CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
T-Bear mumbled something, and they walked away.
Manda closed her eyes on a sob of sheer relief, and clutched the covers. Oh, God. She was safe, Rezan and Jere weren't here.
She was at the Flyers' club house. She picked up her new phone from the bedside table. Six p.m. Tuesday, by the digital screen.
She pushed her hair out of her face and tried to think. It was evening, which meant T was back from work. And she should get up, even though the thought of emerging from this room and having to endure more curious, and maybe not-so-friendly stares from the other Flyers made her head hurt.
She could do it, though—she had to do it. She couldn't hide in here like a scared kid. For one thing, she was hungry, her stomach growling. And she had to pee, which meant she had to get up anyway. She forced herself to push back her cocoon of covers and slide off the bed.
In the bright lights of the tiny bathroom, she looked down at herself and wrinkled her nose. After she did her business, she needed to change her clothes.
The stack of clothing revealed two knit tops, a sweater, a pair of black yoga pants and a pair of jeans. One of the shopping bags held, thank God, undies and a bra, along with footie socks, and a pair of black flip-flops. The other bag held a hair-dryer and round brush, shampoo & conditioner, body lotion, a toothbrush, floss and paste, some feminine products, and a smaller bag with foundation, moisturizer, mascara and lip balm.
There was also a tee draped over the pillows, a faded grey. It was a man's XL, with a beer logo on the front. A sleep tee, perfect.
Manda laid it back down and gazed at the other items, torn between gratitude for the unknown woman who had shopped for her, and embarrassment that that woman knew Manda was a complete loser who had literally nothing of her own.
She took the pair of jeans, a knit top and some undies into the bathroom, locked the door and changed. The jeans were skinny-legged and a little loose, but fit well enough to stay up. The top was long sleeved, dark red with a deep vee neckline, but with a matching crochet lace overlay to just below her collarbone. It fit well, and the color was nice on her, or would be if she didn't look like she'd been in train wreck.
The left side of her face was pale, the right side was a mess of fading green-and-yellow bruises. She still had a scab on the right corner of her lips, and the lower was still swollen on that side.
Her hair was smushed up the left side from sleeping on it. At least that was a quick fix.
She washed her face in cold water, then wet her hair and used the hair dryer to blow it smooth and dry. When she was finished, she took a deep breath, let it out, and then walked across the bedroom and opened the door.
When she stubbed her toe on the door sill, she remembered her feet were bare, and hurried back for shoes.
The shoe-box held a pair of soft, denim-blue flats in a popular brand. When she slipped her feet into them, they were even her size. And they felt more like sneakers, soft and cushy on her bare feet.
Luckily, when Manda ventured into the hallway, which was gloomy except for the light coming from the room across the hall, she heard T's voice again, along with the rattle of dishes.
"Hey, don't eat all that," he said. "Save some for Manda."
"It's okay, big guy," said a woman's voice with a smile in it. "I made her a plate. It's in the refrigerator."
"Does it have any more of those little taquitos on it?" asked another deep male voice. "'Cause I only got three."
"Touch Manda's food and die," T said. The other man chuckled.
Manda stepped into the kitchen.
The big room was brightly lit. Counters ran around the outside, with a huge stove and double ovens along one wall, sink and dishwasher on another.
Nothing was fancy or new, including the long table in the middle of the room, or the worn, stained linoleum flooring.
But the area was clean except for the litter of takeout bags and boxes on the counter, and the half-empty dishes on the table. The room smelled enticingly of Mexican food.
T sat on the far side of the table, facing her. Next to him sat a man almost as large, with golden skin and straight, ebony hair. At the end of the table sat a handsome blond man, a brunette woman on the near side of the table near him.
T saw Manda, and his eyes lit up. "Hey, there she is," he said. "C'mere, honey girl, and meet my besties."
"Your besties? What are we, in middle school?" the blond man muttered, watching Manda.
The woman turned, and everyone watched Manda walk in. Heat rushed to her face, and she had to force her feet to move. She stopped near the table and tried to hold onto her smile.
