He pours two more shots and downs his. Then he says, “You’re working, remember,” and downs mine. He gives me a wink and walks away.
I’m irritated at him, of course, but I can’t be angry. He’s right. And he sure as hell went about it in the way he knew would hit me hard. If Helen needs me, I’m obligated to try, no matter how much crap is going on in my head.
“Damn it, Carl,” I mutter to the barstool he abandoned. I wash the shot glasses and get back to watching the show. It’s the end of the song and Rollie stands, puts her arm around Helen’s shoulders, and makes her take a bow.
Helen is blushing, pretty dramatically affected by it all. I watch her come down off the stage, noting that everyone at the tables makes a point to talk to and compliment her. I feel wonderful that she’s getting all the attention, but also a little nervous. I’m afraid she’ll fall right back to being distracted and worried, but instead, she makes her rounds and goes to the bar.
As the bartender prepares her orders, she comes to me and says, “I… Leo, why haven’t we ever gotten together?”
I don’t have anything resembling a good answer to that question, so I flip it around and ask, “Do you want that?”
She nods, nervously.
We’re not just taking about boyfriend and girlfriend. Hell, we’re bypassing that. We’re bypassing dating and everything else. We’re talking about her being my little girl and me being her Daddy. I feel my heart beating like crazy.
Can I be the man she needs?
I want it more than anything on Earth. I want it badly enough it hurts.
But can I do it? Can I be a Daddy worthy of her?
“I need to think,” I say. “Let’s talk after close.”
That’s my plan, anyway. Instead, after the last customer leaves, I walk through the dressing room, up to her little apartment with her. We haven’t talked. I can barely think at all.