by A. J. Downey
I tossed down my phone and sighed, leaning back in my desk chair in my little office.
“Amber!” I called out.
“Yeah?”
“Set out the glazes for a private party of three, they’re coming in at seven!”
“On it, boss lady!”
I put my head in my hands and fought not to cry. That was going to be the hardest part of losing my business, to be honest – letting Amber go.
She didn’t deserve it, and I seriously hated Charles for putting me in this position. I was beginning to hate my lawyer, too – for not returning calls and, for seemingly brushing me off to the side. I understood that my divorce wasn’t particularly lucrative for her, however, it felt like she was doing the absolute bare minimum here, and that just added to my stress and my heartache in several ways.
While it was good news that Charles couldn’t touch my inheritance from my mother, I needed to figure something out there, too.
With Copper gone, my sister-in-law, who was a stay-at-home mom, couldn’t keep their house. She was going to lose it, and I couldn’t let that happen. My mom’s house was paid for, and while I could sell it and give my sister-in-law half the money, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Besides, half the money from my mother’s house wouldn’t be enough to buy her and Silver a home of their own.
I needed to talk to her, but for a while, we might be roommates after a fashion, which was going to be tough on me. While I didn’t dislike my sister-in-law, she didn’t exactly like me. It wasn’t about me, though. It was about my nephew, Silver, and making sure he had a secure future.
The only thing I had going for me was that the clean-out of my mother’s house was going pretty well. We’d made a good dent on Monday, and I’d gotten a little further every night since the party, too.
I hadn’t gotten to see Fenris, and that was okay. I was making progress, and I knew he was busy at the farm. I honestly didn’t want to be around for the slaughter of the goats, and they were in the thick of it, apparently, so I had begged off seeing him over the weekend. Now, it was Wednesday. I hadn’t seen him in a week, and I knew he was starting to worry and things were starting to strain. I hated that it was all my fault but a private party.
The timing both sucked and was fortuitous. I really was hanging on by a thread, here.
I stared at my profit-and-loss statement and willed the numbers to move into a healthier position, but it wasn’t going to happen.
Not overnight.
Dammit.
“Decisions, decisions,” I muttered.
“You know, you don’t have to make any right now, right?” I jumped and yelled, pressing my hands over my heart.
Amber burst out in a fit of nervous giggles as I had scared her just as hard as she’d just scared the hell out of me!
“I’m sorry!” she cried, laughing, doubled over and looking at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “I thought you heard me.”
“No,” I said. “God, you scared the hell out of me!”
“Tis the season?” she asked meekly, and I rolled my eyes.
“Ha, ha!” I declared.
“Speaking of, we’re almost out of the greenware pumpkin tea set. I know it’s not ideal but do we have it in us to order some more or are we sunk?”
I looked back at the profit-and-loss statement and sighed.
“I wish we did, but no. I think we’re going to have to move to plan B for any further autumn-related sales.”
“Leaf plates and platters?” she asked.
I nodded. “Glazed in fall colors,” I agreed.
“They got some great maples lining the street on the other side of the soccer fields,” she said.
“You want to take the walk, or shall I?” I asked.
“I think you could use it, boss. You’ve been back here fretting for entirely too long. Get some fresh air, take some time to think.”
“You are wise beyond your years, Amber,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a dejected sigh.
“I know,” she said and smiled. I laughed slightly and shook my head.
“Find me a box with handles?” I asked.
“On it, boss.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, but she was already back near the greenware shelves in the storeroom, rooting through the discarded fruit boxes we tended to collect for those clients that preferred to take greenware home to work on and bring the pieces back to be fired.
While she found a suitable box, I found my jacket and scarf. I looped the infinity scarf in greens around my neck twice and hefted down the leather jacket Fenris had bought for me. It was way too much for me not to wear it, plus it did suit me, was warm, and I liked it.
I took the box from Amber and scooted out the back door, calling out to her I would be back before dark to let her get home. I took a deep breath of the crisp, damp, October air and set off to scout for suitable leaves. I tended to roll out some clay flat so I could press the leaves into the surface. I could make plenty of things using the method. Things like platters, serving plates, trinket trays, and spoon rests. Of course, I could do much more than just that with a bit of damp earth and a fallen leaf, but that was just the start.
A good start. Plus, it didn’t cost me anything but time and energy rather than the money I would otherwise spend for already molded pieces from a supplier. I didn’t have enough of a facility here to just buy the molds and mold things myself.
The walk did do me some good. The somewhat mindless task of gathering leaves that were still pliable enough to use for my purposes took my mind off my other troubles for a time. All too soon, dusk foiled my nice time, and I needed to make the walk back to my shop. I went in through the back door and called out to Amber that I was back and that she could clock out if she needed to.
“Thanks,” she said, coming back and using the computer to do so.
“No problem,” I said, hanging my jacket.
“Store is all yours,” she said. “Everything is set up for tonight.”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pulled down her own jacket and hefted her backpack and went out through the front of the shop.
I set to work making things for the hour and a half or so that I had before the private party arrived.
