a quick look around the new space. “Well, I must say,” Mark told Scott at the conclusion of the tour, “I’m disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” Scott asked, confused. He thought it was quite nice for a basement.
“Yes. I expected a vampire’s subterranean lair to be more ghastly. This looks so urban and middle class.”
Scott laughed.
Mark put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, looking more serious. “Actually, I came over to offer my condolences. How are you doing?”
Scott’s momentary happiness disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I’m….” He choked up, unable to finish. Tears stung his eyes.
Mark looked at him with compassion. “I’m sorry.”
“I… I had to break it off with my family tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“They don’t like being around me because I’m a vampire. Tonight, I told my mother and brother that they either had to treat me like I was normal, or… or I was going to cut them out of my life.”
Mark looked horrified. “And they disowned you?”
“My mother said it was my choice—that I could stay in contact with them or not—but, God, can’t she and Brandon see that they’ve driven me to do this? That I can’t stand being treated like a leper by my own family?”
Mark nodded sympathetically.
“I mean… I just can’t stand being treated like that anymore. I’m tired of being the bad guy. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Scott sighed. “Maybe it will be easier if I just pretend I don’t have a family. If I don’t contact them, maybe I’ll kind of forget and it won’t hurt so much.”
“I seriously doubt it. But at least you can quit feeling like a doormat.”
“Yeah,” Scott said glumly.
As Scott was walking Mark out, Shirley and her vampire partner came in. Scott was finally introduced to the beefy, tattooed man, who also happened to be named Scott.
“What happened to your father?” Shirley asked kindly. “Judge said he was in a car wreck?”
“Drunk driver.”
“Aw.”
“Yeah, he crossed the line and hit Dad head on.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s still alive, last I knew. They life-flighted him to Vandy. He was a young guy, though—twenty-something. Dad had just turned seventy.”
“Yeah, something like that’s so much harder on an older person. Bones are more brittle, they don’t heal up so well.”
“Yeah.”
She patted him on the arm. “I am so sorry to hear that, baby.”
“Thank you.”
Judge Smithwick came by later that afternoon to offer his condolences as well, and Scott received two floral deliveries. One was a large peace lily from Judge Standiff and the county’s night court staff, and the other was a vase of mixed flowers from his client Mrs. Stanley.
“Wasn’t that nice of them,” Josie said, as she put the plants on Scott’s desk.
Scott couldn’t help but compare his family—who had quickly ignored his suffering—to his friends and colleagues around town who had thoughtfully visited and sent him tokens to show they were thinking of him.
“Yeah, real nice,” Scott agreed.
Episode 27: A Woman’s Touch
Scott was still asleep in bed when Josie came in the next afternoon. He had already been woken up once when the furniture delivery people arrived with Clarice’s bedroom suite, so, needless to say, he was less than thrilled to see Josie several hours ahead of schedule.
“What are you doing here?” he muttered, face down in his pillow.
“I thought I’d get everything ready for Clarice.”
“It’s not like she’s staying the night tonight.”
“So? I still want her to see it all finished.”
“Uhn,” was all the response Scott could muster.
Josie seemed content to work by herself, but that didn’t mean Scott was free to go back to sleep. The walls in his new apartment had no insulation in them—what was the point? The basement was like a cave with a fairly constant temperature year-round—which meant that Scott could hear Josie dragging furniture around in Clarice’s room. Loudly.
He had almost dozed off again when she started hammering.
“For the love of God,” Scott groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. He tried to stuff it into his ears as much as possible, turning the loud banging into a medium thumping.
He wasn’t sure if he went back to sleep or not. It didn’t feel like he had, but then, he was pretty sure he hadn’t intentionally been thinking about what it would be like if Jim Rutherford gave up the practice of law to become an ostrich farmer.
After a while, he decided to just give up trying to sleep, so he slipped on a pair of lounge pants and his favorite pair of worn-out leather house shoes—the ones Clarice had gotten for him the last Christmas they had been together—and he shuffled groggily into the living room.
