33. Daisy
DAISY
By the time I leave Maren outside the bait shop, I have a paint-by-numbers kit on the passenger seat, beside two tubs of pink frosting.
I went over there after my shift to snatch a quick coffee with Maren before I needed to pick Elsie up.
She insisted Elsie would need the icing for reasons she wouldn’t explain, and as I drive, I have Vandal in my ear telling me he’s found me a truck.
“No,” I say again, which seems clear enough to me.
“Well, lucky for you, I wasn’t asking for approval.” His voice is low through the speakers of the car, and I admit it makes me rub my thighs together.
“Then why are you telling me?” I glance in the rearview mirror, and I see a car I could have sworn I saw earlier today, but then it turns left at the next light, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Because I’m guessing it’s polite to keep my woman informed when I’m about to solve a problem for her.”
I roll my eyes at that, even as I grin. “I have a car.”
“What you have is a death trap with cupholders.”
“She has been with me a long time,” I argue.
Vandal huffs. “The passenger door only opens if you put your hip into it like you’re trying to break into your own car.”
I stroke the dash and emphasize, “She has character.”
“She has rust and not a lot of suspension left.”
I smile despite myself, because this is what it feels like to have somebody who takes care of you. Vandal has bulldozed his way into the ordinary parts of my day, like he’s the man who was put on this earth to take care of me.
“Thank you for thinking of me, but I don’t need you to buy me anything,” I say as I indicate to pull over and park outside of the camp.
“Good, because I’m not buying you anything.”
“Now I’m confused. Didn’t you spend the last ten minutes trying to convince me to accept the truck?”
“I did. But as seeing you don’t want it, it’s not for you. I’m buying Elsie something safer to ride in.”
My mouth opens, then closes. “That’s cheating, and it’s a low blow.”
“So? Come on, Daze. You’re gonna love it. It’s white. Has bull bars and a huge crash test rating. Let me wrap the two of you up in it.”
I debate saying no, but in a sign that’s obviously been sent to make me accept, two lights suddenly flash on my dash. One is oil, and the other I have no clue about. “Okay. You had me at Elsie’s safety. Thank you. But I don’t expect you to buy me expensive things.”
“Yes!” Vandal says with too much exuberance. “I’m gonna pay for it on my way home tonight.”
I can’t believe I’m letting him buy me a truck without seeing it first, but I trust him.
“And while I don’t expect anything in return,” he adds, “you can show me how happy you are with it once Elsie goes to bed.”
I laugh at that. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”
“If you need hints, I had thoughts about taking you while you’re still wearing those exceptionally short and stretchy sleeps shorts, the pink ones.”
“You ripped the white pair, and I loved them.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know the replacement white pair is already on its way to our home, and I’ll order a new pink pair as soon as I hang up the phone.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
But I remember how good it felt. His big hands lifting my hips up off the bed.
Of him building the desperation, trying to reach my pussy by stretching the leg of the shorts, of him rubbing and sucking on my clit through the fabric.
And then the delicious rip of impatience, when he couldn’t wait any longer to fuck me.
“What I am,” he says, “is fucking hot for the woman I’m gonna marry one day.”
My heart leaps and my hands shake. I pull over to the side of the road near my usual parking spot to pick up Daisy. While we no longer need to walk quite the same given it’s safe to play and walk in Vandal’s neighborhood, we both like the walk back to the car after pickup.
“You mean that?” I ask.
“Every word. But I’m not asking right this minute, because even Sunny wouldn’t be so stupid as to ask a woman to marry him when he couldn’t even see her face.
But I will. And I’ll ask Elsie too. But given the hassle I had trying to get you to take the truck, I’ll need better strategies to ask you to marry me. ”
“Van,” I say, his name all breathy. “For the record, I’d say yes if you asked.”
There’s silence for a second, and then I hear him cough to clear his throat. “Good to know, Daze. So.” He seemingly shakes off the roughness in his throat. “I’m gonna pick up some groceries on the way home. Steak and veggies okay?”
