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Prelude
Three Years Earlier
Travis
“I don’t think I understand,” Maddox said. He toyed with the edges of the contract, running them through his fingers over and over again. He looked terrifying in his bar security shirt and black jeans. The dark color made him seem more imposing than he really was. It was comical to think he was so kind when he appeared so savage.
“It’s an odd request, and I understand your confusion. Reagan had the same response when I told her I was hiring a caregiver,” I said as the weight of our few options settled deeper into my stomach. My wife was so sick, and I felt like this man might be my only hope. I adjusted my tie; trepidation made it feel like it was choking me.
Maddox shifted in his seat as an unfamiliar quiet filled the room. My office was never quiet. My Little one, Reagan, made sure of that. I usually had at least six Barbies “helping” me at my desk and random toys scattered throughout the room. The toy box in the corner had sat unopened for almost a month.
“She really isn’t doing well?” he asked. “I’d heard some things, but she seemed okay on the phone. Sad, but okay.”
I shook my head before pushing on. “She's barely eating. She’s lost twenty pounds. She’s missing a good bit of hair from anxiously pulling it out. She doesn't say more than twenty words a day. Honestly, some of her doctors are recommending inpatient care.”
“Fuck,” Maddox said as he took a sip of his beer. “I had no idea. I'm sorry, man.”
“I understand.” I stopped to control my quivering voice before trying again. “I understand you’ve only known me for a few months, but my Little girl loves her friendship with you, and I really think you’d be able to help us.”
It was true. My baby had befriended the 6’2”, heavily tattooed, combat boot and ripped jeans wearing man in front of me a few months ago. She had noticed he was carrying some heavy burdens and had tried to cheer him up. Their odd friendship had bloomed from there. The guy looked every bit a badass, but he had no problem spending his breaks playing with her and her Barbie camper.
“That’s a dirty trick,” he grumbled, and I found myself laughing. “You know I’m enamored with that Little girl.”
“I know, it’s why I came to you”
What I came to him with was a well thought-out plan of outrageous proportions. My Little one had terrible anxiety and sensory issues. Every day was hard for her, but after her sister’s suicide, things had gotten worse. We had been in therapy and seeing specialists for weeks. They all said inpatient care would be beneficial for her, but I felt like I could provide the same care and keep her at home. I was at the bar a good bit, but I had recently hired people to handle things for me. I was going to take a step back from the business. There would still be times I would need to oversee things, and that's where I hoped Maddox would come in. I was looking to hire a caregiver. A caregiver that would love my Little one as much as I did. A caregiver that would be firm enough to keep her on the strict schedule I was trying to implement and gentle enough to soothe her anxiety.
I was offering him a salary that was almost double what I currently paid him, a full suite in my home, and free health insurance. I paid my staff well. It was one of the things my bar, The Thirsty Turtle, was known for, but my baby was far more important than this place, and I would have tripled his salary had that been a request.
I knew small pieces of Maddox’s story. He had two older brothers he didn’t speak to. I believed they were both in prison for a felony involving his old place of employment. He had spent most of his life caring for his sick mother only to realize she wasn’t really sick. Her betrayal caused him to pack up and start over in Eastman. He was one of the hardest workers I had. He was also sleeping in his truck and showering at a local gym. He didn’t know I knew these things, but it wasn’t hard to find out information about someone when you lived in a small town. I didn’t know him well, but the big lug was slowly working his way into my life more and more.
“I’ll pay you thirty-thousand up front. You can invest it, spend it, drink it, I don’t care. Just help me get my baby back.”
“You don’t have to pay me to help take care of her. I’ll be glad to help however I can and still work at the bar. It just doesn’t seem right to help someone who isn’t doing well and then charge them for it,” he argued.
His words chased away any concerns I had left. He really was the best person for this position.
“I’m paying you because it’ll be a hard job. You’re going to work with me to enforce the rules and schedule I set in place. You’ll work seventy or more hours a week. Most of them, we’ll work together, but I’m asking a lot of you. You will earn every bit of your paycheck, I promise you. She is as stubborn as she is sweet.”
He smiled before setting his empty beer bottle on my desk.
“How long do you see me working in this position for you?”
I thought he might ask this and I was pleased to have an answer for him. “A while. The contract assures you employment for at least a year. Regardless of what you decide to do after that, I’ll still have a job for you. You can come back to the bar or you can stay on for more time. Though I hope she’ll be back to her spunky self by then. I want to expand the bar to include more things for the Little ones and their Tops to do. I know they enjoy the small nursery now, but I’d eventually like to start hosting play parties. I will need someone to watch over Reagan when she plays or stay at home with her if she doesn’t want to come. I’ll spend time with her at the events too, but after having someone with her full time, she wouldn’t transition well to being alone while I work,” I said as I pulled at my tie again.
“Take off the damn tie,” he said.
“What?”
“Take off the tie and be real with me. I’ve seen the way you interact with Reagan and it’s not like this. Be genuine with me. If I accept the job, we’ll be working together closely, and I can’t work with someone who’s too nervous to take off his damn tie when it’s clearly bothering him.”
I laughed and reached up to remove the tie. He was right. I wasn’t this formal in real life. I set the wrinkled silk on my desk and folded my arms behind my head.
“Tell me what you’re really thinking,” he said as he took a similar position.
“The truth is, Reagan’s sister took her own life a few weeks ago. Both of the girls struggled with depression and anxiety. We thought Reagan’s was worse, but we were wrong. Reagan’s blaming herself. I know she told you about her autism, and you’ve seen some of her sensory struggles, but this is the sickest she’s ever been, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose her. She’s not just my wife or my baby girl, she’s my best friend.”
He leaned forward in his seat.
