"Uh..uh what are you talking about? This is uh…this is the shirt I came in wearing…" he tilted his head in amusement at my panic. He stood next to me and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

 

"It’s fine babe I know. Just take better care of her than that bitch did please…and if you hurt her in any way I will make sure that you never get a good haircut in this city EVER again," he chuckled and left the office door. I looked over at Spencer nad noticed that she was weraing my vest, and smiled to myself at how good she looked in my clothes. It took me awhile to realize that she was yelling.

 

"NO! NO KYLA! KY–KYLA YOU ARE NOT LISTENING…fine, fine….okay…" she hung up the phone and I watched in dismay as she sat down in her "comfy" chair and began to cry, her head in her hands. I ran over ot her and knelt down beside her chair, waiting for her to speak.

 

"I just…I just don’t get what went wrong. We were doing so well! Than all of a sudden, BOOM!" I helped her out of the chair and over to the couch so that I could hold her. I layed down on the couch and patted the leather, inviting her to lay with me. She took the invitation and layed down in my arms. She leaned against me and began to cry again. I rocked her back and forth not really knowing how to comfort her. I really didn’t have that much experience in that area. 

 

For the second time that day the door interrupted us as a loud knock reverberated through the office. He’s learning… Spencer removed herself from my arms. I sighed and sat up. 

 

"Co-come in…" Spencer said her voice quavering as she used the back of her hand to rub the tear stains off of her face.

 

"Uh…Mrs. Carlin you have a visitor…" What the hell her wife couldn’t have gotten here so fast! "Uh…she claims that she’s your um…that she’us your umm…"

 

"Spit it out Max!" Spencer demanded regaining her composure the look of sadness replaced by stern confidence.

 

"That she’s your…" He didn’t get to finish because he was pushed out of the way when a girl around thirteen pushed past the stuttering secretary and into the office.

 

I looked her up and down. She was short and skinny but you wouldn’t be able to tell because her clothes were so baggy and hang off of the frame of her body. She had straight blonde hair that was in contrast to her purple bangs. Her eyes were a soft blue but were smokey from all of the eyeliner and mascara. She was wearing black cargo pants that were crossed by many chains, and a studded belt. Her hoodie had Green Day across it in red letters and was pulled over her head. Poser. I couldn’t help but think to myself and scoffed when she opened her mouth to speak.

 

"Your daughter…" 

 

I whistled, "that’s not good."

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