“Now you can defend her. How will Angie feel when she finds out that you are playing dirty?” he inhaled the wildflower sent on Ricky. “You even smell of her.” He continued.
Ricky laughed, the jubilant sound was infectious. There was danger in wanting things, dreaming of a future when he couldn’t guarantee tomorrow.
“What will happen when she finds out about your past? Should I start by telling her you are an ex-convict?”
Memories came flooding in Ricky’s mind.
The evening news had forecast only the possibility of rain. Now as Ricky grasped the door knob of Whiskers Hotel with a gloved hands, he wrenched it closed against the blinding rain. He wiped his wet coat and jeans and knocked the dirt from his runners.
He’d driven his Mercedes Benz around the back of the hotel before remembering that T bone had given him the keys to his room. His hair was wet and he was shivering with chill as he headed to his room.
The dimmed lighting did little to dispel shadows in the corridors. He reached into the pocket in his coat and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, the letter he found on Jerome’s desk. He unfolded and tilted it to catch the light. It was a love letter from T bone to Angie.