Chapter 22

Manny

I won’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed when she said she wanted to check out the apartment, because I was. Maybe because all those days spent sitting by her side, I had spun a fanciful story involving the two of us as the stars. But I understand where she’s coming from, because I felt the same way after I was released from prison.

Granted the scenarios are totally different in several ways, but she’s never been on her own, and I was never left alone during the years I spent in prison. As I take Ivy over to my house so she can gather some more clean clothes for Ricci from her SUV, which I’ve moved to my driveway, I mentally think about the condition of the apartment.

“Can we swing by where Ricci wants to live before we go back to the hospital?” she asks, breaking through my reverie.

“Sure. I was just thinking of how it looks after the last tenant moved out and what she might need, furniture-wise.” And whether or not it needs a good cleaning. I make a mental note to let the woman who cleans the shop know I have an add-on job for her if she wants it.

“We’ve got stuff we can get here from our parents’ house,” Ivy suddenly says. “We’ve kept the house all these years, but the rest of us have our own places, so it’s just sitting there. Maybe a new bedroom suite and that kind of stuff, but there’s also a really nice set at the house, it just needs new mattresses because they’re older than dirt.”

I chuckle at her thought process while deciding I like her brashness. “Your sister is lucky she has y’all.”

“We’re lucky you found her,” she replies. “You like her, don’t you?” she suddenly asks, switching the subject.

I think about her words then nod. “Yeah, I do. But she doesn’t need to get tied to the likes of me, Ivy. I’m an ex-con. Hell, half the town still thinks I deserved what I got, as if what happened to Luci didn’t matter.”

“Our parents taught us not to judge a book by its cover, Manny. From what you’ve told us, you didn’t mean for him to die. Now, that being said, it sounds like he was a piece of shit for how he treated not only your sister, but other girls he was involved with before her.”

“He was, but Ricci deserves better,” I state.

When I first met her sisters, who descended on the hospital as though the hounds of Hell were nipping at their heels, I wasn’t sure what to expect. We’ve spent this past week getting to know each other and because I’m nothing if not above board about my past, I shared what led to me being arrested and imprisoned. It’s good to know they aren’t concerned about it, because I don’t think I can let Ricci slip out of my life. We haven’t really talked much, but she’s someone I can see building a future with, provided she’s willing.

“She deserves someone who’s going to let her grieve her lost babies, help her understand she’s worth being treated as though she’s a queen, and who will protect her with everything they have. I think that someone is you,” she says. “She just may need some time, because Erik was her only boyfriend and I can tell you from what she’s shared over the years, he was not kind.”

“How about we see what happens?”

* * *

“This is really nice,” Ivy says as she walks around the apartment.

To access it, there’s a door in the back of the shop with a flight of stairs that leads to the apartment, which takes up the whole upper portion of the building itself. Once you walk inside, the apartment is one huge room, more of a loft or studio set-up than a traditional one with various rooms. There’s a kitchen straight ahead, with a counter that has a ledge for stools to sit beneath it. The cabinets are open-faced, with frosted glass inserts on several of them, something I put in when I converted the space into living quarters. Floor to ceiling windows give the whole area a light, airy feeling. Built-in bookshelves are just inside the door, and I can visualize a small, cozy living room once Ricci has furniture in place. A television mount on the wall immediately inside the door already has the hook up for cable, something that is covered with the rent since I have it for the shop and it’s all on one account.

The far corner has a door which opens into an ensuite bathroom, with plenty of shelves, as well as a small closet, for linens and clothes. A small half-wall is the only thing that breaks up the room and I put that in to create the appearance of a bedroom area.

All in all, it’s perfect for a single person, plus the added fact that it would be Ricci doesn’t escape me.

“Thanks. My uncle owns the building and when I got out, I saw the potential for this space since it was already wired and plumbed. So, between learning how to tattoo and getting assimilated back into society, I worked on converting it into what you see right now,” I reply.

“It looks like it’s pretty much move-in ready,” she murmurs. “Just needs a good cleaning.”

“Already going to take care of that,” I say. “I have a cleaning lady who takes care of the shop. I’ll have her do it.”

“Let’s go back to the hospital so I can tell Ricci and Lacie, then see what she might want from the house,” Ivy suddenly says. “I took some pictures of the space so she can see it.”

* * *

“Okay, and what about Mama’s pots and pans?” Lacie asks, her pen poised over the pad of paper she whipped out of her purse once the three women began talking about what Ricci was going to need.

“Really?” Ricci questions. “None of y’all want them?”

“Honey, they’re literally all just sitting in the cabinets,” Ivy replies. “All her baking stuff is there too, and I remember how much you liked cooking with her. Hell, the two of you would bake up a storm whenever it was the holidays. We’ve got her recipe books too. Whatever you want, Ricci.”

I hide my grin because she looks slightly overwhelmed, but she’s trying to keep her game face on. While they continue to talk, I work on the finishing touches of the design for one of my newest clients, Sunday Blake. I had to push her appointment back when Ricci went into the hospital, which ended up working out for the both of us, because she had a few changes.

She’s a decorated military veteran with some horrific scars she wants covered. After meeting her and seeing the sheer size of the tattoo she needed, I took her ideas and input and have been working on the design ever since, tweaking it after each contact with her and her husband.

Hearing my phone, I stand up and smile at the three women. “I’ll step out to grab this,” I tell them. “Carry on.”

Their snickers follow me out as I hit the accept button. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” I ask Jett, Sunday’s husband.

“Manny, what you just sent is wicked as hell,” he replies, referring to the picture I just snapped then texted to the two of them. “When do you think you can start? We know it’s going to take a few sessions.”

Looking up at the ceiling, I mentally review my upcoming schedule, then add in the fact that Ricci will likely be discharged in a few days. While she says she’s ‘ready to get out’, the doctor wanted her to build up some strength since she was so sick.

“My calendar’s pretty light right now, so you tell me when y’all want to come out and I’ll make it happen,” I state.

“How’s this weekend?” he questions. “No games since we got a bye week, and I wanted to be there.”

“Saturday? Maybe around ten? We can take a break for lunch, but I should be able to get the outline done at least.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you then,” Jett replies before hanging up.

Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I head back into the hospital room only to see all three women clam up. Realizing I likely interrupted a conversation they don’t want me to know about, especially seeing as Ricci’s face is blood red, I walk over to her and lean down before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Since you’re in good hands right now, I’ll run out and take care of a few errands I have,” I tell her. “Mama is making a pan of enchiladas for y’all and will bring them up in a couple of hours, but I should be back by then. Try to stay out of trouble,” I tease.

“Your whole family has gone through too much trouble for me,” she says.

When Mama and Aunt Juanita heard about Ricci, they went and picked up a dressing gown along with ‘girly’ things they insisted she would need. Ricci couldn’t believe that they’d do it for a complete stranger, but after I explained that my mother and aunt were forces to be reckoned with and slightly scary to me, she relented a bit.

“Too late to get away now,” I reply, grinning at her. “I’ll be back, ladies. If there’s anything y’all need, just text me.”

With that, I walk out of the room, knowing I’m probably the chief topic of conversation. At least, I hope I am.

Because while I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’s got some healing to do, I want to be there when she’s ready to take a chance again.