DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 10: Smart Girls Aren't Fooled By Their Baby Daddies

Marley

Meanwhile, Back in the Hood

The last thing I should be doing is calling in sick to my second job. Not just because I've already missed a weekend this month to go to Boston for the Call-Out. Not just because I'm going to have to choose between paying bills and paying Darius' tuition this month. Mostly because this is a bad precedent. Daemon asks to see me to talk about Darius, and I jump to comply.

I know I shouldn't agree, but I'm afraid if I shut him out, he'll just maneuver around me for access to Darius. I can't allow that. I have to make sure Daemon knows—the only way to our son is through me.

So instead of pulling into the parking lot at the Lunar Lounge, I'm pulling up to the curb of the house I shared with Daemon. Daemon is out front, trimming the few overgrown bushes. A lawn mower sits to the side of the house, and the grass is freshly cut.

I snort.

The man has two dozen guys he could get to cut his grass with a jerk of his head. And he chooses the exact time he asked me to come down here to appear shirtless and sweating in his yard, playing the humble handyman?

Please. Teenage Jasmine might have been fooled, but grown up Marley's opinions are not so easily manipulated.

He kills the switch on the hedge trimmer as I approach. He gives me a brief mild smile as he looks over the small house critically. "Won't take much to get it in shape again."

"Hmmmm. I thought we were meeting at TJ's to talk about a visitation schedule," I remind him. "But there's no one at home there, and you look busy, so..."

"No, no, no, this is important. Mama had some emergency church thing—a family in crisis," he says. "TJ's still at work, and Shay took Darius and Jori for a bite to eat. Might as well talk here. Unless...you aren't comfortable alone here, with me?" He gives me another sympathetic smile.

I don't return the smile. "I'm not afraid of you, Daemon." That's a little bit of lie.

His brows twitch in concern. "I hope to God not. That's not at all what I meant. I meant, if you aren't comfortable here...with all the memories." His eyes go to the bedroom window and then he gives me a sheepish shrug.

Yeah, okay, he was good in bed.

No denying, the man knew his business, and the only two lovers I've been with since were on the opposite end of the enthusiasm-in-bed spectrum. But honestly, none of the sex with Daemon or Elliot or Marc is as pinned in my memory as the one time with Bodie. That time was so full of feelings...wonderful and horrible at the same time.

"What I'm not comfortable with is you manipulating this situation to get me alone. Like this," I gesture at his state of undress.

"I'm not. I swear, I just lost track of time, is all. I'm still getting used to managing my own time, you know," he says with another humble smile. "You remember what's it's like on the inside, surely."

"Yes," I say evenly.

Maybe he's telling the truth, about losing track of time.

Freedom to self-determine felt strange to me when I got out, and that was after only eighteen months of prison. Daemon's been institutionalized for twelve years.

"It helps if you try to stick to a schedule for a while," I tell him. "You won't feel so..."

"Restless," he says immediately.

"Yeah," I agree. "It's a weird irony. That freedom feels that way. There's so much you can do, once you get out. You feel anxious—not knowing what do first, how to order your days. That's why a basic schedule helps."