Ride Steady(155)

I let that go, since in reality he put me at that register but I didn’t think it would end our conversation any quicker if I reminded him of that.

Instead, I kept on with what I wanted to say.

“Since I have you, I’ve discovered after the move that I left some things in your attic. A couple of boxes. I’d like them back.”

“I’ll bring them over to your place tonight,” he offered instantly.

That was easy, which was good, just not what I needed.

“Like I said, I have plans,” I told him. “But maybe I can come over after work some night this week and get them?”

“Whenever you want, Riss. I’ll cut out of the office and be there. And maybe you can have dinner with Travis and me or something.”

What about Tory?

I didn’t ask.

I said, “I’ll text you, let you know.”

“Great. I’ll go up and get them down.”

I studied my memory banks and couldn’t remember so I could only hope that the boxes were closed and taped.

I also could only hope he didn’t go through them. I’d told him about that sketch and who’d done it. If he saw it again, who knew what he’d do with it.

And I wanted it back.

No, I needed it back.

“Right, um… talk to you later, Aaron.”

“All right, honey, have a good day.”

He was making me queasy.

Still, to keep him from turning into a jerk (or exposing he still was one), I said, “You have a good one too. Good luck with the case.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

I swallowed back another gag and said goodbye.

I didn’t wait for him to return my farewell before I rang off, ran out, got myself a sandwich from the deli, went back to the break room, and ate it while calling Joker and telling him my latest tales of ridiculousness from Aaron (though I left out the part where Aaron still had Joker’s sketch).

When I was done telling him and had precisely six minutes before I had to be back at my register, he remarked, “Gotta admit, this shit is kinda funny.”

“I’m glad you think so,” I mumbled.

“Ride it out, Butterfly,” he advised. “And the best way to do it is twist it from what it seems to you, a pain in your ass, to what it just is. Desperate acts from an * who f*cked up his life by lettin’ go the best thing he had in it. You win by just bein’ you. He’s rubbin’ his own nose in his loss.”

That was a much better way to look at it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said softly.

“No probs, Carrie. You gotta get back?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered unhappily.

“Okay, baby, see you tonight.”

“Tonight.”

“Later, Butterfly.”

“’Bye, sweetie.”

I shut down my phone, put it in my locker, sucked the rest of my soda up its straw, cleaned up, and went back to my register.

*

I dashed in the back door, tossing my purse to the side, where I heard it skid across the counter and fall to the floor.

I didn’t even pause to look at it.

I just shuddered to a halt at the side counter and dumped the huge bouquet of LeLane’s flowers I’d bought as well as the box of cupcakes I got from the bakery and then resumed my dash.

When I did, Joker rounded into the kitchen, saying, “Carissa, Elvira and—”

“No time, no time, no time!” I cried, waving my hand at him and not looking at him either as I sprinted right by him.

I rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room and skidded to a dead stop on my Converse.

All my insides seized at what befell my eyes.

This being Elvira standing (in a fabulous wraparound dress and even more fabulous platform pumps) by my coffee table with my couch covered in so many bags, it was terrifying.

Except one wing of the sectional was occupied by a large black man (large as in tall and built) with a bald head and a perfectly formed goatee. He was lounging with his legs crossed casually.

I paid no heed to the black man.

“We had a budget!” I screeched.

“I know, I know, I know,” Elvira replied, lifting her hands up, palms toward me, pressing them my way repeatedly. “But, girlie, I don’t do cute. I got flummoxed. I lost it, ended up in Forever 21 and had a breakdown. It got so extreme, I had to call in Malik.”