Page 96 of Driftwood Daffodil

“Ugh, I’m sorry, okay?” I twirled the phone cord around my finger and leaned back against the counter. “Tell me more about yourclub.”

“All you need to know is they offered me protection so I’ll take less beatdowns.”

Not sure if the payout was worth it. Less didn’t mean none. And what exactly did my brother have to do for this protection? Steal? Hurt someone? Kill someone? That would just get him right back where he was. Whoever these Lost Souls were, they weren’t a solution. I wasn’t sure if there was a solution.

“Tell me something good about your day.”

Good? That was a hard one.

“Some asshole tried to shove his tongue down my throat.” Not sure why that was what came out of my mouth?

“I hope you hit him.” Kato growled a little more angry than normal.

“No,” I smiled. “But I bit him.”

“That’s my girl.”

The hitting I would save for tomorrow. The next time I saw Gio Mancini, he was getting a punch right in the face. And maybe the dick.

GIOVANNI

It took less than fifteen minutes to drive to Sault Saint Marie Estates, and even less time than that to sneak up to Nova’s yellow trailer. The gnomes decorating the yard were the hardest thing to step around. The little bastards were everywhere. It was like a minefield of pointed hats and chubby cheeks, but I managed to sneak through them without making a sound.

The screen door was closed but the inner door was open, allowing the light from inside to cascade out onto the deck. I could hear the faint sounds of a TV and smell a sweetness floating through the air.

If I had to guess, I’d say someone was baking. I didn’t like that scent or the childhood memories they invoked. So I avoided the deck and slinked around the right corner.

The first window I came upon was a modest living room, with an old brown couch and matching chair. To the left of that was a bedroom, which I assumed to be the sister’s based on the small crib at the foot of a bed. That and the pictures of a baby with a woman who looked a lot like Nova.

There were a few differences, like the curl in her hair, and lack of freckles. Other than that, it would be easy to mistake them. Nova was younger with a bit more snark in her smile, and she definitely didn’t care about her appearance the same way.

Her sister’s room was full of pictures of her all dolled up with some blonde girl – a friend maybe? There were typical images one would find in a girl’s room. That is until the ones with the baby. Veda Ford didn’t seem to care about how she looked anymore.

From what I could tell, the baby didn’t look much like his mother. Which made me wonder about Veda. She was in the hospital recovering for a while, so something did happen to her. But why keep the child? He had to take after his father. If it was rape, how could she look at her son every day and not hate him? I didn’t get it.

My ears perked at a sound to my right.

I tiptoed around some shrubs and moved in behind the trailer, where the sound was coming from. That’s when I saw faded blue curtains flapping out of an open window at the far end. Whatever I was hearing was coming from there.

It didn’t take too long for me to figure out that it was singing. And not good singing either. In fact it was downright horrible. I was surprised to recognize any of the lyrics, but I was pretty sure the song wasHold Onby Wilson Phillips. Who the hell would listen to that?

Novalee, that's who.

I peeked around the curtain to see her laying on her bed with earbuds in her ears next to a giggling and clapping baby. My eyes were immediately drawn to the leg she had propped up on her knee, bouncing in time with the music. She wasn’t wearing any pants, just a white tee shirt that barely covered her hips. I couldn’t stop staring at her smooth skin.

My tongue swept over the bite on my bottom lip. Would Novalee scream if I bit her? Would her blood taste as sweet as I imagined? I’d never found a tee shirt so hot in my life, nor had I ever been more grateful for the presence of a child.

The baby leaned forward to smack his hands on Novalee’s thigh, pulling my eyes away from dangerous territory, but not before I noticed the pink hue left on her skin from the slap. It wouldn’t be hard to leave a mark on her.

The baby scooted closer and dug his fingers into her cheek.

Nova didn’t seem phased by his actions. She just smiled and said, “You want to hear, Knoxy.”

After which she popped out one of her earbuds and passed it to the kid–who immediately sucked it in his mouth.

She wasn’t the best babysitter, but there was something oddly adorable about the way she belted out, “hold on for one more day.”

How was this kid surviving this? She was so bad and out of tune, that I was tempted to hire a vocal instructor to give her a few tips. Was this what girls did in their spare time? This was really going to put a damper on Atlee’s naked pillow fight theory.

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