with her, because she was anything but fine.
They combed the city, east to west, north to south, for Luis. For even a sign of him. They talked to their dealers, and their contacts; shook hands and made inquiries with local business owners. A real estate agent recognized his description – he’d approached her about looking at property – but she’d turned him away. He was cute, she said, and charming…but, I dunno, he kinda gave me the creeps.
Smart girl, Ghost said of her, after.
But Luis himself was nowhere to be found.
Everybody’s just worried about finals, now, Elijah told Carter one evening, while they drank Gatorade and cooled off from a training session that was no longer necessary, but which felt – mutually, he thought – like hanging out and talking shop with a friend. That and the mayor. Dude. What the fuck?
We have bad luck with mayors.
Several church meetings were devoted to plans for the future: of the club’s businesses, and the club’s strategy on dealing with Luis when he inevitably reappeared. They all knew they would see him again, and everyone was dreading it; Mercy proposed they go on the offense: track him down, kill him, and be done with him.
But finding him was the problem.
They talked about Abacus, but had no real idea how to go about dealing with it.
Let’s concentrate on what we can control for now, Ghost finally said.
Things settled, in the way that they always did, and after a week of paranoia and fruitless searching, Ghost finally allowed that they deserved to celebrate the successful toppling of yet another mayor.
It was party time.
Friday afternoon, the clubhouse bustled with preparations.
Carter eyed the streamers and looped strings of pennants with a smile and a headshake. No one attending this party would care about decorations, but that was beside the point, he figured.
He passed the prospects wheeling in handcarts full of beer cases, dodged Chanel, her arms full of clean, folded towels, and stepped into the kitchen to find Jazz doing a fridge inventory. She had a notepad, and a pen, crossing things off, and scribbling things down. She wore a t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, hair tied up efficiently. He still wasn’t used to seeing her so casual, but he liked it. Felt a pang of regret, even, that she’d still been putting on a bit of a show for him; it gave proof to the fact that they weren’t meant-to-be, though. And he was glad that she was happier, now.
He waited, hands resting on the island, until she finished, and turned to find him, her smile quick, but no less warm than usual. “Hi, hon. It’s crazy around here today.”
“Looks pretty organized to me,” he said.
“Well, yeah, that’s ‘cause I’m in charge.”
He grinned. “No doubt.”
Her smile turned mischievous, even as she pulled out drawers and started counting hand towels. “You gonna bring your girlfriend?”
He felt his face heat – but he didn’t try to hedge or dodge, not this time. Leah was his girlfriend. When she was ready for and comfortable enough, he would call her his old lady. “Yeah. I think she’s nervous; she hasn’t been to a club party in a long time.”
She chuckled. “Well, I know at least one pair of boobs she won’t have to see flashing around.”
“You’re not coming?” It was impossible to imagine; Jazz had never not been at a big club bash.
“Nah.” She gave a headshake, and her smile turned soft. “I’ll make sure the place is stocked and ready, but I’m not sticking around.”
“Jazz…” Was it about him? Did she not want to see him with someone else?
But – no. She said, “I’m going out with Todd. He’s taking me for steaks and lobster.”
“On a contractor’s salary?” he blurted before he could think better of it.
She laughed. “Contractors make good money, kiddo.” Kiddo, not baby boy. They had both moved on, and his momentary flare of worry died down.
She said, “I’m happy. I don’t want you to worry.”
He nodded.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
His answer was immediate, and truthful. “Yes.”
They smiled at one another. He hadn’t thought they’d get here – hadn’t dared to hope. It was all the more wonderful for its unexpectedness.
~*~
“I have no idea what to wear,” Leah said into her phone, pinched between cheek and shoulder as she held up two dresses by their hangers, debating.
“You always dress really well,” Ava assured from the other end of the line. Leah could hear the kids’ small voices in the background. “Way better than me.”
“I dress for work,”