4.
FARRAH
I was already awake when the alarm on my phone sounded, but it still scared the shit out of me. I’d slept fitfully all night long and had tried every trick I’d ever heard of to go back to sleep. When my alarm went off, I lost count of what I was trying to calculate and cursed loudly because it would be all I could think about until I got an answer.
How many days had it been since I slept alone in not just a house, but a room? I had a number in mind, but then I realized I wasn’t taking leap years into account and needed to figure that out. The second I heard that god-awful noise, the number I had in mind disappeared. It was going to bug the shit out of me until I sat down and figured it out.
But I could do that after my morning plans because I had been looking forward to them for years and wasn’t about to put them off for any reason.
I hopped out of bed and then remembered that I was forty-five and couldn’t do that anymore. The pain in my left hip almost took me to my knees, so I fell back to sit until it passed, kicking myself for my stupidity the whole time. After a few minutes of adjusting to being upright, my body allowed me to stand, and it only took a few seconds for me to get my balance.
I didn’t often think about how old I was because it was depressing as shit, but then I’d do something stupid like hop out of bed and my body would bitch-slap me back into reality and remind me exactly who was in charge.
I shuffled through the living room to the small kitchen area, making mental notes of what I wanted to do with the space after work today. The couch I found at an estate sale looked great in my new living room, but the coffee table with matching side tables I’d seen at the thrift store the other day would really bring the room together. I had talked to Fiona about them, and she assured me that she would help me restore them to their original finish or even brighten them up with some color.
I giggled as I started the coffee maker because I had never let myself imagine standing in my own kitchen making my own coffee while I thought about furniture that I was going to buy with my own money to decorate my own living room.
That was a lot of “my my my,” but I let myself have them, just this once. I’d busted my ass to stay sane in prison while working on my mental health and sobriety and then worked even harder to stay sober and find my way in the outside world.
Standing in the kitchen of my own place seemed like a great way to reward myself for the hard work I’d done and prepare myself for the hard work that was yet to come.
I poured myself a cup of coffee that was nearly as dark as my friend Moe’s soul and took it out onto my front porch and sat down on the step to enjoy the peaceful morning and watch the sunrise on the horizon.
Of course, my view was also filled with huge pieces of machinery, which I thought really sucked until I saw a certain tattooed muscle man walk onto the scene. He reached up and opened the door of the biggest machine and then hauled himself up onto the driver's seat, giving me a perfect view of how well he filled out the khaki pants he was wearing.
He was operating one of the machines I’d wondered about yesterday when I saw it on the truck. Now I could see that it had about a million working parts and Lynn was in charge of every single one of them.
It kinda made a woman wonder what a multitasker of that caliber might be like in the bedroom.
Hypothetically, of course.
“I see what you’re looking at,” Moe called from her doorway. When I looked over, she lifted her cup in salute and then motioned toward the machinery before she asked, “How did you sleep?”
“Like shit.”
Moe made her way over to my house and sat on the other end of the step before she said, “I did too. I just knew that as soon as I got my own place, I’d sleep like I hadn’t slept in twenty years, but I was awake most of the night.”
“Me too.”
“When I finally gave up on sleep, it was actually really great to sit there alone in my house and think about what I was going to do today.”
“I was doing that when you came outside.”
“Oh, so Mr. Hot Bod is on your to-do list?”
“No!”
“Chickenshit.”
Ginger walked out of her house and made a beeline for mine. As soon as she stopped in front of us, she asked, “Have you talked to Janis this morning?”
“No. I didn’t want to call her in case she stayed home to get some sleep.”
“I’m really worried about her and feel like shit for leaving her alone at the bakery when she was in so much pain.”
“She understands how important yesterday was for Zoey and for us,” I assured Ginger.
“Still, she’s done so much for me that I hated leaving her there alone.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t alone,” Moe reminded Ginger.
“The guys were there, but what do they know about running a bakery?” Ginger asked.
