We shower, dress, and take off for far less-greener pastures as we drive out to Friar’s Corner. The sky turns gray as we head into the old part of town, and I can’t help but give a sad smile. My grandmother always said the sun spread its glory everywhere but here, and on this dismal day it looks to be true. But my grandparents are all gone. It’s just my mom, dad, and brothers—and of those few relations left on the planet Earth, I can’t really seem to claim one as a friend. I’ve been close to my mother before. My brothers and I have never really been too close, but there have always been the odd staccato starts to a friendly relationship. I’m hoping one day they’ll bloom full force.
“I should warn you”—I say as we head into the boxy shaped hospital with its open armed Jesus and army of volunteers that wear their hours served as a badge of honor worthy of the veterans in this state. “My family and I don’t always get along. I’m sort of the black sheep—tarred and feathered at that. So if anyone rubs you the wrong way, just know we’ll only be here for a few minutes.” I know all about the salvation that the minute hand has to offer. I’ve clock watched my way through more than one family get-together.
Jet’s eyes fill with pain as if my own hurt had bled through to his soul. There is nothing greater than having someone sympathize with you on a gut-wrenching level. This isn’t going to be easy, but I don’t want my own actions to affect my relationship with my brand new niece. One day, very far away, I’ll remind the tiny princess that I was holding her on her first day on Earth, whispering I love you into her ear even then.
“Stay as long as you need to.” Jet pulls me close and lands a gentle kiss to my temple. “And no matter what happens, what anyone says, know that I love you inside and out.” He pinches my chin with his fingers and has me meet up with his heavy gaze. “You are my heart, and I would die before I let anyone hurt you. Let my love be a shield for you. Use it. Hold it up and deflect anything less than goodness that people are willing to fling your way. We’re on the same team. We have each other. You are never going to be alone.”
From anyone else they would have sounded like cheap platitudes, but from Jet Madden they are gospel, words written on stone with the very finger of God.
I let those powerful statements wrap themselves around me like a second skin and wear them with pride.
We purchase a half dozen pink balloons and a precious pink teddy bear from the gift shop before taking the elevator up and landing ourselves in front of their room.
“Knock, knock!” I manage to manufacture the most-cheery voice possible, but a part of me is shaking in my WB bookstore Converse at what might transpire today. I haven’t faced anyone since news broke of my salacious senatorial secret. Suffice it to say, my parents have drilled modesty into my head since I was just about my new niece’s age, and, well, dancing at Stilettos may have gone against the grain.
The first thing I see when I step inside that room isn’t my brand spanking new niece or the happy new parents. It’s my mother and father’s surprised stares, the two of them locked in a joint look of disappointment. There are moments in life that solidify themselves over your mind, tattoo themselves on the inside of your heart and mind, and for me this is one of them.
“You came.” Mom straightens. Her brow rises as if amused on some level. My mother is an older version of me, blonde bob, bright eyes, but that smile I shed so easily always seems to lose its way on her own face. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Of course, I came. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I visited both Staci and Tami when they were born. This is every bit as special.” I really didn’t have to say so much. My parents have never been too interested in the things I had to say. I was simply a girl. They had boys, important creatures they were molding into men, into lawyers, Pembrooke and Pembrooke would not, could not disappoint. It most certainly could not contain one ounce of estrogen. No. My talents were best relegated to the many assembly lines that reside in the many factories lying just outside of town.
Oddly, Dad looks as if he could be my mother’s brother—older brother, same wiry hair, same translucent disappointed eyes. Jet is probably wondering why the heck we’re not all lost in one big group hug, but we just don’t do affection in my family. That’s exactly why I crave both it and attention so damn much. I hate that all of those upright, uptight psychiatrists have me pegged so well. Dancing girl equals daddy issues. Shopaholic? Can’t get no satisfaction—on the parental front. It’s easy math. I get it. I’ve always understood it yet never quite knew how to go about fixing it.
