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I dragged a hand through my hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I really think Bud can be good for Storm. I’d planned on calling you today, but court ran long. Bud offered Storm a job, and I think—”
“A job? Doing what? Selling drugs?”
I sighed. Autumn had a picture in her head, and I wasn’t going to be able to change it unless she saw the real story for herself. I looked at my watch. It was a little after five. “Did you eat dinner yet?”
“No. But what’s that—”
I interrupted her this time. “Good. Don’t. I’ll pick you up in an hour. We can discuss this over a meal.”
“I’m not going out to dinner with you!”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not a date. Bud gets insulted if you visit him and don’t eat his cooking. So you’ll need to eat in order to check out where I took Storm. You need to see it for yourself. Text me your address.”
***
“And then when he was thirteen, he stole a Cadillac and crashed into a police car.”
I held up my hands. “I did not steal the car. Jimmy Lutz’s brother bought it for a hundred bucks.”
Bud shook his head. “He bought a one-year-old Cadillac in pristine condition for a hundred bucks, and he and his dumbass friend thought it was on the up and up, so they took it for a ride. Made it three blocks and crashed right into the back of a police car.”
Autumn laughed. She’d pretty much had a smile on her face since the minute we sat down with Bud. I’d forgotten what a charmer the old man could be. And I hoped he kept telling stories—I didn’t even give a shit if they made me look like a total idiot—because staring at the smile on Autumn’s face trumped my need to look cool by a landslide. Autumn caught me watching her, and her eyes narrowed for a second—as if she was trying to figure out what was going on in my head. I’d happily tell her, but I’d probably get smacked. It was her own fault, though, really. Because how could she expect me to watch her lips curve up in delight and not remember how they’d done the same thing when I’d gone down on her the weekend we’d spent together?
Some women make weird-ass faces as they orgasm—eyes squeezed closed, mouth contorted like they’ve just sucked on a lemon. I’d been with a woman who right before it hit, all the color would drain from her face and her eyes would go wide. Then her mouth opened for a silent scream. The first time I saw it, I thought there might be an axe murderer above me about to chop into my skull. But not Autumn. She smiled her way through orgasm. And it was fucking phenomenal.
After Bud told a few more stories about what a rotten kid I was, he excused himself to go talk to someone else.
I nodded toward the long-haired, hippie-looking guy wearing ripped jeans, who could have passed for one of the homeless who came to eat. “That’s the pastor at the local Episcopalian church. Bud doesn’t allow anyone to come in and preach—whether that be an addiction counselor or a member of the clergy. But he keeps in contact with all the local church leaders. If there’s anything going on in this community, that crew knows about it.”
Autumn watched Bud greet the pastor, and the two men walked outside together. “He’s pretty amazing. I can’t believe he’s only missed four days of serving dinner in twenty-six years. Doesn’t he ever get sick?”
“I honestly can’t remember him ever being sick, at least not sick enough to keep him down. Though I’m not sure anything could keep that man down, except maybe a rope and some chains.” I scoffed. “Even then, he’d find a way.”
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you bringing Storm here. I had no idea so many lessons could be taught in a place like this.”
“It’s fine. I should’ve given you the heads up. But I’d only planned to take him to meet Bud, not bring him to dinner here. I’m not even sure what I expected to happen by bringing him to Bud’s place. I guess I just feel like Bud saved me, so maybe some of that might rub off on Storm.”
Autumn smiled warmly. “I guess your mom had you volunteer with Bud because you got yourself into trouble as a teenager?”
I pushed the corn on my plate around with my fork. “Volunteer? Not exactly. I started working for Bud because I was hungry.”
Autumn’s smile wilted. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed…”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not ashamed of where I came from or the things I had to do to eat. Not anymore, anyway. I just don’t talk about them often because once people know your mother was a prostitute and sometimes disappeared for days or weeks at a time, leaving an eight year old to fend for himself, they look at you differently.”
