Ride Steady (Chaos, #3)(54)

Then, taking Travis with her, she flounced on her deep purple suede stilettos out of the dressing room.

I looked to Tyra.

“You’ll learn Elvira’s ways and bow to them like the rest of us,” she informed me.

I had a feeling I would.

“And she’s right,” Tyra continued gently. “You need a treat, Carissa. You’ll enjoy it, but trust me, as much as you do, she’ll enjoy giving it to you more.”

I felt a stinging in my eyes and bit my lip that had started quivering. Since I had to do that, I didn’t answer.

I just nodded.

She kept hold of my gaze and kept talking gently. “You’re going to be okay.”

“You’re all helping a lot. Too much,” I replied, my voice quaky.

She stood and got close. When she did, she placed a hand light on my cheek and leaned toward me.

“We’ve all had our times. And if we’re lucky, we’ve all had people that took our back during those times. You’ve been unlucky, honey. But your luck has changed. Roll with it.”

I stared into her eyes.

And with lips again quivering, I nodded.

Thirty minutes later, we all left the store, me pushing Travis’s empty stroller (Tyra had ahold of him now), and in it was a bag that held a cute tube top, an awesome tank, and a fabulous petal-pink sleeveless tee dress with a boat neck, blousy top, and side-ruched skirt that wasn’t exactly me.

But it was perfect.

Better, it was a treat. And I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

We had lunch at the food court while Rider and Cutter terrorized all the children in the play area.

And I ate, chatted, and even laughed… feeling it.

Feeling it like I felt it when I was riding with Snapper.

But this time, that first-time feeling wasn’t feeling free.

It was feeling lucky.





Chapter Nine




You Like Mexican?





Carissa

IT WAS AFTER lunch and more shopping that included Tyra buying me a pair of really neat big hoop earrings with a webby thing in the middle but mostly included Tyra and Elvira amassing five shopping bags each.

It was also after Tyra spoke with her renters and they let us come around so I could view her home.

It was better than I could imagine just looking at it on a small phone screen.

In real life, it was a dream come true.

But now, it was dinnertime and I was back home, someplace I didn’t want to be and someplace I was thrilled would not be home for long.

I had my son at my hip, my purse and Travis’s diaper bag over my shoulder, my shopping bag in my hand, my foot lifted to take the first step that led to many—steps I would soon not have to climb when I got home with my baby (and there it was, me feeling even more lucky)—when I heard, “Yo.”

I turned, stopped dead and stared, unfortunately with mouth open, at Joker sauntering to me.

What on earth?

“What are you doing here?” I asked as he made it to me.

“Got him,” he muttered, and before I could make a move to stop him, he grabbed Travis.

Then before I could say a word about that, he spoke.

“Here to check your place. See how many trucks we need to move your crap.”

Crap was not a great word, but it wasn’t worth a nickel, so I let it slide.

And disappointed was not exactly the right word for the emotion I was feeling that he was just there to check out my place to see how many trucks they needed, but for my peace of mind I didn’t think too hard on what the right word would be.

“Well, okay,” I mumbled.

He stood there.

I stared up at him.

“Butterfly, haul your ass up there,” he ordered.

That was worth a nickel.

“Another five cents,” I told him.

He shook his head then jerked it to the stairs.

I sighed and moved that way.

I climbed. Travis and Joker climbed behind me.

I walked down the walkway. Joker with Travis walked with me.

I opened the door and entered my apartment. Joker brought Travis in after I did.

He closed the door and looked around.

I did too.

The single bonus of Tory (outside her having enough human kindness to inform me my son was sick and then bring him to see me) was that she wanted to redecorate my house after Aaron kicked me out of it. Something Aaron let her do. Therefore I got most of the furniture that used to make its home in a much nicer place.

This meant what Joker was seeing was incongruous.

That being a beautiful, expensive, comfortable fawn suede sectional that ate up nearly every inch of space and surrounded a fabulous, large, heavy, carved, square coffee table and faced a massive media center including a big flat screen TV that took up all the wall space with none to spare.

The attractive rush-seated hardwood stools at my bar didn’t belong to the place either. Nor did the countertop appliances and kitchen paraphernalia that were all expensive because they were top of the line. All this was given to us during our engagement party, my shower, and our wedding, and those gifts were mostly from Aaron’s parents’ friends.

And last, there were the accoutrements, heavy silver frames (that now did not hold pictures of me and Aaron over the too many years we were together but instead held pictures of Travis, Travis and me, Travis and my dad, or my dad, my mom, and Althea), expensive decorative knickknacks, and a Bose dock that I didn’t get in the divorce decree. I filched it. But luckily, Aaron either didn’t notice or was so busy having sex with barely legal model and making my life a misery he didn’t have the energy to fight to get it back.