Sidewalk Flower

by Carlene Love Flores

  “You got it buddy.”

  It went unsaid that the favor was mutual where she and Vangie were concerned.

  * * * *

  Lucky stood by Trista’s side, readying himself for whatever would eventually come down those stairs. He’d enjoyed the moment she’d just shared with her friend. The young man with the big eyes was a little stranger than most folks he knew but he also seemed kind and genuine. If anyone had anything to say, both Ben and Trista would have plenty of back up.

  * * * *

  Trista, Ben and Lucky retreated to the living room and plopped down on Jaxon’s black leather couches, to wait.

  And wait some more.

  Since none of them were willing to crack the egg shells that lay at their feet.

  All she could think about as she studied the black and white tiger-striped rug she’d bought Jaxon years ago was what in the world might happen tonight? And that Jaxon must never have told Vangie who had gifted him the rug.

  A door from upstairs creaked open.

  She plastered a smile on her face, making the example for Lucky and Ben, as they snuck into the dining room and waited in their happy poses.

  “Surprise! Happy Birthday, sweetie!” they called out in harmonized unity as Maryella and her parents entered through the dining room’s arched entrance.

  “Onnie Tissa!”

  Maryella ran and jumped into her arms as the two whirled around. On the final spin, and as she got her bearings back, she noticed Ben’s eyes showing entirely too much white. Okay, so maybe that had been a bit self-indulgent. But she was making up for both lost time from the past and the future and Vangie could suck it. But, to make nice, she stopped and set Maryella down. Lucky bent over and gave the birthday girl a big hug, which garnered him a juicy peck on the cheek.

  Next it was Ben’s turn. “Hi, cutie pie. So what do you think? Are you surprised? It is your birthday, right?” He’d known Maryella since Jaxon had brought the one-week-old baby girl to the studio to meet the Sin Pointe family.

  She reached her small hand up and snagged the hat from Ben’s head and then placed it on her own. Her blonde hair had been braided into a kaleidoscope of weaving tendrils, probably by a hairstylist. If only Trista could do those things for her. Without a moment’s notice, Vangie stalked over and snatched the hat off her daughter’s head, holding it back out to Ben. Maryella’s smile fell to the floor. Ben stood up, inched back, and took his hat with him toward the kitchen.

  “Mommy, ow.” Maryella rubbed the top of her head.

  “You don’t want to mess up your princess braids, do you?” It was Vangie’s condescending tone that irritated Trista the most.

  She fought to suppress her two gut reactions. First, to grab Maryella up and twirl her away from here. The second involved a few choice words for her mother. The likes of which included reminding Vangie that this had once been her home and she’d better tread a little more lightly if she knew what was good for her.

  Instead, she opted for a direct “don’t you dare ruin this for your daughter” look and then quickly morphed back into Maryella’s fairy aunt-mother, taking her hand and walking her over to the table to show her the cake. Vangie huffed so loudly Trista was sure she’d made her point.

  While it appeared Jaxon and Ben had ducked out, she could feel Lucky’s presence close by. She imagined the animosity being so flagrantly tossed around was probably completely foreign to him. Back home, they would have taken it outside, settled it in private. It was southern taboo to make such a display in front of the guests. Welcome to LA, honey.

  The air in the room remained tense until finally, Vangie stormed out. Jaxon better be ready. Poor guy.

  Too bad Ben had been scared off. He would have enjoyed seeing the fruits of his labor glinting off the angelic pair of brown eyes beneath Maryella’s long lashes. Vangie could try and wreck this if she dared. It had been two minutes and she’d already managed to make this about her. Trista set Maryella down at the head of the princess table then sat in the chair Lucky pulled out for her. An arm strung around her back had never felt as good as his did just then. Hunkered down for the next round, they waited.

  “Daddy, Mommy, wheh ah you? Come mack.”

  Jaxon was the first to answer Maryella’s call. Vangie followed behind him with a cocktail glass in her arched fingers and a cold glare on her red lips. Ben surprised her and entered next but he was ready to leave, she could tell. He sat down in the farthest seat possible. His big eyes had lost their pop and sparkle.

