Vivian, Midnight Call Girl (Iron Orchids Book 6)

by Danielle Norman

  Aaron

  “Hey, Heidi.”

  “Hey, boss, Okay, I called the attorney, Jameson Lane, and got the address of where you’ll be staying.”

  “I could have given that to you.”

  “You have enough on your plate, besides, you’re paying us.” I shook my head but was really thankful that she was handing this for me. “I’ve called the Double Tree and taken care of everything there, they will send all of your belongings out to you.”

  “Wow.”

  “Don’t be impressed, it cost you.”

  “Of course it did.” No surprise, everything seemed to cost. “I need some recipes and shit, you know, I have to get her food and don’t exactly want to go out.”

  “Already taken care of. I set up with a local restaurant to deliver meals to you. Just keep in touch with me so I know if we need to adjust the times, but right now, I have breakfast and lunch being delivered at seven in the morning and dinner and snacks will be brought by around six.”

  “I so don’t pay you enough,” I groaned.

  “You do, normally you barely use me, so we can consider this you catching up a little with your two years of overpayments. We’re good.”

  I let out a long, pent-up breath. “I’m worried.” I slid my hand through my hair and took a seat, doubting myself for the first time.

  “It’s going to work out, you are doing what’s right, I believe that with my whole heart.”

  “But I don’t have anything at my house for her.”

  “You have several extra bedrooms that are furnished; they’ll be perfect until the two of you can go shopping. It will be a great time to bond, let her choose her decor.”

  “You’re right. Hey, I’ll have to call you back, someone’s at the door.”

  “It should be dinner.” I glanced at my watch, shocked that it was already six in the evening. “Call if you need anything,” Heidi said and disconnected.

  I opened the front door, and the kid’s eyes in front of me slowly moved up, up, up, taking in my height. “You’re . . . you’re Aaron Skkye, aren’t you?”

  “Come on in, what do I owe you?” I led him to the kitchen so he could drop off the banker-style box he was carrying.

  “Nothing, it was all paid for including the tip.”

  “If you promise to keep it quiet, yes, I’m Aaron Skkye.”

  “I promise. My parents own the restaurant, so I’ll be delivering your stuff. Would you mind signing one of your rookie cards if I bring it with me next time I come?”

  “Not at all. But, remember, I need you to keep my being here quiet. I’m here for a funeral and would prefer not to have a crowd.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.” The kid was more polite than I remember being at his age. “I understand, I won’t tell anyone.” The kid removed all the takeout cartons from the box and carried the banker file out with him. “See you in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” I felt so guilty for not asking his name.

  But before he closed my door, he hollered back, “Hey, someone else is here.”

  “Crap. I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “It’s some guy,” the kid said. “He’s in black town car.”

  “Will you ask him what he needs, for me?”

  “Sure, no problem.” I listened as the kid stopped the man. “Hi, can I help you?”

  “I’m with the Double Tree and have brought Mr. Skkye’s things from his room for him.”

  “I can take those for him. Is there a bill or anything?” the kid asked, all professional.

  “No, the bill has been taken care of, and a copy was emailed to his assistant.”

  “Okay, have a nice evening.” The kid headed back toward me, so I opened the door for him.

  “You handled that perfectly. I owe you. What’s your name?”

  “Logan, Logan Greiner.”

  “Thanks, Logan.”

  “Any time. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Logan left, and I opened the boxes to see what was sent over and smiled.

  Steak and potatoes. Heidi knew me so well. Then I moved to another large box, which was chicken fingers with french fries and then I opened the last large box, which was spaghetti with meatballs, both were kid-size servings. Quickly opening other foil-wrapped items, I found fresh cookies and all the condiments we would need. Plus, there were several individual-size bags of chips. I shook my head; Heidi was a nurturer.

  I just needed to persuade Ireland to join me. Tapping my knuckles a few times on her door, I called out, “Ireland, dinner is here.”

  “Not hungry,” she called back, but her voice was soft and broken. I twisted her doorknob and found the door locked.

  “Ireland, please unlock your door. There’s spaghetti and chicken fingers with french fries, you can have whichever you want or a little from both. There are also fresh cookies.” She still didn’t reply. I stretched out on the floor, my body straight out in the hallway since her room was at the end. Resting my chin on one hand, I slid my other under her door and wiggled my fingers. “Ireland, please.”

  “I want to be alone.”

  “I understand that.”

  “No you don’t, you had parents, I don’t.”

  “I didn’t have a dad.”

  “Everyone has a dad, it takes a dad to create a baby,” Ireland stated, as if I were dumb.

  “It takes a man not a dad, a dad is a word that is earned, dad means he loves his child, takes care of them, is there for them. I never had a dad and never knew who the man was that helped create me.”

  “But you had a mom,” Ireland rationalized.

  “Yes, I had a mom, but I’m going to tell you something about my mom, something that many people don’t know. Your parents knew this, though. My mom was very, very, sick.”

  “She died too?” Ireland’s voice softened, but then I felt a wisp of pressure against my fingers before her fingertips landed on mine.

