"Good morning, beauty queen! Your coffee is ready for consumption!" My loud daughter stomps on my back at 9 in the morning.

"I'm up..." I grumble, hugging the pillow tighter to my chest. Fuck, I'm so exhausted...

"You've said that ten times, this really should be the other way around, you know?" She chides while hopping on my shoulder-blades.

I groan, stretching my back, causing her to stumble and fall beside me. I open one eye and see her staring at me with a toothy smile, eyes bright. It melts my bad mood away.

I reach out my arm to scoop her towards me, but she shrieks, jumping off the bed.

"No! I'm a busy woman and I got things to take care of!" She says, stomping her little feet to the kitchen in her pink pajamas and hair sticking out in every direction.

"Be careful!" I warn hoarsely, sitting up.

I sort of make the bed and put on black jeans with a clean shirt, moseying out of the room. On my way out, I startle myself in the mirror. Damn, so this is where Ariana gets her crazy hair from.

I pass by the messy living room, with Ariana's toys on the floor, along with loose socks, craft supplies, and boxes I still haven't unpacked. The coffee table has cups and plates from last night's 3 AM snacks I had after a workout.

"Sir, if you could step into the kitchen and provide your child with food, that'd be nice." My sassy daughter formally says, rolling her eyes as she pours me a cup of coffee.

"Apologies..." I bow my head, opening one of the cabinets to pull out a bowl and cereal.

"Aw, no pancakes?"

"Sorry, angel. Daddy's busy." I take out milk from the fridge, pouring it in the bowl—

"Stop!" She shrieks and throws her hands around the bowl. "This is a crime!"

"Huh?" I stare at Ariana whispering words of comfort before drinking the milk.

"Cereal goes first, dad. Ugh. I have to take care of everything around the house..." She shakes her head, pouring chocolate cereal into the bowl.

I lean down to kiss her cheek then take a sip of coffee while checking my phone.

Celia's late...

When I caught her chasing those boys with a stick yesterday, I thought surely she must be missing a few screws in her head. But then she rescued that puppy, and if I'm not mistaken, she was on the verge of tears as she fed him and took care of his wound.

It gave me a sign that she cares, but doesn't like people. Which I can understand. At least she's strong. The past babysitters weren't, at least not enough to contain Ariana's tantrums.

I'm hoping she can.

Hell, she scares me. Sure, she doesn't know what's in store for her, but I'm hoping the money will motivate her to push through. I'll just have to skip a few meals to make ends meet in the meantime.

Stepping outside, I make a mental note to install security cameras around the house.

"Daddy, what are we doing today?" Ariana pops up with a jump rope.

"Change out of your pajamas, angel. Celia will be here soon."

"But I don't want Celia, can't we just—"

"You must be Gio and Ari— oh my! Look at all the tattoos on your arms!" A random voice purrs on my right and I turn to see a middle-aged redhead beaming over the wooden gate.

I specifically chose this house for its large land and high gates. She must be standing on a ladder to pop her head over like that.

"Sorry for the intrusion." She laughs with a full makeup on. "I just woke up and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood! I'm Chanel." She rolls her eyes like a celebrity who doesn't want to make a fuss. "I'm the Parent Leader of Ariana's school—"

"Sorry, but I'm a little tied up right now, so if you'd excuse me—"

"Of course! It must be so difficult for a single father." She cooes, sticking out her bottom lip. "That's why I take care of everyone here and I'll take care of you!"

She reaches out her phone which I really don't want to take, but she waves it around a couple of times while Ariana and I stand and look at her in the awkward silence.

"Don't do it." Ariana whispers as I reluctantly reach my arm to take the phone and put my number in.

"I have all the parents' information," she gloats. "And especially as your neighbor, I can alert you if anything ever happens."

"Thanks, it was nice to meet you." I hand it back to her and pick up Ariana, heading to the backyard without waiting for a reply.

We approach the small garage hidden behind some lemon and orange trees. I unlock the door and switch the light on, taking us inside.

"Oh my, look at all the tattoos on your arms!" Ariana mimics when I put her down, scrunching her nose as she snickers.

"Stop it, Ariana. Be nice to the neighbors, okay? And Celia too. No more tantrums—"

"I said I don't want Celia."

"It doesn't matter, because we need her. I need to work and you can't be on your own."

"Yes, I can. Why can't it just be the two of us?"

"Because I'm not enough. And you're just a child."

"So? How is that my fault?" Her voice wavers. "I make coffee and let you borrow my scrunchies, what more do you want?"

"Baby it's not about what I want, it's about what you need. You're too young to understand."

"No wonder mom left." She frowns, opening the door to leave.

"Wait a second—"

"No! Leave me alone!" She storms out.

I watch as skinny legs carry her to the house, shoving away the dull stab in my chest. I remind myself I'm okay with being the bad guy, okay with being hated, okay with being left.

As long as I can take care of her, I don't care. I don't matter. And I sure as hell can't tell her why her mother left. It was my fault, anyway.

I inspect the garage, jotting down what I need to buy to tear the place apart when my phone rings with a text message from Celia, saying she's arrived.

