Chapter 2
Jules
W ell, my fucking plan backfired spectacularly. After yesterday’s triumph at dropping Juno off to the clubhouse for an hour I decided to replicate that good luck. Instead the good luck gods told me to fuck right off. What began as a mission to the clubhouse to find a babysitter ended with me babysitting a sick Cove while her mom takes photos of a cheater from her parked car.
“Why couldn’t Mama Debs have you?” I ask Cove as I hold the door to the diner open for her. Kid needed lunch and my cooking skills are nearly nonexistent.
“Because she had to take Pops to the doctor.”
My head snaps down to look at the top of her dark head. “Is he OK?” Pops may be an asshole but he’s my asshole.
“Um, she said something bout him pulling his muscles when he was banging against the wall,” She shrugs nonchalantly as all eyes in the diner turn to her after hearing her yell that tidbit out. I feel a little queasy because I’m sure I can guess why and who he was banging against the wall .
“Do you need a high chair for the baby?” The blonde, bored- looking waitress asks. Service really went downhill since Rosie retired and the new woman took over.
I look down at Juno asleep in her car seat and shake my head no.
“Suit yourself. Booth for two?” I nod at her, making my expression cold so she gets the picture that her service sucks. “Police and kids under six eat for free,” she says, chewing gum vigorously, looking between me and my brother’s kid.
I stare down at Cove who looks up at me with her mother’s dark eyes. It’s bad enough I have to babysit, the least she can do is wrangle a free meal. I mean, I’ll still tip well, but I’m not in the market of buying a seven year old a whole lunch knowing full well she’s going to eat half a dozen fries and quarter of a milkshake. She must get the picture because she nods up at me, then turns to look at the waitress.
“I’m a police.”
Snickering from behind me has me turning. I figured it’d be my shithead brother, come to laugh at my misfortune but instead I come face to face with Sergeant Davies.
“Sergeant,” I nod
“Tombs.” He tilts his head, looking at Juno. “Heard you had a baby. Congratulations. You look like shit.”
“Single fatherhood will do that to a man,” I reply, raising a brow. I know full well what happened to Moss Davies. His bitch of a wife left him with newborn twins almost two years ago.
Instead of taking offence he grins, “Touché Tombs.” He takes another look at me, then the baby and Cove staring up at him. “How’s it going anyway?”
I don’t know if it’s because I’m sleep deprived or if I’ve become desperate for adult conversation, but I answer truthfully. “It’s fucking hard and parental leave is killing me. I need to get back to work, not babysitting a kid.”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “But you’re not babysitting a kid. You’re parenting your kid. There’s a difference.”
“So you say. All I know is that I need to find a solution so I can go back to work.”
He squints at me, rubbing a hand through his short stubble. “I’ve got a sister -”
“You’ve got three sisters if memory serves me correctly.”
“Don’t I know it,” he mumbles. “Anyway, Mom fired her from the florist and she’s looking for a new job. Maybe you could hire her to keep an eye on your baby so you can get back to work.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s bullshitting me. Who the hell fires their kid? Strike that, Flora is somewhat unusual so I guess it makes sense. I continue to stare at him, thinking the offer over. Do I ask for references or something? I mean sure, I may not be the most fatherly person around, but I don’t want any random looking after the kid. Then I remember Tav saying that Elio is in his sister’s art class.
“Wait, the teacher sister?”
“Hell no! Jazz is my twin and my main sitter. Not that one, the other one, Violet.”
I try to think which one Violet is. All of Moss’s sister’s are beautiful, a spectrum of Latina looks, if that makes sense. Jasmine, like Moss, has black wavy hair and dark eyes. The other two have the same dark eyes I think, but one has chocolatey brown hair, the other lighter. All of them have Flora’s deep tan, are average height and shaped like coke bottles. If coke bottles were plus sized with tits and ass for days .
“The middle one with straight hair.” Moss offers helpfully. “Look, she was released from her nursing job a couple of years back for threatening a patient’s daughter. But other than that she’s solid and you know you’ll do a check on her. If you’re interested, give me a call, and I’ll pass on her number.” He side steps me to get to the counter where the new owner, Maia, waves a cup of coffee at him. “See ya later, Police,” he says to Cove on his way past.
