And as I carefully made my way to the thermostat (that still had plastic wrapped around it), once I smoothed it over the screen, I saw Deke left my furnace set at seventy degrees so I’d come home to a warm, snug house.
I was grateful for thermostats and a new deck and creamy foam in my walls.
I was grateful for Jim-Billy.
I was grateful for fate setting my feet on that sidewalk so I could be there for a woman I barely knew, but she was a woman that needed me.
I was just grateful that the life I’d been born into already giving me so much, continued to offer me bounty.
I went back to my bedroom with my Twang magazines, my Baby Ruth bite-sized and jumped on top of the bed in my cozy, snug, gorgeous four-poster so I could munch chocolate and read an article that sang the praises of my bestest bestie.
Bounty.
Chapter Four
Prime Rib Sandwich
Justice
Upon Deke’s banging the next morning, I threw open the door, and in lieu of a greeting, I jerked a pointed finger to my nose and demanded, “See this?”
His gaze narrowed and he clipped in return, “Got eyes, don’t I?”
“Well, thanks to you,” I turned my finger and jabbed it his way, “it’s still where it’s supposed to be and didn’t freeze off last night.” I gave him a big grin I didn’t even know I had in me to give that early in the morning and cried, “I love insulation!”
For a second, he stared at me, blank.
Then something lit in his hazel eyes I knew I could bask in its warmth for eternity (so I pretended I didn’t see it, though did this poorly, but just enough to fight my desire to lean in, say, with my mouth touching his, to see it in close proximity).
And he gave me more.
“You’re a little crazy, gypsy.”
He said it like he thought it wasn’t a bad thing, a lovely nuance coating the rumble in his voice that I also could bask in for eternity.
I pretended I didn’t hear that as well, moved back, allowing him entry, and kept moving toward the hall to the garage, doing this speaking. “Coffee’s on, I’ll bring yours out.”
“Jus,” he called, and I stopped walking and turned back to him. “Max says you want the deck finished?”
“Yeah, do you mind?” I asked. “It’s looking awesome. I’m not going to be hanging in the utility room so it’ll be nice to have another change of space to hang.”
He nodded. “I’ll get on that.”
“Appreciated, Deke.”
He moved toward the glass door set in the wall of glass that led now, thanks to Deke, to the back deck.
I went to the garage to get him coffee.
* * * * *
An hour and a half later, showered, dressed and ready to hit town, this being finding somewhere with Wi-Fi so I could deal with emails coming in (specifically the ones from my interior designer), I opened the door to the back deck.
And Deke.
I again admired the herringbone way the boards were set in, making it just that much more interesting, and I did this so as not to admire the man working on the railing.
I didn’t have to call to him. The minute I opened the door, he’d stopped what he was doing to look at me.
“Hey,” I greeted, stepping out.
He jerked up his chin.
“Going into town,” I told him, stopping a few feet outside the door. “Need anything?”
“Nope,” he answered.
This made me curious.
“Do you bring lunch in your truck or something?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered.
Wow. Deke packed a lunch.
Now I was surprised and curious.
“Water?” I went on.
“Yep,” he repeated.
“Cold water?” I pushed.
“Cold enough.”
Yeesh. He didn’t need to bring water.
I crossed my arms on my chest. “Dude, you can help yourself to the water in the fridge.”
“I’m good, Jus.”
“What’s for lunch today?” I asked.
“Bologna.”
“Yum,” I said.
He stared.
Then he asked, “You like bologna?”
“Well, cold, I can take it or leave it. Fry that up until it’s just a bit burnt with a slap of American cheese and put it on toast with loads of yellow mustard, dee-lish.”
He stared again, this time without speaking.
“What was for lunch yesterday?” I asked, still filled with curiosity, as, unfortunately, I probably always would be when it came to Deke.
“Bologna,” he repeated.
“Deke, you need variety.”
“Not sure about your eyesight, Jus, but I ain’t exactly wastin’ away.”
This was very true.
I grinned at him.
This made him look weirdly annoyed.
I decided to ignore that and get on with my morning.
I did just that, turning but saying loudly, “I’ll bring you a sandwich from the deli.”
“Don’t bring me a sandwich,” he said loudly back.
I stood in the open door and looked over my shoulder at him. “And chips. Maybe a cookie.”
“Jus—”
I slipped in, closed the door and walked across the creamy-white-foam-coated space to grab my laptop, head out the door and to my truck.
* * * * *
The only business I’d noted that had a notice that said free Wi-Fi (and theirs didn’t say free Wi-Fi, it said ♥♥♥Free Wi-Fi!!!!☺☺☺) was Carnal’s coffee house, La-La Land Coffee.
So I hit there because I could use a latte as well as Wi-Fi.
I walked in and knew why Krys had called me Free People.
She knew the difference between boho and hippie.
This was because the dude and chick behind the counter were so hippie, I wondered if they had a time machine.
“Hey,” I called as I walked up to them, noting the girl was doing something at the cash register but the dude with his bandana wrapped around his forehead and round specs with blue lenses was staring at me.
