22. Conrad
TWENTY-TWO
CONRAD
It was another check-in day, and Madd and I were walking to the laundromat.
Again we held hands as we strolled along the street.
There was no need for talking, and on the surface, we were like any other couple going about our business.
And yet we were alert to anything different.
A glance that lasted longer than usual, a car with tinted windows parked in the same spot as the day before or the unmistakable scent of dragon smoke.
But there was nothing unusual, and my dragon lowered his threat level.
The laundromat was six blocks past the supermarket.
It was a squat building with foggy windows and a handwritten sign advertising wash-and-fold for $1.
50 a pound. We'd started bringing laundry here because the apartment's machine was ancient and it leaked. We didn’t need the tenants below complaining about their ruined ceiling.
The bell above the door jangled as I pushed open the door, but that was as far as I got. Behind the counter, sorting a pile of someone's towels was Arnie.
He was wearing a floral apron and didn't look up immediately. He was intent on folding a blue towel into a precise rectangle, and when he did see us, he smiled as though finding his grandson's dragon mate in this laundromat was an everyday occurrence.
“Morning, grandsons.”
Madd spluttered out, “Grandpa?” while I tried to figure out the implications of him being here. How had he found us? Flint wouldn’t have shared that, even with his uncle. And had he been followed?
Pushing past Madd, I searched the street. There was nothing unusual, no sights, sounds, or scents. But an eighty-year-old man had crossed state lines to fold towels in a laundromat just so he could, what? See Madd?
“Grandpa.” Madd went around the counter and hugged Arnie. “What are you doing here?”
"Flint mentioned the laundromat on a call, and I filled in the gaps.” He patted Madd's back. “Don't worry, I wasn't followed. I drove Mason’s car.”
“Who's Mason?”
He’s a friend and a member of La Luna Noir, but he’s retired to the countryside. He got tired of beating people up.”
There was a long pause. That was one of the realities of being part of organized crime. And it was hard to leave. There were protocols, and the process was in stages. Though no one ever left the Solari and lived. I was the first, and the length of my lifespan was in question.
“Mason has a bright orange car and nobody in their right mind would think I'd borrow it.”
Madd pulled back. “You decided to drive an orange car here and that was you being stealthy?”
“Nobody looks twice at an old man in an ugly car. It's a rule.”
He adjusted Madd's collar and his eyes moved to Madd's shoulder and the mark visible above the neckline.
“You look thin.” That was directed at me.
“We’ve been eating well and cooking every night.”
Madd grinned and cleared his throat.
“Fine. Madd’s been cooking, and I’ve been on peeling and slicing duty.”
Arnie patted my shoulder. “We’ll make a chef out of you yet.” He reached under the counter and pulled out an insulated bag. “There’s enough food for a week. Everything’s labeled and the reheating instructions are on the lids.”
"Grandpa, you can't keep bringing us food. We’re grown men and we’re supposed to be hiding out.”
Arnie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Isn't there a phone call you need to make?”
“Me?” Madd swiveled toward me. “It’s Conrad who usually does it.”
Arnie tapped his head. “As far as I recall, you’re in this together.”
“Conrad, did you tell Grandpa about our argument?”
I put both hands in the air in surrender mode. “How could I? Besides, I wouldn’t share that. It was between us.”
Madd hesitated and narrowed his eyes. “No talking behind my back, and no sharing hints as to how to fatten me up.” He wagged his finger, and I was tempted to grab it.
My mate squeezed Arnie's arm on the way out. The door jingled, and through the foggy window, I watched him cross to the payphone on the wall outside.
Arnie continued folding towels, and the laundromat hummed around us. Three machines were running plus a dryer. Someone's jeans were going around and around behind the glass and the zipper pull tag was clanging against the metal drum. The place smelled of detergent and warm fabric.
“Sit.”
Arnie pulled out a stool behind the counter. He kept folding, and I suspected, based on his precise movements, that he’d been making food and laundry neat his whole life. He didn't rush to fill the silence.
After a minute he said, “I brought you something.” He reached into a carrier bag and pulled out a small package, wrapped in brown paper. “Open it.”
It was light and roughly the size of a paperback. I unwrapped it carefully because the paper was folded so beautifully, almost like origami.
Inside was a dark blue scarf. It was obviously hand-knitted because it was slightly uneven in places. This wasn’t done by a first-time knitter but perhaps by someone whose hands weren't as steady as they used to be.
“I started it the day after we met.” He picked up another towel. “I make things when I'm worried. It keeps my hands busy. And it's for you, not for Madd. He's got plenty.”
I ran my thumb over the stitches. The wool was good quality, and I knew that because Evander’s nanny had knitted him caps and scarves when he was a kid. I used to sneak into his room as a kid and put them on, pretending they were mine.
“You needed something to keep you warm, something that was just yours and would absorb your scent.” He stopped folding. “I know what it's like joining a family that isn't yours. Feeling like you're on the outside and everyone knows the rules except you.”
He spoke of how his late mate had joined the pack without much adjustment because he was part of another prominent mafia pack. But it took years for his mate’s kin to accept him because he was the younger Durand son and wasn’t destined to be Alpha.
“So I fed them, and they stopped treating me like a guest and began to treat me like furniture.” He grinned. “That's when you know you're in, when they stop being polite.”
“Ranger was never polite.”
“There you go. You’re halfway there.” He patted my hand. “You're family, Conrad, because my grandson chose you and I trust his judgment, and that's enough for me.”
I brushed the scarf against my cheek and it was warm and inviting. My mate’s grandpa had made this for me, and I would treasure it always.
“Thank you.” It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all I could say at the moment.
“Tell me what you've been feeding my grandson because if you say cheese puffs, we're going to have a long conversation, and it won’t be pretty.”
Madd came in and studied the scarf. “Is that from Grandpa?”
“Mmmm.”
“Do I get one?”
Arnie told him he had plenty at home.
Madd sat on the counter and put his hand on my marked shoulder. His thumb pressed against the scar through the fabric, and I placed my hand on his.
“How long can you stay, Grandpa?” Madd asked.
“An hour. Then I've got to get Mason’s car back before he notices.” He winked. “He thinks I went to buy groceries.”
“In a town a few hours away?” My mate’s brows pitched upward.
“He’s not detail-oriented.”
I didn’t ask how he’d apparently managed to bribe the laundromat employee to disappear for an hour. He probably did it with food and a lot of cash.
“No cheese puffs,” Arnie told us as he was leaving.
“Sorry, I make no promises when it comes to cheese puffs.” Madd pulled his grandfather into a hug.
“Look after each other.” Arnie was at the door. “And eat the lasagna tonight. It's best when it's fresh.”
In the last hour, we hadn’t mentioned Evander, the danger that was lurking, or any of the things that waited outside this building. Arnie gave us sixty minutes and showered us with love.
The bright orange car pulled away from the curb, and Madd put an arm over my shoulder.
“Let’s hope we can be as cool and spritely as Grandpa when we’re that age.” Madd picked up the scarf. “He's never knitted me one.”
“Maybe you haven't earned one,” I teased.
“Oh, you.”
“He said you had lots.”
“Store-bought ones.”
I tucked my arm in his as we exited, and a harried employee raced in. “Did he leave the apron?”
Madd nodded and pointed to it draped over the stool.
“How much do you think Arnie paid the guy?” I asked as we crossed the street.
“A fistful of cash. He’s probably hoping Grandpa will come back.”
“I’d like that.” Even though it was the most outrageous thing to do, considering our circumstances.
“Grandpa has his own rules.”