“And hyperbolic. That’s your vocabulary word for the day. Sit down, breakfast is ready.”
Sam let her serve him scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. He helped himself to another pastry, devouring almost everything on his plate before she’d even taken her place at the table.
“I thought maybe you went jogging, then I heard the car.”
“It was a good morning for a drive. I went up Mulholland. The sunrise was pretty great.”
“Too early for Pink’s, though.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll go later, it’s my day off. Join me?”
“I work from two to eight.”
“I figured you’d call in a personal day. You have every reason to.”
“I know. I thought about it, but I decided the distraction would be good. Helpful. Stick with a routine and pretend life is normal, you know?”
Sam understood. He also understood that pretending life was normal when it wasn’t didn’t help anything. But it was her choice, and she’d made it clear she didn’t appreciate lectures. “Whatever seems right for you, Mel.”
She toyed with her eggs, pushing them around her plate with a fork. “Any plans besides maybe going to Pink’s?”
“Lift some weights, get a run, then possibly read a script.”
“Like a movie script?”
“Yeah. I ran into a guy yesterday and he gave it to me.”
“Does he think you’re a producer or something?”
“No, he wants me to act in it.”
Her face lit up with a crooked, full-beam smile. It was the first time he’d ever seen all her front teeth. And they were nice teeth, white and even for the most part, but the left incisor was pegged just enough to advertise they were real. A genuine rarity in LA. “That’s so cool. You should do it, Sam.”
“I don’t know shit about acting. Besides, he’s just a kid, working on a student film.”
“So what? Steven Spielberg was just a kid once, working on a student film. Besides, if you don’t know shit about acting, you can’t really be choosy, can you?”
“Good point, but I’m not interested.”
“You don’t think it would be fun?”
“It would be a nightmare. He’s annoying and weird and his script probably is, too.”
“I suppose that’s why you’re going to read it, you want to see just how annoying and weird it is. An irresistible temptation.” She refilled their coffees and finally tucked into her scrambled eggs. She finished them and her coffee before broaching another dark topic. “Do you think we’ll hear from the detectives again?”
“They’ll give you a courtesy call when they find Ryan’s killer. And they will.”
“You’re not worried we’re suspects?”
“No.”
She pushed her plate away, her jolly mood eclipsed by reality now. It was bound to set in eventually. “I still can’t believe somebody killed Ryan. It’s so surreal.”
“It hasn’t hit you yet.”
“It’s starting to. God, who knows somebody who got killed?”
“Most people don’t.”
She pinched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
“It’s okay, Mel. I’ve never known anyone who got killed in civilian life either. You expect it in war. And I’m sorry about Ryan. Sorry for you. I know you had feelings for him.”
She sighed miserably. “I’m not sure what kind. I haven’t seen the Jeep this morning, have you?”
“No.”
“But you’d tell me.”
“Of course I’d tell you.”
“I’ll ask Teddy about it when I go home, but he would have called if he’d seen it.”
“It’s probably nothing. Like the detectives said, there are a lot of them in LA. Are you staying here tonight?”
She shrugged uncertainly. “I don’t think I need to. But thanks.”
“What about the roses? You still don’t know who brought them.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, and now I’m sure Ryan did. It had to be him. He was just yanking me around, trying to scare me.”
It made sense. It fit with the control freak/sadist personality profile Sam had created from what little he knew about him. But he was getting used to another body in the house, having someone to talk to who didn’t interrogate him about his innermost thoughts or progress in recovery. If there was any progress. “Probably, but my door is open anytime. Even at midnight.”
“I know that and I’m really grateful.” She looked around anxiously, Sam thought, as if suddenly realizing this domestic scene was as surreal as a boyfriend getting murdered, then stood and started clearing dishes. “I should get out of your hair.”
Sam took over and gestured to her chair. “Sit, relax, I’ll take care of this. You did all the heavy lifting.” He filled the sink with hot water and squirted in the last of Yuki’s bottle of organic dishwashing liquid that smelled like grass clippings. He’d been losing pieces of her every day, but this morning, he may have lost everything. He no longer clung to the pathetically feeble belief that there was a logical explanation for the man in her house that didn’t involve intercourse. She was gone. She had been for a while, he just hadn’t let himself see it.
“If you want to talk about why you’re pissed, I’ll listen,” she finally said. “Otherwise you can just tell me to shut up.”
Sam wouldn’t see Dr. Frolich until tomorrow. No reason to discuss it now. He still had to absorb things, and talk to Yuki. “It’s nothing, I just had another dream this morning on top of the one that woke you up last night. It’s frustrating.”
“I like to drive when I’m frustrated, too. Otherwise I just feel trapped inside my own head. It makes me panic.”
“You don’t seem like somebody prone to panic.”
“I am sometimes and it makes me hyperventilate. Do you ever feel trapped by this city? Like it’s a bad relationship?”
Sam placed the last plate in the drying rack and turned around. “I never really thought about it.”
“I grew up here, so did you, but I’ve been thinking of leaving. Get a fresh start somewhere else where I don’t feel like I’m sitting on a powder keg. LA feels different than it did five years ago. I feel different.”
“Then it’s not a bad idea.”
“Do you ever think of leaving?”
“No. Not until this morning.”
Melody sat there patiently, looking at him with her big green eyes. They were questioning, but she didn’t ask the obvious. “Who knows, maybe a change of scenery would be good for both of us,” she finally said.
“Do you want some more coffee?”
She held out her mug. “Thanks.”
Sam almost dropped the carafe when his phone chimed. “Sorry, I have to get this,” he said, hurrying to his bedroom and closing the door.
Chapter Thirty-six
“HI, YUKI.”
“Sam, is everything okay? You didn’t answer my texts yesterday, and you sounded really upset this morning in your messages.”