Willow Smoke (35 page)

“Chooses
to
share
my
bed?
She’s
the
one
who
came
to
me
wanting
to
gain
from
my
experience.
I didn’t...”

Tom
walked
over
and
tapped
Nick
on
the
shoulder.
“Exactly. That’s what I mean.
You
chose
her
for
the
horses.
She
chose
you
for
the
bed,
and she
can
un-choose
you
whenever
she
wishes
without
jeopardizing
the
horse
business.”

Nick
huffed.
“She
won’t
just
un-choose
me.”

“The
hell
she
won’t.
You’re
not
used
to
being
rejected, my man, but you better start
wondering
what
it
will
feel
like.
Believe
me.
She
does
not
see
you
as
a
permanent
fixture
in
her
life.
She
can’t.”

- o -

Daisy
willed
her
heartbeat
to
steady.
Was
this what
Cinderella
had
felt
like
before
the
clock
struck
midnight?
The
ballroom
chandelier
sparkled
so
intensely
she
couldn’t stare at
it for any length of
time
without
hurting
her
eyes.
She’d
never
seen
so
many
people
so
dressed
up.
Most
of
the
men
wore
tuxes.
Nick
was
stunningly
handsome
in
his
black
tux;
the
fit
showed
off
his
firm
body.

Tom
Harrison
and
his
wife,
Thelma,
were
equally
decked
out.
She
liked
both
of
them.
They
didn’t
put
on
airs
like
some
of
the
people
she’d
been
introduced
to
that
evening.
Thelma
was
a
substantia
bouncy
African American
woman
who
made
it
clear
she
took
no
crap
from
anyone,
including
her
husband.
She
seemed
to
know
at
least
half
of
the
people
in
attendance,
and
her
booming
voice
could
often
be
heard
emitting
laughter
and
occasionally
venom.

“Come
on,
girl.
You’re
starting
to
glaze
over.”

Daisy
jerked
her
head
up
to see
Thelma’s
toothy
smile.
The
woman
stood
beckoning.

“These
two
men
can
protect
each
other
for
a
few
minutes.
Let’s
visit
the
powder
room; I think
my face is slipping some.”

Daisy
rose
and
followed
her
guide.
The
powder
room,
as
Thelma
called
it,
had
gold
plated
faucets.
Daisy
stood
and
gaped
at
the
blue
and
white
tiled
floor
and
walls.
The
entire
décor
provided
a
soft,
lush
atmosphere. In a bathroom, of all
places.
Daisy
glanced
at
her
reflection
in
the
wash
basin.
What
would
the
kids
at
the
old
group
home
think
of
her
now?

“And
who
are
you?
Nick’s
niece,
or
what?”
inquired
a
drop
dead
gorgeous
raven-haired
woman.
The
petite
stranger
had
the
kind
of
body
Daisy knew made
men
go
wild.
Her
ample
bare
cleavage
left
little
to
the
imagination.

Before
Daisy
had
a
chance
to
respond,
Thelma
spoke
up,
her
eyes
gleaming.
“Why,
Claire,
how
nice
of
you
to
ask
about
Nick’s
friend.
This
is
Daisy
Matthews.
She
and
Nick
own
some
racehorses
together.
I understand from Nick that
Daisy’s
an
expert
with
horses
and
is
busy
teaching
him
a
lot
about
the
racing
business.

“Daisy,”
Thelma
said,
turning
to
her,
“this
is
Claire
Donaldson.
She
once
thought she
and
Nick
had
something
going,
but
I
guess
she
came
up
short.
It’s
old
history.
And
I
do
mean
to
emphasize
old.”

“Well,
I
never.
She
doesn’t
look
old
enough
to
be
out
of
training
bras.
He’s
no
doubt
infatuated
with
her
because
he
can
manipulate
her
into
doing
anything
he
wants.
Horses!”
Claire
Donaldson
obviously
found
it
difficult
to
look
down
her
nose
while
glaring
up
at
Daisy,
but
she
gave
it
her
best
shot.
“You
might
be
able
to
put
diamonds
on
a
gutter
snipe,
but
you’ll
never
remove the stench of the
gutter.”

The
dark-haired
woman
spun
on
her
heel
and stalked from the room.
“Don’t
trip
over
your
deodorant!”
Thelma
bellowed
at
the
woman’s
back.

Daisy
wanted
to
laugh
and
cry.
She’d
never
even
had
the
opportunity
to
say
hi.
“Don’t
mind
her,”
Thelma
said.
“She’s
always
been
a
jealous
lush.”

Daisy
crossed
her
arms
and
leaned
back
against
the
vanity.
She
took
a
deep
breath. “I’ve heard worse, much worse. But maybe she’s not so
far off. She sure
had
me
pegged
right
away.
Do
I
smell
bad?”

Thelma laughed. “Tom’s
told me some of
your story, girl. At
least what Nick’s
shared
with
him.
You
had
a
rough
time
of
it.
So
did
Tom.
So
did
I.
I
was
raised
in
the projects. Tom comes from Woodlawn.
We
know
the
odors
of
rotting
garbage,
dried
urine,
winos—and
of
shattered
dreams.
Do
we
smell
bad?”

“Of course not.”

“And neither do you. It
takes guts to make
something of
yourself. I expect that’s part of what Nick finds attractive about
you.
You’re
not
some
simpering
female
who’s
looking
for
a
sugar
daddy.