[9:37
PM]PETRA: Jon swears you’re not with him but that you DO have your
phone. Why haven’t you returned my calls? STOP IGNORING
ME!
Delaney sighed and rubbed bleary eyes at her desk in the
shop’s back corner. This Apple watch
message would be snubbed just like the ones before it in favor of the calendar,
product lists and budget sheets that had consumed her last six hours.
Ever since Jon dropped her off – making sure she had both
the watch and her phone – en route from his house to her apartment, she’d been
absorbed with inventory, the upcoming week’s schedule, design notes and how
much extra help they’d need for three upcoming events. It would be nice
to think there was an end in sight, but so far things didn't look
promising.
As Delaney told him, it was June in a florist’s world,
which meant weddings and receptions out the yin yang on top of the usual
workload. She had to get a handle on it all before considering even
a short trip to Chicago. The last three weeks had already kept her away from
work too often, and while Marilee and Ireland were awesome about stepping
in to pick up the slack, bailing on her employees during wedding season was suicide. She had to carry the load, not shovel it off
onto everyone else.
The plan was to get to the flower district early tomorrow
morning, where she would pick up supplies for the first part of the week. She’d put together arrangements for the front
and get prelim work done on Friday’s rehearsal dinner before taking off for an
overnight trip to Chicago.
Ireland had already agreed to work all day tomorrow for
any walk-in orders, and Delaney planned to return sometime on Tuesday to start prep
on the Saturday weddings.
She could make this work, but it would make for a hectic
week with the shop, travel and Jon’s furniture. He’d promised to
help out however he could, so he may end up supervising his own deliveries on
Thursday. The thought of him dealing with delivery guys and furniture
placement made her smile, and as if on cue, her wrist again vibrated.
[9:40
PM]JON: Call your f’n sister please? It’s too late to get my number
changed tonight.
His text was immediately chased by another.
[9:40
PM]PETRA: If you don’t call and tell me what’s in that video, I’m
going to text Jon my condolences for not being able to keep his dick up.
Snatching up the phone that lay under an open file
folder, Delaney’s thumbs flew furiously over the keypad.
[9:41
PM)]DELANEY: Don't you dare!
[9:42
PM]PETRA: Well at least you fucking responded. CALL ME!!
A low growl vented some of Delaney’s frustration at her
sister’s manipulative prowess.
[9:43
PM]DELANEY: Give me a minute
She used that minute to fire off a response to the man
who was supposed to be working but was probably sitting on her couch with a
glass of wine.
[9:44
PM] DELANEY: Sorry. I’ll be home in about an hour. Save
me a drink?
[9:44
PM]JON: Make it 45 min and I’ll save you a bottle.
It was a thirty-minute commute without traffic. That
gave her fifteen to wrap up with Petra, and she silently thanked him for the
time restriction.
[9:45
PM]DELANEY: Deal!
Another quick series of screen taps initiated the call
that her sister answered almost before it rang through. “If this
relationship is going to cause you to blow me off on a regular basis, I’m going
to have a problem with it.”
“I blew you off before I had a relationship,” Delaney
scoffed and tucked the phone against her shoulder to tidy the messy desk. “Jon’s
getting his number changed to avoid you, by the way. Guess you lost
sight of the big picture, stalker.”
“He is not.” Her
sister sounded so very confident of the fact until she tacked on a hesitant, “Is
he?”
The uncertainty had Delaney kicking up a half-smile while
sliding tomorrow’s order forms into a file folder. “He’s mentioned
it several times. It could happen.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to bother the man if you’d stop
avoiding me,” Petra huffed. “Where are you anyway?”
“The shop.”
“Why, for God’s sake? It’s almost ten on a
Sunday night.”
Another file folder with Tuesday’s paperwork was stacked
behind the first. “Because I have crap to do. Can we move
this conversation along?”
“I’m sorry it’s such a monumental pain in the ass to make
time for your sister.”
She put all her folders in the desktop organizer with a
silent but bone-deep groan. Great. Just great. It
was always tiresome consoling a pouty Petra, and Delaney was already worn
out. She didn’t have the energy to even
pretend she had the energy for it.
“And I’m sorry that it’s wedding season. It’s
late, I’m cranky and there’s a ton of stuff that I should do before I go home, but
I’m too tired to do it. Was there a
point to this call?”
