Vic Vaughn is Vicious

This is when it occurs to me that Daisy doesn’t talk much. Or no. That’s probably not right. She just hasn’t said much to me. She did a lot of listening last night, and Vivi talked enough for ten people, but Daisy was quiet.

I pull away and we start heading north towards Ronnie’s farmhouse. “So. What are you studying in school?”

“Cows,” Vivi says.

But at the same time Daisy says, “Ag business.”

“Huh. Cows and ag business. That’s… cool. But highly unusual.”

“Not really,” Daisy says. “This is CSU. Half the kids there grew up on ranches. Weld County is the dairy farm capital of Colorado.”

“Dairy cows. Interesting.” And then it hits me. Her costume that year. Milkmaid. I have to turn my head so I can smile big without Daisy seeing me. She really is a milkmaid. And those jokes about her jugs? I suddenly remember more of that night. And dammit, it was fun. After we fucked the first few times, we drank some more beer, and joked around and laughed. There was more sex too. Different sex.

“Why is that interesting?”

“Because despite living across the freeway from the dairy cow capital of Colorado, I do not know a single dairy farmer.”

I catch a slight chuckle from Daisy. Maybe I will crack her yet.

“Yes, you do,” Vivi says. “Us.”

“You have a dairy farm?”

Daisy opens her mouth to answer, but Vivi beats her to it. “No. Not anymore.” Then she sighs very loudly and crosses her arms, suddenly grumpy.

“We sold it last year,” Daisy says quietly.

“Oh. OK. But you’re still going to school to be a dairy farmer?”

“I dropped out in sophomore year, so.” She shrugs, her shoulders bumping into mine. “I didn’t want to lose a whole year of classes, so I kept the major and now I’m really just going to focus on the business side instead of the animal side.”

“So you want to run a dairy farm when you’re done?”

“We’ll see.”

OK then. I’m getting the hint that Daisy is not interested in sharing her hopes and dreams with me. So I move on. “Do you like living on campus?”

And once again, these two girls say two different things. Vivi says, “No. We hate it. We want our farm back.”

But Daisy says, “Yes. I love it. Getting that apartment was a stroke of amazing good luck.”

I’m on strike two now, so before I ask my next question, I think it through first. “How about you, sis? What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I want to be a tattoo artist,” Vivi proclaims.

Daisy mutters something under her breath. Swear words, for sure.

But Vivi doesn’t catch it, because she’s still talking. “And don’t forget, Vicious, we still have to have our tattoo art show. You didn’t forget, right? I will show you my notebook.”

That notebook. Vivi forgot it yesterday, so last night I took it up to my room and just stared at Daisy’s drawings. I don’t want to give it back, so I don’t encourage any more talk of that. Viv talks some more about her tattoo ideas. She is partial to flowers and ladybugs. And she proudly takes off her shoe and shows me how she has drawn daisies on her toes.

I expect a pretty big objection from Daisy over this revelation, but she is stoic and silent, staring straight ahead as we make our way east.

I decide my end of the conversation is over. That was definitely strike three.

But soon enough we’re at the front gate to the farm and I’m punching a code to open it.

“Wooooooow,” Vivi says, leaning forward in her seatbelt. “This is amazing.”

Daisy lets out a huff of air as we pull forward onto the dirt road that leads to the house.

“Spencer was so in love with my sister, he changed the name of their road from Private Road Whatever to Bombs A-Way.” I laugh every time I say the name of this dirt road and this time is no different.

“I don’t get it,” Daisy says.

“Oh, right. My sister, Veronica? We call her Ronnie sometimes. So Spencer nicknamed her Ron the Bomb because he said she was an explosion waiting to happen. Get it? Ron the Bomb? Bombs A-Way?”

“That’s funny.” Vivi chuckles.

Daisy says, “Cute.” But the way she says it… I dunno. She hates me, I guess. Not even Bombs A-Way can make her smile.

Suddenly Vivi screams so loud, Daisy and I both jump. “What is that? Is that a pony?”

“Oh, you’re in luck here, sis. These nieces are pony freaks. They have a dozen of them, at least.”

“What?” She squeals this. “No way.”

“Yes, way. You wanna ride one?”

“Do I?” She’s looking at me like a dog begging for a bone. “Heck yeah, I do.”

I park the truck next to Ronnie’s Suburban and turn it off. “If it’s OK with your—”

That’s as far as I get. Vivi is already begging. “Please, please, please!”