Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
I was almost to Tweety when I heard Alexis cry, “Raye!”
I stopped, turned and watched Alexis add to the workers’ show by dashing gracefully in a part-prance, part-run, part leap, wearing a little swing skirt, a cropped cami bra and one of those wraparound long-sleeved cardigans dancers wore.
When she got to me, without a word of explanation (not that I needed one), she threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug.
I hugged her back.
The workers’ show ended abruptly when Jacob sauntered onto the scene and shot them a murderous look. They abruptly became very interested in getting our old gate out of there.
Alexis prance-ran-leapt back to Jacob, and as if they’d been together for ages and practiced this a thousand times, with talent and elegance most people had to pay to watch, she executed a final leap so she ended seated on the side of his hip with her legs around him and arms around his shoulders.
He caught her effortlessly, one-armed with a hand firm on her ass.
I totally knew they’d be adorable together.
“Yo, Raye,” he called.
We got the workers’ attention again when I called back, “Move the fuckfest to your place, dude. Martha hammered on my door last night pissed as shit.”
Alexis giggled gleefully.
“Will do,” Jacob grunted, then carried her to his Jeep.
I got in Tweety and gave myself a second to idle at the exit as I looked down the length of the complex.
I’d vaguely noticed on Monday, workers had been out power-washing the building.
Again vaguely, yesterday, I saw it was primer day.
Today they were already at it, and it appeared the building was going to go from an outdated, faded seventies aqua, to a rich, ocean blue with subtly contrasting azure trim.
I approved.
And the old, dilapidated Oasis Square sign at the corner was already gone.
A new one that was a kickass mix of modern and retro tiki with a boarder of green palm fronds and bright-pink hibiscus flowers on an ocean-blue background with white lettering was in its place.
This reminded me of something I forgot to mention to Cap, so I cued him up and called him on the car speaker.
“All good?” he answered.
“I forgot to tell you,” I said, pulling out on Seventh. “Luna got notified a unit opened at the Oasis. She’s moving in October one.”
“Great,” he replied.
“It is. The thing is, she’s been on the waiting list for over a year.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t get it.
“And now suddenly she gets a unit? Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“You know everybody there. Is someone moving out?”
I thought on this.
I didn’t know for certain, but I answered, “Robyn, who lives down from me, isn’t a joiner, and she’s never said, but I think the courtyard shindigs annoy her. I think this mostly because she rarely comes to them. And Mick, across the way, got pissed at something Martha said to him, and he never got over it. He’s not a dick, though that’s debatable since Martha said it to him, and he takes it out on everyone, so he can be surly. I could see him going. Then there’s Ryan, down from him but on the first floor. He’s a slick guy and the Oasis is totally a stepping stone for him. He got his real estate license about a year ago, and he’s always working, so he’s not around much. Maybe he’s doing well and trading up. I mean, I do know he went from a Hyundai to a BMW a few months ago, so that would make sense.”
“So it’s likely someone is moving out. She’s been on the waiting list a long time and people drop off lists like that, babe. They find somewhere else and settle in. Moving is a pain in the ass. Even if you’re offered a crib in a kickass complex like the Oasis.”
He was right.
And I loved he thought the Oasis was kickass.
“You’re right.”
His voice changed, and I knew why with what he said next, “There isn’t bad lurking around every corner, honey.”
There was.
And there wasn’t.
But you couldn’t live life like there was.
“Right again,” I replied.
“I gotta go home to grab a blazer and fresh shirt for tonight, so I’m just gonna shower there and I’ll be at your place at six.”
“Sounds good.”
“See you.”
“Later, Cap.”
We disconnected.
And as I drove to SC, I navigated seven people pulling out right in front of me, saw one person drive down the wrong side of the street until they were free to get into their lane, and crawled by a police and fire barricaded camper (circa the Partridge Family) that had an intact rear, but the entire front appeared to have exploded because it was a burnt-out shell.
None of this fazed me.
I’d learned a long time ago you couldn’t take the Wild out of the West, so you just kept alert, got on with it and hoped you weren’t next to a camper when it exploded.