Deliver Her from Evil Page 15

  I stop suddenly, contemplating his offer. “Have you ever even been around kids all by yourself?” I ask, dumbfounded that he would even offer.

  He turns to look at me, a confused expression smeared across his face. “Seriously?” he asks. “I love kids. I have about a million nieces and nephews that I babysit all the time.

  “You do?” I say, stunned that he is that involved with his family.

  “Yeah, apparently my sisters are competing for the steel vagina award or something. I swear, as soon as one announces they’re pregnant, another pipes up and tries to steal her thunder with a similar announcement. We are a family of one-uppers.”

  “Wow, lots of warm and fuzzies. I bet Christmases are super special,” I tease.

  “Really, though, I don’t have anything going on today. I would be happy to help.”

  I look down at my watch and bite my lip as we walk into the kitchen. I don’t look up until I hear Royce chuckling next to me.

  “Oh, my God,” I gasp as I stare down at my child who is supposed to be ready to walk out the door. Instead of her shoes and jacket on, she’s standing in the middle of the kitchen with her favorite Disney princess dress and tiara on drinking from the maple syrup bottle. When she notices us, she hides the bottle behind her back and smiles a goopy grin at us.

  Royce wipes the smile from his face and slowly approaches her. “You know what’s cool about being a grown up, little miss?” he asks as he takes the bottle from her hands and sits down cross-legged next to her. She immediately feels at ease and takes a place next to him on the kitchen floor as she shakes her head.

  I tilt my head in awe of what I’m witnessing, my little girl and this tough rocker bonding over maple syrup.

  He leans in like he has a secret, and she leans in to hear it. “You don’t have to hide the bottle from anyone,” he tells her with a smile before taking a big chug of the syrup.

  They both giggle at his playfulness, while I nearly throw up. “I can’t believe you just did that!” I say incredulously. “Not even taking into account how unsanitary that was, it was just, well, gross,” I add with a body shiver.

  They both laugh even more at my obvious discomfort. “Go. I’ll take care of her. I’ll even swing back by this evening and bring dinner and a movie over.”

  I look back and forth between the two of them and then down at my watch. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely! We’ll make pancakes and have a princess rock concert before we go. Just leave me a car seat, please.”

  “Pancakes,” Olivia squeals. “I need a fok n’ knife,” she adds, entirely leaving out the r in fork.

  “Dear God, did she just say fucking knife?” he asks with a snort. “I’m not a parent, but I’m pretty sure a four-year-old with a potty mouth is frowned upon in most social circles.”

  “She’s a little Dutchy,” I defend. “Those R’s get left out a lot. She is saying she needs a fork and knife.”

  He holds up his hand for Liv to high-five and smiles at her. “Either way, you’re one kickass little munchkin. Let’s get our pancake on.” My heart melts a little watching the two interact together. Royce barely knows me, let alone my daughter, yet here he is stepping in to play babysitter. I’m appreciative and impressed all in one.

  Liv hops up to give me a hug. “Bye, Momma,” she says, wrapping her sticky hands around my legs. I reach down and kiss the top of her head before she runs back to Royce.

  Royce looks to me and throws his hand up in surrender. “Bye, Mom,” he chuckles and waves.

  I exhale loudly. “Okay, but please be safe.”

  I turn my attention to Olivia who has found herself enamored by this tatted man on our kitchen hardwood. “Liv, this is Mommy’s friend Royce. He’s going to take you over to Grace and Emma’s house,” I tell her, bending down to her eye level to get her full attention. “Is that okay with you?” I ask, hoping it works out because I now have fifteen minute to get to work and it would take at least that to get to Vivian’s. Royce is actually a lifesaver showing up here this morning, even if it was unexpected.

  “You bet, Mom. I’m gonna be a rock chick!” she exclaims.

  I roll my eyes and Royce laughs. “You,” I say pointing my finger at him. “Don’t corrupt my child in the brief time she’s in your care.”

