Perilous Poetry

by Kym Roberts

Violet answered before Jamal could explode. “If Jamal was your son, his complexion wouldn’t be the beautiful ebony that it is. When you talk to him, you may address him as Jamal or Mr. Harris.” She glanced in my direction to see if she offended me, and I gave her a smile of assurance, despite having absolutely nothing to smile about. Violet stood up tall, challenging J. C. to take her on. She looked like the momma bear she was—confident and fierce.

  “That app is irresponsible and a danger to the community. Why, we just saw a young woman nearly get hit by a car because she was watching her phone and not that dadgum road!”

  “There is a clear warning in the beginning of the app for users not to become distracted and put their safety at risk.”

  “Yet that’s exactly what it did to Delbert Perkins!”

  My stomach dropped to my toes, hitting my hips, knees, and ankles in a bumpy journey that made even my breakfast want to erupt.

  “That’s enough, J. C.,” Mateo warned as he eyed each and every one of us. “The victim’s next of kin hasn’t been notified yet. I’m instructing all of you to keep quiet about his identity. Do not discuss it outside of this room to anyone.”

  “Delbert Perkins?” I asked.

  “Yes, Delbert Perkins, the man who got split down the middle with an ax like a divided highway,” J. C. spat.

  Never once did I associate the body of the man at the bottom of the cliff as someone I had known. But I had known Delbert. I hadn’t looked at his face. My gaze had gone straight to the blood and the weapon that caused it. Delbert had helped me pick out software to upgrade the store’s computer for us to have an active inventory. Not just quantity, but the individual books we had in stock. I could keep track of what sold and what didn’t, thanks to Delbert. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have installed software that wasn’t compatible with our system and didn’t do squat. Granted, I didn’t know Delbert. No one did. He was a loner. A computer geek who’d never married, didn’t have any kids that anyone knew about, and had to be around my daddy’s age. He’d been laid-off from a tech company in Dallas and had somehow ended up here, working out of his little house. His expertise with computers was beyond what Hazel Rock needed, but apparently, he’d felt something for the community.

  Mateo’s voice turned sympathetic. “I thought you knew.”

  “I guess I was too shocked by the whole scene to recognize him. I tried not to look too closely at the body.”

  “How do you think my Penelope feels?” J. C. demanded.

  My dad wasn’t a man of many words. But when he had something to say, you better believe it could be hard hitting. “I imagine she was devastated, but you’re out of line here, J. C.”

  J. C. didn’t take too kindly to my daddy’s hard-hitting words, even if he looked as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Bobby Ray?”

  Daddy spoke to J. C. calmly, using an argument he thought would reach some part of him I didn’t believe he had—his heart. “A man died, and his family should come first.”

  “What about my family?”

  “Exactly,” Violet said. “A good husband wouldn’t leave his wife’s side after the traumatic event she’s been through.”

  “Our son is taking care of Penelope. I knew someone had to come here and make sure you took that app down. Hazel Rock doesn’t need that type of PR or the scandal,” J. C. insisted.

  “And I’m here to support my baby’s business. So, go take care of your family, and I’ll take care of mine.” Aunt Violet’s voice was a strong as an armored truck. Nothing was going to penetrate her shield for her son, especially J. C. Calloway.

  J. C. turned toward me and gave me a scathing look. It competed with the look he gave me at the age of sixteen when Cade first introduced me as his girlfriend. I shivered. I didn’t want to be the target of that magnitude of disdain ever again, yet somehow, I’d managed to put myself right in the middle of its bullseye.

  “Let me do my job, J. C.” Mateo dropped all his personal feelings and allowed his voice to smooth over the tension in the room. “Go home. You can do the most good there.”

  It was the kindest words he was going to get, and J. C., sensing he was outnumbered, left without another word to anyone.

  “Well, the next time you bring in a wild animal, could you make sure all of us have had our rabies vaccinations, Bobby Ray?”

  My dad tipped down his chin in acknowledgment and winked at my aunt. “I think you had J. C. between the heel of your shoe and the barn floor just waiting to smush him.”

  Jamal approached his mom and put his arm around her shoulders. His height made everyone else look teeny, and my aunt was no different.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said.

  “You’re welcome, baby.” My aunt patted Jamal’s cheek like a little child and then turned toward my father. “You owe me dinner after subjecting me to that man.”

  My dad smiled. “I suppose I do.”

  Violet linked her hand in the crook of my dad’s elbow and the two of them sauntered out of the Barn like a couple. It was vaguely disturbing. I looked at my cousin to see if he was uncomfortable with the two of them leaving like that, but he was busy talking in low tones with Mateo.

