Play It Safe (9 page)

Casey spending a hundred and fifty dollars on some woman, absolutely not.

“Are you nuts?” I asked softly.

“Yep, I’m in love.” He shook his hand at me. “Lay it on me, Ivey.”

I shook my head. “No, Casey. Honestly, we have
to go.
”

“You didn’t hustle him, cop didn’t hassle you, we’re cool and we’re solid, you got more money. We can stay another day, two.”

God!

My brother!

“Casey!” I snapped, his face twisted, he took a step closer, bent and got in my face.

“She’s special, Ivey. No shittin’ you, this one is different. I like her. You’re always whinin’ about findin’ somewhere safe, somewhere we can settle, somewhere we can take root. Maybe, you think, she’s the one, this might be it?”

That was it. That was my brother, Casey.

I
was
always whining about that, or I used to. I quit. Waste of breath.

But I used to do it all the time.

Stop the hustle. Stop driving here and there and everywhere. Stop keeping track of where we’d been so we could make sure to avoid going back. Stop living out of a hotel room, a suitcase. Have more than some clothes, a few books, some makeup and jewelry. Have a coffeemaker. Eat food you cooked not food cooked for you.

He never gave in. He never wanted to settle. He disallowed connection, especially for me, with a fervor that many would think was unhealthy but, what we went through, what
I
went through then what he went through for me, was definitely not.

Now, because
he
had found something
he
liked, it was a possibility.

As for me, Mustang was exactly where I wanted to be. I knew it. It was Gray but it was more than Gray. It was Janie. It was knowing the cops in town were good cops, or at least one of them was. It was that crazy restaurant blighting the perfection of the town square.

It was Gray.

And, for Gray, I had to get the heck out of there.

“Casey, I don’t want this to be it,” I lied.

“I don’t care. Lived my life for you. Minute Mom squirted you out, Ivey, I’ve
lived my whole fuckin’ life for you.
Now, you give me a goddamned day or two, a coupla hundred dollars and
you
let
me
live my life
for me.
”

I sucked in breath and held his angry eyes.

He was not right.

And he was also absolutely not wrong.

I closed my eyes.

“I’m fallin’ in love with her, sis, I feel it.” I heard him whisper.

I opened my eyes.

Darn.

“I cannot give you a hundred a fifty dollars, Casey and you know it.”

He grinned.

“You get sixty, no more,” I said softly.

His hand darted out, curled around my neck, he pulled me in and kissed my forehead.

Then he let me go and smiled huge at me. “I’ll make that work.”

Darn.

You Didn’t Leave

Three and a half hours later…

I was in Mustang Library which was diagonal to the square opposite our hotel. It was a narrow, brick, freestanding building, attractive, the number in the cream mortar declaring it was built in 1928. Walk in, half flight of steps down to basement full of shelves, half flight of steps up to first floor full of shelves and more steps to another floor full of shelves.

As with the department store, I didn’t think Mustang could sustain a library, not one like this. But on the basement level, I heard a bunch of kids, young ones, so obviously the school did field trips there. And it couldn’t be said, perusing the shelves, there weren’t a variety of old folks obviously on fixed incomes looking for free entertainment, same with a few housewives whose husbands clearly had trouble making ends meet so the romance novel addiction couldn’t be assuaged by purchases but instead borrowing.

I was there to borrow but I didn’t have a library card. My book would make it to my purse. I read fast and I had all night. I’d return it in the outside return tray I saw when I walked in. I wasn’t a thief, I was a hustler. But even if I was a thief, I’d never steal from a library.

With love blooming for Casey and an indeterminate stay in Mustang, we had to be even more careful with money. This meant I couldn’t buy a book, definitely, or even any magazines which were really just throwing money away. I was not going back to the bar, no way. And if there was nothing on TV, which, from experience, there really never was, I’d need something to keep me from being bored.

I found my book, slid it into my purse and smiled brightly and openly at the librarian as I walked out. I might not be a thief but, as mentioned, I was a hustler. To hustle, you learned what to hide and what not to hide. Game face. If you acted flakey and secretive, the jig would be up.