"Manda, this big pineapple is Moke," T said, elbowing the man beside him. "That's Pete, and this is his woman Lesa, who's way too good for him but she's blinded by that huge rock on her hand, so she can't see nothin' else."
The brunette rolled her eyes and smiled at Manda. "Hi, Manda. How are you feeling?"
"Hi," Manda said. "I'm fine. Thank you."
T shoved to his feet. "Prob'ly starved, huh? Got supper for you."
Lesa rose, waving him down. "I'll get it, T. You have to microwave Mexican food carefully, so all the cheese doesn't fry out." She went to the big frig and opened it.
T came around the table to Manda. "You take your painkillers? Saw the doc sent you home with some."
"I took one," she told him. "It doesn't hurt as much today."
He smiled down at her. "That's good, then. Here, sit." He pulled out the chair beside Lesa's.
Manda sat, met Pete's cool, assessing gaze and looked away again, wishing she could take her plate back to the bedroom with her.
"You want a soda, or water?" Lesa called. "We have Coke, Mt Dew and juice boxes. Oh, and bottled tea."
"Just water, thanks," Manda said, half-rising. "I can get it."
"Let her wait on you," Pete said, surprising her. "It's her calling in life, right, milaya?"
Lesa rolled her eyes again as she brought Manda ice water in a red Solo cup. "You just keep telling yourself that, honey."
The microwave dinged, and Lesa next delivered a plate full of cheesy enchilada, rice and beans, and a few small, rolled corn tortillas that must be the favored taquitos. Lesa set a small green salad down as well, and Moke nudged a half-empty container of salsa toward Manda.
"Oh, my gosh, thank you." It looked and smelled delicious, and Manda's stomach growled, although luckily not loudly enough to be heard over the country music playing over speakers set high on the walls.
"Eat up," T urged her.
Manda picked up her fork, feeling self-conscious being the only one eating, but Lesa sat and picked up her soda, and Pete poured the men another glass of beer from a pitcher. They began to talk, leaving Manda to eat. She took a bite of warm, spicy, cheesy enchilada and nearly moaned. It was delicious, and so was the seasoned rice.
Unfortunately, she was still chewing mostly on her left side, and the spicy food stung her sore lip, but it was too good and she was too hungry to stop eating. She stayed away from the salsa, though. That would really sting.
"I love Mondays," Lesa said. "Only day The Hangar is closed."
"Today's Tuesday," Pete told her dryly.
Her eyes twinkled. "I know, which means the place is open and I'm not there. So I'm worrying at odd moments, did Pico remember to slice enough tomatoes for the BLT sandwich special, and is the sink at the wait station still leaking...stuff like that."
Pete toasted her with his beer glass. "The joys of running a small business."
"Know what you mean," T said, setting his beer down. "Moke and me are worried about JJ. We can run the garage fine without him, but he's been out sick a f—helluva lot lately. He never used to miss a day. Hope the books are up-to-date and shit."
Moke nodded. "Something's going on with him. He doesn't look good."
"Has he been to the doctor?" Lesa asked.
"Last week," T said. "'Cause I finally called his daughter. Moke and me been ridin' him about it, but he just ignores us. 'What do a couple o' grease-monkeys like you two know about it, I just got a headache, that's all.' But his daughter is a regular pistol. She drove over from Seattle, and hauled his bony ass to the doctors. She said they did a bunch of tests, but haven't heard yet."
"Well, let us know," Lesa urged. "We can organize meals, if need be."
Manda paused before taking another forkful of salad. "Is JJ your boss?" she asked T.
"Yeah." He reached absently for one of her taquitos and dipped it in the salsa. "JJ Washington. JJ's Auto's been open for forty years, same location." He put the taquito in his mouth and chewed, shaking his head. "Dunno what we'll do if he can't keep the place open."
Pete looked from him to Moke. "Buy him out. You two have been runnin' the place for months with no problems. I know JJ's around a lot, but every time I've stopped in for the last year, he's readin' a magazine or some shit while you guys work."