“It’s tough to switch from talking about marriage to protein choices, but steak is a yes for me. Elsie has trouble chewing steak, so maybe chicken for her.”
“Chicken and steak. Got it.” Vandal chuckles. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you, sweetheart.”
It’s the first time he said he loves me. And I’m not even there to see his face.
“I love you too. With my whole freaking heart.”
“You do?” he asks. “That just slipped out, but I mean every word. Not freaking you out by going too fast or anything, right?”
“Definitely not. I see Elsie so I’m gonna go. But I can’t wait for you to tell me again in person when I see you.”
“I’ll make sure to tell you every fucking day. Bye, sweetheart.”
We say a final goodbye, and I hang up the phone and just sit there smiling for a heartbeat. The sun is on my face, I have a man who loves me, and my daughter is happily waiting in the lot of the camp with two other girls and their supervisor.
She’s holding the pink backpack she convinced Vandal to buy her online, when he also bought me a barista-style coffee maker, and one little ankle sock is higher than the other.
“Momma,” she shouts when she sees me. Her supervisor acknowledges me with a wave as Elsie runs to me at full force. I bend down to catch her like the sticky missile she is.
“Oh,” I grunt on impact as I wrap my arms around her. “That’s a serious hug.”
“I had the best day,” she says. “We got to paint volcanoes and mine had extra lava, and everyone said mine was the best.”
“Wow. That sounds like a lot of fun.”
She leans back a little in my arms. “Carly said volcanoes can’t be pink, but one of the camp counselors who knows art, said art is about…exp…exp…”
“Expression?” I ask.
“Yes!” Elsie cries. “Expression. What’s expression mean, Momma?”
I put Elsie back down on the ground and take her hand. “It’s about you letting what’s inside you out.”
“Like when I’m sick? Like barf?”
I huff a laugh at that. “No. Like, your thoughts and ideas, and the way you like to dress, and the things you’re interested in.”
She runs her fingers along the metal fence as we walk. “In that case, I am full of expression.”
“That you are, sweetheart.”
We weave our way back onto the street so we can head in the direction of the car.
“Can we swim again tonight?” Elsie asks.
Seeing as Vandal is picking up dinner, I do have a little time I could spend outside with her. “Sure. We’ll put you in your swimsuit when we get home.”
“Do you think Havoc will come? Because he’s so funny when he jumps in the water. And Vandal makes the biggest splash, and he always says sorry if it splashes my face.”
There are so many tiny pieces of proof that my daughter is healing. Small, ordinary things that would mean nothing to anyone else, but to me they’re everything. Like how she now believes big men can be silly in swimming pools and gentle with stuffed animals and apologize.
“I’m sure we can ask them when Vandal gets home.”
I wonder why I always call him by his road name. I mean, the short form, Van, sounds to others like it could be his name, but—
The shadows come out of nowhere. Then a hand clamps around Elsie’s upper arm hard enough for her fingers to rip from mine. And I can’t process what’s happening fast enough to stop it. My brain refuses to accept that a man has my child.
A man I don’t know has his hands on Elsie.
“Momma,” Elsie screams, her little face contorted with fear.
Arms band around me from behind as I try to reach her. Another man. “Elsie! Get off her.”
Clawing and fighting, I scream for help, as the man takes Elsie to a silver SUV idling at the curb, the rear door already open. Elsie fights him, kicking and twisting. Her face is red with exertion. One sneaker goes skidding along the asphalt.
Oh, God.
It was the one that had the tracker in it.
“Fight, Elsie. Fight.”
I do the same. Stamping on my captor’s foot, throwing my head back to head butt him, but he’s taller than I am, and I just hit his chest.
“Let her go,” I scream.
People turn. Someone even shouts. People start running to help. But the man throws Elsie into the back seat of the SUV like she weighs nothing. It begins to move as the man holding me releases me, shoving me forward so I stumble as he runs to climb into the moving vehicle.
Then it’s taking my baby away from me.
“No!”
I take five steps to run after it, then change direction and jump into my car. As soon as I’m inside, I’m swallowed by silence and the sound of my sobs. My hand shakes while I start the engine and pull out to follow the SUV as it swings onto the main road.