I figured the same thing for illegally borrowing library books and I figured right. The librarian smiled brightly back and I took off.

Down the block, across the street and in the square, I saw Casey heading my way, big smile on his face with a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand. More than a twenty dollar bouquet which meant it was probably thirty or even, looking at it, forty. I had no clue. I’d never bought flowers or received them. But that looked like a lot of flowers.

This meant he was going to hit me up for more money.

Again.

I was considering asking him for the car so I could drive a couple of towns over (maybe three), find a bar and do a flash hustle. One-nighter, no Casey casing the joint, setting up the mark then calling me in. Just lots of bending over pool tables pretending I didn’t know what I was doing, lots of time watching stupid men drink whisky and watch me then I’d take their money. I did it and often. This usually didn’t pull down much. Sometimes twenty, usually fifty, if I was lucky and the guy was a moron with a wad of cash, a hundred or even two.

But I figured it was too hot. Who knew what Bud Sharp and his sidekicks were spreading around and how far that would reach? Also, who knew how long this crush would last for Casey and how long we needed to keep our noses clean.

Hells bells.

My brother was half a block away, still grinning like a loon carrying his flowers, heading toward me when suddenly I wasn’t walking toward him anymore.

Instead, an arm hooked my waist, my body shifted, my forward momentum shifted with it and I found myself slamming front-to-front into a long, hard frame.

I knew that jacket. I knew that scarf.

I looked up.

Gray.

He was grinning and his was huge too, dimple and everything.

“You didn’t leave.”

Hells bells!

“Uh –” I mumbled.

“Yo! Bro! Can I help you?”

I turned my head and saw that Casey was right there. Then I turned my head again and saw that Gray had turned to my brother.

“Hey,” he greeted, extending a hand to my brother. “I’m Gray.”

“And I’m tickled pink,” Casey returned rudely. “Now, you wanna get your hands off my sister?”

Gray looked at Casey then down at me. I tried to move out of the curve of his arm.

It tightened.

Oh dear.

Gray looked back at my brother.

“I’ll repeat, I’m Gray. Gray Cody, a friend of Ivey’s,” Gray stated, still attempting civility but he’d dropped his hand.

“Ivey doesn’t have any friends,” Casey returned and, like a spasm, Gray’s arm curled even tighter around me.

He was silent and I looked between the two of them seeing they were in stare down on the sidewalk in the town square.

This was not good.

“Uh –” I began again.

“You’re wrong,” Gray said quietly. “She does. Me.”

I battled and succeeded and therefore didn’t bite my lip.

Casey’s eyes sliced to me. “You know this guy?”

“I told you someone stepped in last night and that someone was Gray,” I answered carefully but not carefully enough.

And this was when I knew Casey had made assumptions. Casey assumed that some out-of-shape barfly had taken my back. Casey had not considered that a young, tall, handsome man with a confident manner and a natural authority had stepped up for me.

If Casey considered this, we would be three and a half hours out of Mustang, him falling in love with a class act or not.

His eyes narrowed on me and I felt their sting. This was because Casey found this a betrayal. He said no connections. He demanded I play it safe. And me making a friend, even against my will, with a handsome stranger was not playing it safe to Casey.

Then they cut to Gray. “Right then, got my gratitude, bro. Now I’m on duty, move along.”

Gray didn’t move along. Gray didn’t tear his eyes from Casey and I didn’t know him all that well but you didn’t need to to know he really didn’t like what he was seeing.

Then Gray’s eyes flicked to the flowers and back to Casey’s face before he said low, “Shoulda been on duty last night…” pause then, “
bro.
”

Oh jeez.

Casey’s back went straight or, I should say, straight-
er.

“All’s well that ends well,” he clipped and Gray shook his head. Once.

“I reckon you know, bein’ a guy and all, you’re her brother but you’re also obviously not blind. She’s out, way she looks, way she moves, even havin’ a quiet night, keepin’ to herself, that shit might happen. That shit happened. You were not on duty. I wasn’t around, shit coulda got worse,” Gray pointed out.

