7

A Ride on the Carousel

“Happy days!” Drew leaned against the balcony railing, a cigarette trapped between the cold steel and his fingers, his cellphone pressed to his ear. “My daughter’s finally putting her Ivy League education to good use. Did it take you all weekend to figure out how to turn your damn phone on?”

There was a pause, and then Penny’s voice. Hoarse. Disorientated. “Dad? What… what time is it?”

“Jesus, past eleven. In the morning.” He took a furious tug at his cigarette and let the crisp breeze toying around him snatch it from his mouth. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Been busy,” Penny mumbled. “Can you… can you hold on?”

She sounded fast asleep, or possibly hungover. A righteous stab of fury tore through him before he remembered he’d woken up with his first hangover in almost three months. Would it be hypocritical of him to get pissed off at her?

“You there?” There was shuffling as if she had the phone by her side and was walking. A door closed and then her voice returned — strengthened but still hoarse.

“Yeah, I’m—” she cut herself off with a yawn. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up is I was expecting my daughter on Saturday. Instead, I got… well, I got Angel.”

“Didn’t Angel tell you—?”

“Oh, Angel told me, all right,” Drew said with a harsh laugh. “You, little missy, are going to take your phone, and call her the second I put down. Then you’re going to tell her to get the hell out of my house—”

“I spoke to her yesterday. She said you were all right with everything.”

“Amazing.” Drew let out a strangled laugh. “You didn’t think to phone me? After the hundreds of messages and goddamn SMSes I send you, you phone Angel to find out if everything is all right?”

“Woah. Why are you so—?”

“The second I put this phone down.” Drew had to unclench his jaw to speak, and only barely managed. “Which is about ten seconds after you tell me where in the hell you are and why the hell you thought you didn’t have to bother asking me if—”

“Asking you?” Penny’s voice rose a few octaves. Suddenly, she didn’t sound sleepy anymore. “I’m twenty, Dad. I don’t need your permission for anything. And if you don’t want Angel staying there until I come back, then kick her out! I mean, shit, it’s not like there isn’t enough space in your hotel of a house.”

“Don’t you dare speak—”

“You know what? I was coming back today, but suddenly I don’t feel all that fucking welcome anymore. Bye, Dad.”

“Oh, you’re getting your ass—”

But she’d put down. Drew held the phone away, glared at it for a few seconds, and then shoved it in his pocket. It rattled against Angel’s gem-encrusted monstrosity.

It was only with monumental effort he managed not to take that pink, glittering thing and throw it into the street below. His knuckles went white when he gripped the railings and leaned forward, jaw tight and breath whistling through his nose.

He’d been so angry that his own daughter had decided she’d rather be somewhere else than with him. And he hadn’t even found out where she was.

A hand on his shoulder made him spin around and break into a volley of headache-inducing coughs.

“Scare you?” Bryce asked, leaning with his hip against the railing.

“Jesus, you think?” He gave a final cough.

“Got a smoke?”

“For you?”

“Yeah, for me.”

Drew stared at him for a few seconds, and then fumbled in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes. He shook one out for Bryce and lit it for him with his Zippo. “You should be glad you never had kids,” he muttered, watching as Bryce took a pull at the cigarette.

“Guessing you were yelling at Penny.” Bryce shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“She up and leaves me with her friend when she’s supposed to be spending her break here.” Drew tugged out Angel’s cellphone, flashing it at Bryce before shoving it back in his pocket. “That’s how we met. I tell Penny to get rid of her, and she throws a tantrum like a five-year-old.”

“Why the hell do you want to get rid of her?” Bryce’s eyebrows drew together.

Drew let out a blustering laugh and lit himself another cigarette. “Because Angel is the last thing I need in my life right now.”

“Yeah?” Bryce murmured, “I also went through a stage where I’d had enough of women video calling me.”

“She’s ruining everything.”

“What, like your bedsheets?”

“Kelly.”

“Who?” Bryce straightened, the end of his cigarette glowing at he drew on it.

“My neighbor?” Drew frowned at him and made a rolling gesture with his hand. “You know, the one I’ve been trying to…”

Bryce let out a dry chuckle. “So you’d rather flog a dead horse than ride a wild one?”

Drew’s scowl didn’t seem to have an effect on Bryce’s taunting smile. When it came to business, Bryce couldn’t be more serious; his professionalism was absolute and unwavering. But when it came to his personal life, nothing ever stuck. He treated women like paper cups — great for holding his coffee, but he didn’t give them a second thought after he’d tossed them in the trash. It was no wonder Juliet had only been with Bryce for a few months; she’d wanted to buy the fairground, but Bryce had only been willing to give her a few rides on the carousel.

