Chapter 14
Sienna
After my lawyer leaves, I stare into the cornfields, fists clenched.
Witness protection? I mean so little to him? If he sends me away, I’ll never be able to sing again. I’d rather die from a bullet to the head. It’d be faster and less painful.
I wait until Andy’s car squeals with the smell of burning rubber before starting to count. By the time I hit one hundred, I’m calm enough to face Jack who’s leaning on a black Ford SUV, studying me.
At least he has the good sense not to say anything for a while. “You want to stay at the bed and breakfast tonight? I can get you a room.”
I shake my head, no. “Mrs. Quinn is expecting me. It’s bad enough I’m missing her dinner.”
“So, where do you want to go?” He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in.
“Airport?”
“Sorry, no can do.”
“Is there a bar somewhere?”
He glances at his phone. “Not sure if there’s one open yet but we can try.”
He rounds the front of the car and gets behind the wheel. Why does my stupid heart always go for the wrong guy? Why can’t it fall for someone like Jack?
I try to convince the lady-lips between my legs but they’re like,ho-hum. Jack is a sweet, handsome, caring guy but no thanks.
That settled, I need to burn off steam but not dressed like this. “Can you take me to a second-hand store? I need to find something to wear.”
“Sure.” He fools around with his phone for a while, then drives. I wait for the lecture about what a nice guy Andy Quinn is but it never comes. I’m almost disappointed because I got a whole list of rebuttals just bursting.
Reason one why Andy is not a nice guy; he slept with me and broke my heart. We’ll call that reasons two and three, as well. Then, he brought me home to his mother and introduced me as his client.
And? And? He filled out paperwork so I’ll be all alone forever.
“This sucks.”
Jack glances over, not really paying attention. “The south? I suppose so, if you’re used to the city.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I pout and it’s not pretty.
“I am not getting in between the two of you.”
“Nothing to get in between, obviously.” My teeth grind in the back, making my jaw ache. Neither one of us feels like talking so there’s awkward silence until he pulls into a parking lot.
“I’ll wait here.” He points at a warehouse with a plywood sign, the words,ma’s thrift,hand-painted in red.
Inside, the aroma of mothballs almost makes me leave but there’s a nice lady at the front of the store with a kind smile.
“I need a dress-”
“They’re right there, honey.”
I walk to the rack and sigh. Most everything would look lovely on someone about eighty.
After searching in vain, I walk to the men’s rack and find a torn pair of button-down blue jeans. I score cowboy boots from a pile of kids’ shoes. I’ll top off the look with a black wife-beater and a man’s checkered shirt.
For ten bucks. I’m ready to paint the town red.