  “No, but when I was little, my mom used to leave me alone for days. I had no way of getting food or even changing myself, I was that little. I’d crawl into our cabinets, but there wasn’t anything. So, I’d leave my house, and eventually, someone would call the cops, and I’d get placed into a home with strangers until they found my mom.”

  “Where was she?”

  “Do you know what drugs are?” What age did kids who didn’t grow up around them learn about drugs? I felt like I always knew what they were.

  “Yes, they’re bad for you. They can kill you.”

  “Yep, but they will also make you think things that aren’t true and make you forget things that are important, like that you have a child.”

  “Your mom forgot she had you?” Ireland’s voice was louder, a little more in awe.

  “Many times, and when she did, I would get put with a strange family until my mom got some help and I could go back to her.”

  “Were the families nice?”

  “They weren’t mean, but they had their own children to take care of, and they were just watching me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ireland’s small hand tightened around a few of my fingers. “Where’s your mom now?”

  “She’s in a place where she can’t get drugs. But she doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know anyone, she doesn’t even know who she is. Drugs made her forget everything.”

  “Do you see her?”

  I hadn’t seen her since the judge awarded me my emancipation, and I chose to spend my senior year in the apartment above my algebra teacher’s home. “No, she wouldn’t know who I was. She mostly sleeps all day. I check on her, though, and call the home where she lives and ask about her.” I felt Ireland’s grasp release, and my heart paled.

  The click of the lock had me getting to my knees, but before I was up, Ireland opened her door. “Can I have the spaghetti?”

  My soul soared. “You can have whatever you want. We weren’t sure what you liked.”

  “We?” Ireland glanced up.

  “Heidi, she is my assistant, she helps with a
lot of things.”

  “Is she your wife?”

  I laughed. “No, Heidi is married to someone else and has two sons. They’re actually close to your age.”

  Ireland stopped by the bathroom and washed her hands before heading into the kitchen to grab silverware.

  I popped her spaghetti into the microwave and then slid it onto a paper plate that had been sent with the food while my steak and potato heated.

  “What smells yummy?” Ireland asked.

  “Steak, you want some?”

  She nodded. “You can have some of my spaghetti.”

  “We also have chicken fingers and fries,” I reminded her.

  “Don’t forget the cookies, I have those,” Ireland said as she balanced the plate of them in the crook of her arm without a cast on the wrist and brought them to the table.

  “Yeah, let’s not forget those.” I rolled my eyes.

  I wanted to pause this moment, take it in, because I knew they would be few and far between for a while. Still, each time she forgets that her tiny world had fallen apart and this man, who was practically a stranger, was trying to push himself in and help her mend it.

  Bringing the plates over to the table, I took the seat next to Ireland. “How much steak do you want?”

  “All of it.” She giggled. “Just a little, my mom says—” She paused for a second and tried to rein it in. “She says that my eyes are bigger than my stomach.”

  “That’s normal when we’re hungry,” I assured her. “How about I give you this much?” I cut a third of the New York Strip for her and held it up on my fork.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Ireland’s voice had softened again.

  “You want me to cut it up for you?”

  “Nooo, I can do that.” She got up and went to a drawer, then brought back some weird-ass plastic knife.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the teal blue cutting object that didn’t look like it would cut anything.

  “My knife.” Ireland sawed into her steak, and it hurt me to watch. Okay, it wasn’t the best cut, but still, it didn’t need shredding.

  “You sure you don’t want help?” I asked again.

  “Nope, I got it.”

  We ate in silence, Ireland finally growing tired of cutting and moving on to her spaghetti while I was picking at the chicken nuggets.

  “Where are my mom and dad?” Ireland asked while my mouth was full, and I took longer than I needed to chew and swallow.

  “They are in heaven.”

  “Their souls are there, where are they, this?” She poked her body.

  “They are at the hospital.”

  “Are we going to bury them? We don’t have a big backyard. Dad buried my parakeet in the backyard.”

  “People don’t get buried in backyards.”

  “Then where will they go?”

  “They have special places for them called cemeteries, your parents already picked out a place they wanted to be just in case anything ever happened to them.”

  “I can’t pay, I don’t have money.” Ireland appeared so concerned.

  “Don’t worry about that, it is all paid for.” I paused for a moment, not sure where to take this conversation, so instead I decided to keep my mouth shut and just let her talk.

  That night before falling asleep, I sent Viv a text.

  Me: I’m so sorry that I haven’t had time to talk. My world sort of blew up. But know I’m thinking of you.

  Sunday morning, Logan delivered fresh pancakes and bacon at seven on the dot, and he also brought my rookie card.

  “You play basketball?” I asked him while he unloaded the food boxes.

  “Yep, I’m a guard but not first string.”

  “Keep at it, what year are you?”

  “Sophomore, just got my license.”

  “Keep practicing but keep studying too. People think that athletes just float through school, but we don’t. Well, at least those with half a brain don’t. Most of us don’t end up being Michael Jordan and can ride on the endorsements for years then end up owning our own NBA team. I got my degree in economics. I figured that, if all else fails, I could be a financial advisor for players.”

  “Will do, thanks, Mr. Skkye.”

