“What do you say to doing that TV spot?” Russell asked Slash. “I can have my campaign manager—” He chuckled. “That’s you, Jazz. Why don’t I handle it myself? Can I count on you?”
“No,” Slash replied.
Russell’s gaze hovered on Slash. “Too bad. You would have given my campaign that winning boost. I’m sure of it.”
“When do you get released?” Jazz asked G-ma.
“We don’t know,” Carrera replied.
“If there’s anything you need, just let us know,” Russell said with a smile. “We’re happy to help.” He regarded Slash. “Good to meet you. Don’t forget to vote for me.” Then, he extended his hand to Carrera. “It’s good to be a part of the fam.”
What the hell?
“What does that mean?” Carrera asked.
“Your sister and I are getting serious,” Russell said. “If we get married, I’m thinking of changing my name to Santini. Imean, it carries a lot of weight. Russell Santini, United States Congressman.” He puffed out his chest. “That sounds fantastic!”
With a cheesy grin, Russell dipped down, kissed G-ma’s forehead. “Godspeed.”
Carrera flicked his gaze to Slash. She arched an eyebrow at him before sliding her attention back to Russell.
When they left, Carrera shut the door. “What the hell was that?”
“That was your typical sleazebag politician,” Slash said.
“Amanda May, why don’t you do the TV commercial?”
Slash sat back down, clasped G-ma’s hand. “You’ll find out just as soon as we bring you back to Carrera’s.” She winked. “And you won’t believe it.”
“Oooo, secrets. I can’t wait,” G-ma exclaimed.
Carrera had no intention of discussing their real work with his grandmother, but when her face lit up, Carrera knew to trust Slash.
If anyone knew what she was doing, it was her.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING,G-ma entered Carrera’s home with him and Slash. No longer required to use supplemental oxygen, G-ma had been released with instructions to follow up with her health provider if she had any lingering symptoms.
“Thank you for taking me in,” G-ma said. “I’ve never been homeless.”
“You’re not homeless,” Carrera said. “How are you with stairs?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’ve got a bedroom on the first floor with an en suite bathroom that’s yours, or I’ve got my bedroom upstairs, along with two more.”
“Where’s Amanda May sleeping?” G-ma asked.
Carrera slid his gaze to Slash. “Upstairs.”
With me.
G-ma wandered into the first-floor bedroom, meandered back out. “I like it down here.”
Yesterday afternoon, Slash had left the hospital, returning three hours later with new clothes for his grandmother.
“Once you get settled, we can look at your new clothes,” Slash said. “I can return what you don’t like or what doesn’t fit, then we’ll order everything else online.”
“I’d like some coffee,” G-ma said, “then we can do a show-and-tell.” She smiled at Slash. “Do you remember when I’d take you shopping?—”
