The Dangerous Curves Series

Chapter 83

She’d gone right up to Mirrie after the meeting; she’d waited patiently while an endless stream of people talked to her, congratulated her, thanked her. Finally, it had just been the two of them in the corner and when their eyes met, it was like a spark of connection, of recognition. Despite all the differences in outer appearances, the two women saw each other, knew each other.

“Hi,” Mirrie said, her voice roughened from a serious cigarette habit that had started at the tender age of thirteen and she'd only just kicked. “I’m Mirrie.”

“Naomi.”

Mirrie took her in. The pale face, the dark circles under the eyes, the tension wound up hard and unforgiving. “How many days?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“White-knuckling it the whole time?”

Naomi managed a laugh. “Oh, hell, yeah.”

“You want to get a coffee and talk?”

Her throat too tight to utter a single word, Naomi had nodded. Mirrie had taken her two blocks down to Frank’s Café, and the women had talked until almost one o’clock in the morning. When Frank came to tell them that he was closing, and Mirrie had introduced Naomi, Frank had proceeded to go home and left Mirrie to lock up. That was when Naomi asked Mirrie to be her sponsor.

Mirrie had looked at her silently, those amazing light-purple eyes calm and contemplative. “I’d really, really love that, Naomi.”

In the almost seven months since that night, Mirrie had seen Naomi through so much s**t, it was humbling and unbelievable. Mood swings and crying jags and urges to relapse so strong that Naomi literally couldn’t speak for the wanting. Through it all, Mirrie had been sharp, patient, supportive. She was a tiny miracle and a life-saver – and at this point, Naomi loved her like a sister.

Frank came over now with a coffee and Naomi gave him a grateful smile. He was also in the club, and had an amazing twenty-two years of sobriety under his belt. He examined her closely, knowing that something had to have happened.

“You alright?” he said.

“Yeah. I mean… kind of. I will be.”

Frank nodded, then left without another word.

“So.” Mirrie stared hard. “Talk.”

Despite her air of brusque command, Mirrie was actually incredibly worried, and she had been ever since Naomi had told her about the meeting with Jax Hamill and Sarah Matthews. They had arranged to meet at Dangerous Curves, of all the damn places – Jax’s bar. The worst place on earth for an alcoholic in early recovery, but Jax had needed his papers and financial figures, and everything was in his office there.

Mirrie had been on standby, in case Naomi called in distress. And sure enough, she’d called for help using their pre-arranged signal – Naomi had let the phone ring for a few seconds, and then hung up so Mirrie could call her back with an ‘emergency’. Naomi had bailed on the meeting in less than twenty minutes.

Honestly, though? I wouldn’t have lasted even close to that long in a bar in my first year of sobriety. I’d have cleared the front door, kept right on walking up to the bar. And then planted my ass on the nearest stool and not moved for a day, before waking up in some loser’s bed.

She gazed at Naomi now, waiting for the other woman to start talking. She was rooting for Naomi to get through this, rooting for her in a way that kept her up at night. Mirrie was her sponsor, yeah, but she was also her friend, and her biggest fan. The world needed people like Naomi Abbott, and Mirrie was bound and determined to get Naomi to a healthy, healed place. God knows the woman was working at it.

“Well… Sarah was drinking some kind of cocktail,” Naomi said. “And I could smell the damn thing from all the way across the table, you know?”

Mirrie nodded.

“But I was on top of things, mostly because Jax is going to donate an absolutely mammoth amount of money to my art program. That kept me focused and positive. Plus, Sarah’s great, and I’m looking forward to her brother joining the program. I’ve seen Noah’s paintings and he’s amazing.”

“That’s excellent.”

“Yeah.” Naomi took a shaky breath. “Then he walked in.”

Mirrie went into high-alert mode. “‘He’? ‘He’ who?”

“Oh, no. Not that he.”

Mirrie felt relief wash over her. “OK. So who?”

“Matt Kingston.” Naomi said the name reluctantly. “He – he’s a friend of Jax and Sarah’s, and he’s also going to make a contribution. Turns out, his niece is already in the program, and he likes it a lot.”

Mirrie’s brow was furrowed. “Matt Kingston? Matt Kingston…” Her expression cleared. “Wait. You mean King?”

“Who?”

“Huge guy with dark hair? Scary as hell, tattoos everywhere?’

“Yes,” Naomi said, startled. “You know him?”

“By sight and reputation only.”

“OK. Is it bad?”