  “Here we are, sweetums. You ready to eat? Daddy’s so hungry.” After serving Maryella her plate, Jaxon did the same for Vangie. She didn’t bother to thank him. They ate quietly through their pizza. Jaxon serenaded the apple of his eye with a sweet rendition of Happy Birthday and then they again moved cake and ice cream into their mouths before dispersing.

  While Lucky and Ben chit chatted and played with Maryella, Trista sat in the living room, hell bent and confused. For the life of her, she’d never understand why the undeserving were given so much—precious children, loyal loved ones, safe homes. Without thinking, a wish formed in her heart. If I’m ever lucky enough to have the things she has, please let me take good care of them. Fine, she could admit it was a prayer, but couldn’t bring herself to call God out by name or end things with Amen. But there it was. For the first time in twenty years, she’d prayed. It was all because of that man sitting beside her. She squeezed Lucky’s hand, trying not to let her hopes fly too high.

  From the rear, a heavy pair of footsteps, steel-toed ones, thumped her way. She looked over Lucky’s arm to see Jaxon standing behind the couch. He motioned for her to come over. Ben and Lucky glanced her way. “I’ll be right back,” she said, rubbing Lucky’s shoulder. Curious, she joined Jaxon in the kitchen.

  If he stalled much longer, she’d flick him just to remind him they were standing here like statues.

  “Just spit it out, Jaxon.”

  But really, he didn’t have to. When his face dropped into that familiar grimace, she knew he was there to do his other half’s bidding. “Trissy, hey, thanks for coming. I know Maryellie loved seeing you. She misses you.”

  “Okay.” She waited for the rest. Unless that was it and he expected her to excuse herself.

  Jaxon paused long enough for Ben to come in the room, interrupting her dismissal. “Hey Jaxon, I’m gonna head out. I’ve gotta get back to the studio. Thanks for having me over.”

  “Benny, thank you, mate. Everything turned out such a beaut. I really appreciate what you did.” He stretched his hand out to shake Ben’s. Hopefully it was laced with some sort of unspoken apology at how Ben had been treated.

  She hugged her buddy tight. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Then Ben left, slightly slumped, his striped vest not so zippy.

  Trista used Ben’s exit as a segue for her own but decided not to tiptoe around Jaxon’s feelings. “So it’s time for me to get going. Would it be a good idea for me to take Lucky, too? Or does he get to stay?”

  “Trissy, you know I feel like shit over this. Why do you have to do that?” He leaned into her as he whispered, but instinct must have kicked in and he quickly pulled back.

  “Do what, Jaxon? You know, I get it that Vangie hates me but what did anyone else ever do to her? So answer me, does Lucky need to leave, too?”

  A sweet child played in the next room so she funneled the veracity of her words into the pitch black pupil of her eye.

  “Yeah, it’s probably a good idea if he left with you.”

  “Fine. I hope it’s worth it every night, Jaxon. I really do.”

  “Excuse me, but you hope what’s worth it?” Vangie had slithered her way into their midst.

  She took a step toward Vangie and stood tall with one hand poised on her hip. “Nothing, I was just leaving.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Vangie said without blinking or slinking back. The perfect red outline of her lips begged to be smeared but then she’d have something to hold ove
r Trista.

  “Vangie…” Jaxon interjected.

  “What, Jaxon? Did you have something to say to her comment about me?”

  “Vangie, don’t. Trissy was just leaving. Can’t we just act like we all get along for our daughter’s sake? You don’t have to make this any harder than it already is.”

  If she could just zip his lips. Vangie would make him pay for that one later. Throwing all that guilt in his face had been wrong.

  A second later, Vangie stomped out of the room. Maybe if she was fast enough, Trista could snatch up Lucky and give a meaningful goodbye hug and kiss to Maryella before Vangie returned. But then, just as soon as she’d left, the green-eyed monster was back, much too close to Trista’s face. She dangled the white and pink gift bag Trista had brought for Maryella. Inside was a yellow sunflower dress she’d sewn in the same smock style as so many of her own dresses. Vangie thrust the bag forward, clipping her in the cheek. “Take it.”

