My Kinda Kisses

by Lacey Black

“Jesus,” I reply, dropping my head a bit.

  “Oh, and she says your ass is finer than anything she’s ever seen. Her words, not mine. Definitely, not mine.” Danny laughs again as he drives the final nail, and I move to unhook the chain that’s connected to the tractor for transport and support.

  “Have you heard from Orlando?” he asks while we wait for another tress.

  “I talked to him a couple of days ago, and it wasn’t looking too good,” I confirm to my employee.

  Paula has taken a turn for the worse, her cancer winning the long fought battle. Orlando was dismal when he called, having recently called in Hospice care, but still remains optimistic, as any husband would in this situation.

  “It just sucks, you know? I mean, she’s forty. She’s still got a whole lotta life left to live. Not to mention Cassie is a senior in high school. She’s gonna finish without her mom. Just blows.”

  Danny speaks the words we’ve all thought numerous times. Life isn’t fair sometimes.

  “Hey, did I hear your ex was caught screwing the mayor?” Realizing that Danny’s pulled another one-eighty on me and spun the conversation in an entirely different direction–again–I turn towards him, unable to hide my surprise.

  “What?”

  “Yeah! Rumor is they were busted in his office. He had her bent over the desk when his wife walked in to take him to lunch,” he chuckles.

  “Sounds like the only place she’s taking him is to court. Isn’t the mayor, like, fifty?” I ask absently.

  “Fifty-four with his first grandkid on the way in October.”

  “Huh, guess you never know what level Sara will stoop to.”

  I don’t care so much about what Sara’s up to in the present, but I do care that innocent people are being hurt by her selfish actions. The mayor has been married for thirty years and is the father of two. He and his wife are active in the community and push to promote and support their charities of choice. The fact that his wife is collateral damage in Sara’s self-centered quest to find herself a sugar daddy turns my stomach. It also makes me damn glad I wised up and got away from her after I moved here. If I was still with her, I could be in the same boat as the wife.

  My thoughts turn back to the only woman I can see myself settling down with. No way would Jaime screw around on anyone. Not only is she loyal, but she knows what it feels like to be discarded. She understands the heartache bestowed upon by your partner better than most, because she lived it. Jaime doesn’t trust easily, I can tell. Not since her douche ex left her before the wedding. That’s why I’ll take extra care of the trust she’s given me in the past month. That simple gesture is a true gift.

  We just secure the final tress when my phone rings a third time. I watch as the guys all make it safely to the ground before I pull the phone from its holster on my tool belt.

  “Hello?” I ask, recognizing the office number immediately.

  “Ryan! I’ve been trying to call you! Where are you?” Mary asks, her voice hoarse and filled with emotion.

  “I’m hanging tresses at the Hazelton place. I told you I’d be here all day. What’s up?” I’m instantly filled with concern, and maybe a bit of dread.

  “It’s Paula,” she cries into the phone. “She’s gone.”

  My heart drops into my steel-toed boots and a ball of emotion lodges firmly in my throat. My soul aches for my friend and the wife he has lost. At such a young age, to be stripped of life by a horrible disease that shows no mercy, no prejudices, no discrimination.

  Realizing I’m still on the roof, I say, “I’m on my way.” I slip my phone back into the holster and climb down.

  Back on ground, my guys are gathered around, snacking or drinking to rehydrate. When they see the stricken look on my face, they know. Each one stands up and faces me. Fighting the emotions threatening to choke me, I deliver the bad news. “She’s gone.” They know who I’m referring to. They’ve been fighting this battle alongside Orlando and his family since the beginning as well.

  The mood is somber, all eyes dropping to the dirt as they process what I’ve said. Orlando has been a part of our team since day one for Elson Construction, but he and his family have been a part of this community their entire lives. Everyone knew and loved Paula and respects Orlando as a co-worker and friend.

  “I’m running back to the office to help Mary. Why don’t you guys pack everything up for the day and take off.”

  “Should we go over there, boss?” Tyson asks.

  I contemplate what Orlando would want. Does he want a house full of sweaty construction workers? Would he lean upon us as friends, drawing strength from the group, or would he prefer to not be seen in this moment of weakness and loss?

  “Why don’t I stop by and see how he’s doing? If he’s up for a visit, I’ll let you know.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe we can all meet up at The Beaver later. Have a beer and toast in her honor,” Danny suggests.

  A beer sounds great right about now. Hell, maybe even a shot of something strong, something that sets my stomach ablaze. Even though it’s barely three o’clock, I could definitely use a stiff drink.

  Waving goodbye to my guys, I slide into the truck and head towards the office. If I’m going to head over to Orlando’s place, I’m sure Mary will want to go with me. Plus, she always has a way of saying the right thing, so it’ll help to have her as a buffer between my fumbling mouth and the bereaved.

  I hate this, but if I’m going to do it, might as well get it over with.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jaime

  “I’m going to need help with deliveries this afternoon. I called in Rachel, who fills in occasionally for me when I’m in a bind. She’s coming in at two to watch the shop. I have to take all of the arrangements over there to Serenity Chapel and Jupiter Bay Hospital,” she says, pointing to the workbench loaded up with dozens of plants and arrangements. “And I’d like you to take all of the smaller deliveries. There’s three business stops in downtown, plus another six to go to other places. That okay with you?”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do to help,” I tell her. I’m a little nervous, though. It’s my first official delivery run.

