When I was done telling him and had precisely six minutes before I had to be back at my register, he remarked, “Gotta admit, this shit is kinda funny.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I mumbled.
“Ride it out, Butterfly,” he advised. “And the best way to do it is twist it from what it seems to you, a pain in your ass, to what it just is. Desperate acts from an asshole who fucked up his life by lettin’ go the best thing he had in it. You win by just bein’ you. He’s rubbin’ his own nose in his loss.”
That was a much better way to look at it.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said softly.
“No probs, Carrie. You gotta get back?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered unhappily.
“Okay, baby, see you tonight.”
“Tonight.”
“Later, Butterfly.”
“’Bye, sweetie.”
I shut down my phone, put it in my locker, sucked the rest of my soda up its straw, cleaned up, and went back to my register.
* * *
I dashed in the back door, tossing my purse to the side, where I heard it skid across the counter and fall to the floor.
I didn’t even pause to look at it.
I just shuddered to a halt at the side counter and dumped the huge bouquet of LeLane’s flowers I’d bought as well as the box of cupcakes I got from the bakery and then resumed my dash.
When I did, Joker rounded into the kitchen, saying, “Carissa, Elvira and—”
“No time, no time, no time!” I cried, waving my hand at him and not looking at him either as I sprinted right by him.
I rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room and skidded to a dead stop on my Converse.
All my insides seized at what befell my eyes.
This being Elvira standing (in a fabulous wraparound dress and even more fabulous platform pumps) by my coffee table with my couch covered in so many bags, it was terrifying.
Except one wing of the sectional was occupied by a large black man (large as in tall and built) with a bald head and a perfectly formed goatee. He was lounging with his legs crossed casually.
I paid no heed to the black man.
“We had a budget!” I screeched.
“I know, I know, I know,” Elvira replied, lifting her hands up, palms toward me, pressing them my way repeatedly. “But, girlie, I don’t do cute. I got flummoxed. I lost it, ended up in Forever 21 and had a breakdown. It got so extreme, I had to call in Malik.”
On the word Malik she threw a hand toward the man on my couch and I looked to him.
“I’m Malik,” he said in a voice that slid over me like warm syrup. “Elvira’s man.”
I was in a panic, but still, regardless of Elvira’s exceptional style, her beautiful face, her fabulous skin, and her hairdo that I knew even without the stylist education I intended to get one day suited her absolutely perfectly, I took the precious time to be shocked at her man.
Not that she could land him.
Just that he was Hollywood handsome in the sense that I was pretty sure he was famous, because if there was anything right in this world, he simply had to be.
“Uh… hi,” I greeted shyly.
His full lips curled up, exposing white teeth.
My scalp started tingling.
“Malik can shop,” Elvira stated and I tore my eyes off her man. “He’s so good at it, I could retire. Example,” she swept her hand down her fabulous dress to flick out, indicating her more fabulous shoes, telling me Malik picked them, which said it all. “I won’t retire, because if I can’t shop, I might stop breathing, but just sayin’, he’s good at it.”
“I can see that, Elvira,” I snapped, walking to the back of the couch. “Since there are seven thousand bags in my living room!” I ended this on a yell.
“We can take back what you don’t want,” Elvira returned. “But now we got a lot to go through and you don’t got a lotta time. So, girl,” she rolled her hand at me, “get your ass over here.”
I got my behind over there, and I did it by putting a hand to the back of the couch and leaping over it, which knocked five bags to the floor.
Elvira’s eyebrows shot up. I heard deep laughter that was like vocal silk, along with a rough biker chuckle that was almost the best sound in the world (second only to Travis’s giggle).
I ignored all that and started dumping stuff out of bags.
Elvira joined me and we were laying out outfits (embarrassingly with matching undies but I couldn’t give in to the embarrassment of doing this in front of Malik, or the possibility he’d picked some of them for me, I had to focus) when I heard Joker say, “Mrs. Heely, gotta let you know that we’re probably gonna be a little late.”
At that, my head snapped to the side, my vision blurred with livid horror and I screeched, “Don’t tell her that! She’s gonna think I’m rude! You’re never late to a dinner party, even if it’s family! We’ll be on time if it kills me!”
Joker grinned at me and kept on, “Carrie just got off work and she’s pickin’ an outfit.”
I felt my eyes go huge as my heart stopped.
I thought I might black out as Elvira muttered, “Men. No clue.” Then I felt her hand on my arm and her lips at my ear. “Focus.”
I nodded repeatedly. “Right, yes, focus. Right.”
In no time (since half the stuff only Elvira could pull off, some of it only Lanie could pull off, a few things only Tyra could pull off, and only three outfits I could pull off) we’d narrowed it down.
They were draped on my couch and I was bouncing foot to foot.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I like them all. They’re perfect for you. I can’t make a decision. Shit!” Elvira answered, my panic clearly settling in on her.
“What happened to, ‘I’m not nervous. I give good girlfriend?’” Joker asked and my head (and Elvira’s) again snapped his way. “Let’s go back to that,” he finished.
“You are not helping,” Elvira informed him.
