Lucy attempted to keep up. “Jeff?”
“My son lives across the way. He’ll come help with your bags.”
The apartment was small, simple, clean…and ugly.
Dixie headed for the kitchen and made herself comfortable in a metal chair at the Formica table. Boomerang designs stenciled in vibrant orange and yellow decorated the surface of both the chairs and the table. She retrieved a full pack of worn and crinkled cigarettes from her pocket, tapped one out, looked at it warily, and then slipped it back in. “Will you be on TV like Katie?”
She hoped so. Someday. Mostly, she’d be behind the scenes. Where she’d always been. “No, I’m behind the camera this time. Producing.”
“Whatever that means,” Dixie said blandly. “We sure were proud watching Katie on the TV each night. Made us feel like royalty having a real-life television star next door.” Dixie made a face at Lucy’s beat-up appearance. “You’ll want to clean up, I’m sure.”
Her hot pink fingernails scrolled across the screen of her cell phone, and she lifted it to her ear. “Jeff, it’s your mother. Come help the new girl unload her bags.” She clicked the off button without waiting for a response.
“Thank you.” Lucy inched toward the bathroom to clean up.
Dixie hauled herself to her feet and headed for the door. The whole wall rattled when she closed it behind her.
Lucy turned on the bath faucet and balanced on the edge of the tub. Warm water swirled at her feet as she peeled away the Band-Aid on her knee. With her skirt hiked to her thighs, she angled her body to rinse the debris free. Water poured down her leg, and a hiss formed on her lips. Her swollen knee looked as if a colorful plum had sprouted there. Glass had punctured her outer calf, and bits of skin had scraped off her shin. She wiped away the grime, refusing to focus on her deeply crushed pride.
The tub drained while she patted her legs dry with a rough towel. With a resolution that the rest of the night would get better, she pinched color into her cheeks, ran a hand through her hair, and stepped out of the bathroom just as the chief of police she’d met at the gas station brought in the last of her bags. He caught her eye and grimaced.
“You’rethe handyman?” Lucy asked, dumbfounded.
“I suppose so, yes. Although, I’ve never thought of myself like that.” He lifted the bags to the sofa. “I didn’t realize you were Katie’s friend.”
The room appeared to be two sizes too small for him. The ceiling loomed an inch above his head, like Alice in Wonderland after theEat Mecake.
“I’ll just…unpack,” she said, anxious for him to leave.
“Katie told me you could use a friend,” he said with unvarnished authority.
Lucy began to reply when the door opened, and the full force of Dixie erupted into the room. “Everyone’s settled,” she said to Jeff before turning to Lucy. “Lizzie, our neighbor right next to you, died a week ago. She was only ninety-eight. Bless her heart. We got a new tenant there, too. Been a busy day ’round here.”
“I’ll head over and meet her,” Jeff said.
“Him,” Dixie corrected.
“I’ll go welcomehimto the neighborhood.” Jeff gave a curt nod to Lucy as he hunched to fit through the doorframe.
“He’s handsome.” Dixie crossed her arms over her chest.
“Excuse me?”
“Your neighbor.”
“Well, that’s”—Lucy paused, searching for the right word—“nice.”
“I know what happens when a good-lookin’ man and a woman live close together. I’m a God-fearing Christian lady, so no for-ni-ca-tion in my houses.” She finished with a withering stare.
“I, uh, promise not to…fornicate.” The last word caught uncomfortably on Lucy’s lips.
Dixie held her head high when she rambled from the house. She slammed the door, shaking the very foundation.
Lucy moved a box to the kitchen where a breeze blew through the curtains above the stove. She opened a bag of trail mix and stuffed a handful in her mouth, sliding open the door to the tiny patio and stepping outside. Apparently, she shared the space with her neighbor—a very male neighbor with his own door wide open.
He faced the opposite direction, which provided Lucy the opportunity to appreciate everything his gray sweatpantsdidn’tcover. She didn’t know a back could be ripped like that. The waistband of his pants hung low on defined hips that led down to a set of tight glutes worthy of Adonis. Right then, Lucy didn’t mind living in a tiny motel-apartment, and she should probably send Katie a formal thank-you card.
He turned around, but her eyes stayed planted. Lucy didn’t frequent bars, but she knew abs like those played a key role in the invention of tequila body shots.
