Ride Steady Read online

  And I’d shared we’d moved home after he graduated, home being a house that was waiting for us to move in to, seeing as his parents had given it to us for our wedding.

  I’d taken a part-time job at an exclusive boutique that paid little but, regardless, they expected me to wear clothes that cost a fortune (theirs, and they only gave a ten percent discount). This employment was something Aaron’s mother decreed was “acceptable” before we started our family, upon which I would quit and take care of said family (the first part I didn’t agree with, the second part I did).

  Aaron took his position as a junior associate in his father’s old firm, which was his grandfather’s old firm, which meant, even though both of them left it to become judges, their name was still on the letterhead. And even though Aaron was a junior associate, they were fast-tracking him to partner. Giving him meaty cases. Putting him as second chair to the big names in the firm so he could learn from the best.

  All of this meaning he worked brutal one-hundred-and-twenty-hour weeks, which I knew now was not true because a number of those hours he was wooing and winning Tory.

  And last, I’d shared that having Travis was Aaron’s idea. I might not have used it in a while, but I did have a brain, which meant I had an inkling things with my husband were not right. I would never have brought a child into that.

  But he was all about us, our future, our family, making strong stronger (his words), one of those times I did not get—and got it less now that it was over—when he was so devoted to me it didn’t seem real.

  Maybe because it wasn’t.

  But it was beautiful.

  So I again turned a blind eye and gave in, quitting my job when I started showing, and shortly after ending up in hell.

  I told them all that and more.

  So I’d cried a lot. Lanie had cried with me. Tyra teared up a few times.

  Elvira just looked angry.

  If she wasn’t so funny and friendly and nice, she would scare me. Luckily, she was all those things (but also scary).

  They left and now my eyes were tired because after they did, even though it felt good to get it out, share it with people who seemed to care, I didn’t sleep.

  I didn’t because I didn’t want to do bad things God would frown on (seriously) to keep Travis.

  Not unless it was a last resort.

  And it wasn’t.

  Not yet.

  That was why I’d put out the stuff on my bar.

  The platinum necklace with the quarter-carat diamond pendant Dad had given me. The pearl and diamond earrings my grandmother gave me to wear to my wedding. The emerald and diamond tennis bracelet Aaron’s parents gave me when we’d become engaged. The gold bangles Aaron bought me for Valentine’s Day every year (which also was our wedding anniversary—cliché, now embarrassing, what with me being a hopeless romantic with emphasis on hopeless).

  And my engagement and wedding rings.

  I would start with selling the useless stuff Aaron and his folks gave me and then move on to the others when needed.

  And I’d find an attorney who would take my case, be ruthless, get me the child support that Travis deserved, and make it clear to Aaron I was not going anywhere.

  If that ran out, I’d find other ways, selling the furniture I got in the divorce that I had in storage (well, Dad did, since he paid for the unit) being one of them.

  And if it came to it, I’d get on my knees.

  I was just going to exhaust all my other options first.

  But I wasn’t going to lose my son.

  On this thought, there was a knock on the door and I looked to it.

  I didn’t need company and I couldn’t comprehend how I’d have any. No one visited me.

  But I’d left my car at Ride and I had a day shift at the store. I needed to take the bus. I’d looked up the route and one dropped off about three blocks from the store. But I had no idea how long it took. My normal commute was twenty minutes but I’d added on another thirty just in case.

  I needed to get going.

  I slid off the stool and went to the door. I looked through the peephole, saw coverall guy from Ride was standing outside (again in coveralls), and with some confusion, I opened the door.

  “Hey,” I greeted, ready to tell him he could have called with the estimate. I hadn’t exactly given him my number, but Tyra was office manager at Ride and I’d given it to her.

  He spoke before I could.

  “Car’s downstairs.”

  He held out my keys and my hand automatically lifted to take them.

  He dropped them in my palm and continued talking, “New tires. New tranny. New plugs. New shocks. New exhaust. Oil change. Oh, and new wipers. Boys filled the tank and detailed it too. You’re all good.”

  I blinked at him. “Tranny?”

  “Transmission.”

  Transmission?

  What on earth?

  Those cost a fortune.

  “Transmission?” I whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “I… uh, asked about an estimate—”

  He interrupted me, “On Ride.”

  “Sorry?”

  “No charge. Ride is covering it. Means Chaos is covering it. You don’t owe anything.”

  How?

  Why?

  What?

  He looked behind him, then to me. “Later,” he said, and without waiting for my farewell, or one of the many other things I could have said, he jogged down the open air walk that ran outside our apartment building.

  I watched and was about to call out to him when my phone rang. He was already at the stairs at the L to the building and I had a phone ringing so I closed the door, locked it, and hurried to my phone on the kitchen bar.

  The display said Unknown Caller.

  I took it anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “May I speak with Carissa Teodoro?” a businesslike woman’s voice asked.

  “This is she.”

  “Right, hold for Ms. Howard, please.”

  “Sorry? Who?” I asked.

  “Ms. Howard. Of Gustafson, Howard and Pierce. Hold please.”

  Oh no. I didn’t like this.