  It bit, but she knew she had to apologize. “Vangie, look, don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m leaving. Please just keep the dress for Maryella.”

  “No, it’s covered in cat fur and you know she’s allergic to that animal of yours.”

  No way. She took the dress out and inspected it. There were two stray pieces of Figjam’s fur. They must have attached themselves as she’d wrapped the dress on her bed. She hadn’t vacuumed in a while, as she was always at the studio. Dammit, she should have known Vangie’d play this game. She looked over to Jaxon, and instantly regretted it.

  Crap.

  Shush, Jaxon.

  “Here, Trissy, I’ll save it for her. Give it to me. But it’s probably best you go now.”

  “You will not!” Vangie’s voice busted through the quiet mimicry they had been engaged in.

  Jaxon cut a glare that scared Trista but only seemed to make the mother of his child angrier. Not able to be in the presence of Vangie any longer, Trista made her way to the living room where Lucky was obviously aware of something. He’d taken over as puppet finger master and was trying to keep Maryella distracted.

  “Lucky, we need to go, now,” she said, concentrating on sounding calm. “Maryella, sweetie, happy birthday and just remember…” She leaned down closely so that only the child would hear what she was about to say. “Auntie Trista loves you and I always will, no matter what. Okay? Promise to remember?” She hoped the child would. Their time was up. Vangie stood seething in the kitchen doorway.

  Trista was up and out then, hoping Lucky’d had the sense to follow her. She made her way to the villa’s front door and pulled it open, knowing this was the last time she’d ever step foot in here again. As long as it was ruled by what was apparently the best lay known to man.

  She was halfway down the driveway when Lucky caught up to her. He grasped her by the elbow and she started to slow for him. But, at the sound of stiletto heels clicking angrily against the cement, she tugged her arm away and sped back up. Lucky made the mistake of stopping. She made it to her jeep but heard every word in the exchange between Lucky and Vangie.

  “You know, if you were smart, you’d stay away from her. That slut is a home-wrecker and no matter how well you think you know her, trust me, there’s only one man on her mind. And honey, it isn’t you.”

  Oh hell. Here we go. Lucky was speechless. She thought he’d forgotten how to speak. But when he did, she could have cried.

  “Excuse me, lady, but you need to take a good long look in the mirror. Everything you lack, Trista has it in spades. Decency, honesty, caring. You have no idea how much more a woman she is than you. I hope my cousin wakes up from this nightmare you call a home before he loses whatever it is that Trista sees in him.”

  She couldn’t help but turn and face him. Lucky would never hurt a woman but she didn’t trust Vangie not to strike out. Ready to go to his aid, she watched, hands fisted at her sides. Lucky stood his ground, like he dared Vangie to say one more bad word against her.

  Of course Vangie could care less about that.

  “You’re a fool, Lucky. A damned fool. Jaxon knows what he gets with me. You have no idea what you’re getting into with her. Not a fucking clue.” And then she turned on her dangerously red stiletto heel and disappeared into her castle behind the heavy wooden door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucky let his pent-up irritation take to the winds of the Jeep’s open windows. He watched Trista closely as she maneuvered them through the streets of Jaxon’s seaside neighborhood. “Hey, you okay? You want me to drive?” he asked.

  “No, it’s all right. That was nothing. Really.”

  It would have been hard to believe if he hadn’t seen it for himself but she appeared to be over it. Numb. Not bothered in the least.

  “It doesn’t make it right. I can’t believe Jaxon just let’s her act like…”

  “Don’t, Lucky.” Trista settled her hand over his denim jeans, like she knew it belonged there. Or maybe that was just him. “You don’t understand,” she continued. “Maryella means the world to him. It’s the only way he has of keeping her close.”

  “That’s not a good enough excuse. People get divorced all the time. They share custody of their kids. I’d say this is the perfect example of that being necessary. Maryella would be better off.”