  “What!” he feigns insult. “I’m the coolest person she’ll ever meet. Anything I do will only catapult her awesome rocker status at preschool next year.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I add with a hint of smile.

  “Aren’t you late?” he asks, tapping his thick buckle watch.

  “Oh cheese and crackers, yes,” I huff, standing to grab my purse off the kitchen counter. “I’ll call Vivian and let her know the slight change in plan. Have a good day you guys. Love you, Liv.”

  I hear her shout her goodbyes and love back to me as I race into the living room and out the front door. Echoes of giggling and snorting noises reverberate through the house as I close the door shut and sprint to my car.

  I turn the key in the ignition and take one last look at the house. “I must be crazy,” I mumble shaking my head before putting the car into reverse and heading to work.

  Royce

  Olivia proved to be quite the handful, but in the best way. We had so much fun, but between breakfast, dress-up, our mini rock concert, and a few art projects, together we completely destroyed Carly’s house. I had to take Liv to the Ryans’ house just so I could get the place cleaned up before Carly came home and saw the mess. She would flip, and I would lose any future chance I might get at hanging out with her.

  I framed the pictures Liv drew her and put them on the kitchen table, vacuumed, and dusted…the whole nine yards. Once late afternoon hit, I rushed out to get dinner and a few movies, as well as movie snacks, since I didn’t know what time she would be home. I figure I would rather be here sooner rather than later.

  Spreading the Chinese food takeout boxes across the table, I lay out two plates for the two of us. I don’t know what she likes, or even if she likes Chinese food at all, but I went with it. I mean, who doesn’t like it? Besides, I ordered just about everything on the menu, so she would have a few options.

  Just as I place the movies and candy on the kitchen counter, the doorbell rings and I freeze. For a solid minute, I have a mental debate on whether or not to answer the freaking door. It could be Vivian needing something for Liv. I’ve technically overstayed my invitation, so it could just as easily be some nosey neighbor checking on the creepy-looking guy prowling the house.

  “Oh fuck it, Grandma down the street can call the police if she doesn’t like me,” I say to myself, dropping everything and heading to the front door.

  I open the door and am immediately met with a dirty look. Apparently, Grandma is really a thirtysomething businessman in a suit.

  “Who the hell are you? Where’s Carly?” the man asks.

  “Well, hello there, pops. I’m Royce,” I say, attempting to be respectful, but I can already feel this conversation spiraling downward. “Carly’s not here right now. Can I help you with something?”

  His lips purse at my last comment. “Who are you?” he coldly asks again. “And where is my fat bitch of a wife?”

  My face heats up and my fingers ball into fists. How fucking dare Jack show up on this doorstep, and not only talk to me this way, but to be so disrespectful toward Carly. He has some fucking nerve.

  I take a deep breath to calm my temper. A brawl on the front porch will definitely get the cops called, and would only hurt Carly’s divorce case. So instead of my hands, I opt for my words. I am a songwriter/poet after all.

  “Like I said,” I say casually. “Carly’s not here. But as the current guy fucking your wife, I’d be happy to let her know you stopped by,” I add with a sly grin. His eyes widen, but before he can respond, I slam the door in his face. It was a lie, but it feels like a really good lie. That guy’s a douche and it serves him right to think his wife isn’t pining away f
or him, but instead is getting railed by some hot piece like me.

  There is a brief moment of silence before an eruption…the calm before the storm. “How fucking dare you?” he roars. “You’ll pay for that. She hasn’t heard the end of this. Let her know I’ll be back.”

  I glance out the front windows to see him race down the driveway to his car. He slams his car door and peels out into the street. I wave politely, but am met with a not so polite hand gesture.

  “Asshole,” I mutter as I turn and head back into the kitchen to finish dinner preparations. I barely get the candy arranged before I hear the front door open and Carly’s tread through the living room. I lean against the counter, plaster a smile on my face, and wait for her to enter the kitchen, except she doesn’t come into the kitchen. I wait and wait, but nothing.

