My phone chimed and I pulled it out of my pocket to see a text from Eleanor, Beej, can I order pizza even though it's almost nine?
I laughed aloud and Mira's brow furrowed. "What is it?"
"My sister." I tilted my phone to show her. "She's still learning that she doesn't need my permission for things like that."
"That's so cute." Mira smiled as she watched me text back my approval. "What does Beej mean?"
"She calls me that. They both do."
"Why?"
I scrunched up my nose at her and shook my head.
Mira's laughter continued while she gawked at my response. "What? Tell me."
"No way. It's gross."
"C'mon." She grinned and poked my elbow. "Or I'll call you Beej, too."
"No!" I waved my hands erratically and it made her crack up. "Okay! I'll tell you."
"Go on." She clapped a few times. "Be authentic."
"Mira!" I burst out laughing. "My nickname growing up was B.J. I hated it. I still do."
"Why? Because it implies you give affirmative blowjobs?" She snickered and dropped back against the bench.
"Yes! Which I have never done and don't intend to so, yes. My parents named me blowjob."
Our laughter continued in a girlish giggle fit that belonged to the mouths of teenagers.
"What's your actual name? Billie Jo?" she asked when we calmed down.
"Worse. Billie Jean." I scowled, slouching in my seat.
"Aw, that's not bad. The Legend of Billie Jean is one of my favorite retro movies," she said, smiling at me while I melted into a pout.
"That's not a real movie."
"It is so. Circa 1985. You've never seen it?"
"No." I grumbled, and she nudged me a few times until I chuckled. "What?"
"It's a good movie, Billie Jean," she said, grinning at me. "Tell you what, I'll try and find it then we can watch it together."
"Only if you promise never to call me Billie Jean or B.J. ever again." I held a single finger up to her and she grabbed it as if shaking my hand.
"Done deal."
Chapter Five
The next week passed without incident, or any breaks in the case. Donovan's team had my evidence, and once again, our team returned to regular duties. Mira and I shared a few brief text exchanges during the week, but nothing beyond confirming our plans for Saturday. She handled my coming out to her much better than I expected, though for a moment there I thought I'd lost her.
When Friday night rolled around, Eleanor and I lounged on the sofa, our feet tangled in the blankets, while we watched a movie together. Thunder rumbled outside, and the storm battered the window with rain and wind.
"When will Robbie be home?" she asked.
"He's staying at Daniel's tonight. He's already there."
"Oh yeah." She yawned, and smiled at me. "I'm really happy, Billie."
"Are you, baby girl?" I smiled while I watched her and leaned my elbow on the back of the sofa.
"Yeah. I have friends here and school is good. Finnley invited me to her house tomorrow. Did you know she has a mom, a dad, and two step-moms?"
"I absolutely did not know that." I couldn't help the perpetual grin while I listened to her. "Her mom is gay?"
"Yup. I met her and her wife. Did you know most of the girls at the Mermaid Salon are gay?"
"That I knew, yes."
"They make me feel welcome. Jordan taught me to do a blowout the other day," she said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "The lady loved it."
"Think you'd like to be a hairdresser?"
"Nah. It's more for fun. I'm still deciding," she said, wiggling her feet against my hip. "So, you're going to Mira's house tomorrow?"
"Well, since all the young adults in this house have plans, I figured I should start getting a life of my own instead of bugging you two." I teased and pinched her toe playfully. "So yep. Off to Mira's."
"You guys are just friends?" she asked, her forehead crinkling under her pink bangs.
"We are."
"And you came out to her?"
"I did."
"She didn't come out to you?"
"Nope."
"Do you like like her?" Eleanor asked, folding her hands on her stomach.
"I do, but I value her friendship more right now. And I'm pretty sure she's straight or she would've told me she wasn't after I told her," I explained.
"True. Well, I'm glad you have a new friend, Beej. You don't have to worry about me so much anymore. I'm getting the hang of things." Her proud grin warmed my insides. "I learned about Uber Eats so now cooking is useless!"