“Hello, you!” a cheery voice calls from behind my father’s frame, and I step around to find Jen holding a tiny pink bundle. My brother, Jonas, is fast asleep next to her on a makeshift bed, but it’s the tiny pink bundle in Jen’s arms that has me gasping for air.
“Oh my! She’s so beautiful! Well done, Mama!”
Jonas rouses at the sound of my voice and offers a groggy-eyed smile. My brothers both received every recessive gene possible, dark hair, olive skin, sculpted features. Maybe that’s why my parents favor them. They see too much of themselves in me. Nelson and Jonas represent hope. I’m simply a mirrored version of where they’ve been, the deserted roads they’re traveling down. Both my mother and father have had hard lives, and as things are panning out, I might just have one, too.
I pull Jet in close. “Everyone—this is my boyfriend, Jet.” Jonas mumbles himself to life as soon as I say the word boyfriend. My brothers have never been fans of the B word when it comes to their little sister. In that way they’re pretty sweet. “Jet, this is my sister-in-law, Jen, who has expertly given birth to the beautiful Emma Eden Rose.” I glance back at my parents, only to find their jaws slack. “This is my mom, Daisy. I’m her namesake and, well, her face-sake in the event you hadn’t noticed the resemblance. And this is my dad, Donald.” I meet up with Jet’s eyes as they bulge huge a moment after I give him that last piece of Disney-esque tidbit. All my life I’ve heard every joke in the book regarding those two and their interesting monikers.
“I thought he was an orderly.” Dad nods without so much as cracking a smile. His mouth gapes as he gawks at Jet’s intricately tattooed arms.
“Good Lord, are those real?” Mom gasps, inspecting Jet’s sleeves as if that cobra that vines around his elbow is about to leap off and bite the baby.
“They’re real.” Jet steps forward and offers to shake my father’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Congratulations on the grandbaby.”
Dad examines Jet’s hand as if it were covered with maggots and openly refuses to respond in kind.
Crap. I knew my parents were wildly rude, but, in all honesty, I thought that behavior was reserved just for me.
“I’m sorry.” I pull Jet’s hand toward me and shake my head in disbelief. “Jen, you have a beautiful baby. Nice job, Jonas.” I shoot my brother a halfhearted smile. “We’d better get going.”
“You just got here!” Jen motions me over. “At least hold her. You didn’t come all this way not to kiss the guest of honor.”
“You’re right.” Jen has always gone out of her way to be extra kind to me, and it’s always been appreciated.
Jonas hands me little Emma, and I melt on contact. She’s light as a feather, so perfectly beautiful I can’t help but tear up.
“Look at her.” I turn toward Jet, and my mother steps forward.
“Don’t you touch her!” she barks at him as if he were rabid. “She’s a newborn. Her immune system isn’t what it should be.”
“Oh, Mother.” I press a kiss to Emma’s tender forehead and whisper, “I love you” into her ear just as I promised myself I would. “Here you go.” I land the baby back in my brother’s arms, safe from this cold world, but mostly safe from my ridiculous parents. “Goodbye, Jonas.” His silence when it comes to the treatment I receive has always irked me. If you know something is wrong, and don’t do a thing about it, you’re just as culpable in my book. I offer Jen a quick hug and kiss to the cheek.
“We’re leaving now.” I don’t bother with goodbye as far as my parents are concerned. Instead, I interlace my fingers with Jet’s and head for the exit.
“Don’t be a stranger!” Jonas calls out. Too late I want to shoot back. The entire lot of them will be lucky if they ever see my face again.
Mom follows us out into the hall with Dad staggering by her side.
“Why are you acting like a child?” Mom has that wild look in her eye that lets me know she’s completely serious. I hate that look almost as much as I hate how she’s making me feel.
“I’m not acting like a child,” I contest. “I’m sorry, but the two of you are just plain rude. I can’t deal with this right now. It’s one thing to be cruel to me—but the nerve! To be cruel to my guest is more than I can handle.”
Dad chokes as if my words were a chicken bone lodged in the wrong pipe. “When have we ever been cruel to you?”