  “That murder is not connected to my app, Sheriff. There’s no evidence, and I’m not going to be cowed by rumors that say it is.” Jamal sounded strong and grown up. My aunt would have been proud. I was proud.

  Mateo looked to me, but I merely shrugged in response. Jamal had a point. Even if I believed there was a connection, at this point only two people could say for sure, and one was dead. The other held enough anger to put an ax through a man’s chest—and I wasn’t dying to ask him any questions.

  Chapter Eleven

  My night had been filled with dreams of bloody pools and ax-wielding monsters. Then Princess jumped on the bed. I felt the thud at my feet and immediately covered my head. She paused for a moment as if she were debating her next move, before she traveled the length of my body, hugging my form as she rubbed up against me. Sometimes her shell hurts—like right now when she was leaning into me in what I suspected was a purposeful act to get me up. When she reached my head, she began rooting under the covers. Armadillos are magnificent foragers; they can tear up your flowerbed and turn it into a worthless mound of compost in a matter of minutes.

  “Go away, Princess.”

  She snuffled my ear.

  I covered it and repeated my command. “Go away.” I’d spent a sleepless night rolling and tossing while listening to whistle snores from the little bed next to mine. My lack of sleep hadn’t affected her beauty sleep in the least. Of course, if more sleep meant I would look like Princess, maybe I should be happy she wanted to wake me up at the ungodly hour of…

  I lifted the sheet to look at my alarm clock. The green neon numbers glowed ten thirty.

  “Fuzz buckets! Why did you let me sleep so long?”

  Her ears flattened and the edge of her mouth quirked. I could imagine her thoughts were along the line: “Are you kidding me? I’m an armadillo. Not your alarm clock.”

  I picked her up and put her on the floor where she belonged. I didn’t need her morning commentary.

  I grabbed my cell and called my father, who answered after the second ring.

  “You’re late.”

  I shuffled to the kitchen and opened a can of cat food and filled Princess’s bowl. She liked tuna, but was going to have to settle for chicken. “I’m sorry, I overslept. Are you at the store?”

  “That’s the only way I would know you weren’t here.” His voice was tinged with humor.

  “Right, sorry. I’ll hop in the shower and be right down.”

  “Did you forget what today is?”

  I looked down at my pet snuffling her cat food, trying to rack my brain for what I was missing.

  “Let me be the first
to wish you happy birthday, Princess.”

  I looked over at the calendar. It was my birthday. Here I was thinking tomorrow was the big day, but with everything going on, I’d somehow lost track of my days. I’d turned thirty overnight. I smiled. I didn’t feel thirty, but I was.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Why don’t you take a couple hours off and go out to lunch with Scarlet?”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be your day off?” Moving to the fridge, I grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea and poured myself a tall glass of sugared caffeine. I looked at the lone banana that was beginning to show spots and the croissant sitting on the counter in a little baggy. It didn’t take much for me to decide a week-old croissant was the better choice. I skipped the fruit and wrapped the buttery goodness in a paper towel and threw it in the microwave.

  “How many days off have you had this month?” Daddy asked.

  “That’s not the point—”

  “It’s my point. Go, or I’ll ban you from the store.”

  I laughed and pulled out my good-as-almost-fresh croissant as the timer dinged. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “I have a sheriff standing in front of me in workout clothes.”

  Fuzz buckets. I was supposed to have a workout session with Mateo before the store opened. He’d gotten in the habit several months ago of teaching me self-defense. Three days a week we worked together on blocks, strikes, and pressure points. Every now and then he made me go running. It was on those days that I cussed the man openly. He seemed to like that.

  “Can you tell him I’m sorry I missed this morning?” I asked.

  “Tell him yourself. He’s on his way up to talk to you.”

  I froze with my croissant midway to my mouth, but it didn’t take me long to get my butt in gear. “Bye, Daddy.”

  I dropped breakfast on the counter and ran back to the bedroom for a hat. It didn’t take a mirror to tell me that my hair was sticking up in every direction.

  A knock on the door signaled his arrival as I threw on my favorite Denver Broncos hat and a gray hoody. I wasn’t particularly a fan, but when I’d returned to Hazel Rock, the only clothes I’d had to my name were the clothes I’d left behind in our family apartment twelve years ago that had Cade’s football number plastered all over them. Our high school colors just happened to be the same as Denver’s, and Cade’s number could currently be found on the quarterback’s jersey—so I’d embraced my fanhood and filled my wardrobe with just enough accessories to fool no one but myself.

  Mateo had that calm, cool, and devastatingly handsome look on his face. He was dressed in basketball shorts that hid the muscles on his thighs, and a tight T-shirt that did anything but hid the broad expanse of his chest. He was slightly damp from his workout, and his long lashes clashed with his masculinity as his gaze traveled the length of my body. It stopped at my bare toes. The corner of his mouth quirked. “Nice toe ring, birthday girl.”

