Free All Flash No Cash by Randi Alexander

destroyed the other
drawing.”
    “No. Of course I didn’t.” The words shot out
of her like lead from a pellet gun.
    He had to turn away to hide the emotion in
his eyes. She did like his drawing enough to keep it, but didn’t
want to share it with the world because it was her cross to bear.
Her private sorrow to live. “I’ll go downstairs while you change.”
He walked toward the elevator, picking up his hat along the way.
“You got some tickets or slips of paper we can use for the
voting?”
    “Wait.” Her voice came out loud, panicky. “I
didn’t agree to this.”
    He turned to face her. “Your only objection
is that you don’t think anyone would buy tickets to win the Memory
bike, right?” He knew he was painting her into a corner; she either
had to agree that was the reason, or admit to him her hesitation to
trust anyone with her personal life.
    “Yes. It is.” She said it in a voice as
clipped as a drill sergeant.
    “Well, then?” He pressed the elevator
button.
    She didn’t answer.
    “I’ll be at the bar.” When she didn’t speak,
he stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the ground
floor, and caught sight of her pale face as the doors slid
shut.
    With a long breath, he made himself forget
how ungentlemanly he’d been—both during sex, and after. The sex,
hell yeah, that was amazing. The way he’d worked her afterward
didn’t leave him with a good feeling. But if it helped her through
this rough patch in her life, showed her that she was not the only
one who missed Harry, that there were others around who would
support her…
    Hell. What was he now, a grief counselor?
Crazy. It was crazy how much he felt for her. And just about
anything was what he’d do for her.
    In the bar, he knocked on the office
door.
    Dolby opened it.
    “Hey, could you help me get something set up
in the bar?”
    Ten minutes later, they had two boxes with
slits cut in the top set on tables shoved up against the wall, a
roll of tickets, and double-sided tape. All they needed was CJ and
the other drawing.
    The patrons eyed Dolby and Pete, but no one
questioned them. The clientele was a mix of ages, from barely
twenty-one to well-past reaching the social security age. It would
be interesting to see how they voted.
    The elevator opened and CJ walked in wearing
a sweatshirt and jeans and carrying his original drawing.
    Dolby looked her up and down, then swung his
gaze to Pete.
    It took all his concentration not to
blush.
    CJ stormed over to them. “You’re seriously
doing this?” Her lips nearly disappeared as she scrunched them
together.
    “We’re seriously doing this.” Pete picked up
the microphone he’d gotten from the bartender. “Make the
announcement.”
    Closing her eyes for a moment, she swayed
just a bit. “Ah, fuck.” She looked at the roll of tickets, then at
the boxes and tape, and grabbed the mic, turning toward her
customers. “Tony, cut the music for a second.”
    The thumping rock stopped and the room grew
silent. Every eye watched CJ.
    She licked her lips. “We need your help
picking the artwork that’s going on the motorcycle we’re raffling
off at the Halloween party.” She sucked in a breath and let it out.
“If you’re interested at all, come up and get a ticket, and stick
it in the box under the drawing you like.” She waited a few
seconds. “While you’re up, go buy another beer, too.” She turned
off the mike.
    The crowd laughed, shouted a few suggestions
at her, then the music started up again.
    She walked away.
    Dolby shrugged, then helped Pete hang up the
animal drawing. Stepping back, he looked at it. “Lots of
critters.”
    Pete laughed. “Yep.” He unrolled the drawing
he’d labeled, “Memories.” They got it hung, and Dolby took a close
look.
    “You bastard.” The man’s voice ground like a
road grader. He looked at Pete, tears in his eyes. “Nobody makes me
cry.” He blinked a few times. “Bastard.” He picked up the roll of
tickets, tore one