Page 68 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

My father once told me that men weren’t shaped by the world around them. They were shaped by the women in their lives. I used to think he was referring to my mother’s death. Before she was murdered I was a normal kid. I liked my toys and going outside, but when she was gone, I changed.

Instead of being excited to play on the equipment at the park, I would sit back and wait for some kid to get hurt, because their tears amused me. If they were in pain, then I wouldn’t have to feel my own.

Over the years that need became its own hungry beast. Sometimes I could appease it with minor things. Beat some guy up, fuck a girl a little too hard, or by scaring the shit out of someone. But that dark desire was never satisfied. I could feel it constantly trying to claw its way out.

Then came Novalee Ford.

That’s when I realized what my father meant by that statement. One taste of her and I found myself doing things I never thought I would. Like following someone around, or diving into Quackwater Lake to retrieve a phone so I could see who she was messaging.

Jealousy wasn’t my thing. I considered it a petty waste of energy. That didn’t stop me from wanting to rip out the eyes of every man who looked at her. Including one of my best friends, who was currently alone with her on a three hour road trip to a prison. Which was where I should be, but Romeo had other plans. I barely had one foot out the door this morning before he stopped me and sent me here, to pick up my father and uncle.

I leaned back on the soccer mom vehicle I rented to follow Nova, and gazed out at the Mississippi.

The docks behind the Ellipsis was the last place I would want to be in the morning, even if I wasn’t planning on following Nova. It wasn’t the look so much as the smell. My father did his best to cover up the heavy aroma of the river with things like a seafood shack and a couple food trucks, but none of those could cover up the muddy scent in the air.

My father’s riverboat was coming down the river towards the dock. I looked at the green letters spelling The Olive then down at my watch. They were ten minutes late. Not something my father would typically stand for. But Aldo was in town, and he had a way of convincing my dad to let go.

Last time Aldo was here they disappeared for two days. A missing boss was never a good thing. Romeo lost his shit tryingto find him. And when he did find them in some back alley bar in New Orleans, drunk out of their minds, he lost his shit again.

I was only twelve or thirteen at the time, and found it hilarious to watch my brother try and corral them through the house. Now, I was pretty sure I was about to have the same experience.

The Olive slowly turned in to dock as I listened to the paddlewheel spin through the water. When I was a kid this was my favorite place to come. My mother and I would sit at the back and I’d pretend that we were rolling down tracks instead of a river.

The timely chugs of the wheel turning reminded me of a train. Romeo and Atlas made fun of me, but my mother would play along. She’d scoop the imaginary coal into the furnace while I conducted the train.

When everyone else was busy, the two of us would come out here and play our game. My brothers had their things with my father, and we had this. The Olive was our special thing and the last place I’d seen my mother smile.

I hadn’t set foot on it in years. Twelve to be exact.

That wasn’t true. I did go for a ride about two years ago for Atlas’s birthday party. He died ten days later. Thing was a curse for my family. But maybe this time it would work in my favor, and take out the member staining the Mancini name.

Passengers began filing off while looking up at the VIP cabins on the top of the boat. That was where I would find my father and uncle. Based on the music I could hear coming from up there, I’d say the party was still going for them.Lovely.

I sighed, pushed off the car, and headed up the ramp to the deck of The Olive.

“Sir.” A crewman at the top of the ramp held out his hand to stop me. “I’m sorry but we aren’t taking any passengers right now.”

My brow arched.

“You can purchase a ticket for our next voyage from any one of the cashiers in the Ellipsis.”

Voyage? Who the fuck was this guy?

“I’m here to get my father.”

“All the passengers have disembarked,” he placed his hand on my chest and tried to usher me down the ramp. “I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”

I looked from his hand and up to his eyes. “My father is Cesare Mancini.”

He froze and looked up at me with rounded eyes. “Oh.”

Yeah.

We stood there for a second staring at each other, before I dropped my gaze to the palm still flattened on my chest. “Take your hand off me.”

“Right.” He dropped his arm and stepped back. “Your father is…”

“I know where he is,” I said and marched past him.

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