“They don’t need to know shit. Pain or not, Janis can give explicit instructions and give them in a way that makes it crystal clear.”
Ginger laughed because she’d been working for Janis since she got out, and she’d seen her in action. My old friend had never had a problem getting her point across. It made it even more admirable that she did it all while dealing with such a crippling illness.
“You know what’s funny?” Ginger asked. Before we had a chance to respond, she continued, “I was rushing to get ready for this morning’s meeting, making sure I could catch a ride and get there in time when I realized I can just walk over in my slippers carrying my coffee mug.”
“I did the same thing. I put a bra on, but that’s about as dressed up as I’m getting today.”
“I never even thought about that!”
“You know what I love about this place besides that I have my own space with a lock on the door?” Moe asked.
“What?”
She grinned at me before she said, “I don’t have to leave! I can have groceries delivered, I work right over there, and it’s just a short walk from my house and my job to go to meetings.”
“I’m not sure this is going to be good for you,” I said warily.
“We’ll have to make sure she leaves occasionally, or she’s going to turn into a hermit,” Ginger warned.
Moe laughed before she said, “I’d like to see one of you try.”
When Ginger gasped, I noticed she was watching the men across the field work. In a stunned whisper, she asked, “Who is that?”
“That’s Farrah’s new boyfriend!” Moe said cheerfully.
Ginger’s eyes were wide as she whipped her head around to look at me. “Girl! Have you been holding out on us?”
“No! He is not my boyfriend. I met him one time.”
“And he flirted shamelessly while she said her inside thoughts out loud and compared him to a chocolate truffle,” Moe tattled.
“That’s sad,” Ginger moaned. “We’ve really gotta work on this interacting with men thing.”
“Maybe Garvey could give us some pointers at the meeting,” Moe suggested.
I laughed before I said, “I can’t wait to see his face when you ask him to help us pick up men.”
“You know he’ll say that relationships aren’t always good for recovery,” Ginger reminded us.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m not going to talk to Lynn again.”
“Bullshit. You’re hiding behind your sobriety to keep yourself from getting hurt.”
“How would he hurt her?” Ginger asked.
Moe shook her head as she said, “She’s afraid of seeing the look in his eyes change when he finds out she’s an ex-con.”
“And I do not have a good history of choosing men, so I’m just not going to do it,” I said firmly.
“If he doesn’t like you for the amazing woman you’ve become through all the trials and tribulations of your life, then his opinion doesn’t really matter,” Ginger said seriously.
“I told her that the problem she had choosing men before doesn’t apply now because she’s got a tribe of women at her back who won’t let her ignore whatever red flags we happen to pick up on. If she needs to be smacked to see it, we’re here for it.”
Ginger high-fived Moe before she agreed, “Exactly!”
“I’d rather just skip all of that and live my life,” I told the women as I stood up from my perch on the step. “I’m going to refill my coffee and then put on some shoes so I can go to the meeting, and when we’re done, I’m going to work and keep my mind there instead of in the gutter where it really wants to be.”
“Just look at him,” Ginger said as she stared off into the distance.
I turned to find Lynn standing on the step below the door of the large machine, holding on with one strong hand while he leaned out and motioned for another machine to come closer.
“Well, I can say one thing: if I get any sleep tonight, that image is going to be front and center in my dreams.” My friends were still laughing when I slammed my front door. It felt so good to do it that I opened it and did it again before I locked it.
If only I could use a key to lock out the naughty thoughts running through my head about that gorgeous man.
◆◆◆
“Look at the guns on Farrah!” Jill, one of the women who still lived in the halfway house I’d just moved out of, teased as I walked past her carrying a stack of trays.
I looked down at the trays in her hands - only three as opposed to the eight I was carrying, which weren’t too heavy even though they were filled with starter cups full of moist soil.
“You do realize that you’re working on production and not time, right?” I asked.
“Since when?” Jill snapped angrily.
“Since I noticed that you meander around here at a snail's pace, doing the bare minimum.”
