“There’s nothing to talk about. I made you an offer.” She forced a shrug. “You turned me down. It happens.”
I gave her a small, knowing smile. “It doesn’t happen to you though, does it?” Her eyes widened just a touch and I knew that I was right.
“I’m not sure why, but it never has before,” she finally admitted a little sheepishly.
It was no mystery why to me, but I didn’t interrupt.
“There’s a first time for everything.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess ... well, I wouldn’t have made such a fool of myself if I thought that you’d turn me down.” She shook her head. “You seemed ... I mean, I thought—”
“I am very attracted to you. I’d be insane not to be.” Didn’t she know I’d be taking a thirty-minute cold shower tonight? “I’m also sorrier than I can say. But I don’t want a quick lay and then nothing else. I really meant it when I said I wanted to be your friend. And sleeping together now would probably mess that up. Please, please don’t be mad.”
Her expression softened just a fraction and she pursed her lips.
“Please?” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes.
I could see the wheels in her head spinning. Her eyes still showed a combination of hurt and unspent lust and it was all I could do not to kiss it away.
“All right,” she murmured after a moment. “But I reserve the right to try to ask you again at some future date.”
I prayed she wouldn’t, because I was very sure that I would not have the willpower to turn her down twice. “Deal.”
She looked down at her feet and flexed her toes. “I don’t have many friends, Cadie.”
“Neither do I.” It was true. I dated every once in a while, but nothing much seemed to come of it. Smelly, Russ, and a couple of the other dick draggers from my favorite beach were pretty much my entire social circle.
She glanced up from her feet to me. “And you want to be my friend more than you want to sleep with me?” She sounded skeptical and I guess I couldn’t blame her.
“I’m clearly insane,” I smiled, “but yeah.”
“And you don’t want any kind of a loan or to meet my father maybe?”
My heart ached for her. She’d obviously been hurt badly by some asshole who was using her. And I swore that I’d finish this job and get out of her life before she ever knew that I was basically doing the same thing. “I don’t give a good Goddamn about your loot or the Poppenhouse Cookie dynasty. I don’t even like cookies.”
A tentative smile appeared on her face and it was as though a weight had toppled off my shoulders. “Everyone likes cookies.”
I gave her a guilty look. “Yeah, I know.”
“Are you hungry?” she suddenly asked. “’Cause I gave up my sandwich in hopes of something tastier tonight.” She laughed softly when my cheeks colored.
I wasn’t hungry in the least. In fact, I felt a little sick at my stomach after everything that had happened. Still, I managed to paste on a smile. “I’m starved.”
Chapter Five
Another week passed before something big changed. It’s not like I hadn’t been waiting for something to break, but I was still a little surprised when it happened. We had our first round of college exams. I barely passed mine, but that was no shock.
Keilana, on the other hand, got all A’s. I expected her to come home after her last class today, do a little homework, some reading for pleasure, and then we’d scare up a late supper together. It was what we did every night and I’d come to look forward to it.
I know it seems sappy, but I was so proud and happy for her! She’d worked damned hard and it had paid off in spades. I had picked up some wine and flowers at the grocery store in Santa Medina to celebrate her big accomplishment, but when I got back to our cottage all I found was a worthless note that made me want to tear my hair out by the roots.
Cadie—
Gone out for the evening. Don’t wait up. I think there is some leftover shrimp & rice in the fridge. Help yourself to it all.
K.
“Damn!” I dropped the bag of groceries on the counter in disgust. I couldn’t believe that I’d let sloppy sentimentality send me to the store for celebration goodies when I should have been watching my quarry. What was wrong with me lately?
I read the note again. She didn’t say where she was heading and I wondered what she was hiding and whether it was intentional or just a side effect of her very private personality. A kernel of worry exploded in my belly. Whatever she was doing had to be really bad. If not, why hide it?
Then I thought of Keilana’s parking tickets. It was Friday night. Had she driven to San Diego?
