Chapter 38 Revelations #2
It’s morning, and Daphne’s wearing my big EBU sweater and boxer briefs, with her hair still in the braid I did last night. She’s been bopping around my kitchen like she owns it, singing songs, making coffee, and peppering me with kisses while I work.
“Let’s say… three?”
“You got it, Goldilocks!”
She turns back to the stove, swaying her hips to the music that’s pouring out of the little bluetooth speaker.
I watch her for a while, grinning from ear to ear until my cheeks hurt.
I’ve gotten a lot of writing done this morning, which is unusual for me.
Usually, I find the words for this book come out slowly, almost like pulling teeth.
But lately, when I’m around her, everything feels effortless.
“Oh, I gotta pick up V around noon. I was thinking maybe the three of us could go for lunch or something? She heard they make some really good milkshakes at Simmer Down, but we’ve never had a chance to go.”
“I wish my buddy Roman was working right now, we could get those shakes for free.”
“Is he off today?”
“For a while actually. He’s in Italy, getting engaged.”
“Aww, cute!” Daphne gushes. “To the girl with the purple hair? I stalked your Instagram and they really stood out.”
“You’ve been stalking me?”
“Well, everyone stalks me!” She laughs. “’It’s only fair that I get in on the action, too!”
“Well, it’s an honor to be stalked by you— and yeah, that’s Iggy. I think her hair has been every color of the rainbow at this point—”
Daphne’s phone buzzing cuts me off, and she wanders over to check it.
“It’s Denny. Sorry, Goldilocks, I have to take this.” She puts the phone on speaker. “Hey, Denny! What’s cooking, handsome?”
“Heeeey… Ms. Carmichael—”
“I told you to call me Daphne,” she laughs.
“Right, sorry. Um… I think you need to come down to the bar. Like— like now— like now now.”
Daphne frowns, putting her hands on her hips.
He sounds panicked.
“What’s going on?”
“Somebody broke in and trashed the place. It’s pretty bad.”
I watch the muscles in her jaw flex as she white-knuckles the kitchen table, gripping it so hard it looks like she might snap the wood. I slide out of my seat, placing my hand on her back to try and calm her down.
“Hey Denny, this is Frankie, Daphne’s husband? She’s just stepped away for a minute.” I can feel her shaking like a leaf as she presses herself into me. “So what kind of damage are we talking about?”
“Hey Frankie, yeah like I said, it’s trashed,” Denny replies. “Spraypaint, broken chairs, broken glasses… Luckily there isn’t any major structural damage, as far as I can tell, but it’s a lot.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Daphne ends the call and immediately turns on the ball of her foot, heading straight out of the kitchen. I quickly shut the stove off and sprint behind, catching her just after she makes it into our room.
She’s already tugging a pair of jeans over her hips, her face stony.
“Where are your keys?”
I can tell she’s doing her best to keep her temper in check, but even still, her voice is like a knife to my throat.
“Downstairs. On the little table in the hall.”
And just like moments before, she’s already out of the room ahead of me, thundering down the stairs. I barely have time to grab a t-shirt from the dresser and toss it over my head.
She’s in the driver’s seat when I make it outside, with tears of rage streaming down her cheeks. I consider asking her if she wants me to drive, but I think better of it, climbing into the passenger seat and barely buckling up before she peels out of the driveway.
It’s relatively early, so luckily it’s smooth sailing all the way up to the university as far as traffic is concerned, but even still, the winding roads seem to stretch on forever. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daphne bouncing her leg the way she used to when we were kids.
She’s not a patient person, and oddly enough I think that might be one of the reasons she made it in show business. She never waited for anyone. If you were too slow, she simply took the reins and did it herself.
We pull up to the Hi-Dive and Daphne kills the engine, angrily tearing off her seatbelt before she storms out of the car. Audrey and Denny are waiting for us outside, both of them looking like they just walked out of a funeral home.
Daphne doesn’t say a word, walking right past them and ripping open the front door.
“Fuck!”
When I catch up I see it all at once: shattered glass strewn across the floor, broken tables, broken chairs… Even the brand new pool tables have been slashed up.
But the worst part is the spray paint on the walls.
“Holy shit…”
WHORE.
BITCH.
LIAR.
Daphne continues to wander around the scene, taking in the damage.
“When did this happen?”
“We don’t know,” Audrey mutters. “But Denny locked up when we finished the other day.”
“I swear it, Daphne.”
She sighs, all the color drained from her face.
“Don’t worry, I believe you. I know exactly who did this.”
I watch, helpless, as she wanders into the office, and that’s when I hear a pained cry that makes my blood run cold. The three of us rush toward the sound, and catch her just as she drops to her knees in front of what I quickly realize was Joe’s guitar.
Smashed to pieces.
This asshole won’t stop until he’s completely destroyed her.
“He knew what this meant to me— this guitar, this place.” She sobs. “I fucking hate him!”
Audrey rushes over to her as rage bubbles in my chest, mingling with this horrible sense of helplessness. There’s no magic wand I can wave to fix this. I’d give anything to wrap my hands around Cole’s throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out of his tiny little head, but I can’t.
“Daphne, you need to call the police,” Audrey says softly. “Showing up out of nowhere was one thing, but this guy’s clearly out of control.”
She runs her hands through her hair, looking completely lost.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I probably should have before, but we couldn’t really prove anything, and I felt like provoking him more would just— Oh, I have to pick Violet up from her sleepover first, and then—”
“I’ll do that.” I grab the keys out of her hand. “You do what you need to do here, and I’ll see if I can get some reinforcements to help us clean up while I’m at it.”
She sniffles, her eyes still glassy with tears.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m your husband, right? That means it’s my job to make things better.”
And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.