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Twyla did not like dogs; Twyla did not like any animals at all. So, Stacy had never been allowed to have a puppy. Victoria had bought Upton from a breeder; she and Natalie had named the beautiful little beast Upton after the stunningly beautiful Kate Upton.

Shortly after they received her, to their horror, they discovered that Victoria was highly allergic to animal dander. Since Oxbow Plaza allowed animals under fifty pounds, Patrick took possession of the willful beast.

Weekends were the worst; weekends that he did not have his Stace-face. Patrick and Upton sat around and missed the sweet, bubbly girl. But, they managed to make it. They even managed to have Simone over for some chicken cashew stir fry and some hot and sour soup. Simone fussed mightily over the wiggling, squirming Upton, then praised Patrick's cooking.

Upton's reward for being a good girl was a doggy treat and a kiss on her head. Patrick's reward was a soft, promising kiss and a hug that pressed Simone's braless breasts against his torso.

"Oh! Are you, you're taking her for a walk?" Simone cooed when Patrick reached for the leash.

"Mm hmm; it's almost bedtime for Daddy, so Daddy takes Upton for a walk so she can do her business," Patrick agreed.

"Oh, let me go with you," Simone begged.

Patrick smiled as Simone linked arms with him. Upton was distracted; she kept begging for Simone's attention, rather than finding someplace to pee.

"Go potty," Simone firmly told the beast. "Go potty, then I'll pet you."

"Goodnight," Simone said when Patrick and Upton walked her to her door.

Patrick received another soft kiss and Upton received a head scratch. Then, with a smile, Simone closed her door.

"Rotten. You are just rotten," Patrick said, which caused Upton's tail to wag furiously.

On Monday, Patrick received the news; two of the accountants from their office were going to Austin for the quarterly seminar. He and Artu Patel had drawn the lucky numbers. The fact that Patrick was scheduled to have Stacy from Wednesday to Wednesday held very little sway with Katherine Winslow. The head of the Administration Department did not care about Patrick's domestic problems.

"You've been scheduled to go. And, refusal to do so will result in your immediate dismissal," Katherine said, haughty little smirk on her face.

Twyla breezily declared she was busy; she'd made plans since it was Patrick's week to have Stacy. And, no, she would not reschedule.

"Of course not," Patrick mumbled. "Why on God's earth would you ever do anything that might help me?"

Tuesday evening, Simone returned from getting her mail just as Patrick and Upton left his apartment to go on their afternoon walk. Simone opened the door, tossed her mail onto the couch and linked arms with Patrick.

Patrick did not ask himself why a gorgeous nineteen year old exotic dancer found him interesting. He allowed himself to simply enjoy her company. But while Upton went through her ritual of trying to find someplace to potty, Patrick told Simone of his troubles.

"That, Stacy; she's that adorable little girl comes over?" Simone clarified.

"Mm hmm; my daughter," Patrick agreed.

"How long is this seminar?" Simone asked.

"I leave Wednesday night; it starts at eight on Thursday morning, ends on Friday afternoon," Patrick said.

"So, you need someone to get Stacy, quit calling her Stace-face, that's horrible, you need someone to get her ready for school Thursday and Friday, someone to be there when she gets home Thursday and Friday?" Simone stated.

"Yeah, pretty much. And Twyla refuses to switch, or just keep her until I get home Friday night," Patrick said.

"I'll do it," Simone said. "I'll just tell Donnie a family thing came up and I need Thursday and Friday off."

"I couldn't ask..." Patrick said and picked up Upton's poop.

"You didn't. I offered," Simone said. "Stacy goes to Sam Houston?"

"No. Ann Richards; its right by our, her mother's house," Patrick said.

"So, what time do I need to get her there?" Simone said.

"Last bell is at ten after eight," Patrick said. "What, what would, I can't let you do this for nothing. What's this going cost me?"

"A Bully Burger; I love, love, love their cannonball burger; the double. And then we have to get a giant hot fudge sundae at Holland's," Simone declared.

"Can we bring Stace...Stacy?" Patrick smiled. "She'd be outraged if she finds out we went to Holland's and she didn't get to go."

"For our first date? Sure!" Simone said. "Our second date? No. Our second date? It's a grown up thing."

"Simone, what? What on God's earth would a beautiful young woman like you want with a thirty year old man? Like me?" Patrick asked as they paused in front of her apartment door.

"You mean, a man who spends every moment he can with his little girl? A man who doesn't treat his daughter like she's a major inconvenience? Like she has no rights or worth just because she isn't a boy? A man who, even though he knows what I do hasn't tried to get into my panties? A man who treats me like I'm not just some life support system for a pair of tits?" Simone asked.

She gave him a soft kiss, then opened her apartment door. She gave him a mega-watt smile.

