VANDAL
Ipress my finger to my lips as Elsie stands in the hallway and grins at me. Whoever is asking the questions out in the doorway must have seen her, so I gesture for Elsie to come in and join me.
“We gotta be quiet,” I say when she does as I ask, and I silently stand from where I’m seated on the lid of the toilet to close the door before sitting back down.
“Did your hands get a boo-boo?” she whispers.
I flex my fingers. “Nothing to worry about.”
Thankfully, I hear the door close. I’m hoping it means Daisy has gotten rid of the cops, rather than invited them inside. “No one can know I’m here,” I tell Elsie.
She does that thing again, where she zips her lips and pretends to lock them shut.
But Daisy surprises me by choosing that moment to open the door. “Elsie Marie, why are you out of bed?”
Elsie pouts. “I wanted to see Vandal. He got a boo-boo.” The kid’s eyes tear up as she points to my fingers. Which is wild because she got up close and personal with my whole bashed-in head thing earlier and didn’t bat an eyelid.
“He’ll be fine in the morning,” Daisy says. “You need to go back to bed.”
Elsie scoots closer to me until she’s sandwiched between my knees. “I just wanna hang out with Vandal.” The voice comes out on a whine, and while I don’t know much about kids, I know a tired one when I hear one.
“The blinds are down and the curtains are closed,” Daisy says. “It should be okay if you come out.”
I stand up, but Elsie doesn’t really move out of my way. So I grab her and lift her onto one of my boots. “Hold on tight,” I say, and Daisy rolls her eyes as we move together.
“If she slips off and hits her head…” Daisy warns.
“I’ll get stitches like Vandal,” Elsie says almost gleefully. “We’d be twins.”
“Not sure what I did to deserve such devotion, Els.” But the kid looks up at me with a sleepy smile.
“You want some coffee?” Daisy asks. “I feel like it’s gonna be a long and sleepless night.”
I should go. I know I should. I’ve got no right to hang around here when I stink of booze and have someone else’s blood on my T-shirt. “I’d love some.”
She steps back and lets me carry Elsie back into the living room.
I didn’t get a proper look at it earlier.
Everything in it is small. A two-seater sofa, a round table with two flimsy plastic chairs.
A corner kitchen with barely any counter space.
And a stroller with a doll and a teddy bear in it tucked into the corner.
I turn so Elsie can see where I’m looking. “Is that Sir Bearington?”
Elsie nods as she clings to my leg. “It is. And Lilah. She’s new. I got her for my birthday three days ago because I’m five.” She steps off my boot so she can hold out all five fingers on her hand to show me.
“Happy birthday, Elsie,” I say.
Daisy grabs a hoodie that was on a small hook behind the door and tugs it over her head.
Shame, I was enjoying the view. Especially the way those soft shorts hugged her ass cheeks.
“Take a seat,” Daisy says. “I’ll get the pot started while the two of you explain to me why you’re here.”
I look at the furniture that all looks like it came straight out of a doll’s house and opt to sit on the floor with my back to the wall beneath the window. Don’t want to be responsible for breaking any of what they’ve got.
In the quiet, I can hear the slow and steady drip of the faucet, and one of the lights in the kitchen flickers.
“He came ‘cos he’s brave,” Elsie says.
Her defense of me rubs right up against everything else I’ve been feeling lately.
“Not sure that’s quite true,” I admit.
Elsie looks at me like I just told the biggest lie. Eyes wide, mouth open, she shakes her head. “You made them turn off the music. And they would never listen to Momma.”
“Cream?” Daisy asks.
“Please.”
She battles to open the fridge door, since it’s not straight on its hinges, and man, once it’s open, the fridge is depressingly empty. No ketchup on the door. A Tupperware container of some leftovers. But there is some creamer on the top shelf, and she grabs it.
Elsie has grabbed both her doll and teddy and comes to sit right next to me on the floor. “Can I have some coffee?” she asks.
Daisy smiles and shakes her head. “You know the answer to that one. You’re already too awake for one o’clock in the morning.”
Elsie looks up at me. “She never lets me,” she whispers as if I’m her co-conspirator. “It has caffeine.” She says the word like it’s dirty.
“Your mom ain’t wrong.”
“Can Vandal take a shower?” Elsie asks.
“Oh my gosh, Elsie,” Daisy says before turning to me. “I’m sorry about that.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re right about the caffeine. And Elsie’s right about me needing a shower. It’s been a long…well…” He gestures to the scars on his face and head.
“I can only imagine,” Daisy says, handing me the coffee. “There you go. Tell me if you need more cream.”
After seeing the state of her fridge, I wouldn’t ask for more cream even if my life depended on it. I take a sip of it, and it tastes like gold. “It’s perfect.”
Daisy sits on the sofa and curls her legs beneath her. “So, Elsie Marie, how did you end up calling Vandal?”
She points to a piece of paper attached with a magnet. “I called the number on the fridge.”
“You called Annie?”
“I think so.”
Daisy reaches for her phone, and I’m guessing she looks at recent calls. Then she smiles at Elsie. “You were so close, sweetheart. You dialed a six instead of an eight.” She turns to me and recites a number. “That you?” she asks.
I nod. “It is.”
“Sorry it disturbed your night, and we’re very grateful.” A small wrinkle appears on the bridge of Daisy’s nose. “Do we…owe you anything?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. They been bothering you a while?”
“Every day,” Elsie says.
