love that stallion. I can remember when I bought him. It was right after I got out of the rehab hospital here. I was in so much pain.” Edward stopped at a light by a big white church with a brass steeple. “My right leg felt like it was breaking over and over again, every time I put weight on it. And I’d been on so many opiates, my digestive tract had completely shut down.” As things went green, he hit the gas and glanced over. “TMI, but opiate-induced constipation is nearly as bad as whatever you’re taking the drugs for. God, I had never before appreciated basic bodily functions. No one does. You walk around in these bags of flesh that are vehicles for our gray matter, taking it all for granted when nothing is wrong, bitching about work and how hard it is, or—”
Edward did a double take on his passenger: Shelby was still staring across the seat at him, and so help her God, her jaw was totally lax.
She’d looked less surprised when she’d been dealing with that stallion.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you drunk? Should you be driving?”
“No. Last drink I had was … last night? Or before that. I’ve lost track. Why?”
“You’re talkin’ a spell.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, not at all. It’s just … a nice change.”
Edward came up to an intersection. And had to reach deep to remember which way to go. “I think it’s down here on the left.”
They went by a strip mall with a jeweler’s, a hair salon, a Pilates studio and a lamp store in it. And then there was a stretch of apartment buildings that were three stories high and made of brick, with fleets of cars parked in slots by the doorways.
So much life, he thought. Teeming on the planet.
Funny, when his sole way of relating to the world had been from his lofty Bradford status, he had ignored all these people who were busy living their lives. It wasn’t that he had outwardly disdained or disrespected them, but he had certainly felt so much more important because of the number of zeros to the left of his decimal points.
Pain and his various physical issues had sure cured him of that arrogance.
“Here it is,” he said with triumph. “I knew it was here.”
Parallel parking across from the low-slung, homey little restaurant, he tried to get around to get Shelby’s door, but with his ankle and his bad leg, there was no moving fast enough—and she didn’t wait for him, disembarking on her own. Together, they paused for a break in traffic and then they were crossing over and he was holding the way inside open for her.
As he took a deep breath of the spices and the hot chicken, his stomach let out a roar.
“I learned about this place,” he said as he surveyed the crowded interior, “from Moe. He started talking it up a couple of years ago and finally he brought takeout home with him. It was before I … it was before South America.”
They were shown over to a table in the back, which suited him fine. He looked a lot different and he wasn’t from this neighborhood, but he didn’t want any attention. Tonight? He just wanted to be as everyone else in the place was: part of humanity, no better, no worse, no richer, no poorer.
Popping open the menu, he was so ready for half the things on it.
“How long have you and Moe known each other?” Shelby asked over the din of other customers.
“Years. He started working at the Red & Black when he was fourteen or fifteen, hauling hay and cleaning stalls. He’s a smart guy.”
“He speaks about you with a lotta respect.”
Edward folded his menu back up. “The feeling is entirely mutual. Moe’s like a brother in a lot of ways. And Joey, his son? Known the kid his whole life.”
In fact, Joey was the reason they were here.
Edward had been thinking about that expression the guy had had as he’d watched Shelby handle Neb’s little freak out.
Ordinarily, Edward wouldn’t be meddling in other people’s business like this. But he found himself wanting to do right by Shelby.
Before things changed.
Their waitress came by, and after they ordered, he sipped his water. “So about Joey.”
“Yes?” Shelby’s eyes were open and guileless. “What?”
Edward played with his fork. “What do you think about him?”
“I think he’s real good with the horses. He never loses his temper. He gets it.”
“Do you think he’s …”
“You’re