I shove a fist against my cheek. I can’t help the crying. He was kind and funny, and I saw the pain on Nash’s face when he looked at his grandpa lying there.
I need to do some stress baking.
Eli, the driver—personal assistant—bodyguard—who-knows-what job title he has, delivered me back at the office building, where I picked up my car from the parking garage. I drove home in complete silence. Usually I like listening to music…but not today. I’m too sad.
Parking my car on the side street next to my apartment building, I grab my purse, the only thing I brought with me. My box of random office supplies is still in Nash’s car.I check my back seat to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, then climb out and leave it unlocked. I don’t want to pay for a broken window in case someone decides to break in again.
As a general rule, Bend is a remarkably safe place to live. I just happen to live in the roughest part of town. I had to pay to replace a broken window on my car the first month living here and decided it wouldn’t be worth doing that again. Now I just leave it empty and unlocked. They can open it and possibly steal my pack of cinnamon gum.
I walk around the corner to see a couple of the usual men standing in front of the building, and I wave to them. I’m not actually sure where they live, but when my roommates and I first moved in, I was definitely intimidated by them. One of them openly drinks from a vodka bottle regularly, another acts as though he’s stoned ninety percent of the time, and the third one is always getting covered in new bruises and cuts.
But one day, I was walking out of the building to head to work and had a box of cinnamon rolls with me. On a whim, I offered the box to them as if we were a cozy little HOA group.
Ever since then, they greet me with smiles and waves. And I still bring them cinnamon rolls if I’ve made them.
“Hi, guys!” I call as I approach.
Clay hides the vodka bottle behind his back and gives me a lopsided smile while Andy tamps out whatever he’s smoking. Barton looks like he’s winking at me, but as I get closer, I see he has a swollen black eye.
“How’s work going?” Andy asks.
“I got fired today.”
“Oh.”
“How’s work for you guys?”
“We got into a little trouble last night, but we sorted it out,” Barton says with a shrug.
I have never asked what they do for work, and I think it’s better if I never do.
“Well, have a nice night!”
“You too, Magnolia,” Clay calls after me as I trudge toward the building.
I glance at the three motorcycles lined up and notice one’s different.
“Did one of you get a new bike?”
“Barton did last night.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Good night!” I wave and walk to the building.
I open the front door that is supposed to be locked but never is, and I see Piper coming down the stairs that are to my immediate right.
“Are you heading to work early tonight?”
“No, I was going to see if I could find a new pair of shoes. Mine are so old that they’re getting uncomfortable.”
“Is Charlie home?”
“Yessss.”
“Okay, don’t go yet. I have a story time for you.”
Piper’s perfectly-threaded eyebrows shoot up. “This ought to be good.”
She turns and follows me up the stairs to our third-floor apartment. Practically penthouse-worthy in this neighborhood.