“Darlin’,” smooth came at me as a hand hit my back and I jumped, tipped my head back and caught Malik’s warm espresso eyes. “Pink,” he said softly.
I looked down and suddenly it was like a beacon.
It was absolutely the pink.
I bent, snatched it up (filmy pink dress with v-neck, frilly ruffles adorning it, the same for the short sleeves, with a modest but becoming hem that would hit several inches above my knees, plus undies, and cream platform wedge espadrilles that had a glittery gold threaded through the fabric and ribbons that wound around and tied at the ankles).
I pushed through Elvira and Malik, dashing around the couch, shouting, “Thank you!” and I kept running down the hall, yelling, “I owe you!”
Then I ran into my room and slammed the door.
* * *
I sat in Joker’s truck, pulling at the hem of my skirt, thinking it was modest when I was standing, not so much when I was sitting down, thus fretting about it.
“Butterfly, relax. They aren’t gonna eat you.”
I looked to the side to see Joker, who I had not noted during my earlier crisis had shaved.
“You look sweet,” he went on.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling at my hem.
He glanced at me and back to the road before he asked, “What changed from yesterday’s calm to today’s mega-freak?”
“Sharon asked me what I was gonna wear,” I answered.
“That’s all it takes?”
“That and the realization that what I wear is not only a reflection on me, but on you. And that I gave good girlfriend to Aaron’s parents likely because deep down inside, I would hope, I’m not a total imbecile and I knew somewhere buried there that Aaron was a total jerk. So I probably really didn’t care what they thought of me because, deep down inside, I had some notion they would not be in my life for long. Alas, I didn’t figure this out before I wasted years on him and gave him a child. Fortunately for me, I get that child t
oo. But now, with you, these people, what they mean to you and what they gave to you, they matter. What they think of me and what they think of you choosing me is important. Hence… mega-freak.”
We were driving through a residential area but still, Joker swung immediately to the curb behind a parked car. I gasped as he shoved the truck into park, undid my seatbelt, hooked me with an arm, and yanked me to him.
Then he kissed me, hard and thoroughly, with tongue.
I was breathing heavily when he broke the kiss, and as surprising as it was, I didn’t ask after it.
I knew what it was about.
His people mattered, he mattered, and he liked that I knew it.
So instead, I moved the hand I’d had in his hair to his smooth cheek.
“You got rid of your stubble,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Cut my hair and shaved for Mrs. Heely. She didn’t like where they were before.” He paused before he finished, “And she matters.”
I felt my eyes get wet.
“I’ll explain it to her, Carrie,” he continued. “Start growin’ it back again for you. She’ll get it and put up with it.”
“Your face, sweetheart, your call.”
I watched him smile before he moved even closer (and he wasn’t that far), dipped, and slid his nose along my jaw, ending that bit of fabulousness by landing a light kiss on my neck.
Then he put me back in my seat and turned to the wheel.
I drew in a steadying breath and buckled up.
Joker pulled out.
In a few minutes, we turned into a development that was clearly assisted living.
I instantly hated it.
It was tidy. It was attractive. There were flowers and window boxes.
But each unit was tiny.
Joker had told me Mrs. Heely lost her son not in a war but during some military operation. He’d been Special Forces and things had gone awry. His team had achieved their aim, but they’d sadly lost two men doing it, one of them Mrs. Heely’s son.
I had no idea how old she was but I didn’t care.
I was my father’s daughter. My gramma was not in good shape, and she still lived at home because my dad made that so.
Thus I believed no one should live in a place like that.
And if Mrs. Heely’s son had been Special Forces, I was absolutely certain he’d agree with me.
“There’s the flag,” Joker muttered and I looked right, to what was clearly the clubhouse, and saw the tattered flag hanging there.
He’d told me about that too.
And staring at it, I felt it should be hanging a lot closer to the woman who only had that tattered piece of fabric left of her son.
Joker parked behind a black GMC Acadia and I looked to the diminutive row of houses. One with a window box had the lights on inside, curtains open, people visible through the window, and the door was opening.
“Oh geez,” I whispered.
“They’ll love you,” Joker muttered, and I heard his door open.
I had my door open and Joker was at it helping me down when I saw an elderly woman in a pretty dress with perfectly coiffed silver-white hair coming down the walk, smiling.
“He shaved!” she cried in glee.
“Told you,” Joker said under his breath to me.
I smiled.
He got me clear of the door, slammed it, and we took one step before the woman who had to be Mrs. Heely latched on to Joker’s face.
She tugged it down and moved it side to side.
“There it is. The handsome,” she declared.
I loved her instantly.
“Don’t get used to it. Carrie likes the beard,” Joker replied.
My heart lurched and my hand lifted so I could slap his arm.
“Do you want her to dislike me?” I snapped.
Joker pulled away from the grip Mrs. Heely had on him and grinned at me as he slung his arm around her shoulders.
“Mrs. Heely, this is Carrie,” he introduced.
“What a pretty dress,” she remarked, looking me over in a kind rather than sharp way, which was a relief.
“Thanks,” I replied, lifting a hand.