I was out front when the trio showed up at my door, smiling, laughing, and waving and I opened it to them bewildered. Suddenly, the name Marisol clicked when I saw her with Dahlia and Little Bird.
“What?” I cried. “What are you doing here?”
“We wanted to come hang,” Dahlia said, hugging me fiercely. Little Bird was next, and Marisol didn’t hesitate.
“I would have met you at the party, but my little brother got sick and I had to stay home and take care of him,” she said. I stood back and let them into my shop, turning the sign to ‘closed’ and locking the door, pulling the chain on the neon ‘open’ sign so that it would go dark.
“You didn’t have to book a private party for that!” I protested.
“Nonsense,” Dahlia said pointedly. “You have to make a living.”
“Oh, well, um…” I was disoriented for sure but not so much I couldn’t do my job, I’d like to think. I tugged on my apron and said, “Grab your aprons and I’ll take you on a full tour before we begin. We can choose which projects you want to paint and go from there.”
I gave them the tour starting out front with the neatly lined shelves of bisqueware and finishing in back with the more fragile greenware and the raw clay.
“What are you doing with these?” Marisol asked, picking up one of the leaves out of the box I’d carried them in.
“Oh, I’m making these.” I went over to the shelf where several platters and plates were drying.
“Oooooh, those are going to be so neat!”
“Can we make our own?” Dahlia asked.
“Sure, but they won’t be ready to paint until after I’ve fired them and that takes time.”
“So.” Marisol shrugged and grinned a
nd said, “We come back and book another time to paint them.”
Little Bird clapped excitedly and I just sort of stood there stunned and said, “I can’t possibly charge you!”
“You can,” Dahlia said, steering me to the worktable taking up the center of the room, “and you will.”
“Okay, what do we do?” Marisol asked.
“It’s really easy, actually…”
We set about making each girl a set of three serving platters, each successively smaller than the one before, using some of my wooden forms, to curl up the edges of the leaves to hold pooling liquid when they were finished.
It didn’t take terribly long to accomplish. I mean, roll the clay flat, press the leaf, roll it into the surface to get all of the delicate spines and veins into the impression, cut around it with an X-acto knife, mold it over the wooden form carefully so as not to obliterate the design and take a damp sea sponge to the bottom and around the leaf’s cut edges to round and smooth them.
“How long you been doing this?” Marisol asked, smiling as she worked. I’d given them all the plain black student aprons I kept around the shop to protect their nice clothes.
“Since I was young,” I said. “My mother taught me. She was exceptional at it.”
“So, what’s the deal?” Dahlia asked, getting right to it. “Why are you avoiding Fen?”
I startled and blushed with guilt.
“I’m not a-avoiding him,” I stammered, and it was, of course, a lie. I had been, and I knew it.
Marisol took one look at my face and snorted, laughing indelicately and Little Bird said, “As Dump Truck would say, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
I felt my face drop, and I shook my head unwilling to look at any of them, “I don’t belong,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to cause Fenris any trouble with his brothers. You all are very important to him.”
“Tic,” Dahlia muttered, and put her hand on her hip. “Well, he’ll be lucky to keep all his teeth when Fen finds out, and he will find out, eventually.”
“Girl, you need to talk to him!” Marisol chided.
“I’ve never seen him so happy or at peace than when I’ve seen him with you,” Little Bird declared.
“Truth is,” I murmured, taking a seat in one of the metal folding chairs back here, “I’ve never been so happy as when I’m with him, either.”
“It’s like they see you, no pretenses, no bullshit,” Little Bird said and I looked up sharply, knowing my emotions were raw and naked on my face.
“Yeah.”
“Honey, you can’t let this fall apart just because of Tic,” Marisol said, rolling her eyes. “Tic isn’t the whole of the club. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Honestly, Mav liked you. He wouldn’t have said anything to me or let me hare off with these two to convince you to come back and give us all another try if he didn’t.”
“So, you’re Mavericks…” I trailed off.
“Old Lady, and damn right,” Marisol said with pride.
I made a face. “You can’t be more than twenty. A little young to be calling yourself old,” I said.
The three of them laughed.
“It’s just one more terminology out of the biker vernacular you need to learn,” Dahlia declared.
“So, since you were with Tic does that make you…”
Dahlia made a face. “Oh, God no! I’m just a club slut, and proud of it!”
I blinked stupidly, not sure what to say to that.
“Okay,” Marisol declared. “Crash course time...”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fenris…
I was sitting at the bar and nursing a hard cider, feeling like my ass was being held to the flames of hell while I stared at the black, blank screen of my phone waiting for it to fuckin’ do something.
Maverick and Dump Truck were to either side of me, waiting with me.
Finally, the phone lit up with an actual notification that I wanted instead of the bullshit news or whatever.
A text came through.
Dahlia: You can come down and talk to her.
I felt my shoulders and back loosen up with relief.
Me: What was the problem?
“I can go talk to her,” I said, getting up.
“Good,” Dump Truck said with a nod.
