AllFreeNovel
Share Us
South Side. I would expect nothing less from Joey. Awkwardly patting one of the knees that hug my thighs, I tuck her skirt between our legs, so she doesn’t give the whole South Side a show, revving my rig.
Naomi burrows her face against my back with a small squeal, refusing to look as we slowly roll out of the compound. She doesn’t look up the whole ride to her house.
Pulling up at the curb, I run my eyes over it. It’s typical of a South Side house, if a little on the larger side. It’s a single-level, stucco-sided building probably three bedrooms. There is an empty driveway and a patchy green lawn with a large Joshua tree in the front yard.
I kill the engine, but Naomi doesn’t get off. She has a death grip on my shirt. Her fingernails – nothing like Joey’s colorful talons – have nevertheless dug into my stomach. I bet I’d have some red crescent marking left on me if I lifted my shirt.
Reaching down, I pry her fingers away from me, jumping off my rig, still holding her shaking hands. Fuck. She’s trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
Carefully, I lift her off the bike, wrapping an arm around her waist as I grab her purse and lead her to the front door. Digging through her bag, I locate her keys, open the door, and steer her inside.
Leaving her sitting at the scrubbed wooden table, I walk through the galley kitchen, opening all the cabinets and the fridge until I find the only bottle of alcohol in this whole place – cooking wine.
Pouring a healthy measure into a water glass, I place it on the table in front of her. Naomi immediately snatches it up, swallows it in a single gulp, gags, and drops her head onto the table, sobbing like her heart is breaking.
Fuck. I can’t leave her like this. It feels wrong. Tugging her to her feet, I wrap my arms around her, holding her to my chest and awkwardly patting her back until her sobs die. I can’t say I’ve ever had a sobbing woman in my arms, but at least I don’t seem to be making thingsworse.
After about ten minutes, her sobs trail off, and she’s sniffing and hiccupping adorably. Looking down, I find my nose brushing soft brown hair, her face still buried in my chest, which feels decidedly damp.
“I have to go now, Peaches. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” Her agreement is muffled, seeing how her face is pressed against my chest. Thank fuck.
As I step away, she scrubs her face, which is a little red and blotchy. Her glasses lie where she left them on the table when I first sat her there, and I get a good look at her features. Nothing like Joey. Of course, her face is scrubbed clean, and Joey would need a firehose to remove her makeup. Who the fuck even knows what Joey looks like under all that crap.
The sun has well and truly set, and the house is bathed in darkness. There are some switches near the entry to the kitchen, so I flick them all. The overhead lights blink on, as does the porch light. Glancing out the window, I see the empty driveway and my rig, the only vehicle parked at the curb. No car.
“How are you getting to the clubhouse on Wednesday?”
Naomi picks up her glasses, shoving them back on her face, and looks over at me, shrugging.
“Cab,” she mutters. Jesus. That’s not happening. Look at her. Some depraved cabbie will take one look at her and take advantage. Not on my fucking watch.
“I’ll be here at eight-thirty,” I growl as she stares at me. “Be ready to leave.”
She opens her mouth, probably to argue with me. Fuck that. Striding out of her house, I shoot a glare over my shoulder.
“Eight-thirty, Peaches.”
I leave her standing next to her dining table before she can argue with me.
Chapter 3
NAOMI
I blink awake with a groan, a sour taste in my mouth. Probably that damn cooking wine. It’s more vinegar than wine. I used it for casseroles. Mama wasn’t a drinker. Alcohol was the devil’s poison and all that. She allowed the cooking wine because all the alcohol was burned out when cooking, and she liked the flavor it added to the meat.
I lie here, letting the grief wash over me. A few tears leak out as I remember that I now exist in a world without Mama. My words to my blond biker last night float over me. Shewasin a lot of pain in the end, and she was ready to go.
It was her time. It was a blessing for her. I wasn’t alone with her in the end. Pastor Nick was holding her other hand. I should buy him a bottle of whiskey to thank him. I should also apologize for not showing up at the wake yesterday.
Sighing, I shove my coverlet back, crawling out of bed and yawning. After a shower and with clean teeth, I feel almost human.
The liquor store is only a ten-minute walk from the house, and I pause in front of the whiskey selection. I know Pastor Nick doesn’t share Mama’s aversion to alcohol. Last year, I saw him having a glass of champagne and a beer at a Christening barbecue. Mama used to say we were lucky such a young, handsome pastor only had one vice, and it was alcohol.
I buy two whiskey bottles, taking them with me as I walk to the Baptist Church on the South Side. Pastor Nick lives in a small three-bedroom house behind it.
He answers my knock, smiling as he invites me in.
