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“What am I supposed to do this weekend then? I’m driving my car while you’re in the U-Haul, so I have to be able to carry this stuff.”
Violet hadn’t even thought about that, but one problem at a time. “No, no, you aren’t driving. You aren’t doing anything except sitting your ass down on that couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Vi!” Although, she did sit on the couch as Violet suggested.
“I am not ridiculous. You cannot drive and move yourself alone.” But if Violet drove her up, who would drive the U-Haul? Her list for potential moving partners was short, so she’d start with the obvious choice. “I’ll call Tracy. One of us can drive you while the other hauls your stuff.”
Violet went into the kitchen to grab the house phone, since her cell was still in a bag of rice, and dialed Tracy, even as Daisy hollered, “You are being spazztastic.”
“I am not.”
Tracy answered on the second ring. “Well, where the hell have you been?”
Hanging with a hot soldier and getting into fights with psychos in my front yard. The usual. “Sorry, it has been drama-rama over here, let me tell you.”
“Do tell.”
But Violet did not want to get into it right now, especially since she had to get the pulled pork started. “I will, I promise, but you wouldn’t happen to have the weekend off, would you?”
“I don’t. I work all day Saturday, and then I’m going with my mom on Sunday to visit Nana for her birthday. Do you wanna go with me?”
Violet wanted to groan aloud. As much as she loved spending hours with Tracy’s family, listening to Tracy and her mom bicker was something she could do without. Good thing she had an excuse. “I can’t. I have to move Daisy up to college this weekend, and I really needed you to drive the moving truck.”
“Moving truck? I thought Daisy was driving up on her own,” Tracy said.
“Yeah, that was the plan.” Violet knew that if Tracy found out from someone else and not her, she would be pissed, so she continued, “Until Quinton attacked her last night, cracking a few of her ribs.”
“The fuck!” Violet yanked the phone away from her ear as Tracy screamed, “And why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Because I just woke up, and you’re the first person I called.”
“Okay, I am slightly appeased.” Violet rolled her eyes at Tracy’s magnanimous forgiveness. “But why didn’t you call last night? I would have taken her to the hospital or police station. You did have that son of a bitch arrested, right?”
Ah, and here came the other bombshell. This time, she was prepared as she pulled the phone from her ear. “Yeah, someone called the cops, and Dean restrained him after he hit me—”
“Hold up, hold up, hold the fuck up!” Even from a foot away, Violet could hear Tracy’s shout. “First of all, Dean your one-night buddy from over a month ago?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Violet put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter. She grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts from the cupboard, realizing that she was too hungry to cook.
“Okay, we’ll come back to that. Now, where is that piece of shit being held so I can break both his kneecaps? He’s not getting away with hitting one of my girls.”
Violet loved that Tracy treated Daisy as just another friend, instead of her little sister. “What are you going to do, storm into the police station and demand five minutes alone with him handcuffed to a chair?” Violet started the coffeepot, considering it. “I guess the idea does have merit.”
“I am serious, Vi. That man is living on borrowed time. He better hope he doesn’t get bail, or he’s going to disappear before he even meets his jailhouse butt boyfriend.”
“Tracy, really, Daisy’s fine. I’ve just got to figure out how to juggle all of this alone while she heals,” Violet said.
“I’m sorry, hon.” Tracy’s sly laughter suddenly exploded from the phone. “Maybe you don’t have to do it alone. What’s Dean doing this weekend?”
Violet shook her head, though she knew that Tracy couldn’t see her. She hadn’t even put Dean onto the list yet, mostly because helping her move her sister was a big favor to ask. “I am not going to ask Dean to drive seven hours up and another seven hours down to help me move my sister. That’s a job for best friends and husbands, not . . . whatever we are.”
“And what are you, exactly? Because in the last six weeks, I haven’t heard boo from you about him besides seeing him at Alpha Dog and this morning.”
With a heavy sigh, Violet poured her coffee and considered how to answer. “Let’s see. So far, we’ve hooked up for one wild night of sex, and he’s painted my house and saved me from a psychopath. You define it.”
“Well, let’s see. Is he good in bed?”
More like amazing.
