For fifty-something Roxy Adams, life is simple and beautiful. Her days are drenched in southern California sunshine and passion for Sam Reyes, the man she loves and shares a business with.
Pantser or Plotter Pantser
Romance or Mystery Mystery
Chocolate or Vanilla Chocolate
Summer or Winter Summer
Paperback or eReader Paperback
Morning or Night Morning
White Wine or Red Red, a Cab if you please
Text or Phone Call Phone Call
Barefoot or Sandals Sandals
Cash or Credit Cash
Whiskey or Vodka Whiskey
Butterflies or Ladybugs Both
Motown or Classic Rock Motown
Silver or Gold Silver
Lake or Beach Lake
Steak or Lobster Lobster
Roxy paced what might soon be her ex-living room, glad her last shift at the food truck was over. She’d never have to deal with Chuck again. That was the good news the bad news drowned out. With about five hundred dollars to her name, she needed a new job. And fast.
Three weeks had passed while she waited and hoped to hear from Sam. A frantic call begging for her forgiveness. Telling her everything was a big mistake, that he was sorry, and he was coming home.
But no call came.
Sam had vanished completely, taking with him any sliver of love she had felt for the man.
Taped to her front door that morning, Roxy found a handwritten note from Flora, the apartment manager, threatening a thirty-day eviction notice. She had crumpled the paper and thrown it near the empty television stand. Along with Sam, her sixty-five-inch wide-screen now lived somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Next to the wadded notification rested a balled-up bank statement. The account where she and Sam had regularly deposited their pay held a hundred-dollar balance.
Once again, the reality invaded her. Sam was gone, cleaning out their bank account and leaving unpaid bills in his wake.
Roxy gulped back a tear and coiled onto her secondhand couch, stained and lumpy. She was on her own. Not that she couldn’t survive. Roxy prided herself on being a strong, self-sufficient woman.
Still, she hadn’t planned on moving into midlife alone and broke.
Practically in the dead of night, Sam had sold his business and left for Tennessee. Apparently, turning sixty lit a fire under him to move closer to the wife he had abandoned long before Roxy had met him.
Now that their children were grown and the responsibilities fewer, Sam had happily traded the hustle and chaos of Los Angeles for back-country fishing holes and lazy days with grandkids he’d never met.
At fifty-three, Roxy understood the draw of reevaluating your life, accomplishing goals before getting too old to remember what they were. She and Sam had chased those dreams together. After all, he encouraged her to abandon her career as one of the few female limo drivers in California, probably in the country. Instead, he persuaded her to join him slinging hash from his food truck on a side street near the corner of Vine and Fountain in downtown LA.
Roxy groaned at the thought. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She’d given up pocketing hundreds of dollars in cash tips while meeting the area’s famous, wealthy, and colorful. Sam supplied everything she had missed during her early years—a steady life, a reliable partner, a consistent income. Things she never had growing up in Downey. A solidness she’d never find in the capricious chauffeuring world.
461 words
Roxy dialed Alma on her drive home. The meeting with Alex, Stacy, and Cecile had left her anxious and unsettled.
Was she imagining things about Alex or was her intuition doing what it did best, questioning everything? Alma could talk her down when her chaotic brain took control. But today, her friend’s phone rang unanswered.
“Alma. Are you home? I’m out on bail, and I need to talk to you. Can we get a coffee or something stronger tonight?” Roxy looked at her watch. Too early for Alma to be on air. “Hope you’re out doing something fun with that new fellow. Call me later when you have a minute. I need you.”
Roxy disconnected and tossed her phone on top of her purse. She tuned her radio to KODO and sang along to a vintage R&B song. After the next song ended, she heard:
“This is Soul Sanchez, spinning the tunes that make you move. Coming up at the half hour, all the news to keep you on cruise.”
“There you are my friend, hard at work,” Roxy shouted into the emptiness of her car. “Call me!”
From the apartment parking lot, Roxy spied Alma’s planter box, a trail of ivy draping down one side. Her geraniums, along with the rest of her garden, appeared healthy and undisturbed.
Roxy hustled up the stairs and opened her apartment door. Before she entered, she checked that she was the only person inside, then dumped her purse on the kitchen table and opened her sliding glass door.