“I’m not getting into it.”
Jet and I head toward the elevator, and sure enough, it’s a million floors away.
“You make the decisions, Daisy,” Mom calls after me. “You’re the one who insisted on going to that expensive university. You chose your profession. Nobody told you to go to a school you can’t afford and become a call girl. And the nerve of you, young lady—traipsing back here willy-nilly as if what you’ve done doesn’t warrant a proper amount of shame. There are just some lessons you need to learn yourself.”
“That’s right!” Dad scoffs. “And that felon you’re with is about to teach you a few painful lessons himself if you continue to cavort with him. You never learn, Daisy. You have never been good at learning from your mistakes. You just compound, compound, and compound.”
The elevator mercifully glides open, and Jet and I bury ourselves inside.
Jet stares at me with an intent I’ve never seen before. “Just know that I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know how you’d feel.”
“Thank you. Honestly, at this point, I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Good.” Jet blocks the elevator doors with his shoe and prevents them from closing. “Keep it open for me.” He steps out, and I gird my body against the elevator doors to keep them from swallowing me whole. “Excuse me,” Jet calls out, and both of my parents look up, just as surprised to see us the second time around as they were the first. “I just need you to know that Daisy is one of the nicest, most thoughtful, most considerate people I have ever met. She’s loyal, and trustworthy, and just trying to make a space for herself in this world like everyone else. It’s a miracle she’s as tenderhearted as she is, considering she was raised by the two of you.”
Oh my dear God. Go, Jet, go!
Both my mother and father stand with their mouths hanging wide. Good thing there isn’t a fly in the vicinity or it would have flown right in. Now there’s something that would lead to maggots.
“She ruins everything!” my father calls out, each word its own dagger aimed at my heart. “She’ll ruin you next! Mark my words. You and those inked up arms of yours are done!”
Jet joins me on the elevator, and as soon as the doors entomb us inside, I wrap my arms around him. The tears in my eyes are far more effective in relaying my appreciation than words can ever be. Our mouths come together in a hot, thirsty kiss that wraps up the sentiment in my heart and stitches my soul over his for all of time and eternity.
What Jet and I have is love.
Jet is my family.
I couldn’t have asked for anything more.
As soon as we get back to Hollow Brook, I assure Jet I’m fine and insist he go over to Think Ink. I’m headed down to Jepson myself, but no need to put him on alert.
Tiffany Ikeman sent me a private text, personally inviting me to the Legal Eagle club event this Friday night where there will be “an esteemed member of the legal community to discuss cyberbullying—Dorma Morano herself.” Sounds right up my alley.
Stilettos is quiet as an ironic church mouse in the middle of the afternoon. The entire establishment is free of windows, thus adding to an ever-present murkiness that drapes this place with the oppressiveness of a back alley hovel.
Caila spots me from the stage and gives a quick wink my way. She’s in the middle of one of her dance tutorials, the exact kind of educational encounter that lured me to the dark dancer side, hook, line, and stiletto.
“And take five!” She hops off the stage and pulls me straight into her dressing room. Caila has the largest and only single dressing room at the club. It’s the envy of every girl here, and most likely would be the envy of every five-year-old what with all the pink feathered boas, the sparkly throw pillows, and wall hangings depicting unicorns and rainbows.
“Tell me how things are going.” She retrieves a cold water bottle from the mini fridge and firmly places it in my hand without asking. I need it, though. I’ve drained all my tears on the way over from Jet’s house. It feels as if the golden cord that once bound my parents and me together has finally been severed—with a hatchet by my own mother and father.
“Things are better. I have Jet now.” I nod into this admission as if Jet were truly a panacea for all my worries. He is, but that won’t change the fact I’ve received one too many “final” warnings from the collection agency that’s attempting to snatch back my car. “But what I don’t have is a j-o-b. Got any other hair-brained ideas?”
