Deconstructed(65)

And bonus—when we left Rendezvous, Scott was still chatting up his business-lunch date. He’d never even laid eyes on me or Griffin.

On our way back to Printemps, Griffin and I talked about music, arguing over our favorite country music legends and then which barbecue place in Memphis was our favorite. By the time we pulled into my parking lot, I realized that for the first time in many, many weeks, I had enjoyed myself, forgetting about my problems as we debated the merits of dry versus wet ribs. Ruby’s cousin had a knack for conversation once he pulled the stick from his butt.

As Griffin shifted Ruby’s car into park, I said as much. “You know, outside of total failure at catching Scott and almost dying from choking, this was kind of fun. I mean, cheese fries are amazing. Who knew?”

“Um, everyone.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I guess I lean toward a salad and Perrier.”

Griffin snorted. Then he turned off the engine. “Look, I know you took Juke off your case, but I think you need to tell him what Scott did with your savings and tell him about your suspicions that he may be involved in something sketchy. Juke used to work for the sheriff’s office and knows how to investigate all kinds of things from drug rings to white-collar crime. He still has contacts. Snapping a few pictures of your husband with another woman is one thing. Trying to nail him on something else could be harder . . . and dangerous.”

“Well, I had planned on asking Juke to do that. But this morning when I went to discuss things with him, I found him drunk. Or so hungover that he still seemed drunk. The man needs rehab, not more work.”

Griffin banged his hand on the steering wheel. “Damn it. I had hoped . . . Look, let me talk to him. He lost his wife a few years ago and then his career. You’re right. He needs help, and the family can’t ignore that any longer. Still, let him help you for the next day or two.”

I hadn’t known that Juke had lost his wife. Ruby had never said much about Juke at all. Then again, Ruby was fairly quiet about her past life. But I felt bad for Juke, losing so much in his life and trying to fill it up with the wrong things. I knew loss. I knew redirecting and trying to undo and redo everything. “Okay.”

Griffin nodded. “Thank you. Everyone needs a second chance. There are some in life who let it pass them by. Others pick it up and don’t look back. Like Ruby.”

I paused at those words because I didn’t know what he meant. Second chance for Ruby? When had she lost her first chance? I started to ask but instead held my tongue. “Well, guess I better go back to work. Thanks again for helping me out. I know I’m not your favorite person, so it was really—”

“Who told you that?” he interrupted.

“I’m not stupid. I know that you didn’t like me on sight. That you thought I was frivolous and silly. Some rich lady from south Shreveport with her first-world problems.”

Griffin made a face. “You presumed a lot.”

I smiled. “It’s okay because there is more to me than what you see. See ya tomorrow, Griff.”

Climbing out before he could answer, I hurried toward the back stoop.

“Hey,” he called out, showing me Ruby’s keys in his hand. “Can you catch?”

I nodded, knowing that I wasn’t going to catch the dang keys. I was always picked second to last in gym class. Sarah Roberts was always last. Mostly because she had one leg shorter than the other.

Griffin launched the keys with an underhanded lob. And miracle of miracles, I caught those bad boys. My smile told that story, and Griffin sort of chuckled. “Okay, Maddie. See ya tomorrow. And don’t forget, only my friends call me Griff.”

I blinked.

He pointed at me. “Which means you call me Griff.”

I went into my store feeling pretty decent for someone who had failed so badly.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


RUBY

When I pulled into my driveway, I found Ed Earl sitting in the front porch swing. And for a moment he reminded me of a steaming pile of horseshit on the pristine lawn of an English estate.

Very offensive to the senses.

It had been a long day requiring three pep talks with Cricket and a lot of haggling over the price of a set of Wedgwood with a plump older woman who thought she deserved half off because one dang cup had been set on the nearby 50-percent-off table. Capping off my Monday was a missed assignment that caused my homework grade to drop to an 87 percent and a conversation with Griff over Juke that made me uneasy. My family had tried to talk Juke into rehab several times, only to have him bounce back, but it was obvious that my cousin was struggling and needed some intervention.

So to find Ed Earl waiting on me wasn’t like a nail in the coffin of my day. It was a damned wrecking ball plowing through what was left of my decent mood. Which was not much at all.

I parked and climbed out, slamming my car door extra hard. “You can just get yourself up and take yourself home. We’ve got nothing to say, Ed Earl.”

“Aw, come off it, Roo. I’m tired of chasing you.” He stood, the swing slapping his large calves. Ed Earl was a tall drink of water and mean as a cottonmouth—a lethal combination in a criminal. A daunting one in a cousin.

“Who told you where I lived? Because I’m going to kill them,” I said, coming around the front and climbing the steps. I had no intention of letting Ed Earl in . . . or of talking to him beyond getting him off my porch and out of my life.