  “Okay, well, why don’t you get this place straightened up the best you can. I’m sure once we get all of these arrangements out of the way, Rachel will be able to clean up better while we’re gone,” Payton suggests.

  I glance around at the mess we’ve created today, since just before lunch. In fact, lunch consisted of sharing a sleeve of Ritz crackers with Pay while we put the finishing touches on a dozen arrangements to go to a memorial service at one of the local chapels. Today was, by far, the busiest day I’ve had at Blossoms and Blooms, and it’s barely after one.

  “You take my car. I’ve got boxes in the back with holes cut out to help hold the arrangements. That’ll keep them from falling over while you’re driving. I’ll take the van because there’s no way we’re getting that plant into my little Ford,” she says, pointing to the three-foot tall potted Peace Lily plant that she’s delivering to the hospital.

  For the next thirty minutes, we work to strategically place all of the orders in either the shop delivery van or her car. It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle, each piece needing to go in just right to ensure easier transport.

  A few minutes before two, Rachel comes flying through the door. She’s in her early twenties, with shoulder length blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She reminds me a lot of a young Reese Witherspoon, circa Cruel Intentions.

  “I’m here! And I brought smoothies,” she adds, setting a container with three strawberry smoothies on the counter.

  “Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver,” Payton groans as she plucks one of the cups from the tray and takes a long pull. “Soooooo goooooooood.”

  “Clearly we didn’t get much to eat for lunch,” I chime in, reaching for the third remaining smoothie. “I’m Jaime, by the way.”

  “Rachel. Nice to meet you. When Pa
yton mentioned you guys worked through lunch, I thought you could use a little pick me up. This smoothie is rich in…well, it’s rich in sugar and carbs. But, hey, the strawberries they use are fresh, so that has to count for something, right?”

  “Right!” I chime in at the same time Payton says, “Absolutely!”

  “And besides, something had to offset the healthy, so I had them add extra whipped cream,” Rachel says without pulling her mouth away from her straw.

  “Genius.” I’m practically chugging the fruity drink, anxious to get to some of that whipped cream that’s layered on top.

  “Anyway, we’re going to go. You know what to do with the store, but call me on my cell if you have any questions,” Payton says before grabbing her purse from behind the counter.

  “Got it. Go make your deliveries, and I’ll take care of everything here,” Rachel says before turning and grabbing a broom. The floors are covered with remnants of leaves, flowers, and ribbon.

  When I get out to Payton’s loaded car, I’m instantly assaulted by twangy country music. I was always more into pop, but Payton always steered towards country. When we were growing up, sharing a room, our differences in music always caused petty arguments. It’s not that I didn’t like that style of music; it’s just that I preferred Maroon 5 and Britney Spears over Jason Aldean and Luke Bryan.

  My first delivery is to an insurance office only two blocks down from Blossoms and Blooms. The receptionist smiles when I deliver a beautiful arrangement of red roses from her husband. The next two stops are equally as excited to receive their flowers.

  I head off the main drag and start to hit my other deliveries. There are four to houses, one to a hotel, and the final one to an agency that wasn’t around when I lived in Jupiter Bay before.

  Addie’s Place is housed in a large home on the west edge of town, clear on the opposite side of the Bay. The house is familiar, of course. Back when I grew up here, and until the time I graduated high school, a local physician and his family lived in this home. It’s a two-story, white home with pillars on the front porch that extends all the way up to the second story. Blue shutters frame each window, and the entrance is a beautifully carved oak door with ornately etched glass spanning both sides.

  I step up to the door and ring the bell. A series of harp-like chimes can be heard echoing throughout the house. It only takes a moment before a woman wearing jeans and a fitted tee comes to the door. Her smile is friendly as she looks between me and the flowers I’m holding.

  “Can I help you?” she asks.

  “I’m from Blossoms and Blooms and I have a delivery for Jasmine Ferdinand.”

  “That’s me,” she replies, that smile widening, blue eyes twinkling.

  “Then these are for you,” I say, holding the bouquet towards her.

  Behind her, a phone begins to ring, pulling her attention back into the house. “I’m sorry, could you step inside for a moment? I have to answer that,” she says, holding the door open.

  Stepping inside, I realize quickly that, while it’s an older home, it’s bright and cheerful and tastefully modern. The old woodwork remains the same, but it’s painted a soft beige color. The walls are a darker taupe with brightly colored paintings adorning every wall. In fact, upon closer inspection, the paintings appear to be original pieces, possibly done by a child.

  My attention is drawn to the fireplace where instead of logs and a fire, it’s filled with tractors, cars, trucks, and airplanes of every shape and size. Instead of a couch, loveseat, and chair, as you might normally find in a large living room, the room is filled with smaller plastic chairs, bean bags, and a card table with a half-finished puzzle on the top. There’s no television, but there’s a mural depicting children playing at a playground.