“About fuckin’ time,” Maverick said. “What was the problem?”
“Tic, probably. I haven’t—” My phone buzzed against the bar top where I’d tossed it back down after shooting back to Dahlia.
Dahlia: Tic and his mouth.
Maverick leaned over and saw it and gave a nod.
“Yeah, that’s worth at least a punch in the mouth the next time you see him.”
I scowled. Mav had to give me the go-ahead for at least that.
“I’ll see how bad it is and get back to you,” I declared.
“I hate fuckin’ drama.” Dump Truck rolled his eyes. “Bylaws dictate an ass whoopin’, he keeps this pansy ass shit up.”
“I know what they say,” Maverick said sharply, giving my boy some side-eye.
“Right, I better get down there while the invitation stands open,” I said. “I’ll catch you two on the flipside. Pretty sure the girls will head this way when I get there.”
“Good deal,” Mav declared.
“Good luck,” Dump Truck shot at me. “Go easy on her.” I gave him a look like, no, shit, and he gave a nod. “You got this.”
“I fuckin’ better,” I grumbled, and I went for the back door and to cross 15th where my bike was parked at the boneyard.
I rode down the hill toward Georgetown, across the 1st Ave S. bridge. It was maybe five minutes of travel time from the club to her shop, which was damn convenient. I parked behind it, and before I could even get off the bike, the back door opened, Dahlia standing in it in one of her 40s style dresses. Black with white polka dots this time.
I took the steps up to the back door of the building and she stepped out in her red peep-toe pumps and sighed.
“I don’t know what his fuckin’ problem is,” she muttered dispassionately, and I shook my head.
“You,” I answered. “You, and the fact you don’t see it.”
“See what?” she demanded and jerked her head back, an ugly scowl on her face.
“Talk to him and find out. Just do me a solid, don’t tell him shit about how he’s gonna get punched in the fuckin’ mouth for this.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sakes,” she muttered irritably and threw up her hands.
“Don’t believe in him,” I said honestly. She rolled her eyes, and I grinned and added, “Better to be a wolf of Odin than a lamb of God.”
She sighed looking tired and shook her head saying, “I can’t argue with you there.”
“There a reason we’re out here and not in there?” I asked.
“Yeah, I just wanted to warn you, she’s had a good cry and the girl’s an ugly crier. Don’t be too hard on her. She really loves you and thought she was doing what was best.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “On either account.”
“Then let me collect my ladies and let us get out of your way,” she said and slipped back in. She left the door open, and I got a view down the worktable at Aspen red faced and sniffling as Marisol stood up and gathered her purse. Little Bird, who was consoling my girl, smiled in my direction and stood up as well.
The three of them cleared out, hugging Aspen in farewell. Before they left out the back door I asked, “You want I should walk you around out front to your car?”
Aspen’s had been the only one out in the back lot, so I had to assume they were parked out front.
“I can let you out the front,” Aspen said, rising.
“Nah, we got it,” Dahlia said, waving us off.
“We’re tough bitches,” Marisol added.
“Holler if you need to,” I said.
“Will do,” Little Bird said with a smile.
The door shut, and it was just me and my girl, and despite the sadne
ss that painted her face in blotchy red and white, making her green eyes stand out all the more. She was beautiful and an absolute sight for sore eyes.
She sniffed, her eyes welling again, and I went to her and pulled her in tight against me, resting my chin on the top of her head and murmuring to her that everything would be alright… and it would. As soon as we talked.
“Come here,” I murmured, hooking a boot under the rung on her chair and pulling it closer. “Sit down,” I said.
She took the seat, her hands never leaving mine as though terrified if she let go, I would leave. I hooked my boot in the chair Little Bird had been in and sit my ass down, and no – I didn’t let go of her, either.
“Talk to me,” I said, steeling myself for whatever would come next. Afraid she was gonna say she couldn’t do it. That she couldn’t hack it in the life and that this was going to be goodbye. I dreaded it. So much. I still needed her to have her say, though. I couldn’t fix it if I didn’t know what was broken.
“I just don’t know that I’m right for you,” she finally said, defeated, and her shoulders dropped and my heart sank.
“Why?” I asked, needing to hear it.
“I’m just not like those other girls. The loud music and all those people. I’m so… boring and I don’t want anyone thinking badly of you for being with someone like me.”
I smiled a little sadly, sighing, weighing my words carefully. I looked at her and I saw a beautiful woman who when she smiled, I couldn’t help but smile myself. When she wept, I fully expected the rain to fall outside, and when she was content, made me content by default. I hated seeing her go through this storm of emotion but I couldn’t fault her for it.
She’d been through so much; too much, and the way she’d been brought up? The piece of work her mother had been, always criticizing, nothing ever having been good enough, that was a lifetime of indoctrination and conditioning to work through in the short time we’d been together.
While she wasn’t weak; far from it in fact, she had her weaknesses and thinking badly of herself? Going to the first negative foregone conclusion in any given scenario where she was concerned? That was part of a conditioned response that would take another lifetime to eradicate.
