Chapter 24

Manny

“Oh, Manny, I love it!” Sunday exclaims as she turns from the mirror.

It’s been six weeks since the weekend that Ricci came home from the hospital and I started Sunday’s tattoo. Today’s session was to start the shading and color work, which came out well.

“Should just be one more session once that heals,” I tell her, cleaning up my workstation. “We’ll go over any areas that need it, maybe darken a few of the lines.”

“Looks good, man,” Jett says, handing me his credit card. When I shake my head he asks, “Why?”

“Because she’s a veteran. She served our country honorably and got those scars fighting to help others be free,” I reply. When he attempts to protest, I raise my brow and say, “I do it for anyone who has scars, Jett. It’s my way of giving back since I couldn’t go into the military.”

Left unsaid is why I couldn’t go in; they both are aware of my history.

“Then we’ll make a donation to the charity of your choice,” Sunday announces.

I nod; this is more than okay with me. “There’s a shelter called Helping Hands that works with women trying to get out of domestic abuse situations. I’m sure they can use the help.”

My family and I donate our time and money there as a tribute to Luci. If there had been something available like Helping Hands when she found herself being physically abused by Turo, maybe she’d still be alive.

“That’s what we’ll do. Didn’t know there was anything like that around here,” Jett muses.

“It opened about six years ago, I think,” I reply, now spraying off my chair since all my supplies are put up and my gun has been cleaned while we’ve been talking. “Let’s go schedule the next appointment.”

* * *

I felt my phone buzzing while I was getting Sunday squared away but I waited until they walked out the door to check, only to see a text from Ricci.

Ricci: Betty wanted to know if you would like me to bring you today’s special? It’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans.

Me: That would be great.

Ricci: See you soon.

She’s settled in Possum Run like she has always been part of the community. While I don’t want to examine why that makes me happy too closely, I’m glad.

Hearing the door chime, I look up since I’m not expecting anyone else today, only to see my former girlfriend walk in. “Hey, Manny,” she says, smiling at me.

“Leanna. Is there something I can help you with?” I question.

While I was initially bitter that she hadn’t stayed by my side while I was in prison, I let that go during a visit with Uncle Jorge. He told me that she wasn’t the kind of woman who had staying power. When I asked him what he meant, he told me how when he and my aunt first got together, she had a cancer scare and ended up having a complete hysterectomy, which meant the children they wanted were impossible. She tried to divorce him, but he buckled down and told her he married her for her, not for the children they could’ve possibly had. Said that it took a few counseling sessions, lots of tears, and finally she accepted that he wasn’t leaving her until he drew his last breath. Then, they adopted a set of twins, my cousins, Petrina and Gabriella.

“I’m home, Manny,” she replies. “I wanted to see if maybe we could start over?”

I snort. “Start over? What’s changed, Leanna? I’m an ex-con now, found guilty of manslaughter, remember?” I sneer. “You didn’t want any part of that, if I’m not mistaken.”

A flash of guilt crosses her face before her lips tremble slightly. “I was wrong,” she murmurs, reaching out to place her hand on my arm. I barely resist the urge to shrug her off which is when Ricci walks into the shop.

Her face falls slightly before she shakes her head and pastes a fake as hell smile on and says, “Got your lunch, Manny.” Handing me the bag, she starts to walk toward the back to head up to her apartment.

“Who’s this?” Leanna asks, her voice sounding snotty as fuck.

“My tenant,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “Thanks,” I say, nodding at Ricci.

I remember how jealous Leanna was when we were growing up, and seeing the sneer on her face lets me know she hasn’t grown out of that at all. I refuse to give her any ammunition to hurt Ricci, who is already showing how much she’s healed from her past in the little things she says and does.

“You’re welcome,” Ricci replies. “Y’all have a good day.”

After she leaves, with me unconsciously giving away my feelings since I stare at her the whole way, I turn to Leanna. Now, she’s got a calculating look on her face as she smirks at me. “Looks like she’s more than your tenant, Manny.”

“Not your business,” I bite out. “Now, unless you’re here to book an appointment for a tattoo, there’s nothing else we have to talk about.”

“I want to try again,” she insists. “We were good together, don’t you remember?”

Sighing, I look at the ceiling before my gaze returns to her. “We were kids, Leanna. What I remember is a girl who didn’t want to stand by her boyfriend when he got arrested. I also recall how said girl got jealous every single time I so much as talked to another female. Not only that, but you didn’t like the fact that my family and I are close and resented the time I spent with them, or playing sports.”

