“I can’t wait till you tell me what—er, what’s your name again? Peppy?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing, his words swimming in sarcasm.
She stomped toward him, her calves aching more in her platform boots than even when she’d been in the chorus of Guys and Dolls, and she’d had to wear three-inch heels.
Her breathing became ragged as desperation and fear began to set in. If she was going to the Bad Place, she wasn’t going without an all-out brawl.
“It’s Poppy. Poppy McGuillicuddy. M to the C to the Guill-i-cudd-E, and you’d damn well better get used to saying my name because I’m not going anywhere, buddy. If I don’t hook up with you and your shitty attitude, I end up in the Bad Place. I’m sure that’s just fine for somebody like you, who has millions of dollars to grease the palms of whoever’s in charge of your kooky world in order to prevent you from doing things you don’t want to do. But I do not. In fact, I’m damn well broke, and there will be absolutely no icing my hard luck cake by shipping me off to the Bad Place. Now, shut up and suck it up until you, with all your big, big brains and piles of money, can find me something better. Got that, Ricky baby?”
All motion ceased, including Rick’s sweeping. Each of the women’s mouths fell open. Except, of course, Nina’s. She slapped Poppy on the back in approval, jolting her forward with the force of the gesture. “Way to get your own, kiddo. I remain fucking impressed.”
Heaving a breath, Poppy moved in closer to Ricardo. Likely a mistake because he smelled like sheer heaven, but whatever.
Zeroing in on his face, her nostrils flared. “Now, where’s my room and where do you keep the coffee in this shiny steel cage—because I need it in the morning. And I swear to God, if I hear one more protest from you, Ricardo Delassantos, I’m going to wrap my fingers around your neck and choke you out!”
“Ooo, violence as a vehicle to make a point. Jesus Christ, I like you, Poppy M to the C to the Guill-i-cudd-E,” Nina crowed, wrapping an arm around her neck and ruffling the top of her head with her knuckles.
Rick set the broom against the fridge and put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust. “Madre mia. The Bad Place, huh? They still threaten with that? Clearly, it’s effective.”
But Poppy was in no mood to dick with him. “My room, please. Now,” she snarled, wiping the bead of spit lodged at the corner of her mouth.
Grabbing a set of keys from a hook hanging inside the pantry door, he lobbed them to her. “Out back—there’s an adjoining shed. It’s all yours.”
“A shed?” Marty gasped. “No, no, no. This isn’t how you treat one of yours. Poppy’s not living in a shed.”
Wanda backed up that statement by pulling Poppy close to her side, her lips turning thin. “A shed? Oh, no sir,” she said with deadly calm. “There’ll be no treating our girl here like she’s the hired help. In fact, is this how you treat the hired help? It’s appalling, dehumanizing—and I won’t stand for it!”
Nina bobbed her head, gripping Poppy’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’m with Blondie. No fucking way I’m leaving the feisty kid here in some GD shitass shed. It’s cold, she’s been through enough, and you’re an asshole. In case you wondered.”
Wagging his index finger, Rick ignored their protests and made his way to the far window at the other end of the warehouse, pointing to the inky-black backyard. “It’s not what you think.” As they followed him, he flipped on a floodlight, casting a bright glare over the “shed.”
Everyone, even Poppy, gasped at once as they all huddled together and looked out the window.
Calamity scurried to a plaid armchair and jumped up on the back of the cushiony surface. “Whaaat? What’s happening?”
But then she quieted, too, but only after she sighed an, “Ahhh.”
Rick was right. It wasn’t what they’d thought when he’d said shed. This was no shed as in garden shed-shed. This was a damn Victorian palace in miniature form. From the adorable white gingerbread trim above the doors and along the tiny white porch with spindled railings, to the barn-red siding and square, crosshatched windows, it was precious.
The mini house sat amidst mums in every color, in pots of all shades, sizes and shapes, and also sprouting from the ground, presenting a veritable sea of orange, burgundy, yellow and dark pink. There were bushes in all the deep hues of fall, popping up between the blossoming flowers, their leaves beginning to turn with the onset of fall.
A white stone path to the front door was lined with white lantern lights, swinging in the cold breeze, completing a picturesque setting she’d only ever dared dream.
“That’s mine?” Poppy finally managed to squeak.
“Until I can grease a palm or two, yeah,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “Everything you need is there. Towels, fresh linens, food, coffee, a big cushy bed. So, if you ladies don’t mind, and if we’re done with asshole orientation for the day, it’s late. Maybe you could go settle in, and we’ll touch base tomorrow morning.”