Scene 1 – A Belle Named Alexa Lore

Upon cracking open the front door, I had to grab the knob and brace myself. Not a foot across the threshold and I shivered. As the keys jangled from the deadbolt, a draft of cool air poured out of my house. It was unlike any coldsnap I’d felt. The tingle zipped down my spine. Sure, the air conditioner might’ve hummed upstairs, but no setting should’ve been that chilly. It reminded me of my teen years in grocery, stocking the freezer.

Before I entered, my daughter yipped something from downstairs. Katie, her voice was as calming as it was skittish.

“Hold on,” she said over some scrambling. “I’ll be back.”

I furled a bit. She had someone over? That was quick.

Still partly in, partly out of the door, I swiveled outside to count the cars. Other than my Accord however, the driveway was empty. Hell, the whole cul-de-sac was empty. For a Friday evening, it seemed odd. Of course, today was only our first Friday in the neighborhood, so I supposed that could’ve been normal. Regardless, I shut the door, kicked off my shoes, then trudged upstairs.

Surprisingly, the nip faded by the top step. I blamed it on the scorcher outside. At a sunny ninety degrees, it must’ve contrasted the inside. Or that was what I assumed.

Like the routine went, after I placed my briefcase by the office, I did my lap of the floor to tidy up. I unwedged the remote from the couch cushions. I sifted through the mail on the dining room table. And I closed three doors. Three of them. The sliding glass to the deck, a cupboard, and the refrigerator. The dishes were the worst. I gathered several off the island, setting them in the sink. The sink that was just inches away.

I told myself I wouldn’t raise a slob. But then, Katie was her mother’s daughter.

When finally in my bedroom, I stood at the dresser and began loosening my tie. Beside me, a stack of bins loomed three high, and on top, a lonely novel lay. Sadly, the bookmark hadn’t moved in weeks. I wasn’t even certain why I unpacked it yet, but I planned on reading one of these nights.

To interrupt, a light knock resounded off the opposite wall.

“Dad,” Katie whispered. Rigid in the doorway, she fussed with the frays of her shorts. “How was work?”

“Busy,” I said, slipping my tie overhead then stringing it to its hook. “I’ll actually be working through the weekend again.”

She humphed. “More detailing?”

“Yeah, afraid so. Until the firm hires some techs, I’m as much the boss as I am the intern.”

“I see.”

While she trailed off, I finished undoing the clasps down my overshirt. Then I unlaced my belt, peeled off my socks, and chucked everything aside. Over this time, Katie stayed silent and hid behind her hair. As brunette as her mother’s, it hung plumb around her. The upturn of her nose barely poked out.

“You okay?” I asked. “You look upset. Too upset for a Friday. Was school okay?”

She nodded, sending a ripple through her bangs. They were lengthier than I was used to. Her mother probably encouraged her to grow them out. Sandra always had a thing for hairstyles. Since they shared a kind of fuller face —with bigger eyes, thicker lips, and puffier cheeks— I imagined the length helped balance their features.

But what did I know.

“I made a friend,” Katie said.

“That’s great.” Midword, I snatched my book off the bins then headed back across the hall. To sidestep my daughter, I had to raise an elbow. Good thing she shared her mom’s height as well. “Is that why you’re upset?”

She didn’t answer. Rather, with my daughter in tow, I snagged my briefcase off the carpet then shuffled into my office and drew the curtains. Despite the trees, the afternoon sun bathed the backyard. I wished I could’ve opened the window. With this heatwave, it was getting stuffy inside.

“Hey.” I plopped my book down then booted up the computer. “What’s up? You’re acting strange.”

“Well,” she sighed, now rigid in this doorway. “I’m not sure how to start.”

I sat down. “Start what? Is it about money, or your friend?”

She crumpled the hem of her shirt. Lintwhite, the tee hugged her. It was snugger than she usually wore. I didn’t recognize it. “It’s about my friend.” She cleared her throat. “I’m worried you won’t like her.”

I gawked. “And why’s that?”

“Because.” She uncrumpled her shirt. “You’ll think she’s a bad influence.”

I flinched a little.

“She’s not like that, though. I mean, not like you think,” she rambled. “She’s smart. Her scores are some of the highest in the school.”

