13. Vandal
VANDAL
Daisy hasn’t returned any of my messages.
I know I should be focused on the whole thing Knox is talking about. The raid on the compound, how we’re lucky the injuries aren’t more severe, although I’m pretty sure North winced because the brother got a flesh wound across his thigh that needed some gnarly clean up and stitching.
But none of it is as important to me as the fact that Daisy hasn't once found the time to reply. I know she's probably struggling to reconcile what happened yesterday, but I really wish she'd reach out to me so that we can do it together.
I also want to tell her that I haven’t had a drink yet today, even though my skin itches and my head aches. If I’m not thinking about how Daisy hasn’t responded, I’m thinking about a drink.
I’ve had a glass close to my lips about twelve times.
Once I licked the surface of the liquor. Maybe that does count as a drink. But I poured the rest of it down the sink while cursing myself.
Knox has been on a tear since the water attack happened.
He beat the shit out of the two sentries who were supposed to be watching from the roof.
One of them was a pretty solid prospect, the other a hangaround with an ability to distract.
Neither of them was looking at the water when the boats arrived.
“North, Havoc, can the two of you stay back? Got some logistics I wanna discuss with you. The rest of you can go,” Knox says. I’ve no idea if I just gapped out and missed some important instruction for myself.
When I get to my phone, I see a missed call and a text from a few minutes earlier, both from Daisy. I check the voicemail first, just to hear her voice, and my heart tumbles in my chest as I listen.
“Vandal, hey it's me, Daisy. I'm really stuck and wondered if you could help by picking up Elsie, please.” I pat my cut to make sure I have my keys and wallet, then start walking out to the lot as she continues.
“I know I haven't returned your messages, but I honestly don't know what to say. And I know it probably makes me a terrible person calling on you for help, but I don’t know who else to ask.
My car has just broken down on the side of the road.
I'm twenty minutes away from Elsie. She gets out of camp soon and I really need someone to go pick her up.
I can call the camp and let them know if you're able while I stay and figure out what to do with the car. If you get this, could you call me back?”
Hell, yes, I can help.
I immediately dial her number.
“Vandal. Oh, thank God,” she says. “Did you get my message?”
I glance down at the text message.
Daisy: Hey, Vandal. Hate to ask. But I need some help.
“I did. Where are you?” I catch Ridge and Sunny heading to the garage and wave them over.
“I went to the wholesale club just off the highway. I’m going to see if I can get the car towed on some kind of monthly plan if possible, but I need someone to pick up Elsie, and Maren was in the middle of an airboat tour.”
“I’ve got Elsie. And sit tight. The club has a tow truck. We’ll come out and get your car. Sunny and Ridge are on their way.”
“Really?” she says, and there’s a mix of relief and surprise.
“Really. Pretty certain I’m always gonna come get you if you need me. Just send me your location and Elsie’s camp.”
She blows out a breath. “Thank you.”
“Let me go get Els. But stay back from the car in case anyone doesn’t see it parked. You don’t want to be in it if someone hits it.”
I hang up on Daisy just as Sunny and Ridge reach me. “Hey, can you two do me a favor? Daisy’s car broke down, and she needs a tow back to our garage. But she also needs me to go get Elsie from camp. Can you two deal with the truck and drop Daisy off at her apartment for me, please?”
Sunny nods. “Sure thing. Just tell us where we’re going.”
“Head out toward the highway, and I’ll text you her location.”
It takes me about fifteen minutes to reach Elsie, and it’s when I see her excited face that I realize the rookie mistake I just made.
I came on my bike, and it stands out among the minivans. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to bring my truck.
Elsie jumps up and down and claps her hands and yells and points to everyone around her, gesturing for them to look at my bike.
I’ve had women on the back of my bike before. No one special. When we have a cookout, some of the single guys will give rides to the club girls. But I’ve never had an excited toddler—wait, are five-year-olds still called toddlers?—on my bike before.
Especially not one bouncing and squealing like Elsie is.
I park the bike and climb off, aware of the stares of some of the other parents doing pickup, and at least two of the camp workers.
“Vandal,” Elsie shouts running to me. “You came for me.”