  Did Aaron find a new way to make trouble for me?

  Gustafson, Howard and Pierce sounded like an attorney firm. I didn’t need any more of those in my life, except the one selling off Aaron’s false tokens of love was going to buy me.

  “Ms. Teodoro,” a more businesslike woman’s voice said.

  “Uh… yes,” I replied.

  “Right. Hello. I’m Angelique Howard, but my clients call me Angie.”

  “Well, okay,” I got in before she kept speaking.

  “I received a call from Mr. Allen this morning so I’m introducing myself before I send you back to my assistant. She’ll take the details of your last attorney so we can contact them to get your files. When we get them, I’ll go over what’s been happening with your former husband and construct a strategy.”

  I didn’t know what was going on so I started with the easiest part first.

  “Mr. Allen?” I asked.

  “Yes. Mr. Allen. Kane Allen. Operating manager of Ride Auto Stores and Custom Design. We’re on retainer with them, and my specialty is family law. So I’ll be taking care of you.”

  I didn’t speak because I couldn’t.

  She didn’t need me to. She wasn’t finished.

  “Once I see what’s going on, I’ll ask Leanne to contact you and we’ll set a meeting so we can meet face to face and talk about what we’re going to do going forward. Are you all right with that?”

  No. I wasn’t. Mostly because I had no idea what was happening.

  “I, well, I have to admit, Ms. Howard—” I began.

  “Angie.”

  “Right, Angie,” I said quickly. “I have to admit, I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Mr. Allen didn’t speak to you?”

  He didn’t. I wasn’t even sure I knew who he was.

  “Not really
,” I replied.

  “Okay, then, Chaos is utilizing their retainer agreement with us to look into what Mr. Neiland has been doing to you. I’ll say from the little I’ve heard that it sounds suspicious. To be honest, though I think this is something that won’t surprise you, Neiland and Belkirk have been around so long, they started the good ole boys network in Denver and they enjoy their status as founding members. Which, I’ll share, I find annoying. Thus, I’m going to enjoy digging into this one.”

  “I—”

  “So, to end, it’s all in good hands. Just tell Leanne where we can get your files and I’ll start.”

  “Well—”

  She spoke over me. “Nice meeting you, even on the phone. Have a good day.”

  I heard nothing until I heard the first voice come back and say, “Hello again, Ms. Teodoro. I’m ready to take down the information about your old firm.”

  “I think I need to speak with Mr. Allen first,” I shared.

  “Right. Okay. You do that. In the meantime, give me your last attorney’s details. Angie is raring to go on this and she’s had me clear her afternoon to do it.”

  Clear her afternoon?

  This afternoon?

  “Okay, then perhaps I should speak with Ms. How… I mean, Angie again for a moment,” I tried.

  “She’s already on another call.”

  I drew in a deep breath.

  “Ms. Teodoro, sorry to rush you,” Leanne said when I took my time doing that. “But Angie wants these files by this afternoon so I have to get cracking. Your old attorney’s name?”

  I let out that breath, telling her my old attorney’s name.

  “Good man,” she muttered. “Not as good as Angie. Okay!” she cried brightly. “We’re on it. Have a lovely day, Ms. Teodoro.”

  She didn’t wait for me to share that sentiment. She disconnected.

  I stared at my phone, wondering how they even got my number.

  Then I thought Tyra. Or Lanie. Maybe Elvira. We’d shared numbers last night. Maybe that was it.

  I felt something biting into my palm so I lifted it and looked to it.

  My car keys.

  New tranny.

  I looked to the door.

  Kane Allen. Operating manager of Ride Auto Stores and Custom Design. We’re on retainer with them, and my specialty is family law. So I’ll be taking care of you.

  Kane Allen, Operating Manager of Ride Auto Stores and Custom Design.

  And Joker was a member of the Club that ran said business.

  Something unpleasant slid through me. And after yesterday, baking the pie for Joker, having him set it aside like it meant nothing, the call from Tory, my son being sick, my mortification in front of five people I didn’t know (and Joker) caused by me shrieking like a lunatic, breaking down in front of three women I also did not know, all that Aaron was doing to me, I didn’t cry (again). I didn’t feel mortified (again).

  I got mad.

  There was nothing I could do about that mad. Not right then. I had to get to work.

  And I was hoping Travis would feel well enough that Tory could bring him in to see me.

  After that, I’d do something about that mad.

  Definitely.

  * * *

  Four hours later, Tory did bring Travis. I was at my register and I saw them come in.

  My heart leaped. My boy looked pale but he also looked right to me, stretched his arms my way, and screeched (hoarsely).

  He wanted his momma.

  My heart warmed as my throat tickled.

  My manager, Sharon, who was lovely and who also knew about Travis being sick (and some about Aaron being a jerk), let me finish with my customer and take my lunch.

  My grocery store was LeLane’s. It was a gourmet food market. It had all the things normal stores had, like mustard and sour cream, but they were much more expensive. It also had a bunch of other stuff normal stores didn’t have, like live lobsters, a cheese case that would make any Frenchman sigh with delight (I guessed, I’d never met a Frenchman), and the like. They had six of them in the Denver area, one in Boulder, one in Fort Collins, two in Colorado Springs, and two in Pueblo.