It was warm, but rainy, and a staccato of drops bombarded the Jaguar’s windshield as I pulled out of the campus parking lot. The car was fabulous, but would stick out like a sore thumb in the part of town where I was heading. Truth be told, I was glad for an excuse to go back to my apartment, if only for a few minutes.
I live on the third floor of an enormous, turn-of-the-century home that had been converted into four separate apartments during WWII. It’s close to downtown and I have a private parking space in the alley behind the backyard. I’ve lived here for more than fourteen years and have seen a couple dozen other tenants come and go in that timeframe. I, however, haven’t really had a reason to leave. The rent is reasonable, they allow me to keep Smelly, and I have a lot more privacy than I would in one of those enormous townhouse complexes on the other side of town.
Currently, I was the only resident not collecting Social Security so it was also deathly quiet there. Part of the reason I worked so much and spent so much time at the beach was that it allowed me to be around other people. Living alone can be ... well ... lonely. Not to mention boring as hell.
I pulled up next to my Mustang, a warm fuzzy feeling enveloping me, even though the car was, I fully admit, a heap of junk. But it wasn’t just any car. It was my first car. I’d fended off several boyfriends in that car, and when I’d gotten older, given in to several girlfriends there. And even though I was sitting in a gem right now, I was looking forward to sliding behind the wheel of my own vehicle and sinking down into the seat that had perfectly molded to my butt over the years. It was mine and that’s what I liked best about it.
But I wasn’t going anywhere without the car keys, which were inside my apartment. Large trees shielded me from most of the rain as I trotted up the sandy path that bisected the backyard. As I unlocked the back door, I noticed the white paint on the house looked a little dingy and a few of the shutters were cracked. Why hadn’t I seen that before? Had I gotten spoiled after only a few weeks at Madonna Del Mar? I thought of Shauna and frowned. If I believed I might start acting like her, I’d go jump off a bridge somewhere.
I was greeted with a blast of stale air when I opened my apartment door. And despite the rain, I threw open a window. The place was dark and drab compared to my new digs. And it was, I decided with a sigh, too quiet with Smelly gone. I snagged the keys from their usual resting place on my kitchen counter and noticed my answering machine blinking. Three messages.
The first was some dick-weed wanting to know if I wanted to switch my long distance carrier. The next was from my mom. She was wondering whether I was still alive and I made a mental note to call her back the next day. The last message was from Russ, pleading with me to toss him a crumb of information about my case. His workload was light at the moment and I guessed he was about ready to crawl up the walls with nothing to do.
I was just about to call him back when I heard a noise coming from my bathroom. I swallowed hard. Shit! I’d walked in on an intruder. The bum was probably hoping to find some nice prescription drugs in my medicine chest.
I didn’t carry a big-ass gun in my purse like TV detectives. I didn’t even have a baseball bat. I’ve always found running in the opposite direction of trouble to be a lot safer than direct confrontation. But tonight, for some reason, I didn’t have the urge to flee. I had the urge to stay and fight.
/> I stood there, on a razor’s edge, unsure of exactly what to do. Okay, that’s not quite true. I knew what I should do, and I knew what I wanted to do. And as often happens with me, my emotions took control and common sense flew out the window. The thought that some skanky stranger might have pawed my most personal and prized possessions—Granny’s locket, my mint condition first issue of Surfing, my collectible Wonder Woman lunch box—was more than I could bear.
Furious and with wild emotions pouring off me like the sparks from a firecracker, I crept over to the bathroom door and hid alongside it. It was mostly dark there and I left the lights off as I waited in the shadows. I heard the toilet flush and envisioned the lid being left up. “Bastard!” I seethed quietly. A nervous sweat beaded on my upper lip.
The door opened and I saw the shadow of a middle-sized man fill the doorway, drying his hands on my towels. He turned and tossed the towel back into the bathroom. Pig! My heart was beating so fast that I couldn’t distinguish the beats. Adrenaline sang through my veins, making my limbs shake in anticipation.