I laughed and swatted her knee. "Girl, eat a vegetable."
"Tomorrow!" she squealed, and I bashed her a few times with a pillow.
Our night of fun and frivolity ended with me crashing into bed hours before Ellie, only to make way for the weekend. After some household chores and writing up a grocery list for tomorrow, I glanced around the empty apartment. My grown-up siblings were doing just what they should be, acting like young adults and disappearing to social events all weekend. So, in an age appropriate display, I headed off to do what thirty-somethings do; have a shower, and head out to a friend's house to watch a movie. Wine would probably be a part of it, but I'd be home by ten.
Mira's spacious, modern condo with an open floor plan and bright lighting had a sterile, but homey feel. The white walls, and vast windows emphasized that darker colors of her grayscale furniture and hardwood floors. Plush area carpets gave the space a comforting warmth.
"Nice place," I said, as she led me inside. "Does that lead to a balcony?" I gestured to the long windows partially covered by a thick black shade to block out the intense sunlight.
"Thanks. It does. It's prettier after sunset." She smiled at me after locking up behind us. "Can I take your coat?"
"Sure." I slipped out of my jacket, and handed it to her when she held out her hand. She hung it on the back of the closet door in the hall. In just a blouse and jeans now, a sense of vulnerability settled around me. I hadn't been to anyone's house save for Angelina's in years.
"No gun today?" she asked, gesturing to my hip.
"Oh yeah." I lifted my shirt and showed her the concealed carry holster pressed against my hip on the inside of my pants. "Still there."
"That's creative."
"They have them for the center of your bra, thigh, everywhere. Depending on the size of the gun," I said, wincing after. "Sorry, not sure how you feel about guns."
"Weapons are physics. And you're a cop. I can dig it." She wagged her brows at me before gesturing for me to settle in the living room. "I made some snacks."
"I'm always up for snacks," I said, glancing over to the coffee table where she had popcorn, a fruit and cheese board, and hummus with pita chips. "Hooray."
She chuckled and I caught sight of her wringing her hands. "What can I get you to drink? I've got wine, beer, soda, tea."
"What are you having?"
"Maybe some wine. Rosé or Riesling." She shrugged, then bit her bottom lip. "Can I tempt you?"
You sure as fucking hell can. "Sure. Riesling sounds nice."
"Be right back." In her fluffy socks, leggings, and sexy floppy sweater, she scurried off to the kitchen, her thumbnail between her teeth. For the first time, I saw Mira as less bold and more anxious. Was it because I was in her house? Because of what I told her at our last meeting? I couldn't be sure.
While I waited, I took a moment to examine the photo spread on the end table between the two sofas. Each frame held images of what I assumed to be her family. In the largest frame, a picture with almost a dozen people sat in the center. I gazed at it, attempting to figure out who everyone was. Most of the women in the picture resembled each other, save for one woman with blonde hair. Black hair, pale skin, light eyes. Right down to the old woman and young child in the front of the group. Mira stood next to her sister, or who I assumed to be, with a man hugging her from behind the same way a man with copper skin held her sister. She
appeared younger, without her signature red lipstick, and mildly amused. She was still breathtakingly gorgeous, however. I focused on the man behind her for a moment, and a sinking feeling pitted my stomach.
"My family," she said when she returned, and handed me a glass of wine.
I accepted the offering, and nodded my thanks. "Big family."
"And getting bigger."
"Is that your sister?" I pointed to the woman beside her.
"Sedona." She nodded, pointing to the man beside her. "Her husband, Aaron."
"You look alike. It's easy to pick out your mom and grandmother, because all four of you resemble each other."
She laughed softly, nodding. "And that's my niece, Bailey. She inherited our hair and eyes gene, too. We always joke that Michael's next kid is going to have blonde hair like his wife and not match any of us."
