Page 2 of Petty's Crime

“I’ll miss you when I go,” he says, softly. “But I know I won’t have to worry about my girls. Because you’ll be looking out for them, won’t you, little buddy?”

I give him the most earnest expression I can. “I will, Daddy. But…” my lip trembles again, “Will you hurry home?”

He sighs, and gives a small, sad, shake of his head, the gesture warning me Daddy is leaving, and he’ll be gone for what seems to a little boy, to be a very long time. He’s always away more than he’s home.

Daddy takes my hand, pulls me out from behind the couch, takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dries my tears. Then he leads me back to Mommy and Leila. Mommy reaches out her arm and makes room for me alongside the baby, while Daddy looks on proudly, and makes a comment about his perfect family. Softly, in a tone meant not for my ears, he tells Mommy he wishes to fuck he didn’t have to go.

The next morning, Daddy puts on his uniform, grabs his duffle and says his goodbyes. Before he leaves, he crouches down, shakes my hand, and admonishes me to remember the promises I’d made. Then he hugs me tightly to him, holding on for a few seconds. “Make me proud, buddy,” he says before pulling away.

When he stands and opens the door, I think he’s reluctant to go.

I don’t want him to leave, but something warns me I need to be strong. None of my wishes would magically make him able to stay. So I stand, holding Mommy’s hand and try hard not to cry. In his absence, I would be the man of the house.

But Daddy didn’t hurry home. He never came back at all. As far as my child’s mind could understand, he was killed by a baddie in a faraway war, and as a hero, fighting for his country.

Time passed, and our depleted family settled into a routine. Mommy gradually stopped being so sad, and Daddy was no longer part of every conversation. Eventually, the day came when I had difficulty remembering his features anymore, and had to rely on photographs rather than my memory. Leila grew up and was annoying as fuck, always pushing her boundaries, but while my recollections of him had faded, one thing I never forgot. I stayed true to the last promise I’d shared with my daddy. However much my sister annoyed me, I always turned the other cheek. She grew to take advantage, pushing her luck, taunting me, safe in the knowledge I’d never fight back.

I couldn’t. Daddy had asked one thing of me, and that I never could forget.Ladies are to be loved, cherished and protected.

I was determined to live my life honouring the promise I made. I wanted to make my daddy proud.

CHAPTERONE

RoseLyn

“Misogynistic, chauvinistic, arrogant, obnoxious dick.” Throwing myself down on the couch in my dressing room, I feel my hands clenching into fists. “Honestly, I could swing for that man.”

Snorting, my stylist, Kylie, grins widely. “Why not say what you really mean?”

In a totally adult gesture, I stick out my tongue, causing her to shake her head and laugh. “If you feel that strongly, why don’t you tell Bart that you don’t get on with your bodyguard?”

It’s a sensible suggestion, but raising a hand, I wave it off. “I don’t have to like him, Ky.”

Theatrically sighing, she makes a gimme gesture with her hands. “Tell me what he’s done now.”

I exhale air in an equally dramatic fashion. “He treats me as if I’m stupid.” I lean forward. “I’m not even sure he likes women.”

“He’s gay?” Her eyes widen.

“Fuck no.” I scoff. “He’s a man’s man. And not in that way,” I add hastily, seeing the beginnings of her grin. “It’s like he doesn’t think I can think for myself.” Shaking my head, I continue, “It’s me who’s at risk. Me, who my ex wants to hurt. I don’t need him dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s all the time. I know the danger is very real.” I pause. “Honestly, his attitude makes me want to show him the finger and walk off just to spite him.”

She rolls her eyes. “That would be plain stupid.” She doesn’t need to see my nod, confirming that I’m very well aware. “I think you should talk to Bart. You could grow careless if you don’t trust your bodyguard.”

But while sometimes I wonder whether Petty really believes there’s a crazed man who’s got it in for me, I can’t fault the way he does his job. I doubt anyone could get past him, and that’s the kind of security that I need. I shrug. “Though in his mind the jury’s still out on whether the threat is real, he’s certainly acting as if it is. What more can I ask?”

“He clearly winds you up.” She studies me for a moment after making her observation, but when my shoulders rise and lower dismissively, she goes to the wardrobe and pulls out a dress from the rack. “This is what we’re going with tonight, isn’t it?”

Nodding at her selection, I tell her, “I don’t have to get along with my bodyguard. I’m no Whitney.” I chuckle at the comparison. “As long as he does what he’s paid to do, what he thinks or his character shouldn’t matter to me.” Sitting forward, I sigh. “And I’m bringing enough trouble to Bart. He’s gone out of his way to organise protection for me. Seems prettypetty,” I huff a laugh at the irony, “of me to complain.”

Brushing out imaginary creases, Kylie shakes her head. “You’re his bread and butter, RoseLyn. Bart’s got a vested interest in you staying happy and healthy.” She gives me a serious stare. “Iknow you’re in danger, and so does Bart.”

As if the mention of his name has summoned the devil, a rap-pitty-tap knock comes at the door. Kylie and I exchange grins when the familiar sound is followed up with, “Are you decent in there?”

Kylie hangs up the dress again and goes over to open the door. “Why don’t you come in, Bart?”

Preceded by his middle-age paunch, my fifty-something and unashamedly gay manager steps inside the room. Approaching with an assessing look, he crouches in front of me. “You holding up okay, RoseLyn?”

Kylie’s narrowing eyes find mine and her hands go to her hips. “Is there something you should have told me, babe?”

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