Page 3 of Hauling Ashe

Which she offered to have dry-cleaned, I weakly remind myself.

When she had stepped into the street and narrowly missed being run over by a taxi, I nearly had a heart attack.

More coffee splatters. More ruin to my clothing.

Then she asks me for my number, and like a hit-and-run, I fled the scene. She’d tipped me in the wrong direction of an already downhill day. I didn’t need her knowing who I was, where I worked, or what I did for a living. I don’t trust women, although my business for years was to support them, motivate them, empower them. However, I no longer believe in the intentions of most women and that was my wife’s fault.

Reaching for my phone, I call my daughter.

“Hey Dad.” Julia greets me before I can say hello. I love this girl, now a beautiful woman of twenty-four, paving her own path through life.

“Jellybean, I have a problem.” I hate to distress her. She has more important things on her mind right now than my transportation. “The car company cancelled.”

“Dad, you cannot miss this.” Julia doesn’t whine often, but this is important to her and to me.

“I promise I’ll be there.” I don’t feel half as confident as the reassurance I’m trying to give her. I don’t know how things got so messed up. The car service confirmed only days ago that I would be transported from Chicago to Los Angeles in a timely manner. Once there, I would meet Julia and we would travel north to Napa together. The road trip would give us some father-daughter time before her big day.

“I can’t believe this happened,” Julia continues, and I squeeze my forehead, agreeing with her. By nine o’clock this morning, this day had officially been a shitshow.

“I know, Jellybean.” Julia is my only daughter, but she isn’t spoiled. If anything, she’s the least spoiled person I’ve ever known, which is surprising considering how her mother was revered like royalty. Julia is quiet and kind, and everything opposite of Rochelle.

When my daughter decided to head to California for college, her mother and I were stunned. Secretly, I was pleased she’d chosen the place I’d once run off to. A place I recall with fond memories and deep regrets. Even more surprising was when Julia eventually decided to become a baker despite earning her business degree. Her mother had always hoped Julia would follow in her footsteps. Those were some steep six-inch stilettoes to fill, though, and I’d been proud of our daughter for forging her own way, even if it meant baking cupcakes over two thousand miles away.

“Can you hire another service?” Her voice is tender with empathy. The best solution is to head to O’Hare International Airport, hop on a plane and be in L.A. in a matter of hours. But I don’t fly. Julia knows my reasons.

“I’ll figure something out.” Pressing my forehead harder, I realize I hadn’t seen my assistant Daniel outside my office. “I’ll be there if I have to start walking tonight.” I chuckle at the notion, because I’d never make a cross-country trek on foot, but I’d do what I could to get to Julia. I’d do anything for my daughter, except fly.

“You know, Daddy, you could have ridden with Jude.”

Ah, my son. He was also not an option, and I didn’t want to discuss that right now.

“Jellybean, give me some time and I’ll get back to you on my plans, okay? If I have to leave tomorrow, I will.” My work is my life, but I’ll figure something out. I’ll find someone else to drive me.

“Okay Dad. Can you message me when you’re on the road?” Her soft plea expresses her unspoken concern. Julia’s had to grow up a lot over the past three years. Not like my daughter isn’t a mature, responsible adult, but the reality of her mother’s life had been an eye-opener. The need exists to constantly reassure Julia I’ll always be here for her, as I always have.

“Of course, baby girl. Love you.” It feels important to remind her in the moment. She’s the only person I use the phrase with.

“Love you, too, Dad.” And that response right there reminds me no matter what it takes I need to get to a Napa Valley winery for my daughter’s wedding.

+ + +

“Where the fuck is Daniel?” I blurt, bursting into Jane Fox’s office. As our top account executive, I swear this woman runs this office in more ways than one. She isn’t Human Resources. Hell, she isn’t even responsible for my assistant’s whereabouts, and yet Jane seems to know everything about everyone here. She was one of the few women who handled Rochelle, and that was a real feat, taking a strong constitution.

“Mr. Ashford,” she stands to address me. “He called in sick today.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” I bark.

“What happened?” Jane’s concerned voice does nothing to settle my agitation.

“The car service Daniel booked for California cancelled. They don’t have another driver for such a trip on such short notice and I’m royally fucked.”

“What?” Jane shrieks. She’s been working for Impact—a media marketing company I own with my business partner, Machlan Wright—for roughly eight years. As much as I know about Jane, there is just as much I don’t. Her employment credentials were my only interest when we hired her. She reports to Mach more than to me.

“They sent me an email this morning.”

Jane bends for the computer on her desk, rapidly typing on the keyboard. “We discussed you taking the train,” she reminds me. She is one of the few who empathizes when I say I don’t fly.

“I’m not taking some cramped, smelly train, sharing a food car with strangers, and sleeping on a thin, lumpy mattress for three nights.” I huff, sounding petulant. “And to top off this crazy morning, some lunatic ran into me and spilled coffee all over a new suit. The piece is completely ruined.”