where you been these last couple of years? And what’s with the clothes. You look like some kinda hard-ass now.”
Butch glanced down at his leathers. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
“Listen, whatever’s between you and your sistah?” Melissa shrugged. “It’s none of my business. I’m not . . . I mean, if you don’t want me saying nothing to her, that’s fine. And if you don’t want to talk to me, I understand. I know what it’s like to have to leave things behind. It’s not fun, no matter what side of the exit you’re on or the reasons why you have to go.”
Melissa wrapped her arms around herself and shivered a little, her eyes drifting away as if she were trying to stop her own memories from knocking on her frontal lobe.
“You shouldn’t be out here walking alone,” Butch heard himself say. “It’s not safe.”
She seemed to snap back to attention. “Oh, I know, right. Did you hear about those two bodies they found? What the fuck?”
“Why don’t I walk you to the club. That way, I know you’re safe.”
Melissa’s smile was shy, and very much at odds with her beauty.
“Come on,” Butch said as he offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”
“Such a gentleman.” She linked a hold on him. “Hey, why don’t you come inside with me? Or we could go somewhere quiet.”
“I gotta work.” The sound of their footsteps rose up from the pavement, the heavy impact of his boots balanced by the staccato clips of her high heels. “And listen, I’m married.”
Melissa stopped. Stamped her foot. “Get out. You are? Joyce said you weren’t ever going to settle down.”
“You meet the right person, that’s all it takes.”
“Well . . . shit.” She recrossed her arms and looked him up and down. When her eyes came back to him, there was a sly light in them. “But married isn’t always . . . you know . . . married, necessarily.”
“It is with me.” He took her elbow and started walking again, drawing her along. “But come on, someone like you, I’ll bet you’re beating ’em off with a stick.”
“You’d be surprised,” came the dry response.
“You know, I don’t remember you looking . . .”
“So good?” She smiled at him and put her head on his shoulder. “Go on, you can say it and not violate your vows.”
“Fine. I don’t remember you being this hot.”
“Plastic surgery is expensive,” she murmured with a laugh. “But the shit works.”
“Clearly.” He nodded down at her black, sparkling outfit. “And is this ensemble Chanel or am I crazy?”
“It is! How’d you know?”
Like anything else came with all those interlocking C’s? he thought.
They chatted about the past during the walk back by the garage where he’d left the R8, and he was surprised how good it was to plug into those memories of growing up—and by that, he didn’t mean the shit in his household, with his father hating him and his mom being flinchy about everything. He meant the kids stuff. The friend stuff. The school stuff. Not all of his childhood had been bad.
At least not until Janie was abducted and murdered and raped. In that order.
“So you’re not married?” he said.
“Nah. There was someone, but it didn’t work out.”
“I can’t imagine any man walking away from you.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Mel gave his arm a squeeze, but then cursed under her breath. “He found someone he liked better.”
“Hard to imagine.”
“She was nothing like me.”
“Well, his loss.” He looked over. “Was it recent?”
“Yeah. Very. I’m just getting my feet back under me again. I feel kinda lost.”
As they came up to the club, he took Mel right to the head of the wait line. When the bouncer looked her up and down, it was clear that she was going to get in without a problem, but just to be sure, he made a little arrangement with the guy’s gray matter.
“You sure you can’t come in with me?” she asked.
“No, but thanks.”
“Let me give you my number. Tell me yours so I can text it.”
“You know, it’s been nice catching up, but I’m going to leave you off here.”
He debated whether to go into her mind and clear the memories, but he found himself not wanting to be a ghost to everyone from his past.
“I won’t tell her,” Mel murmured. “Joyce, that is. It’s pretty clear you don’t want to have contact with her. Or you woulda.”