She looked up and caught sight of me.
Neither of them moved, including their mouths to use to greet me.
I stopped in front of the counter, clocking their looks and knowing the jig was up.
It was actually nice it lasted as long as it did.
“Hey,” I said more quietly.
“You’re Justice Lonesome,” the girl stated breathily.
“I am, honey,” I confirmed.
“Groovintude,” the guy whispered reverently.
“I…I…I…” the girl stammered, then shut up.
After that, they both remained silent.
I got closer, and to break the awkward, said, “It’d be super-cool if I could use your Wi-Fi and do it drinking a butterscotch latte with one of those butterscotch caramel muffins.”
I tipped my head to the case that looked filled with selections from Heaven’s bakery.
“Butterscotch is my theme today, baby,” the dude said, as if he was a robot.
I smiled. “That’s cool, since I love it. Now, you know I’m Jus. How about you tell me who you guys are?”
“Shambala, Shambles,” the guy said. He shifted closer to the chick. “This is my girl, Sunray Goddess, Sunny.”
Total hippies.
I dug them immediately.
And this was the source of Deke’s coffee.
“You…you…‘Chain Link’ is Shambles and me.”
This came from Sunny and I looked at her, trying to stay loose and cool, rather than get tight and freaked out.
Chain Link.
Deke’s song.
“Wither to dust, crumble like rust, he’s the only thing in life that’s right,” she continued.
“I love that,” I said gently.
Suddenly, a startling amount of tears filled her eyes indicating she was a bit unhinged in her like of Justice Lonesome music, or indicating something
else.
“Thank you for saying what I couldn’t say to him.” It came out in a garble before she took off running down the counter, disappearing behind a door to the back.
I watched her do this but looked back alertly, ready to take off if need be, when Shambles filled her spot at the cash register.
“Okay, all right, that was weird but I hope you stay because I gotta go after her and I really wanna make you a latte when I come back.” He started to move but turned back to me and shared on a hushed rush, his face twisted in a way that made my heart lurch, his next words explaining that look. “She was attacked. Hurt real bad. It messed her up. She didn’t treat me real good through it. Your music helped. Thank you.”
Then he took off.
I stood where I was, experiencing one of the many things that didn’t feel like quicksand about that life I’d left behind.
Experiencing something so beautiful, I could fiddle with the lyrics of a song forever, and not get it right.
Experiencing connecting with someone in a way so meaningful, it shared just how connected all we beings were through a variety of sources. Music. Books. Art. Movies.
The tragedy was, most didn’t recognize it and there were some of us with hate in their hearts about things they didn’t understand who would refuse to acknowledge it.
I let that glide through me before I chose a table, sat down, opened up my laptop and tapped in the password Shambles and Sunny had kindly tacked to the back of the counter under the menu.
Ten minutes later, they came back.
Sunny let me give her a hug.
Shambles made me the best latte I’d tasted in my life, which I used to wash down the best muffin I’d ever consumed.
I got to my email, though I didn’t answer any.
I was too busy gabbing with two totally awesome hippies.
* * * * *
Two hours later, I walked to the back deck, saw a finished railing and a Deke who was working on completing the edge of the rectangular fire pit.
He looked up at me as I moved through the door.
Then he looked down at the hefty white paper bag I had dangling from my fingertips.
After that, he looked to my other hand which had a huge bottle of chilled Fiji water.
I held out the bag to him when I got close.
“Roast beef and Swiss. I had them heat it up. French roll. Regular potato chips, Big Grab. If you tell me what flavors you like, next time, I’ll get saucy. Also in there are two of Shambles’s butterscotch cookies with chocolate chips.” I then offered the water. “This needs no explanation.”
“Woman, you don’t need to buy me food,” Deke rumbled, straightening to his full height which meant I had to tip my head back to look at him.
“Dude, you pass out from dehydration or malnutrition, no way in hell I can carry your carcass to my truck to race you to emergency. I couldn’t even drag it. You need sustenance.”
I jiggled the bag.
“I’m not gonna pass out,” he clipped.
“And I’m not gonna have someone at my house who eats bologna day in, day out. Yes, it’s yummy, but you need variety. So today, roast beef.”
I jiggled the bag again.
“Jus—”
“I have a deck,” I said softly. “It’s an awesome deck and I don’t give a fuck you’re being paid to give it to me. I love it and it means something to me to have it so take the damned sandwich, Deke. If you don’t wanna be nice, okay. But be cool enough to let me be nice because that’s who I am and that’s what I do and I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me.”
He studied me a long time before he finally reached out and took the bag and water, doing this with no words.
“Just sayin’, a non-frozen nose means more sandwiches next week,” I warned.
“If I told you you were a pain in the ass, would you report that to Max and get me fired?” he asked.
I felt my lips curve.
“No,” I answered.
“Then you’re a pain in my ass.”
“So noted. I’m still buying you sandwiches.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, bending to put the water on the stone and opening up the bag.
“Bon appetite!” I cried, still grinning, and I walked away.
