The Babysitter

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When Billie got back to the hotel it was late. He wasn’t even sure how late. He stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to his suite, dumping his jacket and phone in the living area he grabbed the key to the boys’ room, deciding to look in on them before going to bed. They’d had a good day today.

It was Ava’s day to herself in the city and Billie had taken the kids to the zoo and a movie before having to leave for his thing. And the less said about that the better. He was really starting to hate promotional work.

He wondered how Ava was doing. That first day, when they’d arrived in the city she’d seemed fine. But coming back from her shopping excursion or whatever she’d been off. Not like on the plane off, but different. Distant.

The kids were asleep in the big bed, the bathroom light on and the door cracked so that light shown through. He’d have to remember to thank Ava for that little after thought. She was good at her job. Fats lifted his head from between his paws. He was laying against the connecting door to Ava’s room. Door shut, but knowing her she’d left it unlocked in case somebody had a night mare.

The dog got up, walked a few steps toward Billie and whined. Billie furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Fats wagged his tail once and then whined again.

“Timmy fall down the well, boy?” Billie crouched in front of the dog, quiet so as not to wake the kids. It was creepy how human dogs’ eyes could look. He’d swear the dog was calling him stupid in his head. “Okay Fats, what gives?”

Fats Domino nudged the bottom of Ava’s door with his nose. Billie mentally debated whether or not he should look in on her too. Granted she deserved her privacy but she had been weird earlier. And even though she was the babysitter he was technically responsible for her since she was underage…

He just hoped she didn’t sleep naked.

He brushed his knuckle against the door first, opening the door slowly. “Ava?” As soon as the door was open wide enough the dog was through it, bounding across the bare floor and up onto her bed. Billie slid inside her room, closing the door behind him. “You okay?”

She was sitting cross legged on the bed, her face pressed against a pillow. The room was dark, but the drapes were open. There was enough light outside that he could see her clearly, if dimly, she sat up slowly, her hands surreptitiously wiping her cheeks as she went. She’d been crying.

Fats clambered into her lap and immediately set about licking her cheeks.

Ava stared silently at Billie. Waiting.

He crossed the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. She didn’t make apologies for her tears. He liked that. But he was disconcerted that she wasn’t talking. It was eerie.

“How was the interview?” She asked finally, her voice was hoarse. Looking at her closely he could tell she’d been crying for quite some time. He shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugged, sniffling loudly. “It doesn’t matter.” She gently shoved the dog off her lap and walked to the window. Billie was actually worried now.

“Ava-“

“The city’s real pretty at night, isn’t it?” She was standing in the middle of the room, looking out of the windows. Her room did have an excellent view. But he was confounded. He rose, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her, forcing her to look at him. Tears were still falling down her face. Silently. She wept, but didn’t cry.

“You’re really freaking me out here, kid.” His hand slid up to cup her face when her forehead creased, her face wrenching once as though she’d sob before smoothing back out again. “Tell me, Ava.”

“You’d laugh,” her voice sounded pained. He remembered again how you couldn’t pay him to be seventeen again. Especially if he had to be a seventeen year old girl.

“Is it about Matt?”

She pulled away from his hand. “No, it’s not about Matt.”

“Then tell me what it is, kid.”

She muttered something and then went to the window, turning her back on him completely.

“Say that again?”

“I got a tattoo.”

Billie stared at her back. Of all the things she could have said, that wasn’t what he was expecting. “Were you not supposed to?”

Ava shrugged, “Dad doesn’t care. He told me I could ages ago.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Her entire body shuddered and she put a hand on the window glass. “My mom’s gonna kill me!”

He forced the laugh back down before it could escape. She was crying again, he could hear it, even if he couldn’t see it in her reflection. He crossed the room, taking her in his arms, she buried her face in his chest, those arms snaking around his neck. He tried very hard not to focus too much on the absurdity of the situation. If he laughed now she’d never forgive him. “Why do you care what your mom thinks, Ava?”

She tried to talk around the tears, then gave up. Crying some more before taking a deep breath and talking to his shirt. “Because I’m not like her. I want to be, you know. Artistic and natural and whatever, but I’m just not!” She sniffed loudly and he winced, it sounded like she was bombing her sinuses. “I mean, I try… but I like dying my hair, and I like the music I listen to and I like how I play piano and I liked Matt even though she said it was stupid to date somebody like that and then he dumped me and she was right and I had to tell her and then there was the tattoo parlor and I did it because I wanted to prove that I wasn’t like her once and for all but I want to be like her and now I know I’m not and I hate it!”

She dissolved against his chest again and he was quiet, rocking her.

“And dad says that she and I are more alike than I realize, but I don’t see it! And I’ll do stuff and then she’ll look at me like- like where did you come from and I just feel so guilty because I-I’m not what I should be-!”

“What should you be?” He eased her back from him, forcing her to look him in the eye. She slid her gaze to the left, looking instead at the dog at their feet. He rolled his eyes, cupping her face and lifting her chin so that she had to look him in the face. “What should you be?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered finally, defeated. “She just wants me to be her. And I’m not.” She shivered hard, “I’m like dad and she hates it.” She pulled away from him, jerking her hands through her hair before pulling it up into a sloppy bun. “I’m too aggressive. I try to hard to be seen. I’m too flamboyant. I don’t think about anybody else. I’m selfish. I’m too detached. I don’t feel anything.”

“That last bit’s a damn lie, you know. If you didn’t feel anything you wouldn’t be this upset. And since when is being flamboyant a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ava, just because you’re not like her does not make you a horrible person.”

“I know.” She sounded wooden. He narrowed his eyes.

“Let’s see it.”

She looked up, confused.

“The tattoo, come on, let’s see it.”

She sighed, she was wearing a tee shirt and little else, but she stepped back, turning around and walking into the bathroom where she flicked on the light. He winced at the brightness, but didn’t comment, leaning against the doorjamb and waiting. Ava stood in the center of the tiled bathroom and calmly started to pull up the left side of the tee shirt.

The shirt was long and pretty conservative as far as bed attire went, but Billie found himself suddenly feeling a little bit like a pervert at the jump in his belly when the shirt exposed the line of her underwear. He wasn’t sure why the curve of her hip made his breath ragged, he had to force himself not to let it show. She held the shirt high against her belly and pulled the panties down a few inches on the left side so that her entire hip was exposed. Then she peeled back the bandage. He licked his lips.

“Why a lotus blossom?” It was a good tat, actually, black outlined, probably shaded, he couldn’t tell just yet, and it looked like purple around the edges. It’d be cool once it healed.

“Cause and effect, birth and rebirth, spirituality and all that.” she replaced the bandage and winced before dropping her shirt back to where it was and sitting on the toilet.

“Oh,” he sat down on the edge of the toilet and looked at her profile. “You’re more special than you like to think you are.”

She reddened, suddenly embarrassed. Actually, all of a sudden he was embarrassed too.

“I mean-well-“

“Thanks, Billie.” She turned on the toilet lid, her knees bumped his. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

“I don’t know,” he answered finally. What was he doing here? Ava leaned forward, he didn’t move, his forearms rested comfortably on his knees and he was so close to her face that he could nudge her nose with his if he wanted. But he was suddenly tense. Wary of something that he couldn’t name. “I’m thinking maybe I should go back to Mister Armstrong, though.”

“Why?” She looked momentarily confused, but waited for him to answer. He shrugged.

“Because of this.”

“What is this?” She asked softly, arching one eyebrow.

“This,” he gestured between them.

“Oh, this?” She caught his hand, playful. “Or this…?”

When her lips touched his he nearly fell into the bath tub.