“Oh no,” she said, grabbing it and tugging on it, her look changing entirely. It was still kind but also welcoming and very warm. “We do hugs in this family.”
This family.
Gosh, I was glad Joker had that.
Though, it was strange how she emphasized it.
As Joker dropped his arm from around her, I bent in and hugged her. She hugged me back.
So far so good.
I heard the back door to the truck open and close as we let each other go.
“From Carrie. She works at LeLane’s. She got you the good stuff,” Joker said, holding the bakery box by the string and the bouquet in his other arm her way.
Mrs. Heely threw her hands up. “Too much!” she cried but didn’t hesitate reaching out and snatching both from Joker. She shoved her face in the flowers and said after pulling it out, “I haven’t had flowers in the house in years.”
Okay, that was also good.
I again smiled.
“Come inside. Candy has to see your new look, Carson,” Mrs. Heely stated, then ordered in a bossy mom’s voice, “Let’s go.”
We went (she was giving us the bossy mom), but following her to the house, Joker didn’t grab my hand. He slid his arm around my shoulders and guided us in.
When we got in, I found I was right. The place was tiny. And made more so by a bunch of furniture that used to be in a much bigger living room stuffed in, not to mention the large, good-looking man, his beautiful wife, and their three kids who were occupying it.
We barely were through the door with Joker closing it behind us before the man took one look at me and strangely burst into gales of laughter.
I went stiff.
Joker felt it.
“Something funny, brother?” he asked with low warning.
The man, who had to be Linus, kept laughing (though not roaring with it) and shook his head, saying through it, “Car, buddy, you’re the only badass biker on the planet who’d pick the prom queen as his woman.”
“I was homecoming queen. I only made the court at prom,” I told him, my voice as stiff as my body.
He burst into more laughter.
The beautiful woman with him, who I knew was his wife Kamryn, slapped his arm (a lot harder than I had earlier slapped Joker’s).
“Cut it out, Linus!” she hissed.
He quit laughing so quickly, I jumped.
He also did it focused on me.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Perfect.”
The force of his words and the emotion behind them made me push into Joker’s side and his arm tightened reflexively around my shoulders when I did.
Linus looked to Joker and his voice was still rough with meaning. “I know you’re done with him, Car, but swear to Christ, I’d pay to see his face, you walked in as all you are with this girl on your arm. Pay to see that shit.”
“Stop cursing in front of the kids,” Kamryn snapped.
Linus curved an arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his side.
I looked up at Joker. “I think I like him.”
“I’d like him more if he’d watch his mouth,” Mrs. Heely declared.
Kamryn grinned at her then turned her grin to me.
I grinned back.
“Candy, Miss Carissa gave me flowers. Do you want to help your Momma Heely put them in water?” Mrs. Heely asked a pretty little girl who was sitting on an armchair wearing a pretty little dress and swinging her legs.
She didn’t hesitate to hop right off the chair and push her way through bodies to Mrs. Heely.
When she got close, she grabbed the woman’s hand.
Apparently, that was her answer.
They got to the doorway of the kitchen before, shyly, little Candy turned back and called, “Like your hair, Mister Carson.??
?
“Thanks, doll,” Joker called back.
Kamryn came forward, hand up to me. “Hey there, Carissa, so nice to meet you. I’m Kam.”
Thus it began, the introductions, hand clasps, hugs, smiles, but this finished with Mrs. Heely yelling through the opening that had a view from the kitchen, “I’ve made Carson’s favorite, my pot roast. But I’ve also made brussels sprouts, and I’m saying right now, all my boys are eating them.” She pointed a tangerine rose at Joker through the opening before swinging it to Linus. “Including my big boys. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Linus answered on a grin.
“Shit,” Joker said under his breath.
“What did I just hear?” Mrs. Heely called on a snap.
“Just don’t put too much of that… stuff on my plate,” Joker called back.
“Six,” she returned.
“Two,” Joker fired back.
“Four,” she haggled.
“Two,” Joker repeated.
“Three,” she snapped.
“Deal,” Joker said.
I started giggling.
Kam giggled with me.
All my panic slid away, and I was finally good to go to give good girlfriend.
* * *
“Next, I want a Candy,” I declared somewhat tiredly, belly full of pot roast, potatoes, rolls, and brussels sprouts (which I detested but forced down five), apple crumble pie and ice cream, and with this, several glasses of wine.
After all that food and not much sleep the night before, I was ready for snuggle time with Joker and then bed (with Joker).
We were in his truck and almost home and I was in love with a little girl named Candy.
Well, I was in love with them all, but Candy was just so sweet. She said practically nothing and was shy as could be. But she also loved her daddy loads, whispered with her mother and “Momma Heely” with her hands on their necks, put up with her rambunctious brothers with a great deal of patience, and studied Joker timidly like she had a crush on him.
All of which (particularly the last) was exactly why she was so stinking sweet.
“Say again?” he asked, his hand in mine holding them at his thigh.
“A little girl,” I explained.
His hand convulsed in mine and the good company, good food, and wine-induced mood melted instantly as I realized what I’d just said.