I can’t help but grin at the kid’s enthusiastic greeting as she breaks free of the people she was standing with and charges at me. I bend down and scoop her up, tossing her a little into the air while she deep-down belly laughs. Blonde curls bounce when I catch her.
“Hey, Elsie. You good to go?”
“Erm. Are you…Vandal?” the woman asking fidgets nervously as she asks.
“I am,” I say as Elsie shouts, “He is.”
“Okay. Well, Daisy said you’d be getting her.”
She looks over at the bike.
Heck, I do too.
“Can my friends come see your bike?” Elsie asks. But before I answer, Elsie starts calling out names. “Hayden. Connie. Marco. Come look at Vandal’s bike.”
“Elsie,” I say quietly, taking in the snooty look on some of the parents’ faces.
I can only imagine what they’re seeing. The ugly scars, the shitty hair, the leather cut, the rings, the bike.
In their heads I’m sure they’re frantically trying to come up with plausible excuses as to why their kids can’t come over to see it.
“Not sure their folks appreciate me as much as you do.”
She puts her hand on my cheek. “Then let’s not show them your bike.”
“Come on, Els. Let’s get you home.” I put her down, and she reaches for my hand, before skipping alongside me.
“Am I going to ride on your bike?” she asks.
“Yeah. And I think your mom might kill me when she finds out.”
Elsie laughs gleefully. “This is the best day ever.”
“Yeah, well, remember that when your mom is screaming at me for being irresponsible. How good are you at holding on?”
“I’m the bestest holder-on.”
I glance down at her utterly beaming face. “Yeah. I just bet you are. Shit, I didn’t even think to bring you a helmet.”
A quick look inside the pannier provides a bungee cord which gives me an idea. I can strap her to me. And I’ve already decided that I’m gonna take back roads I can ride really slow to get back. Except for what happened the night I was…well, outside of that, I haven’t ever come off my bike.
One of the moms nearby pops the trunk of her car, then offers me a cycling helmet from the back. “It’s not much protection, but it might help.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Doing her mom a favor, but in the rush to get here, didn’t think about the getting her home part.”
“Vandal is the best helper,” Elsie says. “Some men were being really noisy and he—”
“Anyway,” I say, cutting Elsie off and putting my hand over her mouth. “Thank you. And we need to get going.”
Elsie wiggles against me, laughing, and the worry eases.
“Well, drive safe,” the mom says, looking a little concerned. “Elsie can bring the helmet back to camp.”
I nod. “I’ll make sure she does.”
“I was only going to tell them how you smashed up their music,” Elsie says as I crouch to put the helmet on her head. The straps are fiddly and small to my large fingers.
“I know. But it’s better that we keep that between you and me and your mom.”
Elsie sighs. “Okay. Can I get on your bike now?”
“Sure thing.” I lift her up and perch her on the back.
“Take a photo of me,” she says, wriggling forward to put her hands on the handlebars.
I tug out my phone and get Elsie in the frame, and something deep in my soul tugs hard. I don’t know how this kid ended up where she is, but I know none of it could possibly be her fault. And I want to fix it, almost more than I want to fix myself.
“Let me see,” she shouts when I go to put my phone in my cut pocket.
So, I open it and show her, and she throws her hand on my arm as she leans close to look at it. “Can I ride it by myself?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not for at least twenty years. And even then, maybe not.”
She shrugs as if it’s no bother. “I’ll just ride on the back of yours with you.”
I smile at that, thinking about her fighting with Daisy for that spot. “Speaking of, let me get on there. Wiggle back.”
She does as I ask, and once I'm seated in front of her, I take the bungee cord and wrap it around the two of us before fastening it in front of my stomach. I have no idea how wriggly she's going to be on the back of the bike, and I don't want her falling off by accident.
"Okay, Elsie, I want you to make sure you keep hold of me all the time. I'm going to go really slow so that we don't have an accident. Are you ready to go?"
She presses herself to my back and wraps her arms as far around me as they'll go. I feel her little hands dig into my T-shirt, and I pat them once before I start the bike.
When the engine rumbles beneath us, she lets out an excited cheer, and I can’t help the grin that plasters my own face.
Because I remember the joy of sitting on a bike for the first time. I still feel it. At least, I had until the accident. But there’s something about re-experiencing that feeling with Elsie that makes it even more special.