"And, Mr. Burke? You should see yourself in a suit," she husked. "Mm HMM!"

Wednesday afternoon, Patrick drove from Oakleaf Public Utilities to Ann Richards Elementary School. He poked his head into the After School Activities room just off the library's main lobby and smiled. His Stacy was playing checkers with a very cute girl that looked to be five, possibly six years old. Stacy was 'losing' terribly and the little girl was giggling excitedly.

"Three games in a row," the heavy-set middle aged woman answered before Patrick could ask.

Patrick told Mrs. Ortega that his friend, Simone Hozarski would be picking Stacy up Thursday and Friday afternoon. He wrote the information onto the sheet Mrs. Ortega pulled out but had to admit, he did not have Simone's phone number.

"Okay," Patrick smiled. "Hey kiddo. You just about ready?"

The little girl's name was also Stacy, Stacy Haverlin and she was in Kindergarten. Because they both had the same name, Stacy Haverlin had decided that she and Stacy Burke were sisters. The two girls shared a quick hug before Stacy Burke grabbed her backpack and waved to Mrs. Ortega.

Simone smiled and reintroduced herself to Stacy. She then helped Stacy corner Upton and get the leash onto the willful animal.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Simone said when they returned. "Stace-face says that's her favorite name in the whole wide world, but ONLY her Daddy can call her that."

"Told you," Patrick said, smiling.

He made their dinner. He made Stacy take her shower and had her school clothes on the small chair in the bedroom. Her shoes were scuffed so Patrick made sure to polish the toes.

"Oh my God! You don't want to leave her!" Simone recognized. "Is it, is it because of me? Of what I do?"

"No. It has nothing to do with you. It's because I wait all God damned week to see her," Patrick said. "If I didn't need this job so bad? I'd told Katherine Winslow to go lick a brick."

"Oh what a Daddy," Simone gushed, hugging him. "Oh what a Daddy!"

Simone gave him a scorching kiss. When a still very damp Stacy came out of the bathroom, dressed in her pajamas, she gave her dad a hug and kiss. Simone smiled and gave him a soft kiss before playfully shoving him out of the door of his apartment.

The seminars were every bit as boring as Patrick had feared. From time to time, he pulled his cell phone out and smiled at the selfie Simone and Stacy had sent to him that morning. Two blondes mugging horribly for the camera, a wiggling Upton in Stacy's hands.

'We love you Daddy!' Simone had texted.

'Love you two,' Patrick had replied.

"Please kill me now," Artu muttered as the very dry and monotonous lecture continued.

Bureaucracy sucks. No matter where you go, bureaucracy sucks," Patrick agreed as they applauded politely as the man finished his address.

"So, looking at porn?" Artu joked as they waited for the next speaker to approach the podium.

"No, my daughter," Patrick said, showing Artu the selfie.

"That your wife?" Artu asked. "I, uh, word going around is you two are getting a divorce."

"That, that's my friend," Patrick smiled and sat up a little straighter as the next speaker, a tall, very thin woman was introduced.

"Hmm? Is she, is that the...never mine. None of my business," Artu said, switching his tape recorder on as the woman began her nasally delivery.

Friday afternoon, technical problems meant Patrick was an hour late leaving the seminar. Traffic also conspired to keep him from reaching Great Oak, Texas until well after ten that night. He spoke to Stacy on the phone; she said Miss Simone let her help make dinner; they'd made stuffed pork chops and Brussel sprouts and rice pilaf.

"Miss Simone wasn't going let me have none the Brussel sprouts; she said it was grown up food," Stacy disclosed. "She wasn't even sure I was old enough to have the rice neither. You believe that?"

"No, no I really don't," Patrick admitted.

"Tell him how we made the Brussel sprouts," Simone said.

Patrick listened to a ten minute recipe from his daughter, with many corrections from Simone. Then Simone got on the phone, asking him about him, his trip, his seminars, how soon he would be home. With an 'I love you, be careful,' Simone was gone.

Entering the apartment, Patrick saw a blanket draped over two dining room chairs, a tent in the middle of his living room. Simone stuck her head out and smiled, putting her finger to her lips.

"Our little Indian is sleeping," she whispered, crawling out of the 'teepee.'

Pressing her body firmly against him, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Patrick could feel her breasts pressing against him as they hugged. Then, with another kiss, she wiggled into the teepee again.

"Good night," he heard her whisper.

Normally, when Stacy stayed at the apartment, Patrick slept on the couch, leaving the bed for her. He was tired; the day had been grueling, quite boring, and the trip home had been long and arduous.

Patrick woke up and saw that the bedroom door was firmly shut. He heard Upton's shrill yapping and smelled coffee and bacon. He also heard two girls squealing and laughing.

