Page 29 of Vandal Unbound

She smiles at that. “Can we see Vandal tomorrow too?”

“Oh, I’m sure Vandal is very busy. He might not even be there when we go see him today.”

She looks out the window, and I see her mouth the wordVandalover and over.

Does it make me a horrible mom that I let my daughter associate with a man with a name like that? The fact I’m asking myself this question suggests I am.

When we get close to the clubhouse, I realize my palms are slipping on the wheel because I’ve gripped it so tightly, everything has gotten sweaty. And sweaty, although completely natural, is not a good look for anybody.

I slide them one at a time over my shorts, but as we reach the gate, I slow, and then speed up again, driving straight by. I’ve driven past the clubhouse a few times since we moved. It’s an interesting construction. It looks smooth and grey like a concrete bunker. But it’s elevated off the ground, which is clever to avoid the flooding this part of the state gets. Some parts of the lower level are garages; some are open-water boat docks.

The building has a decent-size paved lot and is surrounded by a tall fence wrapped in barbed wire. Tall bald cypress trees flank it on either side. I bet the view out the back is beautiful. One day, I’d love a water view. Freshwater or salt water. I don’t care.

Nowhere with alligators though. Not while Elsie is still so young.

But then I remember that the chances of us ever being able to stay in one place for the rest of our lives are low. The concept of a forever home isn’t something we can think about until Elsie is older than eighteen. Because I’m determined otherwise to keepher out of the hands of the man who created her. No matter how hard he has people look for her.

Thankfully, Elsie is too distracted by the way the sequins on her shirt send sparkles over the roof of the car to notice that we passed the clubhouse by.

“You’re being a coward,” I mutter to myself and do a U-turn at the very first opportunity. “Just explain…” The words are muttered, but I practice the speech in my head.

Hi. We’re looking for Vandal if he’s around. Elsie drew him a picture.

Because who would be mad about a child with a smile like Elsie’s drawing them a picture?

But, somehow, as I slow down, my foot hits the gas, and we ride on by.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter.

“Did you say a bad word?” Elsie asks.

Shit.

“I did. And you have very good hearing. You can only say that word when you’re eighteen.”

She gets her fingers out and then looks at me. “That’s seven years.”

Yeah, those finger sums are tough when you’re still little. “It’s thirteen, sweetie.”

Elsie goes back to her fingers, recounting, but it’s enough to take her mind off the fact I said the f-bomb in front of her. I pull the car over on the side of the road. Indecision is the worst.

“You okay, Momma?” Elsie asks.

I lean over to the glove compartment. “Sure. I just wanted a mint. Do you want one?”

“Yes, please.”

I slip her a mint and pop one in my own mouth. There is no way I’m going to be able to look myself in the bathroom mirror tonight if I don’t do this.

So, I turn the car…again. And pull up to the clubhouse…again.

But this time, Havoc steps into the road and puts his hand out, telling me to stop. He dips his head, and a smile replaces his scowl when he sees it’s me and walks to the window of the vehicle. “Everything okay, Daisy?”

I take a deep breath. “We were looking for Vandal.”

His eyebrows rise, and I can’t decide if it’s the use of the wordweor the fact I’m here to see his friend.

“We?” he asks, answering my question.