Page 41 of Shine: Sins of the Father
I nod, thinking about the most important women in my life.
“We can put a prospect on them round the clock,” Trick suggests.
Daytona nods. “It might be best to move them out of that house for now. That’s the first place he’ll look.”
“You’re right.”
“We got room here, but I doubt you want them staying at the clubhouse,” Daytona says.
“Not really,” I reply.
He shifts his gaze to Trick, stroking his chin. “You know any place, VP?”
He grins. “Leave it to me.”
Trick follows me to the bar and throws an arm around me. “Now tell me all about how you fucked Wolf’s daughter.”
I glance to his smiling face. “I really want to punch you in that fucking mug of yours right now, VP.”
He only laughs. “You ain’t never gonna hear the end of this one, bro.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fiona—
It’s been six weeks, and I still think about Shine all the time. I’ve even thought about finding out from one of my brothers the location of the Nevada clubhouse and driving out there to find him. I know it’s crazy, but I can’t help it.
I’m in the passenger seat of my mother’s Corvette, the one my father gave her for their anniversary. It was sweet the way he searched for this car that used to belong to her years before any of us kids were born. My father really does love her. She’s a lucky woman.
We’re in Saratoga, an adorable town not far from San Jose. Twenty minutes west, to be exact.
Mom follows the directions I give her, and we roll up Big Basin Way into the historical section.
“I’ve never been here before,” my mom says. “It’s so cute. I love this place.”
A smile breaks across my face. I need her to love this place because of what I’m going to ask her.
We near the address that I’m leading her to, but I want her to walk a bit of the town to really get a feel for the place, so I point to a spot.
“Park here.”
She pulls in, and we climb from the car.
Stepping on the walk, she looks around. “It’s so quant. I love all these cute little shops.”
“Me too.” I loop my arm with hers. “Come on. This way.” I lead her up the street to my destination and pull her to a stop in front of the building. There’s a for-rent sign in the window.
“What’s this? It looks closed.” She eyes the building.
“I want to open a bakery; you know, cupcakes and cake pops and such. I think I can afford this place, and before you say anything, I know it needs work, like a lot of work, but I figure maybe my brothers can help me.”
“What about school?”
“This is in place of school.” I wring my hands and finally say what I’ve been dreading all summer. “School’s not for me, Mom. I want to do this.” I gesture at the building.
She doesn’t say anything, just scans the place again. I turn and look at it, imagining it through her eyes. It’s a two-story frame structure with torn and sad-looking red awnings across the ground floor facing the street, and small awnings over each upstairs window, which also have green shutters. The pale-yellow paint on the clapboard building is peeling. It sits on the corner with a small cobblestone street with parking on one side, and another store on the other. It used to be a floral shop. There’s a pretty door with large plate-glass windows on either side.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, Mom, but I think I can make it work. I know I can.”
