He travelled a lot, was never home, hated the fucking winters in Indiana, the cold seeped into your bones. He had no idea why he kept the house there except that it reminded him of his Dad, some vague memories of his Mom and then there was the six months when Nicky was there.
His beach house in Florida was in the middle of nowhere, two bedrooms, tiny, a twenty minute drive through the bush just to get to a grocery store, perfect. Vi’d hate it. He’d taken a woman there once, didn’t remember her name, blocked it out because the bitch whined for two full days and he eventually drove her and her suitcase out, dropped her at the airport and left her there.
He had his job, his place in Florida, his plan for his life; he didn’t need Violet’s shit, her problems, her baggage, her kids. He didn’t need to compete against a dead man, a cop, probably a good man. A man he couldn’t win against, not only win Violet but her daughters.
Then there was the time when she found out the whole story of Bonnie, his Dad, Nicky, how sick that all was, how crazy sick it was. He remembered, like it was yesterday, the looks on people’s faces when they saw him after it happened. Their shock, disgust.
No, he needed to end it with Violet. He definitely needed to be done with her.
He knew it and, taking his hands from his face and rolling to his side, smelling her hair on his pillow, he still knew it.
He just had no intention of doing it.
Chapter Eight
Come to Jesus
I opened the kitchen door to see, over the bar opening into the dining area, Kate and Dane going out the front door.
“We’re goin’ to Joe’s, Mom,” Kate called on a wave, Dane waved too and then they were out the door.
I stood where I was and stared at the door, wondering why Kate and Dane were going to Joe’s. I also wondered why my daughter casually informed me of that fact like she went to Joe’s every evening before dinner.
“Yo, Momalicious, what’s for dinner?” Keira asked, wandering down the hall and pulling me out of my stupor.
I closed the door behind me and entered my house, putting my purse on the counter and deciding then to wonder, for the fifty thousandth time since I lifted the ban on Dane coming to the house when I wasn’t there, if I should have lifted the ban on Dane coming to the house when I wasn’t there. This was something Kate had difficulty with now that it was summer and she didn’t see him at school every day so I’d given in but only after I’d given her an honest sex talk which left us both uncomfortable. Hopefully Kate more so or at least enough for her to just say no.
Then I remembered that Keira asked me a question so I answered her. “I don’t know, baby, what do you want?”
“Fried chicken,” she answered.
“That takes marinating,” I informed her of something she already knew.
“No, I mean Kentucky Fried Chicken, not Momalicious Fried Chicken.” She grinned and leaned a hip on the counter. “After a hard day at the garden center, I wouldn’t make my fabulous mother cook fried chicken.”
Oh shit, she wanted something.
I crossed my arms on my chest and looked at my daughter.
“All right, gorgeous, what do you want?”
She put her hand to her chest. “Moi?”
“Spill.”
“Just fried chicken,” she told me then smiled wickedly. “And a cut-rate American Husky doggie that’s cute, white and super fluffy.”
The dog. The damned dog. Since the barbeque all she could talk about was the two hundred dollar dog.
“We’ll talk about the dog later.”
“Mom!” she leaned into me. “The weeks are sliding by. They only have five puppies and they’ve already sold three.”
“Give me more time to think.”
“I can’t!”
“You can.”
“Mom –”
“Keira.”
We locked eyes and I knew I’d win, I always did. Keira had the patience of a gnat. In no time, she huffed and stomped a foot then started out of the kitchen.
“Hey,” I called after her as the phone started ringing. “Why’s Kate goin’ to Joe’s?”
“Dunno!” Keira called back and I grabbed the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey babe, get your ass down to J&J’s tonight,” Cheryl said in my ear. “I’m off and since your hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door neighbor is off limits and I’m feelin’ a hankerin’ for some man company, I need someone to go on the prowl with me.”
Since the barbeque Cheryl had started to call me daily. I knew why. One, she was a nice person. Two, she liked me. Three, she knew it sucked my husband died and thought I needed a friend. Four, she knew it sucked that Joe had played me and thought I needed a friend. Five, she knew it sucked that Daniel Hart was messing with my head and thought I needed a friend. And six, she didn’t have a lot of friends and even I knew I was a good one, she obviously guessed I was, so she wanted me to be her friend.
Feb had told me the day after the barbeque that Cheryl had asked for my number and Feb asked if it was okay if she gave it to her. I said yes and since then every day she’d called.