  “Call me Aaron.”

  “Thanks, Aaron.” I smiled as the kid left and then moved to get Ireland.

  Rapping on her door, I waited for a second before turning the knob and walking in. My heart skipped seeing her curled up in a tight little ball. I was shocked at how fast and how strong I felt for this little girl. Shuffling toward the side of her bed, I eased myself down and waited a few seconds before gently tapping her shoulder. “Ireland, breakfast is ready.”

  “Not hungry,” she mumbled and curled in tighter.

  “It’s pancakes and bacon.” I was hoping that made a difference; it sure would have to me when I was a kid. Okay, a lot would have.

  She reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. “Bacon?”

  “Yeah, there’s lots and it’s hot.” I stood and held out my hand, hoping she would take it. She didn’t, but I didn’t take it personally.

  After breakfast Ireland was back in her room where she stayed, and I was trying to convince her to come watch a movie when my phone dinged.

  Karen: I’m outside, I needed to do a surprise stop and check on Ireland. Let me in. I didn’t want to ring the bell in case she was sleeping.

  I turned off the ESPN highlight reels before opening the door and letting her in.

  “Good morning or almost afternoon. How did last night go?” Karen asked as she dropped her large bag on the table and unbuttoned her hideous coat.

  “As expected, I think. Good moments and sad ones, she would ask questions and then cry. Random things would hit her and she was sullen, but then a few minutes later she was talking about something else.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In her room, I think she finding it to be her safe space.”

  “Okay, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go talk with Ireland.” Karen headed off, and I fiddled with my phone.

  How long are they going to talk? I pulled up Karen’s text she’d sent telling me she was here and then checked the current time and realized only seven minutes had passed, not the three hours I had imagined. I pulled up Angry Birds and destroyed a few before checking my time again. Fuck, only three more minutes had passed.

  The sound of Ireland’s door opening had me setting my phone down and pushing to my feet to find Karen and Ireland walking toward me.

  “Tell Aaron what you want to do,” Karen coaxed.

  “I want to watch a movie.”

  “Great, which one,” I asked, so happy to have her out here.

  “Harry Potter.”

  “I’ll leave you two be, see you tomorrow.” Karen showed herself out while Ireland grabbed the remote and flipped through to their Apple TV movies.

  Vivian

  The pop was refreshing as I tilted my head and twisted my neck, rolled my shoulders a few times, and glanced at my phone. I had repeated these steps at least twenty times since Aaron last called.

  Forty-eight hours, a vague text, and nothing else.

  “Hey, come with me.” I smiled up at Everly, who was standing in my doorway. She was a paramedic with Orange County fire department and had been hanging out with me and the girls since . . . well, since Stella declared that we were a gang all those years ago.

  “I have an idea, come on.” Everly held out one hand and pulled me to my feet. “Go put this on; I grabbed it from Ariel since you two are about the same size.”

  “Wait? Where are we going?” I stopped and asked.

  Everly clapped her hands. “Move it, time is money, go, go, go.”

  I quickly followed the orders of the drill sergeant, and when I was changed, I stood back in the open doorway of my office. “Please tell me you have me in exercise clothes because we are doing a beer crawl and not something truly heinous like working out.”

  “Come on.” E
verly pulled me, and I had no choice but to follow.

  The ride to wherever we were going was short. When we arrived, I instantly felt better. “This makes me happy, I love Wall Street, but you know we could have stayed and drank at my bar a lot cheaper.”

  “Not going to a bar,” Everly replied. “Look, there are Lara and Stella.” Inwardly, I groaned. If anyone was Stella’s equal, it was Army Major Lara Bradford. We’d all hung out several times, and the two of them together usually led us to getting kicked out of more than one bar, but it was fun while it lasted.

  “Great, now all we need is Harley, and we will have the speak-before-you-think trio,” I warned Everly.

  “No, they will behave. We are going to take a vinyasa yoga class.”

  “A what?” I turned to see Sophie coming up behind us. “This isn’t like some tantric shit, is it?” Sophie asked. “I’m not getting all sexy with you lot.”

  “Sex? Did someone say sex?” Stella asked, coming to a stop next to me.

  “Shut up, no, this is a stress relieving yoga, it isn’t hot yoga, but it is set in a warm room to help muscles relax. Some of the other girls from the station and I go, and it really helps, especially after the shit we see. I thought it would be great for Viv, she’s looking a little piqued here lately.” Everly bumped my shoulder and gave me a wink.

  I loved my friends, I truly did, but sometimes I just wanted to be able to curl up in a ball with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and feel sorry for myself.

  The vinyasa studio was on the second floor and plants surrounded the outside doorway: huge, overgrown taro plants and birds of paradise. “Ah hell no, I’m not walking through those plants, what kind of Florida person puts plants this close to their door that you have to push through to get inside? A stupid one that’s who,” Sophie said from behind me. “Hasn’t anyone told her that snakes like to live in planters? Hell, the crew at Wild Animal Control have to stop by Disney’s Polynesian hotel several times a day to check for snakes because people sit along those planters, the same with Animal Kingdom.”