“Oh, honey.” Her lids lower as if she’s trying to seduce me. “Nothing I conceive ever comes close to hair-brained. I make love to geniuses and give birth to millionaires on a regular basis. If you’re not in either of those leagues, you’re doing it wrong.”
My eyes spring wide, and I fight the urge to both tackle and strangle her with my bare hands.
“For the record, I am doing everything right.” My rage percolates beneath the surface, making my hands, my legs, and my voice tremble all at once. “I danced at this club without bearing it all in an effort to maintain my good girl status at Whitney Briggs, and now I’m the biggest slut to ever roam planet Earth. I chaperoned an old decrepit man, who could no more remember what he had for breakfast than he could breathe his allotted intake of oxygen, and now I’m forever marred as his mistress—his wife and kids all threatening to sue. I worked as a freaking sushi girl, lying there to make an easy buck while forty-year-old men double dared one another to touch my boobs, and, yet, here I am—not a dime to show for it, any of it.”
Her eyes bug out. Her perfectly glossed lips remain unmoved as she listens with great intent. “Yes, well”—she gives a nervous glance to the door—“you’ll be the first person I think of if something new comes up.”
“Something new? I’m more interested in something old. Give me what you’ve got. I’ll dance. I’ll dance today. I’ll dance in the nude! Upside down, right side up. I’ve lost all the hair from my eyebrows down in the event you’ve forgotten. And God knows, after the way I scalded myself bald, it will never grow back.”
Caila shakes her head nervously as if she’s too afraid to utter another word. If she thinks she’s afraid now, she’ll evaporate once she sees what I’m capable of.
“Daisy Pembrooke?” The sweetest Southern accent to ever exist bleats from the doorway, and everything in me deflates because I know exactly who that is. It’s Cassidy-Conversation-Killer-Clayton. For whatever reason, Caila clams up tight whenever her big sis enters the vicinity, but I’m not too interested in her cute little sibling foible. “Hey, girl!” Her entire face lights up at the sight of me. “My sweet little sis and I were just about to have lunch. Looks like we’ll be having some company.” Cassidy charges at me with open arms, and I stand and accept all of the love my good friend has to offer. “I’m so sorry, hon,” she whispers. “I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right about now. I wish both you and Scarlett were already living out your legal dreams. I’d pay the both of you to double team that old rat coot.”
I pull back, the knot in my stomach already building before it accurately knows why.
“Hold that thought.” I glance back to Caila. I have a feeling that if I let Caila off the monetary hook for a single moment I’ll have to hoof it back to Briggs and just about everywhere else. “Caila, I’m begging you. Give me a job. I’ll be a sushi girl every day of the week.” I swallow my pride, quite literally. “Please.”
She shakes her head just enough. “I’m afraid I can’t help.” Her voice softens as she takes a step toward me. “Daisy, this club isn’t the place for you. I wish you the best of luck. I’m sure you’ll find something soon. You’re smart and beautiful, a real one-two punch. Go grab the world by the horns. You deserve everything it has to offer.”
“What the hell kind of pep talk is that?” I snap.
“Whoa.” Cassidy pulls me back as if I were itching to deck her sister, and I sort of am. “Caila’s right in everything she said.” Cass glares at her lookalike a moment. “All words I wish she would have uttered months ago. Daisy, you never belonged here. There are rules in these kinds of places, and they have nothing to do with you.”
I shake myself free from Cassidy’s grip. “Caila? Are you really going to do this to me? My life hangs in the balance. I’m going to lose everything if I don’t cough up a heck of a lot more money than I’ll ever get working at the student bookstore, or even waiting tables at the Black Bear. I’m not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a few hours of work if you can spare them.” A thought comes to me. “Which reminds me, there was a rather creative endeavor you talked me into for which I was never paid.”
Her eyes expand like silver dollars. “Honey, are you kidding me? Every creative endeavor I’ve offered, you’ve tossed to hell like a Greek salad. Neither of those parties will roll a fat nickel my way ever again.”
“What creative endeavors?” Cassidy looks spooked by the sound of it, and she should be.
Dirty Kisses Page 15