“Well, it didn’t,” Casey shot back. “And as I said, got my gratitude. Now, I’m here and, can’t say it straighter, in two seconds, you’re not.”

This was all happening right there, right with me right there.

But all I could think was…

The way I look?

The way I move?

Casey was wrong. In two seconds, Gray was not gone.

Instead, he used those two seconds to dip his head to the flowers and ask, “Those for Ivey?”

“None of your business…” pause then, “
bro.
”

“They’re not,” Gray whispered, his eyes locked on Casey, his arm still locked around me, my front still tight to him but he’d shifted to facing Casey so I was tucked to his side.

“What’d I say?” Casey whispered back. “None of your business.”

“Plans tonight,” Gray deduced.

Casey opened his mouth to speak but Gray looked down at me.

“You’re free for steak and me.”

My belly flip-flopped, my heart squeezed and my legs went weak.

Casey got in our space and thus in Gray’s face.

“That is not gonna fuckin’ happen,” he growled.

Gray turned his head and tipped it down the two inches he needed to stare down Casey. This gave me confirmation of his height. Casey was six foot. I was five foot eight. This placed Gray at six foot two.

See? Tall.

“Why?” Gray asked.

“Again, none of your business. Now, one last time, move along.”

I could tell by Gray’s vibe and the tenseness I felt in his body that things were deteriorating. I knew by Casey’s vibe and the look on his face that they were already gone.

I needed to wade in.

“Casey, he’s a nice guy. It’s okay.”

Casey’s eyes cut to me. “Stay out of it,” he bit off and that made me mad.

Suddenly mad and
really
mad.

For a lot of reasons.

A lot of reasons that had been bugging me, not just then but for a long, long time.

But just then, he was connecting with some woman, buying her flowers, throwing away money
I
won putting
my
ass on the line. Gray was right. He was off having fun and I, as usual, was
not.

Casey didn’t have a lot of fun?

Casey didn’t laugh a lot?

I wasn’t shits and grins?

Well, he wasn’t either.

He was a pain in my behind.

And he had been for awhile.

If he could decide Mustang just might be where we put down roots then who was he to decide I couldn’t make a connection?

Just one.

Just one since I was twelve
stinking
years old.

He “connected” all the time.

Not me.

And I was not twelve anymore. I was twenty-two. I could drink legally in every state in the Union. I could drive a car. I could vote. I could join the Army.

I was an adult, darn it.

And I had been awhile.

I didn’t need my big brother looking out for me and, frankly, if we were honest about it (though, that was something Casey would never be) for the last at least five years, it had mostly been
me
looking out for
Casey.

I turned to Gray and said firmly, “I’ll be ready at five thirty.”

The tension slid out of his body, Gray looked down at me and grinned.

With dimple.

Darn but I liked that dimple.

I smiled back.

“That’s not happening, sis,” Casey warned, his voice trembling with fury.

I looked at him. “It is.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he hissed and that made me even
more
mad.

“Seriously?” I asked. “Do you see that cut on Gray’s forehead, Casey? He got that
for me.
I put those plasters on. You were off having fun and I was in danger and Gray stepped up for me. You should be
thanking
him not getting in his face. He’s a nice guy. He has a lovely Grandma. She makes really good preserves. And I’m having steak with him tonight.”

Casey’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You met his Grandma?”

“Yes, and she makes really good preserves.”

That was when Casey’s eyes narrowed on me. “Thinkin’ there’s shit you left out this mornin’, sis.”

“You’d think right but I don’t ask, you don’t tell and I don’t ask because even when I did, you didn’t tell. My turn,” I fired back.

Casey scowled at me.

Then he whispered, “I’m not likin’ this shift, sister.”

I knew he wouldn’t.

But at that moment, standing in a pretty town square pressed up against the warm hard body of a handsome man who was a good guy who took care of his Grandma, a Grandma that, even in a wheelchair, made delicious strawberry preserves, I didn’t care.