Lady Luck
Page 52
I slid my hand away and faced front again.
“You’ve had a wild life,” I remarked.
“Grow up with crazy, folks screamin’ at each other all the time, Dad fall down drunk every other night and at twelve you think bologna is gourmet, you get free, you live wild.”
“Bologna?”
“Yeah, big score, me and Ike got bologna.”
“Ike?”
“Isaiah, my brother.”
“And your full name?”
“Tyrell. No middle for either of us. Mom and Dad had used up their creativity coming up with first names. Lucky we got ‘em.”
I sighed. Then I muttered, “Bologna.”
“Bologna,” he repeated.
“For me, it was corned beef hash. Granddad got the gumption to put together some corned beef hash, I was in seventh heaven. Usually, he forgot I needed sustenance to survive and I made myself PB and J’s. He also forgot to teach me the importance of dental hygiene so a diet of PB and J’s led to me having seven cavities by the time I was ten. I’m not a fan of the dentist but I am a fan of dental hygiene, just, unfortunately, hit the game late.”
“Corned beef hash is better than bologna,” Ty remarked.
“Yeah, but as far as I can see, you have perfect teeth.”
And he did, all white, strong, even. His teeth were as beautiful as the rest of him.
“Least those two gave me something,” he muttered and a giggle erupted out of me.
“Yeah, count your lucky stars, honey,” I advised.
“I am,” he returned and his voice was soft, those two words had meaning and I knew what that meaning was.
I knew what it was.
I knew.
And what it was was proof Lady Luck was feeling generous.
And I knew then I was not going to f**k this up and piss her off.
No way.
* * * * *
I was right. A kickass Viper did not go to the garden center.
This was because, outside Chantelle, there was a Toyota dealership. And Ty slowed before the entry of that dealership, muttering, “Quick stop, baby.”
I didn’t care if we made a quick stop. He was calling me baby again. His lips were twitching. I’d even heard him chuckle. And he was sharing. I’d take a quick stop in hell to keep all that.
We were gliding through the lot when a man with light brown hair wearing an ill-fitting pair of slacks and sports jacket saw us, his face split into a huge smile and he ran, actually ran to where Ty parked the Viper.
Ty barely cleared his door and I was only folding out when the man was on him, shaking his hand, grinning like a lunatic, head tilted back looking at Ty like he was a top-paid professional athlete on a mission and there to clear out the lot of all their high end models.
“Ty, f**k, Ty. Ty! I heard you were out. Fuck! Good to see you, man,” he said, pumping Ty’s hand
“Stan, yo,” Ty replied, pulled his hand free, moved out of the door of the car, forcing Stan out too and he turned and looked at me over the roof. “My wife, Lexie, Lex, this is Stan.”
“Hey, Stan,” I called, slamming my door but Stan was staring at me, mouth open.
Then he swung his open-mouthed stare to Ty.
“Buddy, you’re married?” He looked at me then back at Ty and spoke again before Ty could answer. “To a hot chick?”
“Not gonna marry butt ugly, Stan,” Ty muttered and I pressed my lips together as I moved around the back of the Viper toward them.
“All right, to a super hot chick,” Stan slightly amended.
“Yeah,” Ty replied as I made it to his side and his arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me into him. “Lucked out.”
Lucked out.
Yeah. I’d take a quick stop to hell to keep this. I’d even stay for a cup of coffee.
“You could score but, holy f**k, she’s like a white Jennifer Lopez,” Stan observed.
“I think I look like Jessica Alba,” I joked because I did not.
He looked me up and down and then nodded. “I see it but that ass, all Lopez.”
“Stan, you mind not talkin’ about my wife’s ass to my wife or, say, at all?” Ty asked in a way that Stan could only give him one answer.
And he did, on a mutter, “Yeah, Ty, sorry.”
Then Ty asked, “Here to see what kinda deal you can swing me on a Cruiser.”
That was when I went still.
A Cruiser? As in, a Land Cruiser? What was he doing? We were going to the garden center to buy plants not drop tens of thousands of dollars on an SUV.
“You know I’ll take care of you, Ty.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m here. Get the keys to one, dark gray or black. Upgrade.”
“All over it,” Stan said on another maniacal grin then he ran to the building.
I curled into Ty.
“Uh, honey lumpkins,” I called, his head tipped down to look at me and when it did, his mouth was twitching again. “Looking into purchasing an SUV is not exactly a quick stop.”
“Okay, not-so-quick stop,” he revised very belatedly.
“Right, so, can I ask why you’re looking into purchasing an SUV at all?”
I asked this and his forehead wrinkled. He was perplexed. It seemed not to occur to him that he already had a car. I also had a car. He had a job as a mechanic, had sworn off poker games and he had a score to settle. I wasn’t sure how an expensive SUV fit into all of that.
“Lex, we’re in Colorado.”
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed unnecessarily.
“It snows here.”
Oh. That’s how it fit in.
He went on, “You don’t drive the Snake in snow. You drive a Cruiser in snow. Part of the reason I sat that game in Vegas was to set myself up when I got home. I’m settin’ myself up.”
“Right,” I whispered.
“I had a Cruiser before, had to sell it to finance my defense.”
I felt my heart skip a beat at this unpleasant bit of history.
He kept talking. “Won’t be summer forever and you’re thinking deck plants, we need a utility vehicle.”
Again, this made sense. And his sudden and far from unwelcome domesticity made my heart beat faster. And he had four hundred and fifty thousand dollars somewhere. And a job. And, clearly, a history of getting cool things in one way or another. And he was a grown man, he wanted an SUV, who was I to say differently?
But I needed a rewind.
“You had to sell your other Land Cruiser to finance your defense?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have to sell anything else?” I asked.
