“Oh,” Emma said, “it’s Shelby Jackson and she dyed her hair a week ago, or less. Is that the name?”
“I’m waiting to see a second picture to make sure of the face, but now I’ll just check the name.”
“Havoc, sending you another photo,” Charleston said in my ear.
“What’s the name of the blonde?”
“Shelby Jackson.”
“She’s next door to my location, sir.”
“Where?”
“The Cozy Cauldron, it’s a tea and coffee shop just off campus two doors down from the metaphysical shop I’m at.”
“You’re at Harm None?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good shop, now get eyes on Shelby Jackson.”
“Moving that way now, sir, can I tell her she’s in danger?”
“We don’t know that she is in danger, so just keep an eye on her. We’re not supposed to start a panic if it can be avoided. If any demons show up, then the panic will start without us.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, sir, the coffee shop is packed with customers.” I waved at Emma and went for the door.
“I’ll send uniforms your way ASAP, Havoc.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for them.”
“Havoc, be careful; the demon or whatever it is just tore the latest victim’s boyfriend into pieces.”
“You mentioned it, Lieutenant.”
“I wanted to mention it a little more forcefully since you’re on your own.”
“Thanks, I understand what’s at stake.”
“Good, uniforms are en route to you.”
“I’m going in.” I reached for the door.
“Keep your phone to your ear and pretend to be having a normal conversation while you order your coffee.”
“Can do,” I said, voice already heartier and guy-guy than my normal. I was dressed like I was headed to the gym in a tank top cut to expose more of my muscles than normal; the usual guy who went with that had a certain attitude. I fell into that attitude and undercover between one step and the next. I was now playing the part of a guy who had been with friends and come back to check out someone that he didn’t want his friends to see him with, or maybe tell his wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend.
“I’m just getting another cup of coffee. I’ll meet you after. What’s with all the questions, honey bunny?” I said.
Charleston said on the phone, “You always did do good undercover.”
“You say the nicest things, baby.”
Charleston chuckled.
I chuckled back like he’d said something sexy. I made it the guy equivalent of that laugh that turns heads in bars. People in the line glanced my way, but the only person I cared about was still sitting in her booth across the restaurant. She was too far away to hear the laugh and she’d been joined by a man who was as tall and blond as she was; Reggie called couples like that Barbie and Ken couples. It had taken me years to figure out that there was a certain amount of envy in the teasing. We’d even talked in therapy about her desire to be blond and blue-eyed as a little girl instead of the Hispanic beauty she was; since I preferred dark hair to blond I hadn’t had much to add to the conversation.
I also knew that Barbie had been a brunette less than a week ago, which would have amused Reggie. It made me want her with me to share the joke. I stopped being the confident dudebro who was trying to cheat and started to sink back into myself. I didn’t want to cheat, I wanted to go home to Reggie so bad it literally hurt.
“Whoever is making you so unhappy on the phone should lighten up,” a woman standing behind me said. She had short brown hair styled to follow the curve of her oval face. The makeup was understated except for the lipstick, which was a red so bright it made her lips the first thing I saw. They looked small and full and kissable, but she needed darker eye shadow to balance it, because I had to fight to make myself notice that her eyes were gray, or maybe I just preferred that shade of lipstick on my wife.
“What’s going on, Havoc?” Charleston asked in my ear.
I felt that sexy, untrustworthy smile that I had literally practiced in the mirror before one undercover operation. I’d been so good at playing the part that Charleston had loaned me out a couple of times.
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just waiting in line, honey.”
The woman beside me smiled with those crimson lips. Her gray eyes matched the color of her skirt suit, and the fact that she was wearing that with sensible black heels made me think maybe she wasn’t a college student, maybe grad school?
I widened my smile and debated how old she thought I was.
Charleston said, “Do you see the subject?”
“Of course, honey, just tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it home for you.”
The woman mouthed, You, with her red lips.
I looked past her to the table with Shelby Jackson and her boyfriend. The woman in front of me noticed me looking and frowned. “Sorry, honey, what did you say? I think I see some of our friends at a table here.”
The woman in the red lipstick glanced behind her, but she was only about five-eight in the heels so she couldn’t see through the crowd.
The barista called out, “Miranda, coffee for Miranda.”
The woman looked up and started to move forward, then glanced at me. She mouthed, Wait here.
I gave her a smile I hoped meant I was willing to wait, then realized that I might have been too successful at the flirting. That was my downfall when I did undercover; sometimes I was too good at it. Not just the flirting douchebag, but I’d scared myself a couple of times playing the threatening muscle. I’d asked Charleston to not have me do that one again.
I stayed in line while Miranda went for her coffee. It gave me time to check the room for threats and to make sure that Shelby and her date were still settled in at their table.
“Are you being too successful at flirting again?” Charleston asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Let me know if you need an out and I’ll call you a cheating bastard. I’ll make sure to use the deep, ghetto voice like the one I did when you pretended to be my leg breaker.”
The thought of Miranda’s face when she heard Charleston play my ghetto boyfriend made me laugh out loud, not the sexy chuckle, but just a real laugh.
Charleston’s deep chuckle on the other end made two of the men in line look at me, which made me laugh more; if only my real love life was as good as my pretend one.
I saw Shelby’s boyfriend stand up. I told Charleston, “Keep sounding like that and I might have to leave before I get the coffee.”
Charleston’s voice was serious now. “Is subject moving location?”
I grinned like he’d said something flirty. “Maybe.” The boyfriend went toward the bathroom; Shelby stayed sitting at the booth.
“I really would like that coffee, sweetheart. Sure, I can bring you something, what do you want?”
“I take it the subject isn’t moving after all,” Charleston said.
“That’s right, baby.”
Miranda came back through the crowd with her coffee in hand. She stood close enough to brush the back of her hand along my biceps. I did what she expected and flexed for her. Reggie would have laughed at me or rolled her eyes; Miranda smiled like she’d enjoyed it. Maybe she had, or maybe she’d tolerate it until after she got what she wanted from me, which was at least a coffee date.