“That’s great,” I repeated, putting my bag in my lap then thumbing through the drawings. “Sounds to me you’ve fallen into a good crowd. What’s not to like?”

She chuckled, which came off more sarcastic than anything. As if apprehensive, my daughter simply bided behind her hair and fiddled with her shorts. The lull dragged. During, I continued to search my bag. Some designs were done. Most weren’t. File by file, I riffled through the pages, unable to find my main one. The one that was due Monday.

A minute later, it dawned on me. The news. The printer.

“It’s her outfits,” Katie mumbled. “That’s why. She dresses super skanky.”

The chair squeaked, and I glanced up.

“She gets dress-coded almost daily.” Katie shifted her weight. “And she can be a giant tease.”

I coughed some then slumped back, massaging my temples. “Well hey, if she’s comfortable with herself, more power to her. The dress-code’s skewed against you girls anyway.”

She chuckled once more then slouched against the wall.

“Anything else?”

I didn’t intend to be curt here, but my frustration couldn’t be ignored. I forgot my project. Among the dozens of papers I brought home, none were the blueprints of the Crookneck Bridge. I must’ve missed it. The headline, the news about that cop, it must’ve distracted me, and I forgot it in the printer.

Apparently, I’d have to drive back. If a weekend of dimensioning wasn’t annoying enough. Why the client demanded it be handwritten was beyond me.

“I’m sorry.” I set my bag on the desk. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered, hesitating further, clenching her hands into fists. “Try not to stare.”

The chairback creaked louder.

“She says she can’t go to her friends’ houses because of their dads. So please, don’t be creepy.”

I squinted, less confused, more offended.

“Katie,” I grumbled. “You don’t need to worry. I’m not attracted to your friends. Do you understand?”

She gave me another nod, a fainter one.

“I’m over twice your ages.” I sniggered. “It won’t be an issue—”

“Whoa,” someone yelled from the living room. “You could go skinny-dipping in that.”

Together, Katie and I jumped. She paled, I blushed, and as if to jinx each other, we both cursed. I said shit. She went fouler. It wasn’t often Katie cussed, especially the F-bomb. Perhaps her friend’s comment wasn’t the impression she was hoping for.

“She’s outspoken,” I said with another laugh.

“That’s not a quarter of it.”

As my daughter withdrew into the hallway, she gestured for me to join. So I did. Instead of inviting this “dad-magnet” into my personal space, I figured it wiser to meet her in the open. I was ducking out to run errands nonetheless. Plus, my dumbbells cluttered the floor.

At heel, I followed Katie to the dining room where her friend awaited in the far corner. Half obscured by the table, half showered in sunlight, she pressed herself against the sliding glass door and admired the pool. Out of boredom I guessed, she also fidgeted with the potted succulents beside her. Racked and stacked, the plants jittered under her fingertips.

Between the tabletop and her back, I saw nothing of concern. Yes, her tank was formfitting, but aside from a playful poof of blonde hair, the girl didn’t appear skanky at all.

“It’s so private,” she added without turning around. “I love the arrangement of elms. It’s like whatever the fence doesn’t block, the canopy does. The pool really centers it. Not many have diving boards.”

Amidst the chatter, Katie kept on around the table and circled to the plant stand. There, she tapped her friend on the shoulder and scared her. Her hair plumed. My daughter next pointed to me, and at last, the girl spun about.

I jarred. As did she. In a gasp, our breath fled. Another tingle zipped down my spine then, stirring most in my inner thighs.

I was wrong about the tanktop.

Strapless and skintight, a mere tubetop contained her. Or struggled to. Below, her midriff flaunted the meekest contours of her ribcage. Above, her cleavage tempted. Toned, tanned, talented, she strained the bustline, threatening to spill out.

I jerked up. As not to get caught, I darted my eyes back to hers. And she smiled.

It struck like a gong. Sharp to the chin, soft to the nose, and rich in the lips, her beauty tolled. Beneath a bell of tousled blonde, she beamed. Bedhead wasn’t as unkempt. Framed by the buttons that were her dimples, the girl incited an ache in my abdomen. Most unnerving were her eyes. Alien in color, texture, and set, they shined the dreariest shade of green.

