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It’s funny how important people who have been scammed still want their money back, even after the guy who conned them ends up in prison.
Not funny haha. Funny as in, “Gee, I guess I’ll have to leave the city and live a quiet life in a flyover state where nobody would look for me.”
One run-in with those guys was enough. I packed up all my shit, moved to the middle of the country, and picked the first town that spoke to me. The first place that was weird enough for the likes of me but also made me feel at home.
As a testament to Fate’s welcoming vibe, a basket sits by the front door of my apartment building with a note that has my name on it, scrawled in permanent marker. I smile, pick up the note, and read, “I woulda brought it up to your door, but I guess that creep landlord of yours finally installed a code entry, praise Jesus. By the way, I peeked in your buggy at the grocery store, which traumatized me for life. Don’t you dare write me a thank you note. Just stop by for a visit sometime.”
The note isn’t signed, but I know who it’s from. The aroma coming from the basket makes my mouth water. Old Ernestine cracks me up. She’s got to be 85 years old, and she insists on bossing around everyone in town in the most loving way possible.
It was Ernestine’s billboard boasting the “Curiosity Spot” that first caught my attention and had me pulling off the highway to investigate. Turns out it’s a hill out back of her farmhouse where she has set up a tourist spot and gift shop, claiming that the hill defies the laws of physics. Something to do with the earth’s magnetic pull. I don’t get it, but I bought a souvenir shot glass on that first visit because it was just fuckin’ weird enough for me. Ernestine then invited me up to the house for fried chicken that was so spicy it melted my face off, and I knew I was home.
I lug the basket to my apartment and examine the contents of it as I sit by the window overlooking the street. The golden buttermilk biscuits inside have been sliced and slathered in Ernestine’s homemade jalapeño pimento cheese, and I’m drooling before I can unwrap them. A baggie of her chocolate chip cookies is buried underneath the biscuits, still warm. As an afterthought, there’s also a container of cut veggies and ranch dressing on the side. The woman feeds me like the grandmother I never had.
I stuff my face and watch the work crew at the Ingalls house below pack up and head home for the day. Buck’s truck has already left for the Paget mansion, where a pregnant Grace is waiting. I want to text her but don’t want to disturb their evening. The house is probably still bursting with gifts that they haven’t opened yet from the baby shower, and I can’t help but smile when I think about that big, gruff guy unwrapping boxes of baby clothes and toys. Buck is so sweet to her; I bet he’s already giving her a foot rub and telling her not to overextend herself. Against my will, the image of him kissing her swollen belly pops into my head, and I feel a tightness in my chest.
I’m not in the least bit attracted to Buck, and I’m really happy for Grace. I wonder what it’s like to have someone to talk to every night.
I nibble on one of Ernestine’s buttery biscuits, loaded down with her spicy pimento cheese, and spy one of Buck’s brothers closing up the job site. It’s Wade. The middle brother. The grumpier and stressed out one, by all accounts. He’s objectively hot, all tattoos and rippling muscles as he locks up tools and other expensive supplies, bags up trash, and moves piles of junk from here to there. Weirdly, his hard hat and safety glasses are kind of a turn-on. However, I’m not a fan of how he gave Grace a hard time when Buck first hired her. Wade was suspicious of her and more or less accused Buck of thinking about getting laid rather than the bottom line.
By Grace’s account, she and Wade are on good terms, and he’s a great brother-in-law, but the brothers can be a bit hotheaded with each other.
I still haven’t forgiven Wade for being rude because Grace must be protected at all costs. That’s the thing about best friends: we don’t have to grant forgiveness to those who wronged the people we love. Hurt me? Sure, we can work things out. Hurt my friend? Yeah…no. I’ll make a sport out of being petty to you for the rest of my days.
My phone pings, and I wipe my buttery fingers on the napkin that Ernestine graciously included with my food before I touch my phone screen.
Grace: My water just broke!
I stand up straight, sending the baggie of cookies tumbling from the basket. Chocolate chip cookies crumble into a million pieces.
I FaceTime Grace right away. “OMG! Do you need me to come to the hospital? What do you need? Anything at all!”
She replies, “I’m good! Buck is handling everything, even the ice chips, lol. He’s getting the good ice from Ruby’s.”
“I’m so excited! Please keep me posted! And don’t you dare let anyone hold that baby before me!”
“After Buck and me, you’ll be the first.”
“I love you!”
“Love you too, Pres!”
Between Ernestine and Grace, I’ve been fortunate to attract good people to me in Fate.
I’ve been less lucky with jobs and money, and don’t even ask about romantic relationships. That’s a complete nonstarter in my current situation.
I gaze forlornly at the cookies on the floor.
Yeah, I’m still eating those tonight.
Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Ruby’s husband, Nick, the foreman at Wood Bros. Construction, and see if they need someone to sweep up.
At this point, I’ll take anything to pay the rent.
What to do about the oligarch’s thugs?
I have no idea.
CHAPTERTWO
