And another.
:Unknown: the song nobody knows
Every month for over two years, Coty sent me a line from the infamous poem “Siren Song” by Margaret Atwood. My heart contracts painfully, and the air seizes in my lungs. I drop the phone against my chest.
With a stubborn grunt, I lift the phone again, open the most recent message, and select reply.
:Me: I need my phone, her diaper bag, and the baby monitor. The video one. Drop them next to my car. Then leave.
My thumbs twitch with the need to send more. To ask about my dad. To type every curse word in the dictionary. To say, “How dare you. I cared for and trusted you.” Instead, I keep it short and to the point. I hate even having to send that much, but getting help from Coty is the best idea. I might be proud but not too proud where my sister is concerned. Leaving Reece here alone is out of the question; my wagon is not exactly baby proof. Plus, the last thing I need is for someone to tip off Social Services about a car with an abandoned baby inside.
Seeing as Bike Week is in full effect and the two most dangerous local motorcycle clubs just went head-to-head, it would be best to avoid strolling down the street in the wee hours of the night and early morning with her at all costs, too. Walking with a baby on my hip from my parents’ house to the club in the dark was risky enough.
The only silver lining so far was arriving at this lot and finding it empty. Closing the saloon on the opening night of Gulf Coast Bike Week is unheard of but unsurprising due to the fight that broke out at the Kick-Start Party. Thank the Universe someone was smart enough to get the girls on shift out of here before any bikers, high on brawl-induced adrenaline, sought out an easy way to blow off that aggressive energy.
My money is on DJ Kris; no doubt she made a couple phone calls after all hell broke loose at the event. As for the girls who thrive off those keyed-up patrons, they will find them on the clock or off.
The phone vibrates and chimes in my hand, and I fumble the device, hurrying to open the message.
:Unknown: Done
With a long, shallow exhale, I snap the phone shut and turn to my hazel-eyed girl. Reece is still fully awake, the twinkle of lights reflecting in her wide, watery gaze.
“Sorry, hun, but we have to sneak inside — the big bad boys need never unravel my deepest secrets — but I promise, the lights in there are way better.”