  I push off of the counter and follow her path of stripped off shoes, jacket, and purse down the hallway to her bedroom. Music is filtering through the house, not my music, but I’ll let that slide.

  When I finally reach her bedroom, I stand briefly in the open entrance and view the bundle of energetic movements before me. She has stripped down to her bra and panties and is dancing all over the room like some sort of teen dance party.

  I cover my mouth to hide my smile. She is so free and happy; I don’t want to interrupt. I sure as hell know I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t pull myself away to walk back down the hall to where I should be.

  Reaching my hand up to knock on her bedroom door, she catches sight of me in her dresser mirror. My eyes must bulge out of my head, because Carly freaks out.

  “Ahhh!” she screams. “What are you doing here?” Carly immediately reaches for a pillow on her bed to shield herself with.

  “I was bringing dinner over, remember?” I offer, somewhat stammering at the fact I got caught peeping on her.

  “I didn’t think you would already be here…in my house,” she persists. “Can you please at least turn around?” she begs.

  “You know, I’ve seen you like this before, right? It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, trying to put her a little more at ease. Shit, I see tits on a daily basis when the band is performing. I’m continually offered a diversified portfolio of pussy; a little bra and panties action isn’t going to throw me into some tizzy.

  She scowls at me and a little begging whimper escapes her lips.

  Now, that does have me a little flustered. Damn, if it isn’t the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. Carly begging is a beautiful notion, and I let the scenarios play out in my head.

  “Royce!” she finally hollers sternly, gaining my attention once again.

  I roll my eyes and turn around so she can get dressed. “Don’t make such a big deal about this, Carly. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. It’s just girl parts.”

  Dresser drawers slam open and shut hastily. “Yes, but they are my girl parts.”

  “Ah, and what beautiful girly parts they are,” I tease.

  I’m met with silence as she finishes putting on her clothes, and I feel almost insecure about my comment. I’m not lying about my assessment of her body; she really is truly gorgeous, but I’ve discovered that Carly is the type of girl who doesn’t believe the good things about herself. Probably from too many years with that dickweed Jack. She’s doesn’t take a compliment well, and it’s not because she doesn’t appreciate them. It’s that she doesn’t know how to let them sink into her heart.

  “Let’s go, peeping Tom,” she jokes as she smacks me in the chest with her pillow and steps into the hallway.

  I grip onto the pillow and let out a small chuckle. I stand frozen in the doorway though. Feasting upon the delight of her ass in yoga pants as she trots down the hall to the kitchen, I just stand and enjoy the visual splendor.

  Women always think smaller is better. I couldn’t disagree more. I don’t want to grab onto bones. I want meat, thick bubble butt muscle that can withstand a spanking now and again. Carly certainly has it, and now I find myself needing a minute to give my mini meat time to stand down.

  “You coming?” she asks over her shoulder.

  I snicker under my breath at her question and move the pillow to cover my lower half. “Um, be there in a minute,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Grandmas waxing lady parts, grandmas waxing lady parts, I think to myself. Finally, I take a deep breath, chuck the pillow back onto her bed, and run to catch up to Carly.

  “Can we turn the music back on and dance some more,” I say as I run past her and slap her delicious ass.

  She startles and squeals. “You know that is sexual harassment, or something?”

  “You bet your ass it is,” I slyly say with a wink as I backpedal into the kitchen.

  She shakes her head at my childish behavior, and I can’t help but laugh. This woman is my friend, albeit a status I would love to elevate, but a friend at the moment nonetheless. I can only imagine the weight of the stress in her life right now; how she’s not cracking from the pressure is beyond me. So any little comic relief I can provide, I will gladly oblige.

  “Holy crap, did you buy the entire restaurant?” she asks, looking around at the copious amounts of takeout boxes piled on top of her table. “As good as this smells, my hips will forever pay for it and they already can’t take another hit.”

