Page 16 of Skin Deep

He threw back his head and laughed, then coughed. “Fresh air is medicine,” he said, his voice thin and raspy. His voice usually reminded me of Morgan Freeman’s, and the fragility of it made me wonder if I should call Mrs. Pearl to come and get him. “I was suffocating in that house.”

He shouldn’t have been out in the cold, but I understood what he meant. Whenever I needed to get out, this was my second home, too.

“Anything new come up?” He took another mandarin out of the bag and peeled it. The citrusy scent seemed to freeze in the air, and I inhaled deep.

He’d put me in touch with Percy and had been interested in what was going on ever since. I knew he was talking about a job opening.

“No.” I bit down on a wedge, and the cold juice ran down my throat. “Looks like this is meant to be my life.”

Neither of us said anything for a while. We both continued to eat and gaze out at the field that had been the foundation for both of our dreams.

He coughed again, and after settling his breath, he leaned forward some, putting his hands together, letting them dangle. His eyes narrowed on the field. “Everything happens for a reason.”

We’d had many deep conversations about fate and why things happen. The best we could both come up with was…that’s life. He was hitting me with another simple conclusion.

“That’s it?” I said. “Everything happens for a reason?”

“Simple enough. The truth.”

He stood from his seat, fixing his scarf and pulling his coat together, even though it was zipped up to his neck. “You never know when things will start to turn. They do when you least expect it.” He grinned at me. “Don’t tell Pearl I was here. Or I’ll see that you don’t get to share my apple pie next time you’re over.”

My grin faded as he left. Simple always felt complicated, because usually nothing was ever that simple. If I thought any harder, though, I felt like I might break something. And I knew how costly that could be.

My shoulder cost enough.

I was still trying not to think when a man I didn’t know came to sit beside me, claiming the seat Jackie had occupied.

Maybe around my age or a little younger. Around the same height, but wider. Much wider. Clean haircut. Covered in tattoos. The lines on his face tracked his miles, though, and if that wouldn’t have, the jailhouse ink would have.

“You’ll have to come back when we’re open,” I said, wondering how he’d gotten in. I didn’t want anything he was selling. “Only workers are allowed in right now.”

He grinned at me but said nothing. He was studying me.

“You got a problem?” I finally said.

He ignored the question and introduced himself. “Rafferty O’Connor,” he said, not offering me his hand. “Everyone calls me Raff. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Cash Kelly.” He dug under his long winter jacket, finding his suit, and pulled out a card. “He has a job offer for you.”

I took the card and read the info. Cash Kelly’s name was on it. So was the address to his business in Hell’s Kitchen. On the other side, a date and time were written in ink. Two days from then. 6:00 a.m. sharp.

I’d heard the name Kelly before. In Hell’s Kitchen, it was irrevocably linked to the term “gangster.”

“What makes Mr. Kelly think I’d be interested in working for him?”

Rafferty “Raff” O’Conner stood from his seat, fixing his jacket as he did. Expensive cologne wafted in the air around him, twirling with the leftover scent of citrus.

He grinned down at me. “You’re in the market for a job in law, and it just so happens that Mr. Kelly is in the market for a lawyer. Makes sense to me.”

I went to hand the card back, but he stepped away from the row of seats, getting ready to leave. “It would be in your best interest to keep the card,” he said, nodding toward it. “And the appointment.”

“He can’t buy me,” I said. “I’m not for sale.”

He smiled. “Every man has a price, Mr. Ryan,” he said. “They just don’t always know it, not until everything they’ve ever wanted is laid on the table.”

For ransom?I was about to say, but it was too late. Even though I could have called after him, I didn’t. He wouldn’t have turned back.

Besides, maybe he was right. It was best to keep the appointment and see what Mr. Kelly had to offer. After all, dreams cost money and time.

I was running out of both.

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