  “No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You say that and it makes no sense. The situation is crap, Trista. How do you figure a child is better off growing up in that environment? You should know better than anyone that…” He didn’t mean for it to slip out. Damn it.

  “Thanks, Lucky. You’re right. I do know.”

  Regret balled up into the fist he kept clenched but hidden on his far right side. “I didn’t mean it like that, Trista.”

  She drew her lips in and bit down but if she was trying to keep something from slipping off her tongue, it hadn’t worked. “First off, they aren’t married so there would be no divorce. Second, Vangie has never listed Jaxon as Maryella’s biological father on her birth certificate. Third, she has threatened more times than I can count to use his past against him if he ever tried to take Maryella away from her.”

  “What past?” he asked.

  “Well, up until about three years ago, he was a practicing alcoholic, mix that in with having just about anything he could dream up thrown at his feet, women, partying, you name it, he’s had his fair share of brushes with the law. Management can only sweep so much of that crap under the rug. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been clean. All she has to do is mention a handful of things from his past and he’s afraid it would be enough to keep him from Maryella until she’s eighteen. And then he risks having a daughter grow up who hates him. No doubt the things Vangie would say to her.”

  Man, he’d gone and shoved his boot in his mouth without bothering to open up first. “I understand.” He wanted to apologize for his slip about her in-depth understanding on the topic of growing up in an abusive home. But she’d ignored it, instead explaining to him what he should’ve been able to figure out on his own.

  Jaxon was a rock star. He’d led a good portion of his life in the stereotypical fast lane. And now it hung over the one thing he had worked very hard to change for. His only child.

  “How do you not slap that woman in the face?”

  Trista smiled, perhaps at the honesty in his voice. “Years of practice.” She managed a laugh. “Seriously though? More than anything, I just want Vangie to change. To wake one morning and realize what she’s got. That would make Jaxon and Maryella’s life so much better.”

  She had no idea how much of a bigger person it took to say what she’d just said. And honestly, he’d had no idea she had it in her. There was no way, absolutely no way, no how, he could give up on her, ever. Buried in his little sidewalk flower was a saint.

  * * * *

  “Sorry for the mess. I haven’t been here in a while.” Trista thumbed through a stack of mail on the counter, knowing full well any visions Lucky’d had of her quaint ro
mantic cottage had probably been flushed down the drain. “Well, not for more than ten minutes at least. Thank God Ben has practically adopted Figjam.”

  Lucky followed closely behind, his hand on the small of her back. “Who or what is that?”

  “My cat, poor thing. He’s got to hate me on a whole new level at this point. I’m a bad mommy.” She gave up on sorting through the stack.

  “That’s an interesting name.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s some Australian thing. He was Jaxon’s, and then I inherited him when Maryella was born. But he spends more time around Ben anymore. I should officially hand over the parenting reins.” She still couldn’t forget the way two stray pieces of her kitty’s fur had sent Vangie off the deep end.

  “You should officially hand over the housekeeping reins.”

  “Wha—? I cannot believe you just said that! Is it that bad?” She would have smacked at his arm playfully except for she really did wonder if it was that bad.

  The wide grin marking his lightly tanned face eased her worries. “No, I’m just teasing. I’ve seen how nice you keep your office if that makes up for it.”

  “Well, a little.”

  Lucky moved a pile of stacked sewing magazines from their spot on her loveseat to a protected area under her coffee table and sat down.

  “Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have any Coke but I’ve got some…uh, some water and some questionable orange juice.”

  “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

  “You know what? This place really isn’t fit for company. I have a great idea. Hold tight.”

  She skip-scooted her way to the compartment she called her bedroom. There wasn’t much more to the place than the small kitchenette, the living area where Lucky sat filling it up, and a bathroom that could be seen from the couch if she left the door open and craned her neck. It was, however, her favorite room. Wallpapered in bright yellow flowers, she used it as much as a mood booster as a toilet. When she came out, her cheeks had warmed and swelled.