  I lightly grab her elbow and turn her toward me, pissed that she would insult herself the way she does. “First, I didn’t know what you liked and I didn’t want you to have to just settle on something. Second, if you wanted to eat every damn morsel in the restaurant, I would be absolutely okay with it. In fact, I would pass you the fucking fork. And third, your hips are perfect. You are perfect. So, please don’t insult yourself in front of me; it only pisses me off.”

  Her eyes search mine, looking for any untruth in my speech. It’s like she’s daring me to take it all back and call her the horrible names she’s apparently been called in the past.

  She backs away from my grasp, pulls out a chair, and sits down at the table. “Well then, let’s have dinner,” she finally announces.

  “Well, all right then,” I say with a nod, following her lead and sitting next to her.

  She opens the boxes and scoops out small portions of everything available. They are so small that there is more plate showing than not. I follow behind her and scoop out the same entrees and place bigger piles of what she’s chosen on her plate.

  “You had to know that wasn’t going to fly,” I explain when she frowns at me. “If we are going to clog up our arteries with unhealthy grease tonight, then we are going balls to the wall.”

  I fill my plate and shovel a forkful of Low Mein noodles into my mouth, letting the droppings hangs from my lips before I slurp them back in. “Now eat, woman,” I add, pointing my fork at her.

  She smiles, taking a large heaping forkful of food and shoves it into her mouth similar to how I just had. “Oh, my God,” she mumbles closing her eyes with her mouth filled. “This tastes so good,” she adds, covering her mouth and wiping her lips with a napkin.

  “Told ya,” I laugh. “So, how did the meeting go?” I inquire now that she’s more comfortable with me and we are eating casually.

  “You know, I never in a million years thought that fostering or even adopting through foster care would have been an option for me. After meeting Leah, though, I just can’t let her age out of the system the way Campbell did.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. Campbell is one badass chick, but I know very little of her past. She keeps it professional, which is fine by me. Besides, Casen handles most everything band related with her. Still, my interest heightened.

  “She was close with a foster family that she lived with briefly growing up, but she never was adopted. When she turned eighteen, she aged out of the system. Sure, the state helped to set her up with some programs to get her started, but really, she was on her own,” she explains, the pain and sadness for her friend showing across her face.

  “She had no famil
y. We girls and Brooks became her family, but you could tell she always felt like she was a burden, that the holiday invites were charity or pity invites, even though they were the furthest thing from it.”

  “So did you guys help pay for things like parents would?” I ask. It seems pretty mindboggling that Campbell would have just been unleashed upon the world like a tether in the wind. How that seems fair to do to a kid is unsettling.

  She laughs. “You know, that is the one area that Campbell is very different from the typical kiddo in the system. Her parents died and the people who were supposed to care for her turned her over to the state. Well, she had a trust set up for her when she came of age. It was for her only, and it was a very large sum of money. Every few years, a little more is sent to her.”

  My fork stops midway between my plate and mouth. “Whoa! So Campbell is some rich sugar momma?” I ask, stunned.

  Carly giggles and nods. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Converse and tattered jeans, rockabilly, Led Zeppelin listening, Campbell is, what, like a millionaire?” I clarify, still unable to eat.

  “Yup, but no one else had access to the money, so no one wanted her. That’s how she ended up in the system so long,” she says before taking a drink of her water.

  “That’s fucked up,” I spit out, pissed that people would put money before kids. If something ever happened to one of my sisters and I had to take care of my nieces and nephews, yeah, it would be difficult, but I sure as hell would do it. With or without a payday on the other end. You do it because it’s kids.

  “It is,” she says softly. She then hesitates for a moment before continuing her story. “So, when she introduced me to Leah, it was like seeing a younger version of Campbell, minus the trust fund, of course. She is a great kid, and I can’t help but want to provide a home for her.”

  I take a long look at her, examining her hopeful expression, letting her words wash over me before responding. “You know Leah is not Campbell,” I finally tell her. “And you can’t save every kid you meet.”