  It was family owned. They took care of their customers and employees, and they did the latter by giving great benefits, being nice about when you took your hours (for instance, they did their best to let me work days when I had Travis so I didn’t have to pay extra for after-hours daycare), and they paid relatively well.

  But they were expensive. They also had employee discounts, but I didn’t use them. Unless Travis was consuming it, I went generic all the way.

  Tory, however, didn’t blink at shopping at LeLane’s. Which was what she did to pass her time while I fed my boy and spent time with him in the break room.

  When my thirty minutes was up, I hid my despair from my son and trudged out.

  Tory was waiting for me by her Mercedes.

  “Can I strap him in?” I asked.

  She nodded and moved away from the passenger side door, but did it opening it for me.

  I put him in, gave him tickles, made him giggle, then kissed him right on his wet, open lips.

  That made him grab my hair.

  I fought back tears. “See you in a few days, sweetie pie.”

  “Goo gah!”

  I grinned at him, kissed his mouth again, then his cheek, his head, and having to get to work but preferring to endure torture, I pulled away.

  I looked to Tory. “Thanks.”

  “I’m glad you got time with him.”

  I tried not to pay a lot of attention to her but right then I did.

  She looked strange. Not haughty (which wasn’t often, but it happened). Not happy (which was often). Not indifferent (also often).

  Troubled.

  I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. But if I had to guess, she might be twenty-one and slim and beautiful with an up-and-coming attorney in one of the most established, wealthiest firms in Denver as her fiancé, but what was happening with Aaron and me couldn’t escape her.

  I was hardly older than her and I’d been replaced. Then shoved to the ground. Then kicked when I was down. And last, kept from my son when he was sick.

  If she didn’t hold Aaron (and she wouldn’t, she’d be me in a few years), my guess was it was beginning to dawn on her she could face the same.

  It was unkind, but that wasn’t my problem.

  My problem was I had to leave my son, go to work, and after work, go to Ride.

  “Thanks again and take care of yourself,” I mumbled, closing the door on my son, giving him a finger wave and a big smile through the window while he stared up at me, looking like he did when he was about ready to start crying.

  “Yeah, you too,” Tory replied as I turned quickly and rushed back to the store.

  * * *

  Four and a half hours after that, I turned into Ride.

  I again didn’t park in the parking spaces by the store. I also didn’t park at one of the big bays of the garage.

  I parked outside the Compound in the open space by the line of bikes.

  I grabbed my purse, threw out my navy Converse-shod foot, pulled my khaki-clad bottom out of the seat, and slammed the door. I settled my purse on my shoulder and marched to the double doors of the Compound.

  I threw one open, entered and blinked quickly against the sudden dark, still walking in, my eyes going to the bar.

  It came into focus and I saw it was my lucky day.

  Among four other men, Joker was sitting there.

  “Yo, babe,” one of them called.

  “Yo,” I replied haughtily, my eyes never leaving Joker. Then I didn’t waste a second. “Joker, I’m sorry to bother you again, but can I have a word?”

  “Travis okay?” Joker asked instantly.

  It was sweet he asked and it was sweet it was instant.

  But I wasn’t in a sweet mood.

  “Yes, I saw him at lunch. He’s pale and has a bit of a cough still, but he’s fine. Now can w
e speak?”

  “Aren’t we speaking?” he asked.

  “In private.” It came out almost as a snap.

  At that moment, I felt the mood and looked to the other three men. None of whom I’d met or seen. All of whom looked curious, and didn’t hide it, and immensely amused, and didn’t hide that either.

  The latter was the mood in the room.

  That also didn’t embarrass me.

  It didn’t make sense either. I didn’t find anything funny.

  “Why don’t you take her to your room, Joke?” one of the guys suggested.

  “Yes, let’s go there,” I agreed.

  There was a truncated guffaw, which was truncated when I looked to the man who was emitting it. He pressed his lips together, but the minute he did, his eyes got huge, like biting back his humor was going to make his head explode.

  “Hall,” Joker said and I looked to him.

  “Sorry?”

  He was off his stool and jerking his head toward the back. “My room’s off the hall.”

  “Right,” I said shortly, straightened my shoulders, and I very well might have flipped my ponytail as I whipped around and marched to the door that Joker had come out of yesterday. I did this not knowing that my marching had a lot of bounce associated with it. But I felt the eyes, so I did it very much knowing they all followed.

  I made it to the doorway and heard Joker direct, “Left.”

  I went left.

  “Stop,” he ordered when I was two doors down from the end.

  It wasn’t surprising it was a long hall considering it was a long building. But it was surprising the number of doors off it.

  I stood outside one that was open and peered in.

  It wasn’t big, it wasn’t tiny.

  What it was was filthy.

  I swallowed.

  I sensed Joker close and looked to see he was standing on the opposite side of the door waving an arm toward the room.

  I marched in.

  He came in after me.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked as I was turning and saw he was closing the door.