There was a begrudging grumble as Petra realized there
would be no mollycoddling tonight. She pulled up her big girl
panties and moved briskly to the point. “What was the big deal about
the video?”
Here’s where things got sticky, and why Delaney had been
avoiding the call in the first place. There was no believable
explanation for the video that didn’t include Poppy force-feeding her sister
heroin.
Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration – and she didn’t technically know that’s what happened,
even after watching the unedited version.
Delaney had held her breath when Jon started it, and upon
realizing that the beginning was the exact same as the other video, she made
herself study it more closely. Even a
critical eye didn’t bring more clarity to the footage she’d already seen. The contents of that tiny baggie couldn’t be
positively identified.
There may not be concrete evidence, her heart became
convinced when the two girls returned to the camera’s eye with Violet rubbing
her nose.
Jon watched it, because he thought someone should and
found that the traumatic part wasn’t what he expected it to be. In his opinion, Violet’s peaceful release of
life was much easier to stomach than Poppy’s hysterical meltdown afterward.
Delaney couldn’t imagine herself ever wanting to see it
firsthand. Just hearing his bare-bones account was enough to wreck
her as well as kindle an urgent need to see her surviving daughter – even if it
meant another trip to jail.
That’s why she was at work on a Sunday night.
Taking another rub at gritty eyes, Delaney told Petra, “I
didn’t watch the whole thing, but what I saw was just the girls arguing.”
“Did you see who gave Violet the heroin?”
Every single kid had disavowed knowledge of drugs at that
party, and when the only suspect was found innocent, everyone then assumed
Violet brought them. Everyone but her family, that is. None
of them believed it to be possible, and in their minds, the source of the
heroin remained a mystery.
It was understandable that Petra wanted the mystery
solved. So had Delaney until she was presented with a solution that
only complicated the mystery. Still, she
just couldn’t bring herself to share what she knew. Not until they
had all the answers.
“No.”
“Damn.” Her sister sighed with disappointment
before gently prodding, “Was it hard seeing Violet?”
The question was surprising and required Delaney to pause
and think back to that first moment this afternoon. She remembered
the breath that got caught in her throat, but rather than sorrow packing it in
and strangling her, there was a warm burst of joy that pushed it free.
“Not like I thought. In a weird way, it felt
like a gift just because I got a few minutes of her life back.”
“Good. ‘Cause I gotta be honest. I
was afraid this would send you over the edge. I’m glad Jon was with
you, but I’d like to see it, too. I’ll come by the shop tomorrow
afternoon.”
“I won’t be here tomorrow or most of Tuesday. Wednesday
would be better.”
“What the fuck? I thought you just said you
were covered up with work?”
“I am, but I still have to take a trip to Chicago. The
video….” She couldn’t lie nor was she willing to tell the truth. “I
just need to see Poppy again. To talk to her.”
Something else that Delaney wasn’t willing to mention was
Jon’s recent visit with the girl, mostly because her feelings were still all
over the place about that. One minute she was grateful he cared
enough to try and mend the rift. The next, she was furious at an
arrogance that presumed he could –
or that his intervention would be welcome. Delaney could handle her
own affairs just fine.
Only she hadn’t, and maybe his prodding would’ve pushed
her out of stagnancy if Hugo and the nanny cam hadn’t gotten to her first. That’s
when she went back to being grateful again.
Mad or glad, there was nothing that could change it now.
He had her best interest at heart. She knew
that but still turned the tables on him with a hypothetical scenario. What if Delaney took it upon herself to make
a secret trip to California that might mend
fences with his former guitarist? How
would he feel about that?
His spasming jaw was enough to tell her the message was
received loud and clear.
“Well, it’s about damn time you made that girl get her
shit together. Do you want me to go with you?”
“She’s a grown woman, Petra. I can’t make her do
anything. This is just another overdue attempt to reconcile. I
want my daughter back, and Jon’s going along to mediate.”
There was a pause in which Delaney feared that pouty
Petra was going to make another appearance, but her sister’s voice was
thoughtful when asking, “Do you realize how incredibly lucky you got with him,
Laney?”
“What? Because he’s rich and famous enough to
get me a last-minute flight?” Delaney drawled, assuming she was going to be
treated to an opportunistic point of view.