“Damn, Kate.” She ogled me over, more brazenly than I had her. “Your dad’s a total dilfy.”

My lungs seized. Dilfy?

“Hey!” Katie backhanded her, hard, in the elbow. “Don’t call him that.”

The friend tugged away, crossing her arms to coddle it. Cradled by her forearm, she nearly squeezed herself free. “Ouch Bitch, gees.”

Oh God. Was I a pedophile?

Before their scuffle settled, I slinked to the kitchen and composed myself behind the island. At my gut, the overhang did well to conceal me. Thereafter, the friend apologized to Katie then broke away, weaving two chairs and a stool. For me.

Once she left the cover of the table, I clutched the counter. Scant in a plaid skirt and sandals, she skated over the hardwood. It was as if her hipbones led her. Like sickles, they swayed, tossing the frills left then right.

Much to my relief, the stitching wasn’t cropped too high, but that didn’t really matter. For how low the skirt rode, she couldn’t have worn anything underneath. It would’ve shown. The waistband practically gapped her hips.

Slender, yet curvy. Short, yet leggy. Petite, yet busty. Of bullets, her body berated.

Oh God. I was a pedophile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Williams.” She extended a hand. “I’m Alexa. Alexa Lore.”

I swallowed, then took it.

The instant we touched, a third tingle hit. To the funny bone, it zapped down my arm, numbing the limb. I couldn’t feel her hand, I couldn’t grip it back, and embarrassingly, that was how she shook it, jiggling a noodle.

She furrowed, peering from me to our embrace. “Huh, I expected firmer. You wouldn’t be going easy on me, would you?”

I wrenched away and lashed the arm behind me. Pinky, ring, middle, index, thumb, I wiggled my fingers. The bloodflow was sluggish. “Sorry. I’ve been drawing— drafting a lot lately. My wrist has been cramping.”

Her brow ticked up, and she smirked. Compared to her smile, this was resonant. “That’s right. Kate mentioned you’re like some hotshot engineer, right?” She ogled me over again. Again, it was flagrant. “Weird. I would’ve thought military man.”

Against myself, I simpered a little.

“Alexa!” Katie whacked the tabletop. The leaves clunked. “We talked about this, remember?”

“What?” Alexa whipped around, heavy on one heel. “I’m just being friendly.”

My heart flittered. At this angle, her profile revealed the true extent of her endowments. Chest to stomach to backside, she shamed the letter S.

No wonder her lower back was so defined.

“Anyhow.” Alexa whipped back around. “We should throw a party here. A pool party. Tomorrow.”

A pool party?

“It’d be perfect.” She retwirled to Katie. “I saw the grill out there. We’ll get a stereo. I’ll invite some people. And your dad can pick up the food.”

I cocked my head. Oh can I?

“Wait.” Katie pepped up, glaring at me. Like her mother, her eyes were too fawn to deny. Darker than the brunette in her hair, they twinkled. ”Could we? Would that be okay?”

I didn’t say anything, except for a shrug. With clients already bailing at work, could I afford another project at home?

While I wavered, Alexa twirled back to me and glared the same. Although her mouth didn’t move, I swore I heard her murmur, heard her moan into my ear.

“Yes daddy, would it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she said for real, folding her arms, swelling herself to the cusp of her top. In my periphery, she overfilled it. “As the new girl, Kate could use the socializing. Besides, I’m pretty connected. I bet I can get enough girls here to wrangle her a clique and lock down an extracurricular.” She flashed me another smirk. “What do you say? The party for your daughter’s social life?”

Deadpan, I wavered a bit longer. Over Alexa’s shoulder, Katie glowed. It was unlike anything I’d seen for months. This was a no-brainer. How strong she’d been over the summer, uprooting and switching schools —her junior year no less— she deserved this.

“Okay,” I muttered. Immediately, Katie’s jaw dropped. “We can have a party, but—” I directed to Alexa. “I want your word. By Monday, she’s not the new girl anymore. Got it?”

Alexa stomped to posture and saluted me. “Yes, sir.”

Staunch, straight, yet still so shapely, she poised like an army brat.

“What about your drawings?” Katie asked.

“I’ll worry about those.” I hinged away then flipped on the faucet. To cold. Off plates and cups, the water pattered. “We’ll call your mother. I’m sure she won’t mind chaperoning.”

