Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(28)

That’s when “Golden” Garrett Davenport became my opponent.

Fuck with Quarry physically all day long—he could handle it. But no one screwed with his head. I didn’t care if he was six feet three and over two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. I was protective.

So yeah, after the shit we’d been through, no one got to utter Garrett Davenport’s name. Not even clueless Don Blake.

“Okay. Okay.” He chuckled as I shook my head and pretended to shiver. “I’ll never utter his name again.”

“Good call. We should probably change the subject immediately before Quarry senses this conversation and feels the need to destroy my apartment.”

He chuckled again. “Okay. So, any other names or words I should know that are off-limits?”

“Nope. Just that one.” I returned his smile. “Tell me a little about yourself, Don?”

He reclined in the chair and regarded me humorously. “It’s an exciting story, so brace yourself.”

Clutching my chest, I exaggerated a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“I sell cars at a dealership downtown. Relatively flexible schedule. I’m single. My wife and I divorced over a decade ago. I have a couple of kids, but they’re all grown and married now. Figure it’s as good a time as any to get out and do something in my spare time.”

“Wow. That was riveting,” I deadpanned.

“I know. I get that a lot.”

We both laughed.

“So, where’d you learn sign?” I asked.

“I was never formally taught or anything. I was raised by my grandparents, and my grandfather lost his hearing when he was eighteen. It was a necessity to communicate with him. He passed away when I was a teenager, but some things just stick with you.”

Hmmm. He looked a long way from a teenager.

I decided to test him one last time. Only signing, I asked, How have you maintained your competency all these years? You don’t seem rusty at all.

He shrugged and his eyes momentarily flashed to the ground uncomfortably. “Honestly?”

“I’d appreciate it if you were.”

He nodded absently. “I was extremely rusty a few years ago. Then I met someone, and let’s just say, I found a reason to brush up on my skills.” His smile dimmed as he dropped his hands into his lap. “So here I am now, just hoping I can use this position to keep myself polished up in case I ever get the chance to talk to her again.” He paused and released a sad sigh. “A man can dream, right?”

I offered him a sympathetic smile. “You came to the right place. I have more than enough tasks to keep you at the top of your game.”

He clapped his hands together and painted on another grin. “So, when do I start, boss?”




Me: OMG OMG OMG I finally found an assistant!!!! He’s grading papers for me tomorrow, so I’ll have the whole day off.

Quarry: Does this mean you’re good to go with me next week?

Me: Yep. I’m celebrating by getting drunk tonight!

Quarry: Thank God…but no.

Me: No what?

Quarry: You aren’t drinking. Last time you did, I ended up almost fighting an angry circus clown after you made his girlfriend cry by complimenting her Oompa Loompa costume.

Me: That was NOT the last time I drank. That was my 21st birthday. And I won’t say it again. She looked like an Oompa Loompa and you know it!

Quarry: She wasn’t in costume!

Me: Then why was she orange?!

Quarry: Who the hell knows? The better question would be why the hell her boyfriend was dressed like a clown? And why exactly he thought picking a fight with me would end well for him?

Me: Oh my God! Do you remember when Ash started begging him to make her balloon animals because she thought Flint hired him for my birthday?

Quarry: I thought someone was going to have to bail Flint out of jail when Bozo snapped at her.

Me: Ya know, for a man whose face was painted in a big, red smile, he really was a grouchy clown.

Quarry: Come on. Give the guy a break. It was probably the first time he realized he was in a relationship with a dangerous escapee from Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

Me: Lol! That was such a fun night.

Quarry: No.

Me: No. What?

Quarry: No, we aren’t going out after this charity thing tonight.

Me: Oh, Grandpa Page, I would never dream of dragging you out. I’m well aware how much you love hiding out at home. I’ll just celebrate by drinking wine and making you watch me reenact Grease 2 again.

Quarry: Dear. God. Why?

Me: You want me to grab you some beer on my way home?

Quarry: Yes and a bottle of chloroform.

Me: Hi-larious!

Quarry: Where are you anyway? Isn’t it gonna take you four days to get dressed? We have to leave in an hour.

Me: I had my hair and makeup done. I just need to put on my dress and shoes. The most time-consuming part will be yelling at you to change until you finally relent and put on the damn suit instead of whatever jeans you have on right now.

Quarry: Promise me no Grease 2 and I’ll be in the suit when you get here.

Me: Deal. See you in ten.

Quarry: Cool.

Me: Actually, make that twenty. I’m gonna stop at a Redbox and see if they have The Sound of Music.

Quarry: Fuck!