Sarah pointed at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. Rome wasn’t built in a day. You’re gonna be a star reporter soon, but you have to work your way there. Learn everything you can. Be a sponge, querida. Flit around and make yourself useful. And bring food. Tons of it. People love it when there’s food.” She sat back in her chair, wisdom imparted. “Now I’ll enjoy this pepperoni gift from heaven.”
I laughed. “Pepperoni, then the pool? Is there a chance of that?” I eyed their gorgeous outdoor oasis.
“God, yes,” Emory said. “Swimming as the sun goes down is good for the soul.”
And swim we did. And laugh. And talk. And even had a little white wine that I might have tossed an ice cube into.
“Pool wine,” Sarah said, when I passed her a guilty look. She plopped an ice cube in her glass and we clinked them in cheers.
The next day was Sunday, and I used it to decompress, walking the sidewalk perimeter of my apartment complex with Michelangelo that evening as I texted with Kacey. Bad idea. Alert. Back the hell off. But the familiarity was like a security blanket after a week that had taken its toll. Some lighthearted flirting helped lighten my mood, advised or not. When my phone rang, I slid onto the call. “You’re calling me now? This has taken a turn.”
“Tell me what you’re wearing, and don’t leave out details.” Kacey’s voice was a little raspy, which meant I had turned her on with our back and forth. Not surprising. I knew her well enough to know exactly how.
“Oh, you’re bad. I can’t just hop on to phone sex with you. Nope.”
“Why not? I’m off work, and you’re my favorite way to unwind.” I could tell she was smiling through the phone, envision the sparkle in her brown eyes that she used to charm the ladies. And there were other ladies. She didn’t hide that.
“Because then we fall right back into our old habits, and I’ve already taken things too far with you tonight.”
“I’m not the one who had a problem with those habits.” Her tone was light, playful, just as it always was. She never offered anything deeper, and I had a feeling that was part of the allure. Her being just out of reach. My self-awareness had to count for something, right?
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m ready to move on from the fun.” My smile faltered. “Ground myself in reality.”
“You’ve always been the more mature one.” She paused. “So no phone sex. Want to meet up, then? You drive an hour. I drive an hour. I’ll even pay for the room. Hell, it’s the weekend. We should party, Sky.”
A two-person party. I closed my eyes, halting my walk. Micky looked up at me. I couldn’t believe I was even considering the offer, but I definitely was. Stay strong. Be the moose of strength. I’d always admired moose as a kid and latched on to them as my kindred spirit. I had to be the moose right now and stay brave and steadfast. Had to. Say the correct words, Skyler. “I’m afraid I’m too tired to party at a highway hotel tonight. And maybe too old, too.”
“I had a feeling you would say that. You break my heart.”
“We both know that’s not true. Swing by Lonesome’s. Maybe a wayward woman will wander in on a pony with a strawberry between her teeth.”
“Wayward women in small towns are a myth, Skyler.”
“Don’t give up hope.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I clicked off the call, proud of myself. Look at me, turning pages and looking ahead. My career had taken a giant step forward, and now it was time to take control of my growth as a human. Respect myself more. I rolled my shoulders, energized. Look into having an actual love life at some point. I looked down at Micky as we resumed our walk. “But who even has time for one of those these days?”
He picked up his feet in a jaunty little trot, and I mimicked him.
“Exactly. You get me.”
Chapter Three
On the way to glory, there had to be a little grunt work. I hoped that was true and that I didn’t make it up just to make myself feel better. I was sent to cover another council budget meeting because I hadn’t been scrappy enough in the morning editorial grab-and-go. I did throw my hat in for an arcade that had been caught scamming its customers and rigging the games, but I’d been edged out by seniority. Renee, a glamorous, seasoned reporter who spent more time worrying about her hair and nails than I thought important, insisted she had an inside track and a source. Something I very much doubted. What could I do?
The meeting was drama free, and all motions were approved without much fanfare.
But it was on my way out of the courthouse that my ear was tugged. Not far from the stairs, I heard a loud conversation among a group of police officers shooting the breeze.
“Nah, dude. The money for the cruisers is a done deal. The commissioner is gonna shit a brick when she hears.”
Another officer laughed. “Wish I could be there to see the look on her face when she does.”
“This is just the beginning, man,” a third said with authority. “You think those two are at war now? Gear up. The hatchets are about to start fucking flying.”
Huh. I took a seat on the half wall in front of the building and pretended to be interested in my phone as I latched on to bits of the story, assembling the narrative one piece at a time. Apparently, the sheriff had requested funds for three new police cruisers from the commissioner in a public meeting, but for whatever reason, the request was later denied in a closed-door session. If I understood what I was hearing correctly, the money for the cruisers was then donated by a local steak house, which seemed bizarre. Apparently the owner hated the commissioner. I pulled up Kendall Steakhouse’s Facebook page, surprised to see the number of posts blasting the commissioner for the cruiser decision, putting them right in the center of what seemed to be a local political feud. Why was no one paying attention? I scanned the page. Because the steak house hadn’t tagged anyone directly, and the public figures had kept their views off social media. Who would be keeping tabs on a steak house? Yet this was unique. How often did you have local businesses jumping in the middle of a dispute between two county officials and actually making a difference? I was amazed.
I waited until the group of officers disbanded, leaving just one, who I followed to the café on the first floor of the courthouse. He got in line to pay for his coffee, and hey, look at that, I did, too.
“Hi.” I flashed my most winsome smile.
He turned, paused, latched onto my gaze and smiled back. Nailed it. “Hey.”
“Officer Blackwell?” I found his name tag easily enough. “Skyler Ruiz.”
“Do we know each other?” He was still smiling that easy smile, probably trying to place me.