The paint-by-numbers and frosting containers slip off the front seat.
“Dial Vandal,” I say, and the ringtone blasts through my speakers.
“Let me guess, you’ve been overthinking the truck,” he says with a teasing tone.
“They took her,” I sob. “They have Elsie, Van. And I’m following them, but I don’t know what to do when I get to her.”
“Fuck, they have Elsie.” I hear a glass smash and echo of the ferocity in his curse. I don’t think the words were directed to me, and I pray he’s in the clubhouse. “Okay, Daze. Breathe. We’re coming.” I hear him shout to Havoc that he needs a helmet with an earpiece now.
The SUV weaves ahead of me. I’ve never been an aggressive driver, and I’m almost too scared to try the kind of maneuvers they’re pulling. What if I crash or spin? I’ll lose them and never see my daughter again. But if I let them pull away from me, she might disappear forever.
“Daisy, I’m getting on my bike. Keep them in sight. They probably know you’re following them but stay back a bit so they can’t try to take out your tires or something.”
The or something worries me. I know he means me getting shot at instead of the tires. But I’m not losing sight of Elsie, no matter the cost.
“Gimme details,” Vandal says. “Where are you?”
“I left the camp. They’re headed for the Tamiami trail. If they get her to Miami, I’ll never see her again.”
The words come out on a sob.
“I’m about ten minutes behind you, but we’re riding fast. And it’s a long fucking ride to Miami. Even if they get on that road, we have lots of time to catch up to ‘em.”
“I can’t lose my baby.” The road signs blur with my tears.
“You won’t,” he says. “Under your seat is a gun. It’s legal, clean, and registered to me. I put it there in case you ever needed it. The code on the box is 0727, the day we met.”
“I’ve never fired a gun.”
“I’ll talk you through it. Just…stay fucking safe until I get there.”
Tears fall down my face, but I swipe them away. “Promise me you’ll get her back, no matter what happens to me.”
“Daze. We can’t talk like this. I’ll lose my shit. Let’s focus on getting you both home safe.”
“I need to know you’ll get her, Van. Please. Promise me.”
His voice cracks. “You have my word.”
The SUV is three cars ahead. I push through a yellow light as it turns red, and it earns me a honk from someone I don’t know. In spite of the situation, I find myself raising my hand in apology.
I start to recite details to Vandal to kill the minutes. A description of the SUV, the license plate, how many men I think are in the truck. I tell him landmarks, things I’m passing. Street names. Exits.
“You’re being brave, Daze. I’m proud of you,” Vandal says when I’m done, and his words nearly undo me.
Because I don’t feel brave. I feel like every part of my skin has been peeled off and my nerve endings have been exposed to the blistering sun.
“I need to call the police,” I say suddenly.
“They won’t get there faster than me, and I won’t be able to make sure they never bother you again if you do.”
I read between the lines… that he won’t be able to kill them. I never thought I’d be an advocate of murder, but knowing there’s a gun beneath my seat and my daughter is getting farther and farther ahead of me, I would happily put a bullet through their brains.
“Okay. But I’m so scared…what if they…what if they…?” I can’t bring myself to verbalize the things I’m imagining. Horrors far worse than any she’s ever known.
“No. Daze. We can’t do this. I know you’re terrified, but you need to try to swallow that so you can think clearly.”
“We’re pulling onto the trail now. Van, they have one of those powerful SUVs. My car won’t keep up with them if the road’s empty and they go fast.”
He huffs at that. “Good thing you’re getting a new truck.”
My next sob is an ugly mix of fear and gratitude I’m not alone, Vandal feeling like a pillar of strength I can lean on rather than flee from.
“Who is with you?” I manage to ask. After what he told me about his assault, I pray he isn’t alone, that it isn’t just me and him.
“Look in your rearview mirror.”
I do, and I’ve never been so relieved to see so much chrome. Cars are moving out of the way. And somewhere amongst all that metal and leather is the one man I trust to get my daughter back.