He opened his eyes wider when he saw the transformation. There was a white tablecloth on the battered old kitchen table and the vase of flowers Mrs. Stanley had sent him. The peace lily from Judge Smithwick had been brought down, too, and placed next to the television. There was a blue oriental rug spread out in front of the couch and a couple of soft-looking blue pillows on the couch to match.
There was a print of a sailing ship—closer inspection revealed it was the USS Constitution—hanging on the wall. A green, silk potted plant was perched on top of the bookcase—beside the picture of him and Clarice and Blondie—with a couple of vines artistically trailing down the sides.
The entire space looked less like a random assortment of furniture in some college kid’s first apartment and more like a home an actual adult lived in.
Josie emerged from the bathroom a moment later. She was probably the best decoration in the room, with her cut-off jeans bordering on Daisy Duke length and a fitted white tank top hugging her curves.
“Oh, you’re up.” She had the audacity to sound genuinely surprised.
Before Scott could say anything, she gestured for him to follow her back into the bathroom. “I just finished,” she said.
“Perfect timing,” he muttered, following her.
The last of his irritation faded, though, when he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking around. Josie had put up a wallpaper border of red and gold paisley along the top and middle of the walls. It went quite well with the red brick wall in the shower—not to mention the new red shower curtain.
There was a wicker, 3-shelf rack above the toilet with some dark red towels. There was yet another silk potted plant—this one on the toilet—and a large picture on the opposite wall of a narrow, twisting, cobbled lane between brick and stone houses somewhere in Europe.
“It looks nice,” Scott said, nodding his approval. While he had been content with the bathroom plain, he had to admit that it looked better with a little decoration.
“Wait until you see Clarice’s room,” Josie said with delight, gently pushing him in that direction.
The white bedroom suite he bought had been the cheapest model on the showroom floor and was plain, but practical; it was something that Clarice could keep as she grew older.
But the furniture in the room didn’t look like what he had bought. There was a canopy of pink tulle attached to the rafters and it hung in light, graceful folds around the bed like an African mosquito net. It was made up with the pink-and-purple comforter and frilly pillows Clarice had picked out in the JCPenny catalog.
The dresser and desk had pink and purple sprays of flowers painted on the drawers and the decorative cuts in the wood were detailed with gold paint.
“Is this what they delivered?” Scott asking, looking confused.
“Yeah, it’s what you ordered.”
“No, I ordered it plain. They must have sent this by mistake.”
She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “I painted it, dumba
ss.”
“Really?” he asked, shocked.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“With paint.” She didn’t add “duh,” but you could hear it in her voice.
“I meant… how did you get the flowers on there?”
She looked at him as if he really was a dumbass. “I told you: I painted them.”
“I meant… without a stencil or pattern or anything?” he asked, amazed. Scott, lacking any form of artistic talent, had trouble grasping that people—outside of professional artists—could create something attractive.
“Yeah. It’s called a loaded-brush technique. It’s really simple. I learned it from a book.”
Scott looked at the rest of the room. Josie had put up a border of pink and purple ballerinas along the top of the white walls. And there were white Christmas lights all around the edges of the room.
Josie followed his gaze upwards. “I thought she might like to leave the twinkle lights on—like a nightlight, you know. It can be kind of scary being in a basement.”
“I think she will like them,” Scott said, nodding. Then he smiled a little. “Do I get some, too?”
She grinned at him. “Do you want some?”
“Maybe.”
She put her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. “You want some red lights in your room? For ambiance?” she said in a low, seductive voice.
“Mmm, I might like that.” He gave her a little kiss.
“Well, I’ll have to wait until you get money again,” she said, looking just a tiny bit guilty. “I was going to do your room up, too, but I did run out of money.”
“You got a lot for $100.”
“I went yard saleing this morning, then stopped at the Goodwill, Dollar Tree, and Dollar General.”
“When did you sleep?”
“I had a nap around lunch.” She smiled winningly. “I was hoping you might give me part of the night off, especially since we don’t have any appointments until nearly dawn.”
