by Nicole Snow
I’ve seen how this little girl's smile transforms him.
The space on the second floor reminds me just how big the house is. It’s nice, too. Newly remodeled from the looks of things, and upon walking into Natalie’s bedroom, I have to pause long enough to catch my breath.
It’s not only huge, it’s like a child’s dream room. The four-poster bed is up on a platform, topped with a frilly pink canopy, and besides the massive white furniture, complete with mirrored dressing table and shelves full of toys, there's a huge side room. Her easel is set up there, where evening light shines in through several big windows. A reading nook takes up one corner, complete with a padded window seat, lined with pink and white pillows galore. Another corner has a desk, with more shelves, this time full of books, and a computer with a screen bigger than most television sets.
“I shaded the dog with the charcoal,” she says, standing on the other side of the wooden easel. “Come see!”
The white carpet feels so plush it’s like walking on air. I cross the room to the easel. Once again, my breath stalls. “That’s outstanding.” It’s all I can say.
The dog looks so real, I can’t help but touch the paper. “Truly amazing, Natalie. You're a natural.”
“Thank you.” She glances towards the doorway. “Come see, Daddy.”
I step aside as he crosses the room, fighting to ignore the tension.
“That’s fantastic, baby girl,” he says.
My jaw drops. “Just fantastic? It’s utterly amazing. Out of this universe.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “Yes, it is, and you’re leaving.” He grasps my arm, whispering under his breath. “Say goodbye.”
His grip is harsh yet gentle. I can’t blame him, I suppose. I crossed a proverbial line, downplaying the praise for his daughter, and even I realize it. “Goodbye, Natalie! See you next class.”
She steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist. “I love, love, love the supplies. Thanks again, Ms. Derby, and for having supper with us.”
He lays a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “Ms. Derby has to leave now, baby girl, and you need to get ready for bed.”
Natalie releases me and he gives my arm a hard tug.
By the time we reach the staircase, I manage to break his hold. Increasing the speed of my departure, I hurry down the steps.
“Goodbye, Ms. Derby.”
I ignore him, pulling the door shut behind me hard.
In my car, I consider taking a moment to collect myself, but that'll only piss me off more. I need to get away from this place.
What an arrogant asshole. He’s the last man I’d ever consider dating. Right up there with Preston.
I back out of the driveway and head up the street, still fuming.
When my cell phone rings, I consider ignoring it, but can’t. Plucking it from the outside pocket of my purse, I hit the answer button and then the icon for speaker.
“Hello, dear!”
“Hey, mom,” I answer.
“How was your evening with your new man friend?”
“How wha –”
“Clara said she saw your car at his house.”
I should've known. Clara has nothing better to do some nights than go on her drives around town. I guess tonight she decided to drop by the place listed on Brent's business registry. “He’s not my man friend, mom. He’s the father of one of my students.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet him, whatever he is. I’m so happy for you. This is a big step, Isabella.”
My sanity is the price of mom's happiness, and it's not something I can deal with right now. “I’ll call you back, I can’t shift gears and drive at the same time.” Without waiting for a response, I hit the end call button.
Hitting the gas, I speed up and change gears, taking some frustration out on the curves leading out of the development faster than I should, but I need this.
I need to be in control of something.
Have power over a road going somewhere I can actually comprehend.
For a few sweet moments, I have it. Control. Until the flashing red lights in the rear-view mirror appear and a siren wails.
“Fuck!”
4
Blank Check (Brent)
I don’t think I’ve ever counted the days between one Tuesday to the next like I have the past week. Yesterday, when I picked up Natalie, I had to fight the desire to walk down the opposite hallway to see Blue.
It's art night again. That simple fact makes every hour seem twice as long.
Today's cleanup job doesn't help. It’s for law enforcement.
Not a crime scene, but a body nonetheless. An old man who’d lived alone and died. His body was stuck in the house for a week before someone called it in. The stifling heat is sickening, and the smell, well, respirators can only do so much. The coroner had it worse when he turned down our offer to let him borrow one.
Everybody's glad we'll be done within the hour.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I wave at Juan as I pull off a glove to take the call. I told him I was waiting to hear about the asbestos job we'd finished last week. Convinced this is it, the nod that the job passed inspection, I step outside and yank off my mask.
I swipe the answer icon and take a breath of fresh air while pressing the phone to my ear. “Brent Eden.”
“Hello, Brent. It’s Clara. Clara Derby?” Like I don't remember. “I met you last week with Izzy.”
“Izzy?” It takes a second before it hits like a ton of bricks.
“Isabella Derby! My lovely cousin.”
Blue? Concern instantly grips me. “Has something happened –”
“No, no, nothing's happened. Izzy’s fine. Or will be once she stops beating herself up for getting that speeding ticket after leaving your house the other night.”
I shouldn’t smile, but can’t help it.
Blue was hopping mad when she left the house.
Sick man that I am, I was more frustrated than I'd been for sometime. And turned on.
She’s had my blood lit neon red since meeting her, true. But the way her eyes sparked when she got all huffy, shit, let’s just say there's something damn sexy about a woman who’s all riled up.
