Forgive and Forget(5)

“You can’t let him ruin your chances of being happy, Joe. Don’t spend your life alone because of that ass. He didn’t deserve you.”

“I’m not alone,” Joe said with a smile. He rubbed his face against Bea’s shoulder, purring like a cat. “I got you, and I already know how you feel about my butt.” He pulled away and dodged another smack, laughing as he ran back out into the safety of his shop.

“Everything okay?” Donnie asked, his brows drawn together in concern.

“Yeah.” Joe grinned and leaned over, whispering loud enough for most of the place to hear. “Keep an eye on your butt. Bea’s on the prowl.”

The look of sheer terror that crossed Donnie’s face was too much, and Joe doubled over with laughter. Bea came out to see what all the fuss was about, and when Joe couldn’t answer on account of being too busy guffawing, she looked over at Donnie. The kid flew from the room like it was on fire, and Joe ended up leaning on the counter for support. The rest of the place erupted into laughter, and Bea looked around as if everyone had just lost their marbles. Maybe they had. Joe had that sort of effect on people.




“WELL, that was some mighty fine work, partners.” Joe waved good-bye to the last customer before turning the shop’s sign around to declare the end of another good day. “Donnie, bring the garbage around, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

Joe headed to the front door beyond the counter, and a few minutes later, Donnie returned dragging two large black bags behind him. He really needed to start feeding the kid some more meat and potatoes. The squirt couldn’t lift a dust bunny. Joe grabbed the bags from him and carried them the rest of the way to the front door and outside onto the sidewalk. Once inside, he locked the front door and headed for the side door to check on the garden between his shop and the fancy shoe boutique next door. It was a strange spot for a memorial garden. Decades ago, before the boutique was a boutique, it was a fancy hat shop owned by Mrs. Lowe. Although the shop had been sold long ago, Mrs. Lowe still owned the building, along with the garden she had made in honor of her late father, who’d died during World War II. Although there was an iron gate at the front that remained closed, as well as one at the back, sometimes kids would sneak in to make out or get up to things they shouldn’t be getting up to, so Mrs. Lowe asked Joe to keep an eye on it for her since getting around had become difficult after her hip replacement. Joe didn’t mind. When he needed a little break he would sit out here on the stone bench and just enjoy the trees and flowers. It was also where his fire escape was.

They had been busy from open until close, and thanks to Bea, they’d gotten the Rotherford order. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He’d never catered a party before. If it was a success, he might have to listen to Bea and think about hiring more help. If things went really well, there was plenty of room in the back kitchen for an extra oven or two, and if he sacrificed some of his savings, he’d be able to manage without too much damage to his finances. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, but a bit more space, new furniture, more staff….

The question was, could he do it? He’d thought about having a bigger place once, with a bakery inside. That had been before everything had fallen apart, including him. His business had been steadily growing over the years, and with the economy being what it was, more people than ever needed somewhere affordable to eat, and Joe’s shop fit the bill.

Jesus, what the hell was he thinking? His shop had barely changed in fifteen years. He was nearly forty. Was he really going to start taking such risks now?

Outside in the garden he noticed the place was a whole lot darker than usual. The black iron stairs leading up to his apartment were shrouded in shadows thanks to the burned-out bulb underneath it. Great.

“Donnie, grab me a bulb and the ladder, please. Damn wiring’s blown out the lights again.” He heard Donnie’s “okay” and went to check the gate to make sure it was still secure. He picked up a few pieces of stray litter, grumbling to himself. This was the third time in two weeks he’d had to replace the damn bulbs.

Seconds later, Donnie scurried out and set the ladder in place for him. “I thought Pete fixed it?”

“Me too.” Seemed every time Pete fixed one thing, another broke. Joe handed the litter to Donnie and was about to climb up the ladder when he heard a low wheezing sound. He froze. “Did you hear that?”

Donnie listened, then shook his head, but Joe had definitely heard something. He stared down at the damp ground and listened. This time the sound was louder, coming from the shadows farther down the garden. He glanced over at Donnie, and the kid’s bulging eyes told him he’d heard it too. Making quick work of changing the bulb, Joe swore under his breath. The light didn’t quite extend to the far end, but there was enough illumination between it and the moon where he could just about make out various shapes through the shrubbery.

“What do you think it is?” Donnie whispered.

Joe rolled his eyes as Donnie’s breath tickled the back of his neck. “You get any closer and you’ll be piggyback riding.”

“Sorry,” Donnie said sheepishly, backing away.

“It’s probably just a cat.” Please let it be a cat and not a couple of horny teens getting it on. Joe slowly edged toward the darkness with Donnie once again breathing down his neck, though Joe imagined the kid’s bout of courage had more to do with Elsie watching from the doorway rather than any desire for derring-do. He listened closely for more sounds, but aside from those of the city and Donnie’s breathing, he heard nothing. Then he saw it: a big, dark lump on the ground, highlighted by the soft glow of the moon. Whatever it was, it was moving. Just about. “Jesus, it’s a person.”