I didn’t give myself time to think or chicken out. Instead, I let out a primal roar and jumped in front of the door. The man jumped back when he saw me, but not in time to avoid my stunning kick to his groin. He fell to the ground with an inhuman wail, and I reared back to kick him again ... when Smelly scampered out of the bathroom, tromping over the writhing man’s head in the process.
Uh-oh. I blinked. “Russ?”
All I heard was groaning.
I flicked on the hall light and there he was, curled up in a ball of misery, cursing me in-between his whimpers as he rocked back and forth.
“Russ! Oh, God.” I dropped to my knees, petting Smelly with one hand and patting Russ on the back with the other. “I didn’t know it was you.” I didn’t know where to touch him. It wasn’t like I could comfort him there. “It was an accident, I swear!”
He bit his lip, a tortured look on his face. “Ugh ... You evil … ugh … damn, ughhhhh, fuckin’-A … Jesus—”
Wow. I’d never seen a human being’s face so red.
“I thought you were a burglar!” I cried. “Oh, please don’t puke there, okay?” Smelly began to whine and lick Russ’s face. Apparently, guys of all species have a special sort of empathy for each other in moments like these.
Russ was finally able to moan, “Do I look like a bu-burglar?”
I sighed, relieved that he’d stopped writhing. “You did in the dark. I didn’t know you’d be here. What was I supposed to think?”
He didn’t have a good answer for that, but he still managed to pose a very good question. “Since when do you attack burglars, Belinda?” He rolled over on his back and threw one arm over his eyes. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Are you crazy? What if I’d had a gun or a knife?”
“I-I-I—” I couldn’t think of a single reasonable explanation for what I’d just done. “The burglar’s butt was on my toilet.” I gestured frantically. “I couldn’t think straight!”
He laughed even though I could tell it hurt when he did it. “Forget that I asked if you’re crazy. I already know the answer.”
Another moment passed before he sat up, his face a little pasty.
“Russ, do you need to go to the hospital?” I was horrified at the thought that I might have ruptured something that he, and presumably his wife, dearly loved. I’d threatened his balls many times over the years of our friendship, but I never intended to actually crush them.
“No way.” He let out a painful breath. “No way am I going to explain to some nurse that my best friend”—he glanced at my T-shirt—“who is wearing pink today, I might add, beat me up.”
“Do you want some ice or something?”
“So long as it’s in a tall glass of scotch.”
I nodded, relieved that I could do anything to help. Russ knew I didn’t drink scotch, but I fetched two shockingly cold bottles of Sam Adams from the refrigerator and then hurried back to his side. I slid down the wall to join Russ, who was now sitting up and leaning against the wall in the hall. “What are you doing here anyway?” I passed him a bottle. “Did you and Sarah have another fight?”
“Yeah,” his heavy brow furrowed. “A bad one.”
I leaned my shoulder against his, and he rested his hand on my knee. Sometimes the best support you can offer a friend doesn’t require any words at all.
He took a long pull of beer. “I crashed on your sofa last night and was going to do it again tonight.” He inclined his head toward the dog. “Smelly missed you.”
“I missed him, too.” I petted my mutt again and he instantly rolled over so I could scratch his belly. I happily obliged, a smile blooming on my face.
“Why are you here?” Russ asked, his curiosity showing. We shared that sometimes-maddening trait. It was an occupational hazard. “You’re supposed to be at that fancy-pants college, aren’t you?”
“I’m picking up my car so I can trail Keilana.”
Russ snorted. “Good luck. That girl has eyes in the back of her head. Hey, why didn’t you just go with her when she left? Isn’t that the point of living with her?”
I squirmed a little. “I wasn’t invited, okay? She’s got a life of her own. But at least I have an idea of where she’s gone. Or at least the general vicinity.”
He scratched his stubble-covered chin. Apparently being away from the wife means no shaving. “So you’re going to go looking for her tonight instead of waiting till she comes home?”