“That’s understandable, though,” Clara continues, “considering how worried Izzy is about her mother. A serious diagnosis does that. Listen, I just want you to know how happy we all are that she’s found someone. I’m sure you get it, being a father yourself? A parent’s greatest desire is to see their kids happy, and when our days become short, that’s even more critical.”
She pauses. Sighs. “Oh, goodness, I'm rambling. Please don’t tell Izzy I just told you everything. She’d be upset. Anywho, I just wanted you to know how much Aunt Cleo wants to meet you. The whole family does, really.”
My mind spins in circles. Diagnosis? Shortened days? What the fuck?
Why hadn't Blue told me the truth? Then again, who wants to admit they're desperately looking for a boyfriend to appease their dying mother?
Blaming crazy family drama, that's a lot easier.
At least it explains why she went out with that twisted prick, Preston.
“Brent?”
“I'm here. Go ahead.” I run a hand over my face, wondering what's coming next.
“Well, I just called because it might help if you tell Izzy getting a ticket can happen to anyone.”
I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Cousin Clara's calling for more than a damn speeding ticket.
Too bad I can’t help her. If I hadn’t already decided to stay away from Blue, as far as possible, I'd definitely draw the line at bait left by nosy cousins.
“You're right. Tickets can happen to anyone.” I'm not leaving the door open. I turn around on the rickety old porch at the sound of a car pulling in and stiffen as it parks next to my truck.
Talk about timing. What the fuck is he doing here?
“Clara, thanks for calling.” I cut her off.
Suddenly, this woman an
d her gumption, trying to orchestrate more trouble with Blue, is the least of my problems. This is a mess, but it's not pure evil. Not like the demon in front of me.
Tucking the phone in my pocket, I cross the concrete and then the hard packed dirt of the neglected front yard, never taking my eyes off Bastard Phil as he climbs out of his car.
I round his front bumper, fighting the urge to kick it in. “I told you once, jackass. Remember? Are you out of your mind or are you just fucking stupid?”
“I saw the deputies leave.” Phil smiles. “Think what could happen to your reputation if they knew you're in with The Pearls.”
“I'm not in with you assholes,” I growl. That's all I say because I know the worst thing I can do is show any vulnerability.
Every Black Pearls member thinks he's God. They believe they're so powerful the law means nothing. The only thing they understand is money, and they don’t care who gets hurt while they're busy collecting it.
“Go the fuck home. We're not in business. No goddamn deals.” I cast an eye over his customary black jeans and t-shirt, almost like a uniform. and his fuzzy black chin strip.
“We know, Eden,” he sneers. “You aren’t sloppy like little Davey.”
My teeth clench at the mention of my brother.
“Big brother couldn’t save him. That must still keep you up at night. Knowing how he –”
I snap, grab him by the front of the shirt, and slam his back up against my truck. “I’ve told you before, you sonofabitch. Stay the hell away from me.”
“I will, with pleasure, just as soon as you pay Davey’s debts. The ones Davey swore up and down big brother would pay.”
Sadist bastards. All of them.
This is his latest ploy. Refusing to take his bait is getting harder and harder. I want to pinch my eyes shut so the furious headache settling into my temples stops, but I don't dare take my eyes off this asshole.
Christ. The idea that Davey’s last breaths were spent asking for me, begging for me to help him, hits hard every time I think about it.
That’s what big brothers do. They get little brothers out of scraps, big and small, and sometimes lethal.
Knowing I couldn’t that night guts me with a dull knife.
But I will.
Someday.
Soon.
I yank him forward and throw him toward his car. “Get the fuck out of here! Last warning.”
He brushes the front of his shirt like my fingerprints left dust on him. “Can’t do that. Not till we make a little deal. Then I’ll go away.”
The desire to ring the bastard’s neck makes my hands itch so hard I curl them into fists. “I’m not making any fucking deals with you.”
“Aw, you sound so sure, Eden. Won’t take much. Not for a smart, well connected businessman like you. And, since I'm such a standup guy, I’m willing to negotiate. A hundred grand of cash laundered through one of your hazmat jobs. Easy. Shit, or maybe you’d be more interested in a shipping arrangement? You've got the wheels. Least a dozen cube trucks that can haul anything without causing a single deputy to blink an eye.” Phil winks. “Ain't I right?”
“Fuck. You.”
He lets out a glib chuckle. “Shame the Grizzlies have all gone limp. Too damn interested in their kosher businesses these days. Your old Grizz buddies could've helped you make this go quick and smooth.” He nods his head towards my truck. “I’ve seen the patch on the inside of your jacket. The little one you hide behind all the army crap on the front. You were a Grizz in your younger days. Ain't I right again, Monk?”
My teeth clench together when he says that name. Some of my best friends are from the days I was a full patch member of the Grizzlies MC. The motorcycle club still operates up and down the West Coast, based out of Redding.
They went through a lot of turmoil cleaning up their act. I saw the writing on the wall and quit before there was no getting out.
Still, once a member, always a member. Especially with good men like Blackjack, their national Prez, in charge of things now.
