Nip it in the Bud (Bunch-A-Blooms 3)

“But not this girl?” Amanda arches an eyebrow.

“It helps that she had no clue who I was before we dated, and she has her own thing going.”

“Please do enlighten us,” Chris says.

“She co-runs a floral shop with her best friend, Petunia. It keeps her pretty busy, and she loves it.” I shrug.

“So she makes decent money, then?” Amanda says.

I smile. “Yes. So you can put the claws away, baby sister.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” she mutters.

“I know, and I appreciate it, but Willow is different.” Ever since Amanda set me up with her friend, Casey, who tried to take me for all I was worth, she was skeptical of women. She’d known the bubbly blonde since college. On the surface, we made a good pair. She was fun-loving and sweet at first. Then I realized it was all an act. Not getting her way lead to tantrums and manipulations.

I broke it off, but it made my wary. Seeing her try to play me ruined a lengthy friendship and bred mistrust in all of us. It was the first taste of the trappings of fame. I’m a small fish in a big pond. I can’t even imagine what mega-stars deal with. Fame was never my goal. I’m good making a decent living and getting to pursue my passion. I know in my heart music is what I was put on this earth to do.

“How’s the new album coming along?” Chris asks, shifting the topic.

“Good?”

Chris snickers. “You don’t sound sure.”

“It feels a little bipolar at the moment. The songs aren’t gelling into a fluid concept. I’m going to have to decide on a direction soon. I thought I had one, but when I set down to write it’s not how it came out. I’m being pulled in so many different directions. It’s hard to focus in on a theme.”

“Don’t dick with the process, you know that always makes everything dry up,” Chris cautions. He knows the drill by now. Writer’s block is a death sentence that led to many a sleepless night.

“Believe me, I know. It’s why I’m letting it come to me organically. It’s always better to have too much material versus not enough. I can go back, narrow it down, and tighten things up later.”

“What’s going on with the Monica situation?” Amanda inquires.

I sigh. “We’re going to file for involuntary removal of parental rights. We have the grounds for it. I gave her the chance to sign off on her own. I don’t like the limbo we’re in now. Especially with the way Kathy can be so spiteful.”

My never-in-law chooses to blame me for the path her daughter choose. It didn’t matter that Monica had been troubled since her early teen when her parents went through a nasty divorce. Daddy’s girl, she’d never gotten over the split or the abandonment that followed when her father decided to find himself and got selfish and distance. Child

support became the only steady thing Monica got from him. She continued to act out in hopes of gaining his attention, but all it did was wear Kathy down.

I felt for her once, but her denial and mean-spirited nature ended that.

“Did she say something?” Amanda narrows her eyes.

“Not directly, but there was something in the way she said the girls should be with their real family that made me uncomfortable.”

“She needs to get over that crap. The girls are ten years old, and you’re the only father they’ve ever known. Not sharing DNA doesn’t take away from that.”

“I know, Mandy,” I say softly. “She’s a lonely old woman who’s bitter about the way her life turned out. I’m sure it was just talk.” I try to soothe her with my words, but I’m lying through my teeth. There was a vindictive glint in Kathy’s eyes when I picked the girls up from their visit last month. It prompted me to get the lawyer on locking down my custody.

I’ve been put through the paces with Monica and her family. From partial custody to shared, and supervised, but I’ve never kept Ilana and Neomi from the Charlestons. It’s important for them to know both sides of their family. The hostility has ramped since Monica got her sentence. Fifteen year is a lot different than the six month and year long sentences. Even with good behavior, she’s not coming out anytime soon.

“How long until everything is ironclad?” Chris asks.

“Next week the order will go out.”

Ilana opens the sliding door, and we stop our conversation abruptly. “The food’s almost ready. Grandma says it’s time to come in and get cleaned up.”

“We’ll be in a minute, pumpkin,” I say as she disappears back into the house.

“Do the girls know about her, about Willow?” Amanda asks.