane reminded me of a grandma. Very calm, very loving. Maybe she should take Landry. The tiny little girl with the raven hair and the piercing eyes turned her full attention toward us. “Landry, this is Jacks. This is the man I was telling you about in the car. He lives here, with his friends.” Landry shifted her eyes toward Smith and Dylan. And then to me. Her gaze was intense. “Jacks would very much like it if you agreed to stay here, with him.”

The sweet social worker elbowed me in the ribs. “I would, like you to stay. If that’s okay…with you…” Was I supposed to ask her? Or tell her? I would make a terrible father.

Landry stared at me for a beat before she nodded and then went back to eating her pancakes. Diane leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back to check on you, sweetheart.”

I followed her out to her car, and took Landry’s small pink suitcase from her hands. “You’ll come back, right? To see us? And to let me know about the test.” I knew I sounded desperate, but I was.

“Yes, I’ll be back soon. I’ll give you a few days to settle in and when I have the results of your paternity test I’ll come by. And of course I’ll let you know if Landry’s mother contacts us.” She looked back toward the house, and then to me. “There’s something about Landry… She just tugs on my heartstrings, that one.”

She got in her car and left. That nice polite pretty lady got in her car and left me alone. Now what? Go inside and talk to my kid? Was she my kid? Probably. I hung my head and made my way back to the kitchen. Dylan was sitting next to Landry and they were both reading the newspaper. It was odd to see such a small person holding a giant newspaper. Was she old enough to read? I don’t think I’d ever read the paper. Maybe Dylan should adopt her. “Uh, Landry?”

She sat her paper down and looked at me. “Jacks.”

For such a small quiet person, she was intimidating as hell. “Do you, uh, I mean. Shit. Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said shit. Damn it.” Maybe I should just stop talking. Maybe I should run out the door and chase down Diane’s car and offer to pay her an
ungodly
amount of money to stay and help me. Always seemed to work for Dash. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Landry. Is there anything you need? To be more comfortable here? We can find you a room, and we can, uh, well… I can send someone to the store to get your favorite foods….” Shelter, food, water. Kids were like pets, right?