"Nine...no wonder I'm about to bust," Patrick said and got out of the bed.

"Sleepy bones is up," Simone announced.

"'Bout time!" Stacy agreed.

"Waffles? Where'd, I don't have a waffle iron," Patrick said as Stacy proudly put a plate onto the table for her father.

"Uh? Miss Simone lives right there?" Stacy said, pointing toward Simone's apartment.

As he ate, Stacy told him how to make the perfect waffle; you use a soup ladle, isn't that just so cool? And they had real bacon, not that turkey stuff her mom insisted on having.

"Okay, Daddy," Simone said, holding her clean waffle iron carefully. I work tonight and Holland's is closed on Sundays, so our date is Monday night. I hate, hate, hate, very strongly dislike Monday nights; no one's watching anything but the stupid Monday Night Football games so Donnie knows not to schedule me."

"Bye, Miss Simone," Stacy said, hugging the woman.

"Aw, Bye Stace-face," Simone said, kissing the top of the girl's head.

"Nuh uh, only my Daddy..." Stacy argued.

"Hmm? Well I'm so sorry, but I don't remember how to say Stacy, so I'll just have to call you Stace-face," Simone teased. "It's a shame too. I mean, Stacy's such a pretty name, but I forgot all how to say Stacy. SO, bye Stace-face."

"Well, I'm going forget how to say Miss Simone," Stacy countered.

"Better not!" Simone smiled. "Won't get no more waffles, hear?"

Shaving and showering, Patrick saw that Simone had made a few changes. There was a large, fluffy pink bath towel draped over the towel bar. In the shower was a mesh bag hanging from a hook affixed to the rear shower wall. In the bag was a loofah sponge, a bottle of very floral smelling shampoo and a bottle of floral body wash.

Walking Upton, Patrick heard all about the great stuff she and Miss Simone did; could she get a belly button ring like Miss Simone? And Miss Simone told that mean woman with that stupid Marco dog that she wasn't pretty enough to be that big a bitch and...

"And you know you just said a very bad word," Patrick interrupted the nonstop monologue.

"Nuh uh! I'm just telling you what..." Stacy argued.

"Don't do it again," Patrick warned, bending to pick up Upton's deposit.

As if on cue, Marco and his mommy popped up. Marco's mommy asked Patrick if he knew what that little tramp Simone did, how she earned her money. Patrick smiled and said he understood that Simone was an entertainer.

"She's a..." the woman began.

"There are little ears that do not need to hear your opinion," Patrick snapped.

Returning to their apartment, Stacy ran to the bedroom to put her bathing suit on. Patrick grabbed the kitchen garbage; it was beginning to ripen. He was startled when the garbage bag clinked.

Moving aside the plastic sleeve the bacon had come in, Patrick saw an empty bottle of Albertson's Mint Gin and two quart bottles of Mark's Peppermint Liqueur. He knew that he had not bought any of this; he wasn't a teetotaler, but honestly could not remember the last time he'd had anything stronger than a bottle of Barley Terlings Beer. A check in his refrigerator showed him that the three bottles of Barley Terlings were gone.

"Oh my God; I let a drunk watch my kid," Patrick thought.

He had an overwhelming desire to kill Katherine Winslow for forcing him to go to Austin for an extremely boring and uninformative seminar. He had an overwhelming desire to kill his estranged wife for not switching her week with him. The thought that Simone Hozarski might have been drinking with his daughter, his Stace-face in her car, Patrick wanted to strangle his next-door neighbor.

"Ready Daddy!" Stacy bubbled, running out of the bedroom.

Stacy's running caused Upton to start running, racing around the small apartment. Patrick forced himself to smile as both he and Stacy cheered the silly little beast's antics.

Patrick did not have to confront Simone Hozarski about her drinking. While she was in the 'Naughty or Nice' Room#1, the client bought her a drink. The next time she went into a 'Naughty or Nice' room, she scored some cocaine and some more alcohol. For a blow job, Donnie, the manager/owner of Coquettes allowed her to have three more drinks. Her little Toyota Camry did not fare too well when she rear ended a Ford F150 at 2:17 Sunday morning.

Monday afternoon, Patrick was ready to kill someone, anyone as he marched into the After School Activities room. Katherine Winslow did not even read his report on the seminar; she'd already read Artu Patel's report. His cell phone died and the charger in his car was in his apartment. The apple with his bag lunch had been mealy and the only chips in the pantry had been sour cream & onion flavor. It had not been a good Monday.

Stacy Burke and Stacy Haverlin were the only children still in the room. Ms. Timmons snapped she'd been trying to reach him and Missy Haverlin. Wendy Timmons, Ms. Timmons' daughter had fallen at her high school and her arm was broken. Mrs. Timmons was frantic to get to Alliance Health Square Facilities.