"He looks like your dad." I nodded to the picture. "Darker eyes than the rest of you though."
"Yeah." She fidgeted with the rim of her glass when we'd identified everyone in the picture save for the man behind her. I didn't ask though. It was obvious, at least to me, that he wasn't around anymore by the looks of things.
"Are you and your siblings close in age?" I asked when I noticed her ongoing anxiety, and sinking expression.
"Oh, yeah." Her gaze met mine again. "A little over two years between us."
"That must've been fun growing up."
"It was. My house was chaotic, but fun. It's nice now though, too. To have all of us in our thirties and such. I see my sister more than my brother, but he's got Bailey and another on the way, so it makes sense," she said, tucking her legs under her when she perched on the sofa.
I sat down adjacent to her, crossing my legs and leaning my glass on my thigh.
"Sure does. I always had a more maternal or caretaking role with my siblings. It wasn't always fun. It is now though, even when I still fall into that role," I told her.
"They're lucky to have you…"
"I'm lucky to have them." I thought about hanging out with Eleanor last night, and her confession of happiness about her current situation. It brought a smile to my face.
"How come you didn't ask about the man with me?" Mira asked, her voice soft with the question. She sipped her wine, and her thick brows flicked upward.
"It's not my place," I said, keeping my eyes on her to gauge her reaction. "I figured you'd tell me if it was necessary."
"I'm not sure what's necessary." She set her glass down on the small table behind the sofa. "He was my fiancé."
"Past tense then," was all I could come up with. Mira's gaze flickered down the front of me to fall on the liquid in my glass. Her energy faded, and her eyes glazed over like she was caught in a daydream. I let her be, for now, and allowed her the time she needed.
Despite my efforts to keep myself calm, my heart pounded in my chest. We'd never talked about her life before, not like this anyway, or mine even. Relationships had not been a conversation point until that moment.
"He's dead," she said, after a few moments. "About six years ago." Her grip tightened to fists in her lap. The way her lips pursed, her brows narrowed, and expression blanched, she appeared angry rather than sad.
"Mira, you don't have to tell me anything about him. Please don't feel like you have to," I said, hoping to soothe the pressure of the moment. It didn't seem to help though.
"I know." Sheer rage, nothing short of that, could've smoothed her forehead and her features the way it had. It didn't feel directed at me, but I worried about her sudden shift.
"If you want to though, I'll listen," I offered, and that seemed to knock the edge off her heat.
She shifted her position to sit cross-legged and slouched in the cushions. I watched as she grabbed the television remote, then brushed her hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat once and with that gesture, her expression returned to its casual prettiness. "I found the movie on digital stream. Ready?"
"Oh yeah. For the glory of the eighties, I'm ready." I rubbed my hands together and it made her laugh, the light returning to her eyes.
"Good." She tugged the blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over her lap while queuing up the movie. I settled into the cushions and drew my attention to the big flat screen hung on the wall. The blinds lowered to the floor and the lights dimmed when Mira pressed the buttons on another remote.
"Helen Slater in her twenties was super cute," I said after the first scene.
"Yes." Mira laughed and nodded to the screen. "Just wait until you see her later on."
"Can't wait." I snickered at the way she joined me in my admiration of the eighties icon.
To say I never expected a film about a downtrodden teen turned women's movement hero would be an understatement. Despite its age, I enjoyed it so far, and pretended to swoon when Billie Jean emerged with her new haircut and rebel attitude.
"Damn right. She's badass," I said, grinning while Mira chuckled at me.
"Knew you'd like it. See? You have a good name," she said, peeking up at me from where she rested her head on the back of the sofa.
"Too bad she's crushing on that dude. She'd have made a good lesbian."
"Maybe you could write a sequel and give her a true lesbian ending."
I nearly started when I felt something tickle my face, only to catch Mira giving a strand of my hair a tug the same way she did the afternoon at the planetarium. I watched her for a moment until she returned her attention to the television.