  I’m lost in the beauty of this place, still unsure exactly what this place is, when Jasmine returns from another room.

  “I’m so sorry about that. I’m the only one inside right now, so I need to man the phones,” she says with another friendly smile.

  “Oh, it was no problem,” I reply, stepping closer. “These are for you.” Extending my hand, I finally hand over the desktop arrangement of white lilies and pink roses.

  “These are splendid! And two of my favorite flowers combined. Thank you so much.” Reaching for the envelope, she quickly removes it from the holder and rips it open.

  This is the part where I would leave, but something is drawing me to this place. While Jasmine reads the card, I glance around at a grouping of four paintings. Each one depicts a different season along the coastal shores. Falling snow along the sandy dunes, spring flowers in full bloom, a blazing sun over sandcastles, and fall leaves blowing out to sea; each one drawn with great detail and love.

  “Those were completed earlier this spring by four students in high school who come to our program after school each day.”

  “Program? What kind of program is this?” I ask, turning my full attention to the woman behind me.

  “It’s a safe haven for children who come from less than ideal circumstances. If a single mother is in need of someone to watch her young children after school, but she can’t afford to pay a sitter, she can bring them here. If a child needs help with homework but isn’t able to use a tutor for whatever reason, they can come here. We offer a place for children to come hang out in a safe social setting, completely supervised.”

  “So, you help kids who are less fortunate?” I ask, completely in awe with the idea of this place.

  “Yes. We have a young man who is a freshman in high school whose father struggles to keep food on the table. He comes here after school, studies and completes his homework, and even helps the younger kids with their studies. We feed him a nutritious meal before sending him home for the night.” I’m completely transfixed on her words.

  “Another young girl’s mother and father were killed in a boating accident last summer. She now lives with her grandparents. She’s withdrawn and doesn’t speak much. She’s been seeing a therapist since it happened, and everyone thought that subjecting her to a social setting with other kids might help. The little girl has been smiling lately and even says a few words every now and again,” she says.

  “This place is amazing. You help children.”

  “We do. At least, we try our best. Addie’s Place was named after a little girl I knew once. She was a beautiful child with long, raven black hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost midnight. Her mother was an amazing woman who helped me once upon a time. When I needed it, she was there, and her daughter was as well. Every step of the way, I could count on both Laurie and her daughter Addie to keep me safe and provide me with friendship and love. That’s what this place represents.”

  I don’t even realize that a tear slipped from my eye until I feel it hit my hand. “You were one of these kids,” I state.

  “Yes. And I grew and thrived because of their help. Now it’s my turn to give back and help those kids who need a little extra guidance or those parents who need a bit of assistance.”

  “And they don’t pay you? How do you keep this place going?”

  “Well, the home was donated by Laurie and her husband, Dr. Keith Whitmore. They continue to pay the property taxes and the electric and gas bills each month. And we seek donations, which help cover two small salaries, as well as food and the remaining utilities. We’ve also secured several grants over the last few years, which aid in different areas such as supplies and building maintenance.”

  My mouth is hanging open as I gaze around once more. “You truly have a beautiful place, and your cause is amazing.”

  “Well, I think so too. My assistant’s husband was relocated for his job and they are moving away next week. This beautiful arrangement is from them. I have yet to fill her position. I keep hoping that if I don’t fill it, she won’t leave,” she adds with a laugh.

  “You’re looking for an assistant?” I ask, something that feels like hope mixed with excitement bubbling to the
surface.

  “Yes,” she confirms and gives me a long look. Suddenly, her face lights up. “Wait. You’re not looking for a new job, are you?”

  “Maybe,” I whisper.

  “But you have a job at the flower shop.”

  “It’s my sister’s place,” I inform her. “She just gave me a job until I found what I want to do with my life.”

  Lines form between her brows. “What is it you want to do with your life?”

  “I don’t know.” That particular confession has always been difficult, at least it has in the last year. Before, I knew what I wanted. I had lists to prove it. Now? I’m still trying to figure that out.

  “The pay is barely above minimum wage,” she says, hope filling her eyes.

  I glance around, taking in the handmade paintings and the toys and the life that’s breathed into this place. Within these walls, I feel something bigger, something great. Something important. And I want to do my part, even if it’s just a tiny piece of the monstrous puzzle of life.

  “If you’re offering, I’ll take it.”

  ***

  After going back to the flower shop, I help Rachel, and eventually Payton, close up. It has been a long, stressful day, but excitement still courses through me. Of course, I have yet to talk to Pay about the things that transpired this afternoon while I was out on deliveries.

  Once Rachel leaves, I turn my attention towards my oldest sister. She’s closing down the register and pulling the receipts from the bin.

  “I can feel you staring at me. What is it?” she asks without taking her eyes away from the task at hand.

  “I, uh, have something I need to talk to you about,” I tell her nervously.

  Hearing the uncertainty in my voice, Payton turns her full attention on me. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her face pinched with worry.

  “I think I’m quitting,” I whisper.

  “You think you’re quitting? Honey, you better be pretty darn sure,” she says, grabbing her stack of paperwork.

  “I made a delivery today to Addie’s Place,” I start.