Cove waves to his back and then looks up at me. “There Unca Jules. Get the nice lady to look after Juno. Then you can go back to work and stop being grumpy.”
I usher her to a booth seat and place Juno at the end of the table in her carseat. “I’m always grumpy.” I say.
“Yeah, but you’re way more of an asshole now,” Cove replies, staring directly at me.
“Do your mom and dad know you talk like that?”
“Who do you think I learned it from?”
We order lunch and then I sit back and watch Cove, who looks perfectly healthy and not sick at all, coloring. I drink my coffee and let my mind drift to Moss Davies’ offer. Glancing at Juno sleeping in her car seat I dig deep inside myself to conjure up feelings for her. Any type of feelings. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, so I know that much. But as for any paternal feelings, I’m getting nothing. I’m still on the fence about adopting her out to someone who can love her like she deserves. I may not be equipped for that, but I know my family is, in their own weird way, so maybe she won’t turn out defective if I keep her around.
I stare at her dark lashes resting on her fat cheeks, all her hair sticking up wildly and admit that she is a good looking baby. When she’s asleep. Awake she spends all her time glaring or frowning, but with my DNA I guess you can’t blame her. Running my finger down her soft cheek I come to the conclusion that perhaps we need more time to bond. When Dayz was born I wasn’t overly fussed on her, but now I would kill for her. I’m guessing that’s what love is. Sliding my phone out of my pants pocket I call the local PD and ask for Sergeant Davies.
“Moss? It’s Jules Tombs. Set up a meeting with your sister.”
Violet
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Lily asks. Apparently Moss told her to come with me for moral support.
“I’m sure it’s down here somewhere. Trust me, I’ve been here before.” I mutter, cursing the fact that Jazz’s special needs school is arranged much like a rabbit warren. Could I have listened to the directions the school secretary gave me? Well, yeah. But unfortunately I’m Flora Davies’ daughter which means sometimes I think I know better.
I look into a few classrooms before heading further into the bowels of the school.
“Are you sure that it was a good idea, scheduling this before your interview?”
I wave off my sister, “It’s fine. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? All I’ll be doing is standing at the front of the class while the kids paint me.” My eyes dart to hers as her lips curl up, “Not like one of those French whores!” I hiss at her, knowing that’s what she’s thinking. That’s the trouble with living with your sister your whole life, you know each other too well.
“Are you nervous?” Lily asks, looking into the classrooms on her side of the hall.
“No,” I lie.
I am nervous. My nursing career crashed and burned and the only other place I’ve worked since then is my mother’s florist shop. I don’t even like flowers, so it was probably a good call on Mom’s part to cut me loose. It’s the passion for any career outside of nursing that I’m having trouble with. I’ve never been a nanny, but the skills I have are transferable, and it’s still in the caring profession and that’s what I miss the most about my lost career. Being able to care for someone. Mom said I was born this way, always trying to take care of people, even if my methods were a little aggressive. Her words not mine.
“Are you sure? It’s OK to be nervous,” Lily pushes, as we walk further down the hall.
“Well, yeah, but I know how to look after babies so I’ll be fine. I mean, I babysat all through high school, and we’re basically Moss’s backup sitters whenever he needs us. If I can handle those twins, I can handle any kid.” I say, full of confidence that I’m not really feeling. A lot is riding on this interview. Like me getting mom off my case and being able to do grown up things. Like pay rent.
“Aha! There it is!” Lily points triumphantly to the colorful door with huge cutout letters spelling out Jazz’s classroom name.
We peek through the window as our big sister in her colorful teacher clothes wanders around her class.
“I have no idea what Moss was on about, look at those little angels!” I scoff at Lily, yanking the door open and leading the way.
Jazz’s head snaps up and she holds her hands up in the air, signing as she speaks, “Macaroni Cheese!”
“Everybody freeze!” The kids all exclaim, in one way or another.
“So, you’re the victims for today, huh?’ A little ginger boy with giant glasses says, staring up at us with narrowed eyes.
