TEMPTATION & TEARS

PAUL

I thought it was over. I thought, "Hey, no more calls. No more stalker; great job Paul! Way to go man." I give myself a nice pat on the back, and we all move on with life.

I thought wrong.

Kelly was not finished – again. So Tuesday night, I picked up the phone to heard on the other line, the purring voice of, "Kelly, why are you calling me again?" I asked in a blandly.

"Oh, Paul," she giggled, much to my annoyance. "Is it so wrong to want to talk to you? You know," she put on a silky voice, "I've really missed you. Or," she corrected her self, "You. And me."

"Kelly, I'm hanging up now," I went to put the phone on the receiver, when I heard her shriek – in a high enough pitch to shatter all the glassware in our kitchen – "No!" I stared at the receiver as though it started growing ears. "Ah, I mean, no, Paul," Kelly amended, trying to sustain a sexy voice. "You do not want to do that."

"No, I'm pretty sure I do," I stared at my cuticles, bored.

"I thought we could, you know, get together, and meet over dinner – my treat – then go over to my place, to … study."

"- am hanging up now…" I told her.

"No, Paul. Paul! Paaawwwll-"

The click of my phone cut Kelly's voice off, as I turned off the phone, and put it back on the receiver. Then I stuck my finger in my ear, at the pain of it all – you know; listening to Kelly's shrieks for more than thirty seconds could actually do some permanent damage to a guy's ear.

JACKIE

Tuesday night. I had finished my homework, and left with nothing to do, I sat cross-legged on my bed, looking through an old photo album my mom dug up for me, that I'd never seen before. There was my dad. I chuckled to myself, amused at the fact that I not only had my father's hair – ink black – but that I also had his nose, and eyes.

I wish I knew where he was. I wish I knew whether or not if he was all right. Did the police get to find him? Did the guy who was after him find him? I shuddered at that thought. Where are you…?

Fifteen minutes later, I was finished thumbing through the book, my eyes still raw from the occasional tear I shed. I was about to drift away into slumber when I heard a loud, Craaaacckkkk. I shot up – the hell?

Craaaccckkk. Ticktick. Chip. I slid off my bed, in the darkness, and, on all fours, moved slowly and reached for my old friend – my baseball bat. Holding the neck of the bat, I watched the rusty window rattle, and then finally was pushed up by two tanned hands.

I was at the ready. And then a head emerged – the bastard must have climbed all the way up here, because my bedroom was on the second floor. Well, I was about to send him flying – literally.

"Sayonara, biaatch," I swung, putting my weight into it, but I had to stop myself short when I saw the face. My blood went cold with shock, and my bat fell on the floor with a loud clatter.

Wincing at the noise I cried, "Damnit!" Was my mom awake? Well, she probably would be now, I thought. Then I started, and looked back at the man sitting on my window.

"Well, you have all the reason to be angry at me," he gave a rueful chuckle, with the shake of his head. "But what a welcome."

I blinked, and stared hard. After a long pause, I pronounced, "I must be hallucinating," and then went back into my bed. "I'll probably wake up in the morning," I said to myself aloud, as I fluffed my pillows. "And this will all be a dream." I stared amused at the figure, the smiled.

"Weird, perhaps twisted dream," I put one leg under the cover, "But a dream none the less."

The man just stared at me, baffled.

"Goodnight, phantom," I turned in my bed, my back to him, and was about to go to sleep.

But I couldn't. Because he flicked on the lights. "Why can't you just go away? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?" I hissed. "This is just a dream. You won't be here. In. The. Morning." I waved it away. "Shoo. Scat. Disappear." I wiggled my arms in such a way to illustrate what I was saying.

He crossed his arms. "Is that any way to treat your father, hija?"

I looked up again, squinting under the light. Then I heard a gasp from some where (later did I realize that the gasp came from me). "D-D-Dad?" I was so scared to say it. I was so worried that as soon as I said the word, he would evaporate like a puff of smoke in front of my very eyes.

"Yes, baby girl. It's me." Then the sob came. "Oh Dad. Where have you been all this time?" I flung my arms around his neck like I used to as a little girl. For a while neither of us said anything as I wept, overwhelmed with the shock of it all.

Finally, I realized what was going on. Other emotions overtook me. One of the most predominant: anger. Anger. How dare he leave us all this time without a word? He was gone all this time, and then –

I violently pulled away. "Where the hell were you all this time?" I cried through my hot, livid tears.

He looked grim. "Don't cuss, hija," was the only thing he said, however.

"And-and," I had trouble finding the words. "How could you do this to me and mom? How could you-" Then I remembered. Mom. So, in a lower voice, I said, "Do you know how much we went though? Do you? And you -" I blew the hair out of my face hostilely. "You don't even know the half of it-" I jabbed my finger at him. "Yo-you…" I trailed off, and couldn't say any more, I was brawling that violently.

"I know it's been hard on you. That's why I sent you the money," he shifted uncomfortably.

"The money?" I looked up at him, confused.

"Yes, the money. How else did you think you moved here? Your mom's job, as you well know, couldn't have paid for the move from LA to Carmel. And enrolling at the Academy too…"

"You sent us money?" I stood up, incredulous.

"Well, yes. Although, your mom doesn't know it was from me, so do you think you could keep this under wraps?" he shifted again.

I was flushed under the warmth of gratitude, and love for my father. But then, "You think you could just make everything all better? Make up for all those years without you with money? Well if you do-"

"I know I can't make it up like that, hija-" he honestly admitted it, and shook his head sadly, that I couldn't say anything back, except a huffy, "Yeah. Good." I crossed my arms, tapped my foot, and couldn't look at him after that, due to a now guilt conscience. But why should I be the one feeling guilty? It was all his fault, really. After all that yelling and angry tears, though, now I just felt tired.

"Listen, Dad. I'm glad you are at least safe, all right? Really. But… I kind of have to go to bed – I have school tomorrow – so, can we talk about this in the morning?"

"Morning?" He looked at me as though I was stupid – well, not stupid, but thick, sure. "Hija, I can't stay."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because – because it would make things… uncomfortable." Right; how could I have forgotten? From Mom to the police, to the ghost, I didn't know where to start. "Okay, Dad." I shook my head in a pathetic attempt to not feel so sleepy – it didn't work. "So what do you want to talk about?" I tried to keep the testy tone out of my voice when I talked to him.

In actuality, I was not annoyed at him; all right, I was but not so much as I was annoyed at myself for caring… a lot.

"So who are these people after you? Why do you owe them money?" And why does it look like you haven't shaved in ages? I added mentally. "Does this have anything to do with your job? And what is it that you do any way?"

"Let me start from the beginning," he sighed, sitting down next to my bed.