“You’ve had a wild life,” I remarked.
“Grow up with crazy, folks screamin’ at each other all the time, Dad fall down drunk every other night and at twelve you think bologna is gourmet, you get free, you live wild.”
“Bologna?”
“Yeah, big score, me and Ike got bologna.”
“Ike?”
“Isaiah, my brother.”
“And your full name?”
“Tyrell. No middle for either of us. Mom and Dad had used up their creativity coming up with first names. Lucky we got ‘em.”
I sighed. Then I muttered, “Bologna.”
“Bologna,” he repeated.
“For me, it was corned beef hash. Granddad got the gumption to put together some corned beef hash, I was in seventh heaven. Usually, he forgot I needed sustenance to survive and I made myself PB and J’s. He also forgot to teach me the importance of dental hygiene so a diet of PB and J’s led to me having seven cavities by the time I was ten. I’m not a fan of the dentist but I am a fan of dental hygiene, just, unfortunately, hit the game late.”
“Corned beef hash is better than bologna,” Ty remarked.
“Yeah, but as far as I can see, you have perfect teeth.”
And he did, all white, strong, even. His teeth were as beautiful as the rest of him.
“Least those two gave me something,” he muttered and a giggle erupted out of me.
“Yeah, count your lucky stars, honey,” I advised.
“I am,” he returned and his voice was soft, those two words had meaning and I knew what that meaning was.
I knew what it was.
I knew.
And what it was was proof Lady Luck was feeling generous.
And I knew then I was not going to f**k this up and piss her off.
No way.
* * * * *
I was right. A kickass Viper did not go to the garden center.
This was because, outside Chantelle, there was a Toyota dealership. And Ty slowed before the entry of that dealership, muttering, “Quick stop, baby.”
I didn’t care if we made a quick stop. He was calling me baby again. His lips were twitching. I’d even heard him chuckle. And he was sharing. I’d take a quick stop in hell to keep all that.
We were gliding through the lot when a man with light brown hair wearing an ill-fitting pair of slacks and sports jacket saw us, his face split into a huge smile and he ran, actually ran to where Ty parked the Viper.
Ty barely cleared his door and I was only folding out when the man was on him, shaking his hand, grinning like a lunatic, head tilted back looking at Ty like he was a top-paid professional athlete on a mission and there to clear out the lot of all their high end models.
“Ty, f**k, Ty. Ty! I heard you were out. Fuck! Good to see you, man,” he said, pumping Ty’s hand
“Stan, yo,” Ty replied, pulled his hand free, moved out of the door of the car, forcing Stan out too and he turned and looked at me over the roof. “My wife, Lexie, Lex, this is Stan.”
“Hey, Stan,” I called, slamming my door but Stan was staring at me, mouth open.
Then he swung his open-mouthed stare to Ty.
“Buddy, you’re married?” He looked at me then back at Ty and spoke again before Ty could answer. “To a hot chick?”
“Not gonna marry butt ugly, Stan,” Ty muttered and I pressed my lips together as I moved around the back of the Viper toward them.
“All right, to a super hot chick,” Stan slightly amended.
“Yeah,” Ty replied as I made it to his side and his arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me into him. “Lucked out.”
Lucked out.
Yeah. I’d take a quick stop to hell to keep this. I’d even stay for a cup of coffee.
“You could score but, holy f**k, she’s like a white Jennifer Lopez,” Stan observed.
“I think I look like Jessica Alba,” I joked because I did not.
He looked me up and down and then nodded. “I see it but that ass, all Lopez.”
“Stan, you mind not talkin’ about my wife’s ass to my wife or, say, at all?” Ty asked in a way that Stan could only give him one answer.
And he did, on a mutter, “Yeah, Ty, sorry.”
Then Ty asked, “Here to see what kinda deal you can swing me on a Cruiser.”
That was when I went still.
A Cruiser? As in, a Land Cruiser? What was he doing? We were going to the garden center to buy plants not drop tens of thousands of dollars on an SUV.
“You know I’ll take care of you, Ty.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m here. Get the keys to one, dark gray or black. Upgrade.”
“All over it,” Stan said on another maniacal grin then he ran to the building.
I curled into Ty.
“Uh, honey lumpkins,” I called, his head tipped down to look at me and when it did, his mouth was twitching again. “Looking into purchasing an SUV is not exactly a quick stop.”
“Okay, not-so-quick stop,” he revised very belatedly.
“Right, so, can I ask why you’re looking into purchasing an SUV at all?”
I asked this and his forehead wrinkled. He was perplexed. It seemed not to occur to him that he already had a car. I also had a car. He had a job as a mechanic, had sworn off poker games and he had a score to settle. I wasn’t sure how an expensive SUV fit into all of that.
“Lex, we’re in Colorado.”
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed unnecessarily.
“It snows here.”
Oh. That’s how it fit in.
He went on, “You don’t drive the Snake in snow. You drive a Cruiser in snow. Part of the reason I sat that game in Vegas was to set myself up when I got home. I’m settin’ myself up.”
“Right,” I whispered.
“I had a Cruiser before, had to sell it to finance my defense.”
I felt my heart skip a beat at this unpleasant bit of history.
He kept talking. “Won’t be summer forever and you’re thinking deck plants, we need a utility vehicle.”
Again, this made sense. And his sudden and far from unwelcome domesticity made my heart beat faster. And he had four hundred and fifty thousand dollars somewhere. And a job. And, clearly, a history of getting cool things in one way or another. And he was a grown man, he wanted an SUV, who was I to say differently?
But I needed a rewind.
“You had to sell your other Land Cruiser to finance your defense?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have to sell anything else?” I asked.
