Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I chuckled. If I were wearing a French maid outfit, I’d get my balls busted less around here. “Nice to see you, too, Bud.”
He nodded toward the empty spot next to him behind the serving table. “Get an apron on, kid. I could use help. But I wouldn’t want you to mess up that monkey suit.”
Thirteen or thirty, it didn’t matter. I did whatever the old man said. So for the next hour, we served dinner side by side, shooting the shit as we dished out pasta primavera, broccoli, and day-or-two-old bread that he’d turned into garlic toast. I asked him about his beloved plants, and he rattled on about some new variegated tomato seeds he was growing that were developed in Mexico. The way he said it told me I was supposed to be impressed by that. At seven thirty sharp, we turned off the hot plates, which were dragged in and out every day so no one could steal them, and we took two plates of food outside to the front stoop and sat down to eat ourselves.
“So what’s new in the land of movers and shakers? You get off any of those Ponzi-scheme idiots who rob people of their retirement savings lately?”
“Luckily, no.” I shoveled a heaping forkful of pasta into my mouth. It was probably the best-tasting thing I’d had in months. Bud didn’t screw around when it came to cooking or his plants. I wiped sauce from my mouth. “How’s your knee doing?”
“It’s holding up. The humidity’s been low, so that helps. I have no idea why Florida is the land of old people. Dry heat is so much easier on old bones.”
Bud caught me up on all the latest neighborhood gossip—who was feuding with who, and who got caught doing what. I told him I’d stopped down to see Dario the other day, and before I knew it, we were the only two left at the house.
“Welp…” He stood. “Guess we better be going before the druggies get annoyed we’re hanging out in their crib.”
I smiled. “I’ll load your van.”
I packed up all of the serving supplies and locked the back of Bud’s van with the same rusted chain and padlock he’d been using since I was a kid.
Still holding it, I said, “I think it might be time for a new lock.”
“Why? Is that one broken?”
“No, but it’s rusted to shit. One day the key isn’t going to turn it anymore.”
Bud shrugged. “Then that’ll be the day I spring for a new lock.”
We shook hands next to the van. “If you’re not busy this weekend,” he said, “I gotta turn over the garden. Could use an extra set of hands.”
“Saturday or Sunday?”
“Saturday. Got plans with my lady friend on Sunday.”
Shit. I needed to work on Saturday—keep my billing up. I’d have to go in at the crack of dawn, but I’d figure out a way to pull it off. “What time?” I asked.
“Two sounds good to me. When you’re done, you can help me prep for the night’s dinner service.”
I nodded. “Sounds good. See you Saturday.”
I started to walk away, but turned back. “Hey, you mind if I bring someone?”
Bud shrugged. “He got arms and know how to use a shovel?”
“He’s got arms, and I can teach him how to use a shovel if he doesn’t know. It’s a twelve-year-old client of mine. Sadly, the kid reminds me a lot of myself at that age.”
“Oh Lord.” Bud shook his head. “Not sure I can handle two of you. But yeah, fine. Bring ’em.”
***
“Shovel? You just told Mrs. Benson at Park House we were going to your office to talk about strategy.”
“Well, that wasn’t a total lie. I consider wherever I am to be my office, and I did want to discuss your case for a few minutes at some point today.”
“But why are you going to shovel someone’s dirt?”
I glanced at Storm and back to the road. “I’m not.”
“You just said we were going to some guy’s house to dig up his old garden so he can get ready to plant a new one. Isn’t that digging in dirt?”
“Yes, but you asked why I was going to shovel dirt. I’m not. We are.”
Storm looked at me like I had two heads. “I’m not shoveling dirt.”
“You wanna bet?”
“What the fuck?”
I pointed at him. “Watch your language. Bud will have you chop a dozen onions, even if he doesn’t need them chopped, if you talk like that. Plus, have some respect. I’m older than you, and I’m also your attorney.”
“If you’re my attorney, you should be getting me off instead of taking me to dig dirt.”
I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. This kid was sooo me at twelve. Which was why I knew he needed a man like Bud in his life.
“Do you know about the free dinner that’s open to people in your old neighborhood?”