"You're late." I say, opening the gate for her to come in.

She puts her hands in the pockets of her denim overalls. "Sorry, I missed the bus..."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen..." Okay, twelve years older than Ariana. Seven years younger than me.

"You go to school?"

"Shouldn't this interview happen before hiring someone?"

"Have you done babysitting before?"

"I don't know, do the last ten seconds with you count?"

I stare at her unamused, which doesn't faze her one bit.

"Do you own a hairbrush?" She asks, looking at my hair.

"Shut up." I turn, leading her through the green front yard towards the house. I run my hand through my hair, annoyed for forgetting to tie it up.

I open the front door and open my arm for her to go in first, apologizing about the mess.

"We moved in just a few days ago—" I explain as she takes in the chaos of the living room.

"What exactly do you expect me to do around here?" She cuts me off with her smoky voice, rolling her large, almond-shaped eyes at me.

I'm struck with the directness of her eye contact for a second.

Usually when people look at me, they get scared. They'll fake a smile or avoid eye contact. But she stares at me unbothered and calm, which I'm not used to at all.

I'm used to soft, giggly women who bat their lashes and twirl their hair like dolls.

Whereas Celia is like a hazardous, antisocial cat who I've dragged inside my home. She's a mold of elegance, but sharp like a blade.

A pronounced pout with a chiseled jaw. A long neck with high cheekbones. Hazel eyes with no emotion. Dark brows narrow at the temples. 'Come hither' lashes blinking in slow motion.

Her milky skin is peppered with moles like a work of art that put my tattoos to shame.

There's one on her cheekbone, some on her neck. Over her shoulders, between her breasts. On her arms, down her wrists, as far as I can see in her sleeveless, red shirt and overalls.

"Are you deaf?" She asks and I mentally smack myself for being such a creep. And here I thought my sex drive was dead.

"Sorry." I clear my throat and step into the kitchen, motioning to the fridge. "Fully stocked, I'll take care of the shopping. Can you cook?"

"For Ariana or you both?" She asks, opening the fridge to check inside. I can't tell from her expression whether she approves or not.

"Doesn't matter. I'll eat if there are leftovers, don't worry about me." I show her where the pots and dishes are, then lead her to the living room. "Can you vacuum, mop, and dust?"

She nods, brushing her slender fingers across the TV. "What's your WiFi password?"

"Priorities." I tease, forgetting that she doesn't smile. "Right, I'll text it to you." I do it quickly and she thanks me, then I show her the bathroom and Ariana's bedroom.

"Cute," she says, staring at the tapestry above Ariana's bed with the moon phases on it.

"It was my idea..." I roll my eyes, smiling.

She gives me a 'do you want a cookie for that?' look.

"Anyway, my room is off limits," I say as we go back to the living room. "So is the garage."

"How come?"

"Ariana, I'm leaving!" I call, glancing at my bedroom door. I look at Celia. "Put sunscreen on her and give me a call if you need help."

"Why would I need help?"

"Let's hope you don't." I say, opening the front door. "I'll be back before four."

~

It's been approximately five hours and fourteen minutes since I've left.

Celia hasn't responded to my texts and I'm trying not to freak out.

I'm sure she's fine.

Ariana's not that bad.

Sure, she flips the house upside down, empties all the cabinets to make a mess that takes days to put back. But Celia won't let that happen.

And yeah, maybe she likes to strip naked and run around, making people uncomfortable, but Celia will tell her to put her clothes back on.

Besides, she promised me she won't draw on herself with permanent sharpies anymore.

I'm sure everything is fine. They're probably playing outside and having fun.

So what if previous babysitters have threatened to sue for psychological distress? I bet those people have never taken a dildo to church.

With this argument in mind, I go to a home improvement store to buy plumbing and lighting fixtures, Face-timing with Chase to make sure I'm buying all the right stuff.

He tells me that he'll visit with Oscar to help put everything together. A large order of fans and blackout sheets are also on the way, which he'll bring with him to set up.

I also call Arthur, the cop of this town, who told me the auto shop I bought a few blocks from home will be available in two weeks. We make plans to meet soon to talk about it.

I'm putting the materials in the back of my truck when my phone rings. I frantically fish it out of my pocket, scowling at the unknown number.

"Who's this?"

"It's Chanel! What's going on at your house?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, freezing in place.

"There's screaming and, and things being broken! I hear glass shattering in the backyard. I'm, I'm going to call the cops—"

"No. No need." I cut her off, running around my car to get in. "I'll be home in ten minutes."

"Then I'll go over there to—"

"I'll handle it. Don't do anything."

I speed home, getting a ticket with a lovely lecture of being a danger to this peaceful town, then continue racing home until I'm parked at the front.

I grab my gun from the glove compartment and tuck it behind my jeans as I sprint out of the car, growing more alarmed from the screams and breaking glasses in the backyard.

Dashing around the house towards the noise, I almost eat shit on the ground when I see what the fuck is going on.

What the fuck have I done?

Why is Ariana holding a baseball bat?

And why is Celia wearing my shirt?

~ A/N ~
Hehe what do you guys think is going on?