We imbibed in the spirit of the movie, rooting for Billie Jean, and seeing her get a well-deserved ending. When it was over, a sense of vindication settled inside me.
"I liked that," I told Mira. "Makes me feel better about my name."
"It should. It's a strong name."
"I can only dream that my mom named me after Billie Jean Davy instead of something stupid," I said, smiling at her while we both slumped on the sofa, the shared blanket now draped across our middles.
"What did she really name you after?"
"No idea. She likes old names like Eleanor and Robert, so I figured she had the same idea with me."
"Or that Michael Jackson song. Also of the eighties," she said, yawning faintly after.
"Maybe. I like that song, too."
Mira gazed at me, her eyes twinkling in the low light from the kitchen. "Do you see horrible things as a cop?"
"That's a left field kind of question." I scrunched up my nose, but nodded. "Yes."
"Does it bother you?"
"Sometimes, yes. I focus on trying to catch the bad guys, provide closure to families, and get justice for the victims though," I answered, watching as her eyes darted around my face as if trying to read me."What's got you thinking of that?"
She shrugged. "Thinking of Declan. I hate him."
"Your fiancé?"
"I would burn that picture if I could, but I don't want to erase my family," she said, staring at it across my torso.
"There's tech that can laser him out of that print. We have it down at work. Want me to?" I made a buzzing sound with my tongue and teeth. It made her laugh some.
"Yes."
"Can I be honest for a moment?" I asked, and she met my gaze again. She nodded so I continued, "It seems like you want to tell me what happened to him. Is that true?"
"Not him. Me."
"Okay." I turned to face her, leaning my head on the back cushion.
Mira's fury of a few hours ago returned, but she seemed comforted by our proximity to each other. She pulled the blanket over her hip, turning on her side as well, her legs crossed. "I don't want to sound too insensitive."
"All right." I gestured between us. "Go for it anyway."
It took her a minute or so to find the words she wanted to say. "We were living in Richland, both working at the power plant. He was a nuclear engineer."
"How long were you together?"
"Three years about," she said. "We lived together in a pretty small apartment back then. Over the years, on a
nd off, he was moody and disinterested at times, but ultimately a good boyfriend. We got engaged in the spring, but things went downhill fast."
"How so?"
"That disinterest he carried, got worse."
"Can you tell me what you mean by disinterested? If it's too much, I understand."
"No. It's okay." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Like he went to work every day, but had little desire for anything else. He would sleep all day on the weekends, play videogames endlessly, didn't care if the house was clean. I took care of all the household stuff. In the beginning of our relationship, we went out and did things. Later on, I could barely get him to pay attention to me. If I joined him in a videogame or something, he would talk to me and we'd have a decent time. But after a while, I wanted more."
"I can understand that."
"Like I said though, he was a good guy despite that. Eventually he proposed with promises of change, and he did change for a while. We started going out again, doing more things together. That's when we took that picture." She pointed to the table beside us. "When we were hanging out with my family more."
"Doesn't sound like it lasted."
"It didn't." Her lips pressed tightly together for a moment. "We worked the same hours, but at different parts of the plant. We always carpooled though. At quitting time, I went to meet him outside like we did every day and a coworker told me he went home early. The car was gone and I was essentially stuck there. That coworker drove me home. For the entire ride, I tried to call Declan, but he didn't answer."
"I think I know where this is going…" I tried to keep my expression neutral, but hers morphed into a mix of pain and anger. My heart pounded, stomach swirled, and images of the goriest deaths I've ever seen rushed through my mind like shuffling a deck of cards.
"Yeah," she said, taking a swipe at her eyes despite the lack of tears. "In our apartment, left for me to find. And you know what he used?"
"No," I said, holding my hand to her when she finally began to cry.
"An electric knife. Do you know what that looked like?" She took my hand and silent tears slid down her cheeks, taking her mascara with it.
Entanglement Page 8