Katie lit up. “Mom’s invited?”

“Why not?” I squirted my hands with soap. Honestly, Sandra watching the girls was the safest play. A bunch of teenagers— I wouldn’t risk it. Alexa alone was tough. “I do have a meeting tomorrow, but I should be back by noon. How about we schedule it for one?”

“That’d be awesome.”

To the squish and squelch of me lathering my hands, we discussed the particulars. Things like: no drugs, no alcohol. Nothing dangerous. Then, as I went to rinse, I noticed Alexa giggling. Tilted to one side, she peeked around the island, blinking in disbelief.

I peeked down too, balking at the sight.

I was a wreck! Barefooted, I droned on the placemat. My dress pants drooped, one pocket had inverted, and at my front, my undershirt was untucked.

So much for hotshot engineer.

Without drying my hands, I slapped off the faucet then hurried away. It was more clumsy than it should’ve been. In my room, I collected my things, cleaned up, then changed, bellowing out the door some explanation for the rush. I did have errands to run. And a party to prepare for. Lastly, I snuck down the stairs then stamped on my shoes.

When the front door cracked, Alexa hollered, “Bring back pizza. Pepperoni, please.”

Scene 2 – Some Like it Steamy

Either out of selfishness, or procrastination, I lounged back in the Jacuzzi then dialed up the jets and sipped my Chardonnay. The bubbles in the glass fizzed. The bubbles in the tub rumbled. Like a secret spa, the five-seater sat stowed under the deck. Enclosed by trellises on three sides, it toted the walls of a vineyard, and smelled of one as well. Because of the staircase, it remained a world apart from the backyard, and amidst the whorls of green and blue, the bath-light tangled with the vines.

I set my wineglass aside then reclined.

At midnight, nowhere was as peaceful. I welcomed the ambiance. The chlorine wafted in the mist.

Obviously, I wasn’t done working yet, but for tonight, it was good. I’d have several hours tomorrow and most the day Sunday to finalize the others. Provided there were no distractions, I’d be fine.

“How romantic,” a voice cut in, spooking me. Across the hollow, the basement door slid open. Like grain, it ground on its tracks. “I didn’t realize you guys had a whirlpool.”

I recognized the voice. It was Alexa. From out the shadows, she emerged, sashaying to the corner opposite mine. Every stride, her sandals clacked the concrete.

I cursed, then sank deeper into the suds. Outfitted solely in my swim trucks, I was in no state to fumble through another encounter. Her on the other hand. She reigned in her tubetop and skirt.

I couldn’t believe she hadn’t left yet. It wasn’t a sleepover, was it?

“Did you want some company?” She propped herself on the edge of the tub, pinup-like. “I was heading out, but I could get my suit? I just live across the road.”

“No.” I shuddered. “It’s late. I’ll be done shortly.”

She hummed, bending down to swirl her finger in an eddy. “More work stuff?”

I hummed back.

As if daring me to look, she cupped her hands in the foam and scooped up a dollop. Much of it splashed. Some trickled off her wrists. As bent over as she was, the view beckoned. I almost stole it. After she had her hands full, she perked up then blew the fluff away. More water dribbled down her forearms from it, and like ink, the beads flowed onto her top, dampening the sheer.

“They are paying you overtime, right?”

“Sort of,” I grunted. Within my throat, a lump formed. I swigged my wine to coat it. “They’re compensating some, but the money isn’t really the issue.”

She wrinkled her nose then dipped her finger into another eddy. “It isn’t, huh? What is then?”

“The commitment,” I answered, to my own surprise. Whether it was the steam, the alcohol, or the allure of my guest, I lost control of my tongue. “There’s a lot to manage. Between spearheading the new branch and rebuilding a life here, I hardly have time to be a dad.”

I exhaled. And God forbid I slot an hour to exercise.

“Hell, I feel guilty carving out these twenty minutes.” I swilled my glass then raised it, as if to toast my pity. “Katie’s off to college in less than two years, and I doubt I’ll be able to convince her I’m worth visiting.”

Alexa scoffed. “Oh shut up.” She tucked her bangs aside then leaned against the tub. “Don’t be so dramatic. Kate’s the biggest daddy’s...