“Like how?” Cammy asks, sucking on her milkshake.
“Like, he’s connected like Dario.”
Cammy makes a face and her eyes bounce to me. “Connected like…” she explains, “sleepin’ with the fishes?”
“Shh. Don’t be silly. Zip it,” Deb says, but she’s nodding just subtly with big eyes as if to tell Cammy and me she’s hit the nail on the head.
I’ve lost my appetite.
“Guys, I just realized I have a thing due at one o’clock. I’m gonna have to take this back to my desk and finish it there. Sorry.”
“Shit, we spooked her.” Debbie announces.
“Really – I just gotta go, but please ask me to come out with you guys again. I had fun. I just really need to get back.”
I rush to put the lid on my lunch container and get a takeout bag from the counter. I head out, waving bye to them. Just as I’m about to exit the food court, I see a guy approach from behind where we’d been sitting.
He walks ahead of me, his long legs eating up the distance. It’s as if he’s just somebody passing by, putting dark glasses on, wearing jeans and a leather jacket with a wool beanie on his head, but I know he’s not just somebody passing by. He’s the private eye.
Before those glasses went on, I saw those striking light-colored eyes. I didn’t even think about the private eye Killian hired to keep an eye on me today following me here. Of course he followed me out to lunch to make sure I’m not going to be harassed by Ray.
I hurry to my office building across the street not seeing him anywhere – it’s like he’s managed to vanish - but strangely I’m sure he’s watching me anyway.
I get the impression Killian wouldn’t hire anyone not fully competent.
I wonder with a sinking feeling if that whole conversation in all its sordidness was overheard.
***
I buckle down for the afternoon and it’s super-busy, so time flies and before I know it, the office is filled with the buzz of my coworkers leaving the building. It’s Friday so there’s that Friday feeling in the air. And for a change, I kind of have it, too.
I don’t usually feel great about Friday nights because it often means being with Ray all weekend or at home wondering when Ray might traipse in and out. Work has been my respite from him.
Not so this weekend. I have plans for dinner with Killian and I don’t know what’s on for the rest of the weekend but maybe I can go do something with Susanna tomorrow. I quickly finish the purchase order I’m typing up and submit it to a supplier before I shut down my computer, then head out the door, saying good night to our receptionist, Tara, on my way.
Killian is there, at the curb waiting for me. It’s 5:07.
He doesn’t stay sitting in the car, though. When he sees me step outside, he gets out, rounds the hood and opens the passenger door with a smile on his face.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I tell him. “Thanks,” I tack on as I scoot inside.
He closes the car door and comes back around.
“How was today?” he asks, not even looking annoyed.
Ray would often leave me waiting outside my work back before I started to take the bus. But if he were there and I was late, I’d get attitude at the very least.
“Good,” I say, buckling up. “How was your day?”
“Pretty easy so far. I took the day off.”
“Oh. Careful, though. Calling it easy might’ve just jinxed it.”
“Good point. I did stuff, it just wasn’t difficult stuff. Had some errands to take care of. Hungry?”
“Gettin’ there, yeah.”
“I hit the supermarket on my way to you. I thought maybe you and I could cook dinner.”
I jerk in surprise.
“I know you worked all day, and my day was easy,” he says, “but I’ve got a hankerin’ for that meal you made the other week. The stir fry.”
“Oh. Oh, sure.”
“I hope I guessed right with all the ingredients. I’m happy to help. Put me to work,” he says, smiling. “I’ll do all the chopping and I’ll set the table and do the dishes.”
I nod nervously. “Okay, sure.”
I swallow down what feels like a lump as I stare ahead at traffic.
“Unless you want to make that dinner salad you told me about. We can stop again and get the ingredients for that.”
I blink. “The dinner salad?”
“Yeah. The caprese chicken with the avocados?”
I blink again. He remembered that conversation?
“Teriyaki chicken stir fry sounds nice. And you’ve already bought everything.”
“Cool. Maybe the dinner salad tomorrow. Ass-wipe bug you at all today? Emails or texts?”
I shake my head, brain feeling fuzzy as I try not to show a reaction to the words coming out of his mouth, words about us spending time together not just tonight but also tomorrow.
“No. I think I um…saw your private eye at the food court during my lunch, though. I kind of forgot about him and then at lunch, saw him. I think. I’m pretty sure.”
“You did. He told me you looked directly at him. He didn’t know I shared his description, or he wouldn’t have been seen. I apologize if that made you uncomfortable.”
“Oh. It’s okay.”
“You’re friends with Deb Pugliese?”
“Not exactly friends. More acquaintances and maybe kinda on the road to becoming friends? She’s good friends with my cubicle neighbor. They asked me out to lunch. I think they did it because Debbie was curious about you. I saw you give her the finger this morning.”
I chance a glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable.
“And what did you tell her about me?”
“Don’t you already know what I said from your private eye?” I inquire and as soon as I do it, I flinch, regretting it, hoping it didn’t sound like sarcasm, because I didn’t mean it sarcastically, I just figure he heard all about the conversation.
He smiles at the windshield and then his eyes meet mine as we stop for a red light.
“I do.”
I moisten my lips. “Sorry, I hope that didn’t sound snarky.”
“It didn’t.” He gives me a firm shake of his head.
“So, you’re also aware of what she said about you?” I ask.
“I am.”
I say nothing.
Neither does he.
And the air feels thick.
“You got things you wanna ask me, Violet?” He finally breaks the silence.
I bite my thumbnail.
“Ask me whatever you wanna ask me.”
We proceed through the now green light.
His phone rings and I’m either saved by the bell or this time…cursed.
He hits a button on the dash.
“Alana, you’re on speaker. I’m not alone.”
“It’s about Amber.”
“Tell me. Just the skinny.”
“Hand in the till again. I’ve got her in the back office, and I think she’s ready to bolt.”
“This caught on camera?”
“Yes, boss.”
“I’ll be there in seven minutes. Don’t allow her to leave.”
He pulls a U-turn as he presses a button on his dash to end the phone call.