Shooing Mr. Burke and the two girls from the room, Ms. Timmons locked the room and raced away. Patrick herded the girls outside toward one of the numerous wooden benches under the canopy.

"Stacy, Sweetie, do you know your mother's phone number?" Patrick asked softly as he held his daughter's cell phone in his hand.

His troubles were not the fault of this frightened little girl; Patrick did not take his miserable Monday out on her. He did not groan when she shook her head.

"My daddy took our phone when he went bye-bye," the girl whispered, clutching her book bag to her chest.

"Well, do you know where your mommy works?" Patrick asked as they sat on a bench in front of the school.

"That um, that grocery store?" Stacy asked.

Calling the two Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store in the Oakleaf County area netted no results. Calling the local Wal-Mart's grocery section also netted no results.

"Hmm," Patrick mused, stumped. "Sweetie, is your mommy's name different from yours?"

"Uh huh," Stacy said. "Her name is Missy."

"No, no," Patrick laughed. "I mean, is she a Haverlin? Or does she have a...never mind; I bet this is her."

A nondescript rust bucket screeched and ground to a halt in front of the bench. A small blonde woman bounded out of the car, tears streaming down her face. She rushed up to Stacy Haverlin, arms outstretched. Patrick saw 'Natural Peaks Grocers' stitched onto the uniform blouse above the woman's left breast.

"I'm so sowwy, I 'm so sowwy; Miss Gabby made me stay until Tamawa got there," the woman apologized to her daughter.

"It's all right. I've got a boss like that," Patrick agreed, standing.

"I don't know you; are you a new teacher here?" the woman asked, peering up at Patrick.

"Hmm? No, no, I'm Patrick Burke; I'm Stacy's dad," Patrick smiled, his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Ms. Timmons had an emergency so..."

"She had an emergency? She had an emergency?" Miss Haverlin screamed, blue eyes wide. "So she wet my baby go with a total stwanger?"

"I'm not really a stwan...stranger," Patrick said. "Stacy and my daughter..."

"You're a stwanger to me," Missy declared.

"Hi. Patrick Burke," Patrick said, holding out a hand to the small blonde.

"Stacy, get in the car," Missy barked. "Better believe someone's going hear about this."

With a groan and a cloud of burning oil, Missy and Stacy Haverlin left the school's parking lot. Patrick herded his own Stacy to his car.

Entering the After School Activity room the following day, Patrick saw Mrs. Linder at the desk, assisting a child with her math homework. The woman looked up and nodded politely to Patrick.

"Hi Stace-face," Patrick smiled as she and Stacy Haverlin sat, playing a 'Uno' card game. So far, it looked like Stacy was letting the younger Stacy win.

"Hi," Missy Haverlin said, walking up to Patrick. "I think we might have got off on the wong foot yesterday."

"I think we got off on the right foot," Patrick smiled, reaching out his hand. "Believe me, when it comes to my Stace-face?"

"Yeah, well, I get into my Momma Bear mode and..." Missy smiled apologetically.

"Listen, you like Bricks? The pizzeria right up the street here? See, tomorrow starts her mother's week with her and we usually go to Bricks and..." Patrick said as he and the woman shook hands.

"Oh! Bwicks? I haven't had a Bwicks in fowever!" Missy gushed.

"Come on; our treat," Patrick said.

They arrived before Missy and Stacy so waited outside. Missy and Stacy bounded out of their rust bucket and Patrick opened the door.

"No anchovies," Missy demanded as the bored waitress told them to take a seat anywhere.

"Okay. Well, usually we get a small three cheese for Stacy and I get a small meatstravaganza for me," Patrick said. "Oh! Oh, wait. You, are you going want their vegan one?"

"Huh? I, I'm not vegan," Missy said.

"Oh, well, It's uh, I mean, yesterday, you had that grocery store's shirt on and..." Patrick said.

"Just 'cause I work there don't mean I believe in that stuff," Missy admitted. "Hey, a paycheck's a paycheck, wight?"

"If that ain't the truth," Patrick agreed.

"SO, Patwick, where you work?" Missy asked.

The girls got a large three cheese pizza. Stacy looked at her mother for permission before ordering a Dr. Pepper. The adults decided on a Supreme, hold the anchovies and sweetened iced tea. Over the pizzas, Patrick learned that Missy was twenty one years old; had dropped out of school when she found herself in the family way. Jimmy Dunn, the baby daddy and Missy had never married but lived together until Jimmy decided he'd had enough of the family life. Last Missy had heard, James Lee Dunn was serving twelve to twenty in Mumphrey penitentiary in Mumphrey, Louisiana.