“We’ve only been here less than a week, but it’s been like this non-stop. Thought it would be a bit like fresh meat in the cellblock and that he’d give up. But he’s…” She gestures like I should know what she means but doesn’t want to say it in front of Elsie.
“Gotcha. New in town?”
Daisy nods. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t expand. Doesn’t tell me where she moved from or why she moved here. And I suppose it’s none of my business. Because once I walk out of here tonight, I’m gonna go back to the clubhouse and sleep like a baby. I got on my bike. I fought.
So, everything is going to be fine, right?
I’m fixed.
At least, that’s what I try to convince myself while I sit in this soft little haven with Daisy and Elsie.
“I have a focal lens cataract. Can you see it?” Elsie launches herself across my lap and uses three fingers to pull her lower eyelid down while she attempts to look up.
“It’s the little white dot in the middle of her pupil,” Daisy adds.
“Oh, yeah, I see it,” I say once I’ve homed in on what they’re talking about and covered the eye that blurs what I’m seeing.
“Momma says it makes me special.” Elsie looks to Daisy. “What does it make me have trouble with?”
Daisy looks to me. “It can make things a little blurry at times, and she has problem with depth perception because of it.”
Elsie chuckles. “I walk into doorframes sometimes.”
“Ouch.”
She reaches out her fingers toward my eye, and I flinch automatically. She snatches her hand away. “What did you do?”
I skip the details because a five-year-old doesn’t need to know I’m fallible. “I had to have my skull rebuilt here. Like with metal plate and bits of bone.”
“How did they get to your skull?”
I look to Daisy in desperation. She definitely doesn’t need to know that the surgery required them peeling my skin from my skull and pulling it down to reveal bone.
Or that it was worse than all the scans had shown once they got in there.
And how I have nightmares imagining what I must have looked like with my eyebrows down by my chin.
Havoc teased it was like I got a free facelift.
I want to throw up at the thought of it.
“The doctors are really smart and know how to do it. But, it’s made it difficult for me to see things clearly,” I admit.
And Elsie links her arm through mine. “We’re twins.”
“Yeah, Els. We’re twins.”
“Go hop into bed, Elsie,” Daisy says. “I’ll come tuck you in, in a second.”
“No. I need to give Vandal something,” Elsie says, getting up, abandoning her doll and Sir…Bear.
Lord knows what this kid is gonna give me. When she comes back into the room, at first it looks like she isn’t going to give me anything.
“Momma gives me a gold star when I brush my teeth all week. But you can have one for being brave.”
Her little fingers slap it on my leather cut, right next to the little diamond patch that declares me a one-percenter. And I try to fight back the wild tears that sting.
Five points of gold for bravery.
Fuck me.
“Thanks, Els,” I say gruffly.
“Els,” she says, repeating the abbreviation of her name. “Good night, Vandal.”
Daisy watches Elsie curiously, and I wonder if she can even remotely understand what the feel of those little fingers pressing against me means right now when I’m this stuck.
When I’m at this level of bottom.
Daisy stands and follows Elsie, but before she reaches the hallway, she stops and turns. “I’m just gonna go tuck her in. Feel free to sit there and finish your coffee…and please don’t steal anything?”
I raise my cup. “Your shit’s safe.” And I mean it. I don’t fuck with people who don’t deserve it. Plus, I don’t want to say it, but there’s nothing in here worth stealing.
With them both gone and the low-grade itch inside telling me it’s time to lubricate and medicate, the dripping tap starts to get on my last nerve. I understand why water torture is so goddamn successful.
I stand to leave but then realize I can be helpful. I tug my multipurpose pocketknife out of my cut, then take the tap apart, re-situate the washer, and stop the drip.
Down the hallway, I can hear Daisy reading a story with Elsie. It’s about some hippos who like sunbathing on a beach. It’s cute and lyrical, and Elsie often joins in with the bits she knows.
The light fitting takes a minute. The light in the ceiling has come loose from the fitting, making a loose connection. Almost burn my fingers on the bulb before my brain kicks into gear and I turn the light switch off. Probably saved myself from electrocution too.
The fridge door is a little trickier, and I’m still working on it when Daisy comes back into the living room.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing shit,” I mutter. “At least I’m trying to.” I tip my chin in the direction of the sink. “Stopped your drip. And fixed the light.”
Daisy looks around, a pretty smile blooming on her face. “That water drip and flickering light combo gave me a headache the first night here. Thank you. But you really didn’t need to.”
I close the fridge door and open it again. Then repeat the action. “You try it.”
She steps between me and the door. Not close enough that we touch, but close enough that I can catch the scent of her perfume or laundry detergent or whatever it is that makes her smell so clean and pure, I don’t want to reach and touch her in case I dirty her.
Daisy opens and closes the door, then sighs. “Perfect.” She turns around and puts her back to the fridge. “I don’t know if it’s fate or something that Elsie misdialed, but…” She shrugs.
“Kinda feel the same way.”
She steps up onto her toes and brushes a kiss to my cheek. It was way too fast, but I don’t think to hold onto her. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“My pleasure.”
It would be nice to talk with Daisy some more.
Alone.
Not even in a hot and dirty kind of way. Just in a peaceful kind of way.
But I don’t deserve this kind of happy. And even I can smell myself.
I shouldn’t be stinking up her place. And the itch that burns like fire through my veins is starting again. The one that I drink to switch off.
“Take care of yourself, Daisy. And lock the door when I’m gone,” I say, before I walk to the door, open it, and then before I close it behind me, I think of one more thing to add. “You ever need me again, just call.”