* * * * *
I sat in my Adirondack chair, scrolling through stuff on my laptop the designer sent me that I’d downloaded at La-La Land that I’d go back to La-La Land to feedback on when I saw Deke come up the side steps.
“Yo,” I called.
He shook his head for some reason and announced, “Fire pit’s done. You wanna see how it works?”
“Hell yes!” I exclaimed, jumping up, putting my laptop down on the seat I vacated and rushing past him. I then dashed across the pine-needle-ly grass, dodging the standing pines left close when they’d built the house (which were the obvious source of the pine needles in the grass), to race up the steps to the main deck.
I stood next to the fire pit that now had a beautiful rim of flagstone and did this with hands clasped in front of me.
Deke came slower, eyes to my hands at my chest, before they rose to my face.
“You regress to a six-year-old?” he asked.
“Do I have a new toy?” I asked back.
His lips curled up slightly. “Reckon you do.”
“Then yes,” I answered.
He got close, bent deep in a squat and said, “See this key?”
I looked down to the key sticking out of the side of the fire pit that he was pointing to with a long finger.
“Yes.”
“Turn it, you’ll hear the gas come on. Light it, do that carefully, holding your body away. Adjust it however you want. When you turn it off, it’ll take a minute for the gas to burn off and the flames to die down.”
He then pulled a lighter out of his jeans pocket and demonstrated this.
As I watched and saw the flames dance happily, I fought against girlie-clapping at my chest.
“See those handles?” he asked.
I nodded. I saw a handle inside the pit, one on each side.
“Lift that out, lifts out the lava rock. There’s a grate to burn wood to switch out to in your garage. Use it one way or the other, not both. Only switch out when it’s not recently been used. And do not use the gas if you’re burning wood. Yeah?”
I nodded again.
“Be good with cleaning out everything, ash and all, when you switch back to the rock.”
I nodded gain.
“You want me to leave this on?” he asked.
I kept nodding seeing as I so totally was hanging at my fire pit that night.
He shook his head.
Then he kept questioning, “How bad you want a utility room?”
“Really bad,” I answered. “Like, I might bring you a prime rib sandwich, bad.”
He kept shaking his head. “I’ll work tomorrow, get it started. Not Sunday. Be back Monday but at least I’ll have a start on it.”
“That’d be great, Deke.”
This time, he nodded. “Right, done for the day, Jus. See you tomorrow. Seven.”
“Right, Deke.”
He started moving away.
I waited until he was just about around the corner before I yelled, “Fire pit says prime rib sandwich too!”
In return, not surprisingly, I got nothing.
* * * * *
Deke
That night, Deke took a bite of the fried bologna, American cheese, yellow mustard on toast sandwich.
It was a fuckuva lot better than cold.
But not as good as prime rib.
* * * * *
Justice
I grabbed the white bag, jumped from my truck, and strolled into the house.
I went directly to the laundry room.
It had three walls and a ceiling, the sheetrock not taped, but totally fitted, and Deke was starting on wall four.
He looked to me, the bag, then back to me.
“Plans say
tile floor in here,” he declared. “You rejected that tile. I’d recommend concrete. Easy to clean. Grout won’t get fucked up. And you glaze it, shit looks awesome.”
“Can you do that?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered.
“Concrete it is,” I told him.
“You’ll need to pick it, Jus.”
“I don’t think I got concrete brochures from Mindy, Deke.”
“Best get on that, gypsy,” he stated, moving from his wall, coming to me, bending low and snagging his bag.
But in sucking in breath at his proximity, I got a whiff of him.
He smelled clean, like soap.
It was amazing.
How could he smell good drywalling?
Gah!
He lifted the bag, tipped his head down, opened it and looked inside.
“What’s today?” he asked.
“Warmed honey-roasted ham, melted provolone, Dijon-mayo on an onion bun with Fritos. I’m sorry to say, the deli doesn’t do prime rib sandwiches. This means I’m on a mission. Someone in this county has to make them or I’m taking over someone’s kitchen and doing it myself. That’s the bad news. The good news is Shambles was in a marshmallow mood. I have absolutely no clue what that marshmallow thing is but I do know it has chocolate and cashews and I ate two and they fuckin’ rock.”
He lifted his head. “You buy me two?”
“I have a fire pit, Deke. I bought you four. You don’t have a stomach big enough to consume them all for lunch, you can take them home.”
“Future reference, Jus, Fritos, affirmative. Chips, sour cream and chive. Barbeque. Cheddar cheese. Anything. Just not plain,” he shared.
Why did I feel like I cracked the Da Vinci Code?
“Monday, I’ll get saucy,” I promised.
He shook his head and I was realizing he did that when he thought I was being an idiot.
I just hoped he thought I was being a cute, amusing idiot.
“You gonna get out of the door so I can plant my ass somewhere and eat?” he asked.
I vacated the door.
He shifted out of it, down the hall and I went to the garage to grab a bottle of water before I went in search of him, finding him sitting on the stack of drywall in the living room.
I handed him the water.
Bounty Page 9