I haven’t tried to erase everything from that part of my life, and never will.
Bastard Phil's also clueless. Doesn't know the Grizzlies haven’t gone soft. They’ve matured and learned to operate on the quiet side since they ran the cartel back over the border. They gave up their drugs and gun running for gambling, bars, and peep shows to keep the money flowing.
I turn to walk away. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Come on, Eden, not so fast! I’d think you’d be interested in making a deal. Fuck, I was all ready to sit down and discuss one the other night. Then I saw you had company.” The bastard lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man! Real shame that cute little blonde with the blue shit in her hair had to go and get herself a ticket, too. Saw her practically on the verge of tears while Dawson had her pulled over, writing it up.”
How the hell does he know that? My spine quivers. These assholes usually make themselves scarce when there's a squad car around, especially a police captain I've known for years. I force myself not to turn around and grab him by his throat until his eyes bug out of his head.
“That’s a pretty sweet Mustang she drives. Car like that could break down any time.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. On a lonely stretch of road. These Arizona nights get dark quicker, and cold in a few more months. Poor little thing like that could yell and holler and plead, but no one would hear her stranded in the dark. No one.” He shows his teeth like a demented chimpanzee.
Enough.
I pivot and take a step, putting my face so close to his I can smell his filthy breath. “You must've been hit in the head with a fucking stupid stick.”
He blinks once. Using only my chest, I ram him against his car, snarling like a bear. “Threatening me is the last thing you want to do. Understand?”
His eyes bulge and his upper lip quivers.
Finally, it's sinking in. And we're not done yet.
I reach down and grab the knife out of the sheaf hanging on his side. Shoving the tip hard enough under his chin that the skin indents, I twist it. “Now, get the fuck out of here before I castrate you with your own blade.”
His Adam’s apple wobbles against my knuckles as he nods. I step back, giving him room to open the car door and climb in, all the while holding the knife in the air, clearly letting him know I have no intention of giving it back, and every intent to use it as promised.
Dirt and rocks ping the Buick's underside as he hits reverse and guns away. I watch him back out of the driveway. As the tires squeal on pavement, a cold and ugly jolt hits my spine. The last thing – the very last thing – I need is for the Black Pearls to pull Blue into this nightmare.
I'm already worried sick for Nat. It's too fucking close to her, too near to me, and all thanks to an uncle she barely knew.
I throw the knife at the ground. The sharp blade penetrates the hard dirt deep enough to stand straight.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” The curse burns my throat.
Whether I like it or not, it's happening. Those bastards will rope anyone in for leverage, and they know I know it.
They also know I have a headstone to visit, and I'll never tolerate adding another. “Fuck!”
I grab the knife out of the ground and throw it in the bed of my pickup before heading back towards the house.
I spend most of the day wishing Davey had listened. Even though I know that’s a moot point and a waste of energy, I wish to Heaven, Hell, and everything in between.
The dark thoughts are still with me when I pull into the school lot to pick up Nat.
The bell has already rung and kids are flying out the door like the Hoover Dam just burst behind them.
Nat sees me and starts running down the steps. Despite the heaviness inside me, warmth wells in my chest. Seeing my daughter does wonders to lighten the storm.
She always has a smile on her face when she sees me, but it’s bigger today. Brighter.
“Hey, sunshine,” I say as sh
e opens the door.
“Hi, Daddy!” She tosses her bag on the floor. “Finally. I thought the bell would never ring.”
I wait until she’s inside and has the door closed before asking, “Why’s that?”
“Art class tonight! Don't tell me you forgot? I can’t wait to show Ms. Derby my dog drawing. I know she’ll love it. Oh, and supposedly we're trying landscapes tonight!”
If I could take a picture of her right now, I would. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so happy. “Landscapes, huh? How'd you find out?”
“I saw Ms. Derby at recess. She let the cat out of the bag.” She stretches the seat belt around her waist and buckles. “Watercolors, Dad! I love watercolors.” A more serious expression crosses her face. “Hey, um, if it's not too much...could we order pizza? Or maybe even eat out for supper?”
Her request is a rarity. “Sure, baby girl. What's the hurry?”
“Well, I have to be back here by six thirty. I wanna squeeze some time in to Google watercolor paintings and techniques. I've already read up on it, but today, I'm doing it.”
“You'll do great, Nat. You're always prepared.”
If this girl inherited any of the slacker genes I had at her age, I've never seen a single hint.
I back out of the parking space and pull into the line of vehicles waiting to exit the lot. “You shouldn't be so nervous over what you don't know yet. Remember, part of this class is teaching you the techniques.”
“Oh, I know, and Ms. Derby will. She’s the best ever! But I like to skip ahead. Have a bit of insight beforehand.”
That’s my girl. An old soul. I think she was born with more knowledge than most eighteen-year-olds. And she has a never ending appetite for more.
I roll past a blue Mustang and have to work to pull my eyes off it. “All right. Which is it then? Pizza or eat out?”
“Pizza!” she says instantly. “I can research while it’s being delivered.”
This girl. Damn if it doesn't make me smile.