I nodded. “I have to. Whatever it is she’s up to, she does away from campus. I’m sure of that. Besides ...” My lips tensed. I hated to admit this for about a million different reasons. “She might never trust me enough to take me wherever it is she goes.”
“Can I come too?” He finished off his beer in a few hurried swallows. “I’m ready.” He snickered. “I’ve already been to the bathroom, Mom. I wouldn’t go in there for a while, by the way.”
Gross. “You can’t come with me, Russ.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Belinda!”
“The answer is no.”
It was obvious that he was struggling not to raise his voice. “Why not?”
I knew he had to be bored here. Russ had the attention span of a three-year-old and was always full of restless energy. “Keilana already spotted you when you were following her earlier this year. If she sees you with me it’ll blow my cover.”
“Are you going to let her see you?”
I nearly spit out my drink. “Of course not! I’m not going to get made.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I’m going to spy on her and remain hidden. Alone.”
He took my bottle from me and stole a sip. “Well ...” He licked the beer from his lips and passed me back the bottle. “If she won’t see you, and I’m with you, then she won’t see me either, right?”
“But—”
“Besides, back when I was following her she only saw me from a distance. And I was wearing a hat and dark glasses. I never even got out of the car. No way she could I.D. me after all this time.”
I was about to say no again when he added, “Please?”
Shit. I was a sucker for him when he was polite. “Fine. But we need to go now. Can you walk?” I stood up and offered him a hand. Russ is only a few inches taller than me, with a thick neck and muscular body. I had to lean way back to help him to his feet. God, what did his wife feed him?
Wobbly, he stood, then drew in a deep breath and took a tentative step, nodding at the results. “I can walk. And I can sure as hell sit in your car. By the way you owe my injured ‘boys’”—he pointed to his crotch—“a trip to Burger Boy later. And just so you know, I’m getting double of everything.”
My face twisted in disgust. “Uck. I’ll take you to Burger Boy every time we’re together for a month if you swear to never mention your ‘boys’ in my presence ever, ever again.”
“Deal.” He grinned wildly. “Hey, Belinda, have we ever talked
about my—”
“Don’t even go there, Russ.”
yx
There was no single word that could describe this corner of San Diego’s southeast side. The locals called the area El Vientre del Diablo. The Devil’s Belly. And butted up against El Vientre del Diablo was one of the older parts of the city that had recently been the recipient of millions of dollars of redevelopment funds. It was an area in transition; an eclectic mix of grimy and dilapidated, glitzy and new. Right now, however, we were still in the part that was too salty and dangerous to be a tourist trap.
“God, Russ,” I had to flick on my windshield wipers as the rain shifted from a sprinkle to a steady downpour. With twilight’s rapid approach, the gray skies had taken on an amethyst hue. “I hope we don’t find her hanging out here. But the area where Keilana got all those parking tickets is just few a streets over from here.”
I stopped at an intersection so two tranny hookers could cross the street in front of my car. The wind and the rain had caused their once lofty hairstyles to fall into their faces, and they gave me a grateful wave as they scurried across the street, wearing shoes that looked like Dorothy’s ruby red slippers from The Wizard of Oz. I grimaced. “Is that mascara pooling at their collars?” I mumbled, my eyes scanning both sides of the road for Keilana.
I barely heard his wistful sigh. “They remind me of my wife.”
Good grief. Russ’s wife is pretty, five feet, two inches tall, blond, and with a cupid-bow mouth. She reminded me of Betty Boop with an attitude.
The hookers had five o’clock shadows, were black, and tall enough to play for the NBA. “The resemblance is uncanny. How does Sarah resist your charm, Russ?”
“She manages.”
I felt a twinge of pity for my friend. “Oh, fine. You don’t have to sleep on the sofa at my place anymore.” I’d always taken Russ in during his times of need. Which were many. But I’d always drawn the line at letting him use my bedroom.
His face lit up. “Really?”
Undercover Tales Page 11