“You can’t change the rules like that.”
“Check your email. I wasn’t the one who did it.”
“You’ve got it out for me, don’t you?” Jill asked.
“Do you ever pay attention during the meetings?” Moe asked.
“Did I invite you into this conversation?” Jill snarled. The smile on Moe’s face would have terrified a normal person, but Jill wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb on the string. “What do meetings have to do with her screwing me out of my community service time?”
“I’ll give you a hint, Jill,” Moe sneered. “Take some accountability for the work you’re doing and that you’re trying to screw the rest of us over by doing the least you can while still moving.”
“Don’t get high and mighty with me just because you sucked up and got to move out first.”
“A little hard work won’t kill you, Jill, but if it does, I’d like to watch,” Moe said with another of those menacing smiles.
Movement outside caught my eye, and I turned to see who was about to join us, hoping it wasn’t Zoey, who had no tolerance for bickering and fighting between her employees and volunteers completing their community service hours. It wasn’t Zoey, though.
It was Lynn, and he was accompanied by three men who were almost as hot as him, each in their own way. They were, however, just as sweaty and dirty because they’d been working outside in the heat for at least three hours since they came back from their lunch break.
Not that I was paying attention or anything.
Jill tossed the trays she was carrying onto the top of my stack, and the added weight took me off guard. The trays started to tip, so I took a step back to try to regain my balance and saw Moe hurrying to set down the stack she was carrying so she could help me.
Before she had a chance, strong hands covered mine right before they lifted the trays and took them from me.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I’ll take any excuse I can find to talk to you again.”
“Let me help you with those, sweetheart,” Jill offered as she stepped between us.
I saw Lynn’s expression change from smiling to disgust before he was able to mask it. He said, “I’ve got ‘em. Thanks.”
“No, thank you. We’ve been carrying these things back and forth for days, and no matter how many times I tell them that there’s got to be an easier way, they won’t listen.”
“Was that what you were whining about earlier?” Moe asked. She scoffed before, in a more conspiratorial tone, she said, “I’ve learned to tune her out after a while.”
“You swooped in at just the right time,” Jill said, ignoring Moe.
“I’ve been looking for you at the gym,” Lynn said as he tilted his head to the side to see around Jill. She stepped to the left to block his view of me, and I saw him frown before he turned around and walked toward the tables where we had been laying out the trays.
“Cock-blocking bitch,” Jill hissed over her shoulder before she walked toward him.
“You gonna let her jump in there like that?” Moe asked under her breath.
“I can’t think of a bigger red flag than a man being interested in that.”
“True, but he doesn’t look all that happy to see her. He was clearly excited about seeing you.”
“Shut up,” I muttered as I turned around to go back to the soil trays.
Moe left me alone, probably so she could go fuck with Jill, which seemed to be her new hobby, so I busied myself at the back, finding peace in running my hands through the soft soil as I filled more trays.
“Hurry and talk to me before she swoops in again,” I heard Lynn say as he stood next to me. I jumped, startled by him. I was usually better at paying attention to my surroundings after all my years of incarceration. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I had my head in the clouds,” I said before I smiled shyly at him.
“Is it weird if I say I hope you were daydreaming about me?”
“A little. Why would I be?”
“This is the part where I have to make a decision. Do I use a cheesy pickup line and get a laugh or be honest and wait to get served with a restraining order?”
I burst out laughing and then ordered, “Try the cheesy line first.”
“Are you tired?” Lynn asked.
“Kind of, yeah.”
“You should be. You were running through my dreams last night.”
“Oh, wow. That was horrible.”
“I know, right?”
“Let’s see if the restraining order line is any better.”
“Just remember, when the cops get here, you have to tell them you asked me to say it.”
“Believe me, I’m not calling the law on you.”
Lynn looked around before he chuckled and said, “I guess they’re not really a welcome sight around here, are they?”
“The people that live here now don’t have a problem with them.”
“My guess is that Wannabe Miss Universe over there would.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Have you met her?”