She walked onto her patio balcony and glanced around. No one was watching—at least no one she could see.
Alma wouldn’t be off for another few hours. Roxy wasn’t certain she could wait that long to retrieve the key.
Why had she told everyone where she had hidden the key? What a stupid mistake.
She went inside and opened a bottle of red wine; the nice one her niece had gifted her on her fiftieth birthday. Roxy had been saving the wine for a special occasion. What was more special than getting out of jail? She couldn’t think of a thing.
The first glass coasted down her throat as though on skates. She’d never been a wine connoisseur, but she sure liked how this one tasted. She took a few more sips, then swirled the wine left in her glass and watched the liquid form “legs” down the sides. Roxy knew that quality wines had good legs. And that was the extent of her expertise. She wouldn’t be adding sommelier to her resume any time soon.
Oaky notes, nuances of spice, smokiness. Wine lovers used these terms. All that seemed pretentious. The wine she normally consumed offered nuances of gym socks or the smoky notes of stale licorice candy. She couldn’t taste the difference.
Well, until today.
She poured another glass, debating if she should go into Alma’s home and nab the tiny key while Alma was still at work. She had already snuck in once using Alma’s hidden key. She couldn’t sneak in twice. Someone might be watching.
No, she’d wait until Alma came home.
That was, if Alma came straight home.
She’d been dating a new guy. The last time she’d seen her friend, Roxy would have sworn Cupid’s arrow was sticking out of Alma’s chest.
What was the guy’s name? she wondered, halfway through her second glass.
Roxy let the wine relax her. In fact, she moved several degrees to the right of relaxed, headed directly to buzz country. She hadn’t gotten drunk in so long it took only two glasses to get her woozy.
Can’t get plastered tonight. Gotta keep my head on straight. Think. Think. Ricky, Randy. Something with an R. Ryan. No. Too common.
“Rudy!” she shouted into the air as the name appeared in her mind. “Yes. Rudy!” She lifted her wine glass. “Tell me, Alma, how are things going with Rudy?”
Roxy downed the remainder of her second glass, chugged some water, and curled up on her couch to sleep, maybe to dream. Maybe to subconsciously figure out what that dang key opened.
When Roxy’s cell phone chimed, waking her up, she looked at her watch. She’d been asleep for three hours.
“Hello,” she answered, before taking a drink of water to combat the cotton balls forming inside her mouth.
“Finally. I’ve been calling every five minutes for the last half hour. Where have you been?” Alma screeched in Roxy’s ear.
“At my place. Guess I dozed off.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be there when you got out. Had to fill in for an early shift. Stacy said she’d take care of everything.”
“How can I thank you for putting up my bail,” Roxy said, gratitude swelling in her chest.
“Stop,” Alma said. “Stacy and I figured it out. She said she’d ask Alex to pick you up. Did he?”
“Well yes,” Roxy said, not ready to elaborate on her uneasiness about Alex. “Are you still at work?”
“No. I’m at Rudy’s.”
“Rudy. I knew it.”
“Knew what? Rocks, are you okay?”
“Well, I have been better, but yes, I’m okay. Except that I’m a lousy friend. I haven’t even asked how things are going with your new beau. How are things going with Rudy?”
“Beau? Are you messing with me right now? You’re out on bail for a murder charge, and you want to have girl talk. Maybe I should pop over, and we can paint each other’s toenails.” Alma huffed at the end of her rant, emphasizing her frustration.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. You have to answer your freaking phone, so I don’t have a heart attack. I thought something happened to you.”
“I’m fine. Really. I’ll probably have an enormous headache tomorrow, though,” Roxy said, rubbing her temple.
“Now what are you talking about?”
“Doesn’t matter. I had too much wine.”
“You drank too much? Well, that’s a first. But I guess being charged with murder is a first for you, too. You’re getting to check a lot of boxes on your bucket list.”
“Hangovers and murder are not on my bucket list.” Roxy couldn’t help giggling.
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Sounds like a good read.
ReplyDeleteThe blurb sounds really good. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeletelooks like a fun one.
ReplyDeleteThe book sounds like a fun read. Thanks!
ReplyDelete