"The man's seventy years old," T said, scowling. "He can sit all he wants."
"I know, bro." Pete held up a hand. "Just sayin', he could retire and read his magazines in his easy chair at home. You could take over the place, install more up-to-date equipment you've mentioned it could use."
"Can't change the name though," Lesa said. "That old sign is so freaking cool. It's like a local landmark."
"It's kinda rickety." Moke cocked his head. "Since we'd have to re-do it anyway, could change it to M&M Auto."
T drew his head back. "What the hell are the M's for?"
The dark man shrugged. "Moke and Me. How you always talk about us."
"It don't have my name on it, though."
"You one of a kind. Everybody already knows your name, eh."
Pete threw back his head and laughed, and Lesa snickered. T gave Manda a piteous look. "See how they make fun o' me? Speak up, can ya? Need someone on my side."
She swallowed another bite of salad. "Okay. How about TT's Auto. For T-Bear Turner."
He wrapped one big arm around her shoulders, and pulled her sideways into a gentle hug. "Now that I like. Like it a lot."
Moke gave her a look of disgust. "No ways. TT's Auto? Sound like Titty Auto. MA Auto sounds mo betta. Moke Akena, that's me." He nodded once, and drained his beer.
Lesa shook her head. "Although I'm sure lots of guys would take their vehicles to Titty Auto, you'd lose most of your female customers."
"MA Auto?" T echoed still holding Manda close. "Anybody who reads the sign'll be like 'MA Auto? Who dat? Ma-aaa, ma-aaaa. Ma-aaa." He made loud bleating sounds like a lamb or a goat.
Lesa and Pete cracked up. So did Manda, although she winced as the motion stretched her lip.
"I'm still partial to Titty Auto myself," Pete said. "And believe me, I can picture the sign you'd get to go with that name."
Lesa smacked him on the shoulder. "Of course you can—you've seen enough of them."
Moke just shook his head sadly.
T leaned over and stole another taquito, leaving his arm around Manda. And the scary part was, she liked it, a lot. She liked sitting close to him, in the protective circle of his big body, and listening to him laugh with his friends. They were nice people, and so was he.
Still, he might be hot, and sexy and nice, but she couldn't afford to let him in too deep. That way never worked for her.
"So what do you do, Manda?" Lesa asked with a friendly smile.
Manda dropped the forkful of rice she had almost to her mouth. She then had to wipe it off her new jeans with the napkin Lesa handed her. "Oh, I do clerking, cleaning, lots of things," she said. "Just, uh, hourly stuff." She'd been lucky to graduate high school, never mind going on to any other kind of school.
Lesa nodded. "Sure. Well, there's plenty of jobs to be had around here, if you're looking."
"Yeah, I am. I need to find work right away. And someone who needs a roommate." She set her napkin on the empty portion of her plate, her mood darkening. "I need a new life," she added in a near-whisper, then shut her mouth because that had just sounded whiny.
"Hey, now," T-Bear said, his breath warm on her temple as he bent his head to her. "You can stay here long as you need. We're gonna get you well, and keep you safe."
She looked up at him. "T-Bear, this is your... your club. A few days max, then I need to get gone."
"She's right, T," Pete said.
"But she doesn't have to be in that big a hurry," Lesa put in. "Stick said she can stay for a couple of weeks, right? So she can heal up for job interviews."
Her fiance looked annoyed at this reminder, but T-Bear nodded.
"That's right, Stick said so," he said, as if that settled it. "And you can look for jobs from here. We got wireless and somebody'll have a tablet or a laptop if you need one. Plus, we got a party comin' up next weekend. We'll ask around, somebody'll know of a job for you."
She smiled up at him, because he was so determined to take care of her.
And she was so tempted to let him.
But that way lay disaster, she reminded herself. Like the meme she'd seen on social media, 'Stupid is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results.'
"Okay," she agreed, because T was waiting for her to say something. "If you all can help me find a job, I'd really appreciate it."