“You’re not a fan of Jill? She is definitely a fan of yours.”
“Am I gonna have to call and get a restraining order?” Lynn asked warily.
“Is she giving you problems?”
“I had to yell at her twice this morning!”
“What for?”
“She just moseyed out into the middle of the worksite, weaving in and out of machinery so she could come chitchat or some shit.”
“Chitchat?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t let her get a word in edgewise either time because I was too fucking pissed she couldn’t read the very bright and very specific signs that say ‘Active worksite. Do not enter.’”
“She just wanted to talk to you, sweetheart.” I giggled at my impression of Jill and then made a show of flipping my hair over my shoulder like she did every thirty seconds. Still mimicking her, I said, “You big, strong, working man. She can’t resist trying to get your attention.”
Lynn’s eyebrows raised before he burst out laughing. He finally caught his breath and asked, “Did that hurt?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“I don’t want her attention. I want your attention. I came looking for you the other day, but you weren’t in the office.”
“I work out here when I finish my office tasks.”
“Good to know. Now I’ll check here first.”
“Why did you want to talk to me?”
“You’re a difficult woman to track down.” Lynn chuckled before he said, “I wanted to find you so I could ask you out.”
“Oh.” When Lynn tilted his head in question, I said, “That’s nice.”
This time Lynn barked out a laugh before he asked, “That’s nice? Holy shit.”
“I’m not sure what else to say.”
“Yes or no would be a good start with maybe a follow-up explanation of ‘not right now’ or ‘I’m seeing someone.’”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“And . . .”
“What exactly would a date with you entail?”
“We’d agree on a date and time, then I’d show up at your house to pick you up. I may bring flowers . . .” Lynn’s voice trailed off as he looked around the building we were working in and saw flowers in all stages, from seedlings to plants, before he added, “Maybe a bottle of wine.”
I shook my head before I said, “No wine.”
“Not a drinker, huh?” I slowly shook my head, and he said, “I’ve got it! I’ll get you a little trinket for your desk.”
“That sounds good. Then what?”
“Then we go somewhere for dinner, maybe go out dancing, then . . .” When I shook my head, he said, “Let me guess, you don’t like to dance?”
I shrugged one shoulder and said, “I like to dance, but I’m not a bar person.”
Lynn’s brow furrowed in thought before he said, “I can work with that.”
“Then what?”
“Then I take you home, kiss your beautiful lips until we’re both out of breath, go home and call you because I miss your company.”
“Why are you single?” I blurted. I pointed out, “We know why I’m single, but I can’t figure out why you are single. Jill was doing everything but a striptease and didn’t catch your attention, so why me?”
“That woman is not my type.”
“Why?” I asked, giving him the opportunity to point out that she was recently released from prison and that was a deal-breaker, but he surprised me.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you aren’t exactly friends.” When I shook my head, he grinned and said, “She’s got more issues than Southern Living and a neon sign hanging over her head that says ‘drama’ in giant letters. Not my type at all.”
“Oh, good grief!” Moe all but yelled from somewhere close behind me. “Pick her up Thursday evening at six. She doesn’t like buffets and loves pasta. Have her home by ten because she has an early meeting the next morning.”
“You’ll make sure she’s ready?” Lynn asked Moe over my shoulder.
“Yes. She’ll be dressed casually and wearing comfortable shoes. Hair up or down?”
“Down.”
“It’s settled. See you Thursday.”
“I need an address,” Lynn said, looking at me with a smile.
“The office,” I blurted. I cleared my throat and, in a calmer tone of voice, said, “I’ll be at the office.”
Lynn glanced that way, but didn’t argue. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
He winked at me before he walked away, and once his back was turned, I spun around and punched Moe in the arm before I hissed, “What the fuck, Moe?”
She giggled as she rubbed her arm. She said, “That was painful to watch. I couldn't help but jump in.”
“I hate your face.”
“You’ll get over it. Now, what are you going to wear?”