It’s a reminder that something I thought I’d lost was capable of being found.
So, I ride…at half the speed limit. I rev the bike. I accelerate then slow down. We pass cypress trees and marshes with sawgrass. Elsie shouts when she sees different birds and an alligator crossing the road.
Her laughter is audible above the bike engine. She stretches her legs out wide, she wriggles, but she never lets go.
“Go faster,” she shouts.
I do, but I’m still not even close to the speed limit.
North passes me headed in the opposite direction. He salutes as he rides by, and Elsie repeats the action back to him.
When we pull into the parking lot of Daisy’s apartment building, Sunny and Ridge are just dropping her off. Her car is on the back of the truck, and she’s squeezed in the cab with them, Sunny sitting in the middle.
“Momma,” Elsie squeals as we pull up next to them and Daisy steps out. She looks pretty in loose, floaty pants and a white T-shirt that hugs her perfectly. However, the expression on her face tells me she’s not as excited about the bike ride as Elsie is.
“You picked her up on your bike?” she asks, cooly.
“Didn’t really think about the alternative until I got to camp. The whole ‘picking up kids’ thing is new.”
“Connie’s mom let me borrow her helmet,” Elsie adds helpfully as I unfasten the bungee cord from around us. “And we had the best time, and Vandal went fast.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “From ten to twenty miles per hour and back again. I stuck to back roads, and we were half the speed limit the whole time.”
Daisy reaches for Elsie and helps her clamber off the back. I miss my little biker buddy already. She helped me find something that had been missing. The joy of the ride.
“Well, that’s a relief.” She steps close enough to whisper so Elsie doesn’t hear. “Please tell me you’re sober?”
“Of course, I am. What do you take me for?” And I hate myself because I know why she’s asking and feel ashamed that she even has to.
Her shoulders drop at that. “Sorry. I just needed to hear it. Thank you for getting her for me.”
“Yeah. Right,” I say, some of the luster of it tarnished by her reaction.
“Momma. I had the best day ever,” Elsie says, tugging at her hand.
“Must be the fiftieth time you’ve said that, kid,” I say, trying to not let my soured mood taint what was otherwise a wholesome experience. “Don’t forget to give Connie that helmet back.”
Sunny comes over to join us. “Good to see you on your bike, brother,” he says.
I acknowledge him with a nod.
“Do you want a turn on the back of Vandal’s bike?” Elsie asks him, but she buries herself against my leg, staying close. “He’s a good rider.”
“That’s a glowing recommendation,” Sunny says, “but I have my own bike.” He turns to me.
“What are we doing about her car? In the mess yesterday, I think her radiator got nicked by a…” He glances at Elsie, which means what he needs to say isn’t likely suitable for her ears.
“You know. Flying thing. It caused a slow leak.”
“How much do I owe you for the tow?” Daisy asks. “I’ll have to pay you in installments. You can just leave it there while I save up to get it fixed.”
I tip my chin to the truck. “Take it back to the garage and let’s get Ridge to replace it. I’ll pay for it.”
Sunny nods and turns back to the truck.
“No, wait. I can take care of it. I don’t need you to—”
“I got it, Daisy. Technically it happened because of the club, so let us make it right.”
I can see the mental argument she’s having with herself. She needs her car, but she wants to be independent.
“It’ll be hard to get Elsie to and from camp without it,” I say to encourage her to accept my help.
She sighs and looks at her daughter for a moment before returning her gaze to mine. She has such pretty eyes, but I doubt she’d appreciate me telling her that right now.
“Okay. For now, I need it fixed. But you will give me the bill, and I will make it right.”
“Whatever you say,” I say with absolutely no intention of ever taking her money. I run my fingers through Elsie’s hair. “Thank you for being so good on my bike, sweetheart.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “You guessed she’d be mad.”
The corner of Daisy’s lips twitch.
“Nah. She’s not as mad as I thought she’d be,” I say.
Daisy gives in and smiles. “I’m grateful. Thank you. For all of it.”
I shrug. “You’re welcome. See you around.”
Daisy looks at me as if waiting for me to say something else. I secretly hope she asks me to stay, to hang out, but she doesn’t.
I raise my hand to Daisy, brush a knuckle gently over her cheek, and then I’m gone.