“She invited me to her birthday on Wednesday. Well, until Angel got involved. Now she probably thinks I’m a pedophile or something. You should see how she looks at me.”

“Wait… so you’ve screwed this chick?” Bryce pointed at the phone in Drew’s pocket.

“No! Of course not.” He managed a small, unhappy shrug and turned away to stare at the traffic beneath them. “Listen, I didn’t ask for this.” Drew spun to Bryce, stabbing toward him with the cigarette held between his fingers. “She put down roots before I even knew what was happening.” He pressed his fingertips to his chest. “I don’t want her there. She’s distracting me, messing up any chance I had with Kelly. She’s the reason I just had the first fight — ever — with my daughter. If it wasn’t for her…”

Bryce shrugged, gave him a disarming chuckle, and tossed the rest of his cigarette over the side of the balcony. “You do what you got to do.” He slapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Running lead on that claim’s gonna take up a shitload of your time; can you really juggle that piece of snatch and your neighbor?”

He wanted to call out after his brother, to tell him he couldn’t call Angel that… but the balcony door closed before he could get anything out.

Drew left Trent & Morgan in the early afternoon when most of the other adjusters were still out at lunch. It had begun to rain; softly at first and then hard enough that he had to put his windshield wiper on full blast. When he stopped outside the grocer a few blocks from his house, the defogger took a few seconds to kick in before it cleared up the mist on the windshield.

For a moment, he waited in the car.

Would he always have to do this? To sit here and wait until thoughts of Juliet finally left his mind and made it possible for him to get out and go inside? It had been this small strip mall she’d stopped at on that fateful day. This grocer she’d run into — rain slashing down as if it had a personal vendetta against every living thing — to get the veggies she needed for dinner. This bakery, where she always grabbed her favorite meal accompaniment; crispy ciabatta.

Then she’d climbed back in her car. Seven minutes later, Juliet was dead.

Drew shoved open the car door, and made a run for the grocer. He glanced over the rows of flowers outside and pointed out a bunch of roses to the shop assistant who stopped beside him.

“Will that be all?” the woman asked, voice raised above the thundering rain.

“Yup.” Drew took his credit card from his wallet and handed it to the woman, staring out into the curtain of rain falling just shy of the shop’s entrance. “It’s really coming down, isn’t it?”

“They say it’ll last all week.” The woman handed him back his card. “Drive safe now.”

Drew nodded slightly and dashed into the rain. The roses went onto his car seat, and he gave his head a dog-hard shake to dry his hair.

He drove past the corner where Juliet had lost control of her car and had plummeted through the barrier put in place to avoid precisely that kind of thing happening. He could have avoided this turn… but it would have added ten minutes to his driving time; it just wasn’t logical.

But it would have suppressed the memories of arriving here, on this corner, on that day. He’d been so confused and disorientated by all the commotion. Mesmerized by the colors bleeding into the rain-slicked tar; ambulance, police, firetrucks. All with red and blue and white lights painting the road in smeared flickers. It had been late afternoon, but it had felt like midnight; the overcast sky had been black with rain yet to come, and the wind drove the rain that had already fallen in skin-puncturing flurries against his cheeks as he stood and stared at the hole torn through the barrier.

Drew blinked hard and forced his eyes away from the barrier; the section they’d replaced was brighter than the rest, and it always drew his eye when he drove past.

He didn’t stop in his driveway when he arrived home, instead parking his car on the other side of the road. Hopefully, Angel wouldn’t see him coming. He needed a few minutes alone with Kelly. Just enough time to explain. To make her understand he was just a victim of circumstance.

But he couldn’t explain anything because Kelly didn’t answer her door, even after the fifth knock. Since she always parked in her garage, he had no idea if she was avoiding him, or if she wasn’t home.

Defeat made his shoulders slump. He set the bunch of flowers on her doorstep and retreated, cutting across her lawn so he could slip into his driveway and sidle along the side of his house. Instead of using the front door, he went around to the back where the pool’s surface danced with rain. He took his keys from his pocket and put them in the lock, but the door was already open.

He pushed it open and stared inside for a few seconds before stepping inside.

“Angel?” He took his jacket off, glanced around, and hung it on the closest kitchen stool.

Whether it was the melodramatic drive home, the fact Kelly hadn’t been home, or the dour mood the rain pressed on him…

He called out, “Sweetheart? Daddy’s home.”