“Rodney! These are our guests, please show some manners,” Jazz scolds, then waves us in using both hands. “I hope everybody has their buttons on so our guests can learn your beautiful names.” She slowly eyeballs her class and the kids hurry to stick their name buttons to their shirts. Half of them are upside down, but that’s to be expected.
She directs me to a small raised platform and has me stand facing the class. The tables are arranged in a u-shape so the kids can all see me, their art supplies laid out in front of them. Lily grins from Jazz’s side and throws me two thumbs up.
“Right class, so today’s special guest is my little sister Violet!” She rests her hands on my shoulders and waits for the kids to cheer. Or something.
“Pirate is a funny name for a lady,” A cute little girl with wonky blonde pigtails and downturned eyes states, looking confused.
The ginger-headed boy, Rodney throws his head back and laughs hysterically, as does a little dark boy in a wheelchair.
“Pirate is a terrible name!” the wheelchair kid whose button says “Marcus” yells.
A little girl across from me frantically pats her teaching assistant, her hands flying, wanting in on the joke. The teaching assistant doesn’t hold back and I know the moment the joke hits because the little girl throws her head back and lets out an unusual honking sound that I’m guessing is a laugh.
Lily and I share a side eye. Maybe Moss was right. Instead of saying anything I wave to the class and say hello. Hoping they’ll get over the Violet/Pirate thing.
“That’s enough class! Violet has come to pose for us today so we can practice drawing people. How cool is that?” The kids stare at my sister as if she’s lost her mind. Apparently my posing isn’t cool at all.
Rodney, the ginger, puts his hand up and wriggles in his seat, as if desperate to say something. Jazz nods his way, “How come that other person isn’t standing up there?”
“That’s a very good question,” I answer, turning towards Lily with giant eyes, imploring her to join me in the hot seat. Lily just smiles softly and shakes her head.
The little hearing impaired girl gets the attention of her assistant and furiously signs something, her little hands flying.
“Morgan would like to know why they don’t look like you,” her assistant asks.
My sisters and I look at each other. We all look alot alike, the only difference is our hair color.
“I think we look a lot alike,” Jazz informs the class.
Quick as a flash a cute little boy with braces on his arms put his hand up, “No because that one has huge eyebrows. I don’t have enough brown pencil to draw them that big.” He frets, pointing directly to me.
Said big eyebrows fly up to my hairline as Lily covers her snort with a delicate cough. Jazz decides to ignore his question, but that doesn’t stop the little turds from all nodding in agreement.
“Maybe Moss was onto something,” Lily whispers.
“And the eyebrow one has a snaggle tooth!” another kid yells out, pointing like I’m a circus freak.
“Her eyes are too big for her face, too.”
“Why does she look all sweaty? Has she been playing outside?”
“Ah, excuse me, class!” Jazz holds her hands up in front of her, signing. “Remember that we are all people, with feelings and quirks that make us unique. Violet has very large eyebrows -” My head whips in her direction and I glare at her. “And she has crooked teeth and giant eyes and she does get a little sweaty, but these are all things that make Violet uniquely Violet. And I think we should celebrate that there’s only one Violet in the world.”
“Probably a good thing,” Rodney, the evil ginger says under his breath but loud enough for the dead to hear.
“Moving right along,” Jazz continues, “remember when I helped you write down what type of poses you’d like our model to do? Well, I’ve put them all into a special cup. We’ll choose a pose at random and Violet will hold the pose for you to draw. Make sense?”
The kids perk up at the thought of drawing so they nod eagerly. Well, all the kids except one boy who looks asleep, a kid currently putting his pencil sharpenings in the hair of the girl next to him, and a little dark-haired boy who has been sitting very quietly lining his pencils on his desk top. Jazz makes a big show of shaking around her coffee cup full of suggestions, and even asks the kids to do a drum roll, resulting in a lot of out of time banging on the tables.
“And the pose Violet will be doing for us today is……… the body of a person who fell from a tall building and landed on the top of a car.” The kids lose their minds like they just won the lottery and Jazz rolls her lips in between her teeth to stop hersel f from laughing. She turns and gives me a shit eating grin, “Well, Vi, assume the position.”