Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Armando
Hannah directs me to an artsy cafe. Not fancy but not a dive either. Industrial look with the no-ceiling thing where you can see all the ductwork above your head and the one hundred-year-old bricks in the walls. They don’t have hard liquor, but the waiter brings us a bottle of wine to share.
I order a burger that comes with sweet potato fries instead of regular ones. She orders a fancy salad—beet pistachio or some shit like that. I watch her pleasure digging in and want to take her out to eat every night. She deserves to be treated way more than she treats herself.
“So what work did you have to do today?” she asks after the waiter disappears.
My instinct is to just clam up and not talk. Go silent on her, but I took her to dinner. We’re on a goddamn date, so I shake my head. “Don’t ask about my work.”
The words are too hard. Too harsh. I can tell they didn’t land right by how stiff she gets.
“It’s for your safety, Hannah,” I try to explain. “We don’t talk business, not even with our women.”
She studies me for a beat. “Am I your woman?”
I drain my glass of wine and refill it. Fuck. I am so not up for relationship talk. “I don’t have a label for you, Flowers.”
She fidgets, going silent, and a twinge of something moves around in my chest. What is it? Guilt? For being such a bad fucking date?
I search my brain for something to say and finally land on, “How was your day?”
Her mouth turns down. “Slow. But Tuesdays are always slow.” She butters one of the mini muffins they brought in a bread basket. “I’m still working on what you said. Just trying new things.” She takes a sip of wine.
“Yeah?” I encourage.
“Yeah. I have some ideas.”
I lean forward. “Good. That’s good. Like what?”
She shrugs, flushing a little. “A lot of ideas. I don’t know which ones are good or where to start.”
“You never do.”
“I finally started an Instagram account and posted some of my favorite creations on it. Josie’s been telling me forever to get on there.”
Instagram. There's all this new social media shit out since I went in the pen. I guess I’d heard of Instagram before I went in, but I haven’t been on it. I nod, making a mental note to check it out and check out her account. “That’s great.”
“There’s this competition in a couple months. An arrangement contest. Mary Alice got second place in it once. I mean, I don’t think it would directly translate to business, but it might help build my reputation. For people who don’t trust the business with Mary Alice gone.”
“Or people who have just never heard of Garden of Eden. That’s a great idea. So you’re going to enter?”
She nibbles her lower lip. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s an idea.”
“It’s a great idea.” I try to figure out why she even hesitates. Seems like a no-brainer to me. “Is there an entry fee?”
“Um, yeah, but it’s not horrible. Like one-seventy-five or something.”
“I’ll pay it,” I offer right away. Not like charity but just to take money out of the equation. If that’s part of her deliberation.
She brightens, a faint smile appearing. “Thanks. You really think I should?”
“You’re doing it,” I say firmly. “What are your other ideas?”
“Well, this is weird, but… do you have any connections with mortuaries?”
“What for?”
“Weddings are big money, but they’re also a lot of work. Casket flowers are easy money. I need to get in with some mortuaries, so they recommend me or automatically use me when they’re making the arrangements.”
I nod. “I’ll find out. I might have a hookup. Let me see.” Seems to me that every funeral I’d been to for the Family had been out of the same funeral home. I just had to ask my ma about it. “What else?”
“Weddings. I stopped at Hotel Casper, but I need to go visit all the event centers around, so they’ll think of me for meetings or weddings or whatever they’re hosting.”
“That’s good.”
“The thing is, I hate that part. I like arranging flowers, but the networking part freaks me out.”
I shake my head. “Nah. You got this. Like I told you when you stopped at that first hotel, you’re beautiful, inside and out. Your flowers are beautiful. Everyone’s gonna want to do business with you.”
She searches my face like she’s looking for any clue I’m blowing smoke up her ass.
“I promise, Flowers.”
Our food comes, and I pick up my burger and take a big bite. It’s good—better than I expected. “Any other ideas?” I prompt.
It seems I do remember how to have a conversation once I get myself into it.
Hannah’s shoulders tighten. “I don’t know.” She uses one of those doubtful tones.
“Yeah, you do know. What is it?”
She sighs. “I was thinking about seeing if Mary Alice would renegotiate my payments. It seems to me like she’d rather get less than get nothing, right? Like if I go out of business, she’s either going to have to come back here and run the place herself or lose her retirement money from me.”
“That’s right. She’s as invested in your success as you are. She’s gonna want to make this work for you.”
Hannah blinks rapidly. “I really hope so.”
“Text her right now and tell her you need to talk.”
Hannah’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Get it over with. The sooner the better. Text her now.”
Hannah slowly reaches for her purse. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“Positive. Get it done.”
She glances back at me a few times as she does it, like she’s still not sure.
We just finish eating when her phone rings. She looks at it and flips big eyes at me. “It’s her.”
“Take it.”
She hesitates. “No. I’ll call her tomorrow.” She stares at the screen. “Should I?”
“Take it,” I repeat.
“Crap.” Hannah swipes across her screen and puts the phone to her ear. “Hi.” She stands from the table, plugging her other ear with her finger to hear. “Yeah.” She looks at me and points outside then picks up her purse and hustles out the front door.
Oh fuck no. I’m not letting her stand outside on the sidewalk at night by herself. Beautiful girl like her? She’s gonna get hassled.
I flag down the waitress for the check and pay it, then exit to find Hannah out front, pacing the sidewalk, her head bent like she’s listening intently.
I look around, checking for anything off. Guys loitering, cars running on the curb. I don’t like standing out here like I have a target on my forehead, but protecting Hannah is more important. A car drives by slowly, and I keep my eye on it until it turns the corner.
“Right. Yes. For sure. That would definitely help. It would help a lot. Thank you.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears. “Thank you,” she chokes. “Okay. Goodnight.” She ends the call.
“She said yes?” I guess.
Hannah nods with a teary laugh. “Yes. She’s going to give me three months off to get back on my feet, and then I’ll just pay what I can from there.” She falls against me with a sob.
I slide my arms around her and burrow my fingers into her hair to massage her scalp. “That’s great.”
She pushes away from me. “Sorry.” She wipes her eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”
“No.” I catch her hand and thumb a tear away for her. “I like it when you cry.”
She scrunches up her forehead. “Um. That’s weird.” She slaps my chest. “Sick-o.”
I shrug. “I don’t feel. I mean, nothing at all. But you—your emotions are so big. I don’t know—maybe I’ll find my way back through you.”
Hannah’s expression goes soft and then passionate. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. It’s one of our crazy, frantic kisses, and my dick gets hard even though I already had her at the shop.
I loop one arm around her waist and slide my hand around to roughly squeeze her ass. “Careful,” I say thickly when she pulls back for air. “You’re gonna get yourself fucked in the back of your van.”
Her pupils are already blown, but they get even bigger, like she loves the idea. I turn her toward the van. “Not tonight.” I slap her ass. “I have plans for you that involve the bed.”