Page 2 of The Right Woman

“Anything I need to be concerned about?”

Her hand reaches out to rub my forearm gently, and the touch makes me sad. It’s a reminder of what I’ve lost. It’s rare that anyone is near enough to touch me like this. Withtenderness. “Oh, Adon. No. It’s her first crush. Let her have it. Please?”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it through her teenage years.” Running my hands over the short hairs along the sides of my scalp, I clench my back molars. “I can’t do this, Em. She’s too young. Odin says he’s in eighth.”

She purses her lips to keep her smile contained. “Stop. It’s fine. She’s coming to tell me everything right now. If you go barbarian on her, she’ll just shut down. Leave it alone.”

The only thing I can give her is another nod while I kick at the pavement. When I lift my head, I politely ask, “How’s Bryan?”

With her hand on her door, she shrugs. “He’s good. We’re good, andyes,he’ll be around this week with us. If you want to come over, you’re welcome any time, Adon. I’m not stopping you from hanging out with your kids.” Emotion grips my chest as her face draws into a serious expression. I know damn well what words she’s going to say next. “It’s not good for you to be alone so much.”

And the answer I always keep in my head echoes through my thoughts once more: but it’s safer for everyone else.

Not bothering with a response, I wave and turn to my vehicle, then jump in, heading toward the shop. After parking behind the building, I pause and glance up at the sign.Griffin Bros. Motors. Dad would like it if he were alive. But not how I let things lapse with Elijah, who’s currently standing next to Tate in the front bay. Both have their heads inside the open hood of a Ford.

As I approach, Tate’s eyes flash to mine with a cautionary look, and my hackles raise with irritation. “He’s fine. He’s doing fine,” my best friend repeats before I reach the engine and inspect their work. Eli hurriedly swaps out hoses like he just got caught stealing something.

Tension returns to my neck, and I slap my hand on it. “This car was here last week. Did something happen?”

Eli won’t even look at me, his mumbled mutters aimed at the block in front of him. “I got it.” When I don’t move, he fiddles around clumsily, then raises his head. His guilty expression changes to anger when I cross my arms and wait. “Tate’s helping me. I-I’ll fix it.”

With a deep breath, I decide that an argument this early in the morning isn’t worth it. At least he was here on time. And doesn’tlookintoxicated.

Tate gives me a nod, then slaps him on the back in praise. Something I probably should do for him, too, but I don’t. If I reward him now, he’ll just start slacking off.

Fortunately, the rest of the day goes smoothly. Near the end of it, I gather up some paperwork and shut down the computer for the weekend. Tate steps into the office, rubbing an apple on his red jump suit that almost matches his hair. “Heading out for your appointment?”

“Yep.”

Slipping into the chair across from me, he perches his feet on the edge of the desk and smiles like he has a secret. “You going to tell me what this standingappointmentis?”

“Nope.”

He takes a big bite from the side of the fruit, crunching into it while chuckling low and long. “Adon,bro. If it’s a hot little piece you don’t want anyone to know about, I get it. But it’sme. We fucked Trisha Long at the same time back in the day. We double deckered all three of Brent’s bathrooms in high school. You stood watch while I fucked his mom!I helped you steal that Pontiac?—”

Bristling, I stop him from continuing with a sharp wave of my hand.“Thatwas never to be mentioned again.” The chair’s wheels squeal against the concrete floor as I stand and grab my phone. “And you’ll still never find out about my standing Friday night appointment.”

It’s mine.

Something no one knows about me. Because I’m notmewhen I go.

“Fine, fine. Have a great time! See you Monday.”

Back home, I take my time in the shower and with a clean trim, leaving my black beard at the perfect short length I prefer. At the back of my closet are my two suits that I swap every other week for the occasion. Unless there’s a funeral, Adon Griffin doesn’t wear these types of clothes.

Daddy Don does.

Other than a red paisley pocket square, my dress shirt, slacks, shoes, and jacket are all black. Even the molded mask I tuck into my pocket is a flat onyx color.

Once I slide my phone out of my pocket, I open the app to see where the club is stationed tonight. Looks like it’s in the old industrial warehouse turned apartment complex on the outskirts of town. It’s not my favorite of their locations, but it’ll do. There aren’t private rooms in this particular setting, but voyeurism doesn’t bother me, as long as my mask stays in place.

It’s a dark, moonless night when I approach the steel door in the alley between the large structures. The bouncer recognizes me, but I flash him the invitation on my phone anyway. With a silent nod, he opens the door to let me in.

Tarin’s working the bar and spots me with a big smile as she shoves a whiskey in my direction. “Don. Good to see you. Want one or two tonight?”

She knows I don’t drink much, wanting to keep my cool for whatever may come up. “Just this. Thanks.” I stuff a twenty-dollar tip in her jar, then turn on the bar stool to watch the crowd.

The wide dance floor is lit up with colored strobe lights. Another reason this place isn’t my favorite is because it’s brighter here than other places and the music isn’t to my taste. ADJ blares something younger people probably love. I’ll stick with my jazz.

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