Marcus walked out of the office, down the stairs, andthrough the club, not sparing Daisy a glance.
At that moment, he had business to deal with.He needed hishead in that.
When it was time for Daisy, he wanted his attention fully onher.
But it would be time for Daisy.
Soon.
Daisy
“Who’s that tall, dark drink of handsomewater?”I asked Ashlynn, my eyes on the tall man with broad shoulders andfabulous suit who was sauntering out of the club in the manner of a man whoowned it.
In the manner of a man who owned anything he wanted.
“Don’t go there,” Ashlynn answered.
I looked to Ashlynn.
“What, sugar?”
She shook her head.“He’s hot.Knew a girl who’s had him andI’ll repeat, he’shot.Took her out four times.All to fancyrestaurants where she had to buy fancy dresses and shoes.And he gave it to hergood at the end of the night, and I meanreal good, the way shedescribed it.He also, like, opened the car door for her and everything.”
Opened the car door for her.
Andeverything.
Oh my.
“Ended it with him giving her a gold bracelet,” Ashlynncarried on, recapturing my attention.“Pure class.”Her look got intense as shestared into my eyes.“And he’s trouble.”
I glanced to the door that he’d obviously gone throughbecause he’d disappeared, then back to Ashlynn.
“Trouble?”
Ashlynn didn’t answer that question.
She just shook her head again and declared, “He wouldn’tdate a stripper anyway.Like I said.He’s class.”
I felt my mouth get tight.
I was not a big fan of judgment.I’d had that shit shoveddown my throat from the time I could cipher.A mother like I’d had.A fatherlike I’d had.The creeps, losers, and assholes my momma had no problem paradingthrough her daughter’s life, our home.The jobs Momma would get and lose andthe reasons she’d lose them.The clothes I had to wear, bought at yard sales,garage sales, thrift shops.The crap people would say, not even worried I mighthear.I didn’t matter and my feelings sure didn’t so they might not say it tomy face, but they didn’t do anything to shield me from it either.
I got out of that and it didn’t get much better.Pretty muchevery bitch and dickhead felt they had a highly-tuned white-trash-o-meter andtook one look at me, thinking it binged at the highest frequency.
Okay, so my momma wasn’t all that.My daddyreallywasn’t all that.
But I’d gotten on a bus and leftall thatbehindand never looked back.
Did that matter?
Hell no.
Yeah, so I’d found my own trouble in a variety of ways,mostly after Miss Annamae died, doing a stint at juvie that wasn’t all that funand learning my lesson.
And yeah, so I’d hooked up with some boys who weren’t muchto write home about, mostly because I liked boys, boys liked me, and a girl’sgottahave a first kiss (and second, and third, etc.) andthey were the only ones who asked me out.
They might not have been much, they might have been trouble,they might have treated me like crap, but at least they all (every one) were f-i-n-e,fine.I could pull in a looker like noother even before one of them bought me my boob job.It just sucked they wereall also varying shades of asshole.