He sighed dramatically, sounding very put out. He was tempted to tell her ‘no,’ just because she woke him up early, but she had had even less sleep than he, and it wasn’t her apartment or her kid.
“Oh, alright,” he said grudgingly.
“You’re such a hard-ass, Scott,” she said with a smile.
He feigned surprise. “I thought having a hard ass was a good thing?”
She laughed. “Having one and being one are two entirely different things.”
Episode 28: A Room of Her Own
Scott got dressed for the evening. He was just putting on his shoes in the living room when he heard the pitter-patter of little feet on the basement stairs.
He had always wondered how the word “pitter-patter” developed, because it sounded so dainty and cute. From what he had experienced with children on the move, they actually sounded like a herd of wildebeest migrating across the compacted soil of the savannah mid-drought.
Clarice always managed to sound like a whole herd all by herself.
“Hey, Daddy!” she announced, as she galloped down the stairs. Then she stopped on the last one, her eyes wide and staring as she looked around.
Scott smiled and walked over to her. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, still taking everything in. “It looks like a real house and stuff.”
“Do you want to see your room?”
Her face brightened. “Yeah!”
Scott took her by the hand and lead her to her room. With a flourish, he threw open the door and let her see in.
Her eyes seemed to go wide as saucers. She was absolutely still for a long moment, then she squealed and jumped up and down a few times. Then she ran over to the bed and dove onto it.
“Is it really mine?” she asked in amazement.
“It’s really yours,” Scott said quietly. He blinked away a tear as he watched Clarice roll around on the bed in delight. It reminded him of Christmas morning… something he had not been able to enjoy for two years.
Josie, who had been in the bathroom, came to stand behind him a moment later. “I think she likes it,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, she does. Thank you.”
“I love, love,” this,” Clarice said, touching the tulle canopy.
“Josie made that for you. In fact, she decorated all of it for you.”
“Thank you, Josie,” Clarice said, beaming.
“You’re welcome sweetie.”
“Daddy, can I keep Po in here with me?”
“I suppose.”
“Where is Po?” she said, suddenly looking around for him.
“He’s at my house,” Josie said. “We didn’t want him to get in the way when the men brought the furniture. And I didn’t want him ‘helping’ me decorate.”
“Oh, okay.”
Josie looked at Scott. “Do you want me to bring him back?”
“Yeah, he’s probably had enough of being outside by himself.”
“Can I borrow your car and save my legs an extra trip?”
Scott had to check himself from making a comment about Josie’s legs in front of Clarice. “Sure. My keys are… um… you might have to look through my pants pockets. I don’t know when I had them last, and everything’s gotten rearranged down here.”
“I’ll have to make a mental note to get you a key rack,” she said with a smile.
“Something. I hate not being able to find my keys.”
While Josie went to hunt for the keys, Clarice got off the bed and made an inspection of the rest of the furniture.
“Can I do my homework on my desk?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s what it’s there for.”
She touched the lamp on the desk lightly. It was a Tiffany-style lamp with a heavy bronze base and purple flowers in its stained-glass shade. Scott really didn’t know how Josie had managed to get so much stuff with $100.
“I like this,” Clarice said. “And I really like the lights up there,” she said, pointing to the Christmas tree lights that circled the ceiling.
“Josie thought you might like to leave those on at night.”
“I think it would be fun to sleep with those lights on.” She looked at Scott. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“I don’t think so, baby. I haven’t talked to your Mama about it. The bus doesn’t even know to pick you up here, and I don’t have a way to get you to school.”
She frowned, looking severely disappointed.
“Your mother said she would let you stay with me every other weekend once I had a room for you, so I’ll talk to her and see if you can stay this weekend.”
Clarice brightened.
“But I’ll have to ask first,” he warned. “She may already have plans for the weekend.”
“I’ll ask, too,” Clarice promised. “Because I really, really, want to stay in my new room.”
Scott smiled. “You will. You’ll stay in it a lot.”