“I’ve changed,” she retorts.

“How so? Rumor has it that you caused your ex-husband to be reprimanded and nearly lose his job because of your actions,” I state. At her shocked expression, I nod. “Yeah, the whole town knows what you did. And while you might not have matured, I had no choice in the matter. I’ve got a good life now and there’s no room for you, so please leave.”

She glares at me then says, “You’ll regret that, Manny.”

“I sincerely doubt it. Now get out of my shop.”

* * *

Once the shop is locked up for the night, I grab my bag of food and head upstairs before knocking on Ricci’s door. When she opens it, I don’t miss the surprise on her face. Holding my food up, I say, “Thought maybe we could eat together then walk down for some ice cream or something.”

I’ve been slowly getting to know her. I say slowly because I know what my end game is, but want her to realize she’s got options of her own. I don’t want her turning to me simply because she thinks it’s what she needs to do. So, several times a week, I’ll pop up with food and we’ll watch a movie.

“I’d like that,” she shyly says, opening the door wider and letting me in. “I just pulled my food out and put it on a plate. Here, give me yours and I’ll get you set up.”

I grin because when it’s just me, I eat out of the styrofoam container, but when I come upstairs, Ricci insists on using real plates and silverware. “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

“Sounds good to me. How was work today?”

While she plates my food and carries it over to the counter, I tell her about Sunday’s tattoo, as well as Helping Hands. She sits down across from me and starts peppering me with questions.

“Do you know what kind of things they accept for donations?” she questions, while seasoning her mashed potatoes. I grin, then take the salt and pepper from her to do the same.

“Pretty much any kind of household item, since they assist the women in finding new places to live again and they’re starting over from scratch. Money, of course. Gently used clothing, furniture, old cars.”

“Old cars? Why?” she asks.

“If the vehicle is still in running condition, they go over it carefully then sell it to the woman for a few hundred dollars. If it’s inoperable, they sell it to a junkyard that gives them book value for the car, then they use those funds for the residents who are there at the time.”

“I wonder if Ivy, Lacie, and Stanley would be willing to donate what’s left at the house,” she muses. “Or maybe, we could do an estate sale and just give Helping Hands the money instead.”

“Something to ask them about, that’s for sure. I’m working at the house tomorrow, would you like to come out and see what I’m working on now?”

She smiles and nods. “Yes! Did you ever sell that dresser with the tile on top?”

I start laughing at her excitement. “Yeah, I did. It seems as soon as I post a finished item on my website, I find a buyer.”

“I can see why. You’re very talented. Just look at the things you created for this place.”

“Even though he was gone by the time I got out, I used the cabinets me and my granddad made in here. They were sitting in the workshop collecting dust, so I figured why not?” I tell her.

“They’re a great addition, that’s for sure. Do you want more water?”

I look down at my glass and realize I’ve finished the whole thing while we’ve been eating and talking. “Yeah, but I’ll grab it,” I insist, standing and heading to the refrigerator with my glass in hand.

* * *

“You like living here?” I ask as we walk back from the ice cream shop.

Watching her try to choose from all the flavors was definitely a treat; she was like a kid in a candy shop. Or, in our case, an ice cream parlor. She finally got Dutch chocolate in a waffle cone, complete with sprinkles. Watching her eat it is an exercise in control for me, however, since the sprinkles keep clinging to her lips.

Lips I’d love nothing more than to kiss.

She takes another lick of her cone before glancing up at me. “I really do. I mean, I never thought I’d enjoy living ‘in town’ so to speak, but literally everything is within walking distance. So, great exercise, plus I’ve met so many people. I really lucked up the day I stopped here for something to eat.”

“What made you stop?” I ask, curiosity overwhelming me.

“Believe it or not, I liked the name of the town,” she says, shrugging. “Did you grab any napkins?”

I hand her several then watch as she wraps one around the cone that’s starting to drip down onto her hand. “May need to eat that a bit faster, Ricci,” I tease.

“I just want to savor it, Manny,” she replies, licking around the edge where the ice cream seems to be melting the fastest.

“It’s not like we can’t get ice cream again.”

“This is true,” she muses before quickly finishing off the rest of her cone. “Great, now my hands are all sticky.”

I can’t help the laughter that bursts out at her disgruntled face. “Come on, Princess, let’s get you home so you can wash your hands.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she retorts, grinning.

I leave her with the admonishment to be sure and lock up, as well as the promise that I’ll pick her up around nine. When she tries to protest that she can drive herself, I decide to give her that out.

For now.