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Spearfish, Rapid City, Black Hawk (wherever that is), Sturgis. I sigh. Sturgis or Spearfish are a toss-up for distance. Is Kiley up for a road trip already? Maybe I should let Michelle be part of this donating part of her declutter and plan a trip this weekend to any of these places.
I lift my eyes and see a gallery next door to the cigar store. “Hmm.”
I go inside.
“Good afternoon, how may I help you today?” A leather clad biker dude with white fuzzy powder puff hair greets me. Can he possibly help me decorate my house? I don’t want a biker bar themed decor. But he’s asked if he can help me, so help me he will.
“I’m looking to personalize my house. It was decorated very generically, as an Airbnb, and now that I’m living there, I’d really like to find something that’s more… me.”
His eyes travel slowly over me from head to flip-flopped toe, and back up. He gives me a half smile. “I see. Do you have anything particular in mind?”
“Not really.” I admit.
“Well, why don’t you walk around and see what jumps out at you, then we can put together some choices and see what works best for you.”
He’s good. That’s exactly what I would have said to a customer if I were helping them redecorate after a declutter. I smile. “Thank you.”
I stroll through the partitioned areas, considering each wall hanging, keeping my living room, bedroom, dining room in mind as I let my eyes wander. There are paintings, photographs, t-shirts, sculptures, and things that I have no idea what they are but they look like refurbished trash.
Nothing speaks to me.
I keep walking. Back in the back I find a four-by-four painting of an abstract martini glass, bubbles, and a pale green olive on a toothpick. I can’t explain it, but it speaks to me. So I take it down and continue walking while carrying the piece. Then I find a brown lamp that just seems like something that I need. I pick it up and tuck it under my arm. Continuing along, I find three two-by-two photos of vegetables, a red bell pepper, a yellow onion, and a cucumber. I need them. I take them. This is all I can manage to carry, so I start back for the front.
“Did we find some things?” My biker dude salesman grins wildly.
“I believe so.” I clumsily put them on the counter and wait for him to ring them up. He gives me my total. I hand him my ATM card and wait for the silver-haired gal behind him to wrap the four wall art pieces with brown butcher paper and tie it with twine. The lamp, she places in a sturdy bag with handles. I can carry everything so much more easily now. My salesman puts the receipt in the bag. “Do you need help carrying this to your car?”
Would he actually carry all this stuff to Kiley? “No. I think I can manage it now that she put handles on everything.” I giggle.
“Very good.” He says, like a butler or someone formal. He’s so out of character with his leather biker look. I smile. “I’m Maribeth Thorp.” I put out my hand.
He shakes mine, firmly. “Niles Newbyre.”
“Thank you, Niles. I think this is my new favorite decor store.”
“Well, that’s what we like to hear.” He chuckles.
I waddle out loaded down with my new things and turn toward Kiley at the curb. Out of my peripheral, I see a familiar form just as he enters the Deadwood Tobacco Company. Blaze?
What is he doing? Does that man ever sleep? I didn’t know he smoked cigars. Or is he making an inquiry for a high stakes game, like I did. Surely Big Mike knows he’s a cop and won’t play the code-word game with him like he did me.
Fear, like a bolt of lightning, punches me in the gut. I fumble to put my things in the passenger seat and start Kiley’s motor. Thank goodness she starts right up. I look skyward and whisper, “Thank you, Chris!”
I need to get out of here. Things are getting too heated for my comfort. Blaze’s case must be to find where the underground games are being held. And he’s on the right track to find out. Is this my fault? Did he follow me? Oh, my, goodness, Big Mike will kill me—
Or he’s buying a cigar… I rub my temples… And I am just panicking for nothing. I consider my own thoughts, trying to be reasonable. I look at the tobacco store door as if I could see what Blaze is doing, but I cannot. I put Kiley in gear.
“Better safe than sorry.” I drive toward home.
As quickly as I can, once I pull into my short drive, I put Michelle’s boxes back in the garage and park Kiley. She looks happy to be home. I pat her hood as I close the overhead door and scurry— okay I don’t scurry, but I feel a sense of rush to get inside my house. Hauling my new decorations with me, I’m sucking air like a hoover vacuum from the extra weight when I reach my door. I stumble over the threshold. The handle tears on the sack. I scramble with the package to keep from dropping my new lamp. Out of the corner of my eye I see... Someone...
Standing in my living room. I jerk to a halt. My brown packages forgotten, drop to the floor.
“Frank!”
Chapter Ten?
“Listen,” Frank waves his arms like I’m a roaring lion and he a lion tamer. He is trying to settle the wild-eyed crazy look in my face. It’s not working. “I know you told me not to come back, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His dark skin looks pale, his eyes could be mistaken for a Denver road map in red ink. He looks terrible.
