Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(26)

Saskia pulls a dark sedan into the garage and comes to a stop in front of us. Shelley pops up from the backseat and waves excitedly at me. I slide in next to her while Minka studies the quiet parking garage.

"We're like spies," Shelley says, hugging me tightly.

"Aren't you scared?"

"No," she says and then whispers, "Saskia is scary, but she's on our side, so I feel safe."

Nodding, I say nothing while Minka joins us in the car. She glances back at us.

"You two play hide and seek back there until we're a few blocks out."

Shelley and I slide down as the car pulls out of the garage. My sister grins at me. I smile back, but I'm already worrying about what happens when the car stops. How many people will be at the store? Will they judge me? I look like a mess in my giant sweats, but I can ignore this fact when I'm at the apartment or with Shelley. Suddenly, I'm very aware of what a loser I've become.

"Where are we going exactly?" I ask once we can sit up normally.

"My neighbor is a designer who owns a cute boutique. She said she'd adjust any clothes you liked. Give you long sleeves or make a short skirt longer. She's aware you have bigger bazongas than a normal customer."

"Bazongas?" I ask, laughing. "Mature."

"Hey, most of the women in my neighborhood are stick figures. In the long run, they might be healthier than us. For now, they look like they need a Big Mac and some fries."

"Money has made you catty."

"I know, right?" she says, laughing now too. "Gossiping is addictive. I can't get enough of talking behind people's backs. In fact, I might need therapy if I keep this up."

Smiling, I still worry about walking into a boutique full of stylish women. Shelley takes my hand.

"Tiffany was sweet enough to close the boutique, so we'll have it to ourselves."

"I love you," I say, sighing with relief.

"I love you too. I know that car chase was weird and scary, but we have two badass women protecting us. Let's try to have fun."

Minka twists around in her seat. "Just in case we have issues, Rafael is following us. He'll keep watch outside while we're in the boutique."

Nodding, I stare out the window at the darkening evening. We pull the car to the back entrance of Tiffany's Teacup Boutique. Minka exits quickly and knocks on their door. Saskia is out of the car already, waiting for the clear. Once a beautiful black woman opens the door, we hurry inside the boutique.

Feeling overwhelmed, I go on autopilot. Shelley and Tiffany have me try on different clothes. They slowly transform me from a woman swallowed by giant sweats to something closer to the woman I was before Locke.

"She wants her arms covered," Shelley says at one point.

Thinking of Troy's comment about my forearms, I smile. "Just above my elbows."

By the time we leave the boutique, I'm exhausted and ready to sleep for twelve hours. Tomorrow, Troy will return, and I can't wait to see his reaction.





21


~~~

Troy

Dancing to My Own Song

I'm a natural loner. Even in school when I was popular, I'd rather sit away from the crowd. Clingy girlfriends weren't my thing. I liked being in my head. My dad said men capable of living in silence were mentally stronger than someone in need of companionship. Considering he remarried exactly a year after his beloved wife died, I always assumed this hurry back to the altar meant he was weak.

Minka was a great girlfriend. She liked silence too. I was the clingier one in the relationship, yet I never asked where she was going or with whom. We were perfect friends in that we never needed anything from each other to be happy.

As Minka tries to forget her life as a nomad, I feel something lacking in my new existence as an average man. Okay, not average since I still break laws when convenient. However, I'm paying taxes now, and I have my real name on a lease. Feels average to me.

I spend most of my off time alone. I often ride my bike or run around my neighborhood, scoping out vulnerable spots in people's security. I can't turn off the part of my brain that sees weaknesses in locations and people. I've been hunting people for too long to stop looking for targets.

Tonight when I walk to the local grocery store to pick up a few things, my mind isn't on searching for weaknesses. I'm thinking about Darla showing me her forearms. Something so small felt like a big deal when I know she wants to hide from the world. She trusts me, and I realize I trust her too. From my alcoholic mother to Minka's shifting needs, women make me edgy.

Darla's different. She appreciates the quiet. Working on a puzzle for hours doesn't bore her. She only wants to turn the chaos of hundreds of pieces into something beautiful. I wonder if she can do the same with herself.

As romantically deficient as I am, there's no way I can fix her. I don't know the right way to talk to her or how to remain aware of her boundaries. My mouth opens before I consider a million possible responses. I want to be closer to her, so I move closer. Minka warned me to be careful around Darla, but I can't help myself.

Back at my apartment, I sit with my feet up and a half-eaten bacon chicken hoagie on a plate next to me. The beer in my hand sweats from the lack of air in the apartment. After a day in Darla's cold place, I don't miss the air conditioning. I miss her, though.