Episode 29: Taking Control
“Scott?” Josie’s voice called down the stairs. “Call Po.”
Scott went to look up the stairs. Josie was standing at the top, Po looking cautiously at the stairs. He was fearless when it came to scrambling up them, but he was still a little afraid going down.
“Come on, Po,” Scott said, patting his leg.
The puppy wagged his tail furiously and whined, clearly wanting to go down to Scott. He paced back and forth, but between encouragement from Scott and Josie, he finally began his clumsy descent. He stumbled once, banging his chin on the step, but he didn’t give up, and he eventually got close enough that Scott was able to reach and scoop him up.
Po licked his face repeatedly, wriggling. “Here, Clarice,” Scott said, handing him off. Clarice smiled brightly as she took the dog in her arms like a baby. He started to lick her face.
“Do you want your keys, or do you want me to leave them up here?” Josie asked.
“Um… better let me have them, so I’l
l know where they are.”
Josie gently tossed the keys down to him. “I’m going home to get some sleep. Call me in a few hours and wake me up.”
“Alright.”
She gave him a saucy wink, then shut the door to the stairwell. Scott could hear her footsteps on the creaking hardwood floor above as she left.
“Is Josie your girlfriend?” Clarice asked.
“What?” he asked, turning to look at her, startled.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“I… uh….” Scott didn’t know how to answer. His secret seemed to be out around town, but he wasn’t sure if his daughter needed to know. But, at the same time, he’d have to tell her eventually.
She looked at him expectantly.
“I-I’ve… yeah, sort of,” he said lamely.
“I like her. She’s nice. …And pretty.”
“Yes, she is. And I think she likes you, too,” he said with a smile.
She smiled in return.
The rest of the afternoon consisted of trying to get Clarice to settle down and do her homework. It was hard to tell who was more excited by all the changes—her or the dog. Po wanted to sniff and explore everything, but Clarice wanted him to stay in her room while she did her homework.
“Your mother’s not going to let you stay with me if you can’t get your homework done while you’re here,” Scott warned her.
That sent her scuttling back to her desk, but fifteen minutes later, she was up again, carrying Po back into her room. She tried shutting the door, but then she just fussed at him when he scratched it, wanting out.
Once the sun finally set, Scott called a halt to the madness. “Let’s get something to eat,” he announced.
Clarice and Po both burst out of the room. “Can we go to MacDonald’s?” Clarice asked.
“You always want MacDonald’s.”
She just smiled.
The three of them got in the car and drove the mile to MacDonald’s. Clarice got her usual chicken mcnugget Happy Meal, which she scarfed down so she could go play on the indoor playground—the real reason why she preferred MacDonald’s.
Scott put Po on a leash and let him walk around in front of the building, sniffing the bushes where all the other dogs had been. Clarice waved at them occasionally through the wall of windows.
They had no more pulled into the parking space in front of Scott’s office again when Maggie pulled in next to them.
“There’s Mama,” Clarice said.
“You need to go downstairs and gather up your stuff,” Scott told her.
“Okay.”
“Take Po with you. Be sure to shut the basement door after you, so he won’t get out.”
“Alright. Come on, Po!” she said, scooping his wriggling body up under her arm.
Scott took his time getting out of the car. He took a deep breath—out of habit, not out of necessity—and slowly walked around his car to Maggie’s, parked on the other side.
Clarice was showing Po off through her mother’s open window.
“Isn’t he cute, Mama?” she asked.
“Yes, very,” Maggie said with the false sincerity that parents use for any manner of things their excited kids will share with them—rocks, bugs, knock-knock jokes, etc.
“His name is Po.”
“I know. You told me,” Maggie said patiently.
“Oh, right.”
Scott patted Clarice on the back. “Get your stuff together, baby.”
“Alright.” She walked back into the office, talking to Po the entire way. As soon as the front door shut behind them, she put Po on the floor and the two of them raced down the long hallway to the back.
“You’ve always liked dogs,” Maggie said, cutting through the silence.
Scott bit back the