“No. Because, as much as it pains me to admit
it, you were right. He’s not a commodity. Jon’s a man,
and a damn good one.”
Well, that was a surprise, but a very pleasant one that
had one of Delaney’s dimples popping as she checked the time. She
had two minutes to get out of here if there was a prayer of making the
forty-five- minute deadline.
“I’m glad you finally recognize that,” she approved,
pushing back in her chair. “And that man is waiting for me, so I’ve
got to go. I’ll call when I get back from Chicago.”
“Not when you get back. As soon as you talk to
Poppy!”
Rolling her eyes and flicking off the light switch,
Delaney pulled the back door shut and inserted the key to lock it.
“Yeah, okay. As soon as I talk to her. Love
you, Pet.”
“Love you, too, Laney.”
*****
Contrary to what Delaney believed, Jon wasn’t just
sitting around drinking wine and waiting for her to come home. Yes,
there was a wineglass on the coffee table next to his Mac, but the contents
were barely touched. He was too engrossed in badgering his employees
on a Sunday night.
“It isn’t a request, it’s an expectation,” he explained
calmly to his tour manager. “You have five months to figure out the
logistics of bringing along two or three more women for five shows. It
ain’t rocket science at this stage of the game. Just factor it into
whatever you’re already doing.”
After receiving the predictable agreement, he
disconnected the call and ran down his mental list.
He’d talked to the private investigator who located Poppy
for him last week and discovered that she did not have a criminal record – nor
did Delaney. Apparently, the charges were dropped the next day and
the restraining order revoked not long after.
Mou would find that interesting and hopefully heartening.
Jon had faith that tomorrow was going to be a good day. Mother
and daughter would reunite, and life would go on as it should, with the two of
them supporting one another to truly heal from their mutual loss.
If only he could get flight confirmation.
His assistant usually had this stuff nailed down in
minutes, yet his phone was still silent two hours later. The worst
possible scenario had them trying to catch a commercial flight, which shouldn’t
be a problem from New York to Chicago, since they came and went every day. He
didn’t want to fly commercial, though.
He wanted a private flight and wanted to know it was done, dammit.
Antsy and bored in the quiet apartment without Delaney,
Jon decided to bullshit with David via text. He picked up the phone
again, only to have it vibrate like magic in his hand.
Kathleen, finally.
Fully expecting to hear from his assistant, he didn’t
bother holding the phone out so that his old-ass eyes could read the caller
name.
“Are we set?”
“I don’t know. Are we?” a sultry voice
inquired with amusement. “I’d like for it to be that easy.”
That wasn’t Kathleen. Nor was it Delaney,
Dorothea or any other female whom he recognized. Taking the phone away
from his ear, he now stretched out his arm to its full length to find that the
call was coming from a blocked number.
Fucking fabulous.
“Who is this?” he demanded none too kindly. Jon
hated when fans got their hands on his personal number. Having it
was one thing. They could amuse themselves with that inside
knowledge if they wanted. He didn’t care as long as they didn’t bug
him.
“I’m hurt that you don’t know,” the mystery woman purred
in a script he’d encountered a time or twelve over the years. He really was
going to have to get a new phone number.
“You have two seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t hang up.”
“Because I will destroy your girlfriend’s business if you
do,” came the immediate counter. “She just left there, you know. And
they don’t have security cameras out front. Anyone could just come
along and vandalize the place, so you’d be wise to shut the fuck up and listen.”
Whoever she was, this woman wasn’t bluffing. Delaney had just
left the shop, which meant this chick was watching when she did. The
knowledge simultaneously pissed him off and made him sick.
“Who are you, and what the hell do you want?”
“What I want, we can discuss tomorrow. Central
Park, next to the zoo entrance. Be there at noon with a smile on
your face,” she instructed sweetly. “We can resolve this whole thing
in under ten minutes.”
“What thing?” he demanded irritably. If this anonymous
bitch thought she was going to jerk his strings like some damn marionette, she
was motherfucking crazy.
“What you should’ve taken care of six months ago,” was
the only cryptic response she’d supply, further inciting Jon.
“I’m not going any damn where until you tell me who the
hell this is.”
There was a soft clucking of tongue followed by a
chiding, “I’m so disappointed in you. I knew you were an asshole,
but I didn’t realize you were a dumbass. It’s Katya, darling. See
you tomorrow.”
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