Rock Chick Reborn (Page 20)

Up front, carpeted stairs that were nice.

To the right, a door that opened to what was clearly a laundry/storage room, what with the telltale signs of washer and dryer and bikes mounted on the wall.

I headed up the steps.

There was a landing where things got interesting, this being a little alcove cut out of the pearly-white wall. There was an African tribal mask on a stand set there, lit from above. It was beat up a little, but painstakingly painted, and still had all the little shells that ran across the top.

“Nice,” I noted, stopping to look at it.

“Ngady amwaash. Mask for a woman. From the Congo.”

I looked up at him. “No kidding?”

“My uncle was a collector of African art. On our twenty-first birthdays, he gave all his kids and nieces and nephews a piece.” He tipped his head to the mask. “That was mine.”

I looked down at it. “It’s amazing.”

“Yep.”

“I should do something like that for Roam,” I murmured.

“Yep.”

I looked at him again to see he was grinning at me.

He then put his hand to the small of my back and propelled me up the next flight of stairs.

More nice.

Wood floors.

A living room to the left, big.

A kitchen to the right, also big, off which there was a bar and beyond that a dining room table.

Balconies off the front and back.

I didn’t know what was behind it, but between living room and kitchen there was a big pantry, the doors were open and inside it was a work of art.

“Don’t get ideas,” Moses said as I stared at it. The distressed wood countertop that had been installed into it. The drawers under it with interesting handles, the cabinets under the drawers that had dense wire mesh as fronts. The shelves above it a display of pantry-type items in baskets, jars and glass canisters as well as cans on recessed baby shelves. All of it could be photographed for a magazine. “I let my oldest loose on that. I made it. She designed it. And after her week is up with her mom, she comes back and straightens it when I fuck everything up.”

I again turned my gaze to him. “She’s got an eye.”

“She wants to be an interior designer, and the rest of the house will reflect her desire to do that.”

I smiled at him.

He took that opportunity to lean in and touch his lips to mine.

Oowee.

When he pulled back, I tried to keep breathing right as I remarked, “It’s sweet, you let her loose.”

“Let her loose as much as I can. She’s got an eye, a talent, and will need clients who do not have the limited budget her old dad has. Fortunately, she looks at it as a challenge.” His gaze roamed my face before he looked back into my eyes and asked, “You hungry?”

I nodded.

Hand to my waist, he propelled me into his kitchen, saying, “Let’s get you fed.”

Interesting punched tin backsplash above the stove. Gray concrete countertops. Stainless steel appliances. His girl took into account her dad was a guy in everything but the stained glass suncatcher hanging in the window shaped like a sunflower.

“You wanna sit in front of the TV and eat or you wanna eat at the bar and talk first?” Moses asked, getting down plates.

“Bar,” I answered. “Can I help?”

“Next time, yeah. This time, let me look after you. Have a seat at the bar, baby. Wine to drink? Or beer.”

“Wine’s good,” I told him, heading around to the wooden stools on the other side of the bar.

He got down a wineglass as I hefted my ass up on a stool.

“Red or white?” he asked.

“You got both?” I was surprised. He drank beer all through dinner at Barolo Grill.

He looked to me. “You were coming over. So yeah, I got both.”

I didn’t know what to say to that because I didn’t know what to think.

Leon had put some effort into it in the beginning, but not much. I was too young. I didn’t know to expect more, expect better. And by the end I suspected even in the beginning he had no clue how to give more, definitely not better.

I’d never had a man serve up a meal to me unless I was paying him as a waiter at a restaurant.

Or buy me wine.

“Red,” I said softly.

His head tipped to the side and his attention became acute. “You good?”

I had kind, decent, loving friends. I had a job I was proud of. I had two boys under my roof I wasn’t quite done raising, and I didn’t get to them until late, but what I’d done, I’d done right.

And I was on a stool in Moses Richardson’s kitchen.

What I was not was “good.”

There was no definition for the wonder I was feeling.

“Yeah,” I replied.

He studied me a beat, nodded, then moved to a bottle of red wine on his counter.

Moses was opening it when he asked, “There a reason why those boys don’t have their own cars?”

“I made a mistake.”

He pulled out the cork, but didn’t move to fill my glass, just looked at me.

I took that to mean “explain.”

I explained.

“In the beginning, I wanted them to trust me. But I was stuck. They’d been gettin’ on on their own for a while, they didn’t need me to feed them and give them a bed. Still, beds and food at my place were better than what they could scrounge up. Their clothes were for shit. Secondhand, got ’em at the shelter. They had phones and I did not ask how they got them, or how they paid for them, but they weren’t top of the line.”

When I paused, Moses nodded to tell me he was with me.

So I kept going.

“Coulda gone the route of givin’ them everything they needed and most of what they wanted. But I didn’t think spoiling them was the way to make them trust me and the home I was giving them. Bought them enough they had new of what they needed, got ’em good phones and I paid for the plan. But that was it. Otherwise, I gave ’em chores so they’d get allowances and have money in their pockets to buy themselves things. I didn’t want to just hand everything over so they didn’t learn how to work for something they wanted. It was more, though. I wanted it normal. I wanted to teach things and for them not to expect things. But I also wanted them to know I wasn’t buying them or their behavior or my place in their hearts.”

“Think that was a smart move, sweetheart,” Moses said, now pouring my wine.

“Yeah, the problem with it was, they never asked for anything. Not once. Not new jeans. Not new phones. Not new undies. Not a thing. Christmas is crisis time for Shirleen. Got no clue what they want or need.” I shook my head. “But anyway, got it in my head cars were too big a deal for them. Especially two boys who’d had nothing, until they got me. They’d definitely never ask. I couldn’t just hand them over, ’cause what am I teachin’ ’em if I did? So I decided, anytime they wanted the Navigator, I’d give it to ’em. And told ’em, they both graduated high school on the honor roll, they could pick their own cars. That way, they’d earn ’em. But I didn’t realize I’d be putting myself on the Uber VIP list for frequent riders by doing all of that.”

Moses set my wineglass in front of me. “Since they’re graduating soon, you won’t have to worry about it much longer. Unless they’re not on the honor roll.”

“They’re on the honor roll,” I shared, lifting the glass and taking a sip.