  Somehow those three words sounded more like, “Undress for me, honey.” than a compliment about my jewelry.

  I turned and walked back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for him to enter. If I’d tried to say anything, it would have probably been in response to getting naked, and not a polite, “Thank you. Come on in.”

  Keeping my mouth shut and turning my back to him was the best I could do. Mateo and I had a fire stirring between us, but he’d made it infinitely clear that I needed to finish my business with Cade before he would make a move. I thought I’d proven that Cade and I didn’t have any business to discuss by going out on a date with a rodeo star a few months back. Unfortunately, that’d been my only date in the last year. It was depressing and I knew myself well enough to know that I wanted contact with the opposite sex. I wasn’t desperate, but I was pretty darn close.

  I pulled my Magic Bullet blender out of the cabinet and began making him a banana smoothie with the plain Greek yogurt he’d bought and put in my fridge. I grabbed the protein powder he’d insisted I get, ice, and my last piece of fruit that he’d given me on Monday. “I’m sorry I missed this morning’s session.”

  “You needed the sleep.”

  I needed more than sleep, but I ignored urges to make him put up or shut up and concentrated on the loud crunching of ice. I unplugged the appliance when the rumble of the ice became a hum and tipped the machine upside down to disengage the cup. I turned to give it to Mateo and found him standing directly behind me…way too close for comfort.

  “Thank you.” His fingers wrapped around the cup and touched mine. The message his eyes sent as he sipped the drink was definitely not in the friend zone. It was full of heat and promises of unforgettable nights between the sheets.

  “Nice,” he said and then pushed me back against the sink. Our bodies came into contact all the time, mostly during my lessons in self-defense. Moments like this were rare—and scary.

  “Are you ever going to deal with your past?” he asked.

  “Are you going to forget my past?”

  “I’m a cop. I get stuck on details.”

  I had to crane my neck to see his face at this proximity. Otherwise, I’d be staring at all those muscles. That was dangerous. Yet it was also easy to get lost in Mateo’s dark eyes. They took me places I wanted to go, without me actually crossing the threshold. But when he removed my hat and tossed it across the counter, I realized his patience was running thin. He didn’t want to wait any longer.

  “Happy Birthday, Charli.” I was in his arms before I even realized he’d made a move, and his lips were on mine before I had time to panic.

  Suddenly Amy Winehouse’s voice started singing next to me. I freaked out and pulled away before the kiss became a kiss. In a moment of weakness last week, I’d changed my ringtone for Cade to the song “Our Day,” telling myself he would call. We would go out to dinner. And we would finally deal with all the old feelings that threatened to bubble to a boiling point between us. But then I’d forgotten I’d changed it and when he didn’t call, and I’d quit staring at my incoming calls like they were the first check in a lifetime of installments from the lottery.

  “Cade,” I said into the phone.

  I felt Mateo flinch before he pulled away. He picked up his smoothie and responded loud enough for Cade to here. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  Even though I couldn’t see Mateo’s face, I heard the warning in his voice for Cade. He was getting ready to make a move and Cade was going to be left as a distant memory of my past if he had anything to say about it.

  “Was that Mateo?”

  Mateo opened the door, let Princess out, and closed the door silently behind the two of them. If he’d slammed the door, I would have jumped. The silent click of the lock, however, was scarier than any display of anger. It made me wonder if he really cared, or if he’d just marked his territory.

  I don’t like being marked.

  “Yes. What can I do for you, Cade?”

  “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

  “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “You sound like you’re…”

  “Irritated? Upset? Disappointed? Confused?” The last one was an understatement. The longer I talked to Cade, the more his lack of calling me before today got under my skin, yet I was also savoring the flavor of banana fruit smoothie on my lips and wondering why I would ever let anything stop me from following through with that taste.

  “I’m sorry. I should have called the day after the election.”

  That was one of the things I liked about Cade. He recognized his errors and didn’t try to hide his guilt behind feigned ignorance. But it had also been one of the reasons why I accepted the trail of bread crumbs he left me.

  “You should have, but you didn’t. What can I do for you today?”

 
“I was wondering if I could talk to you and your cousin.”

  “Jamal?” I knew where this conversation was going and the reason behind his call. “You talked to J. C.”

  He sighed on the other end of the phone. “He has some valid points, Princess.”

  “Yes, he does. But so does Jamal.”

  “What if the app is somehow connected to the murders? And what about the shooting at the Barn. You could be dead.”

  He wasn’t going to drop it, and if that’s all he had to talk about, our conversation was over. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hung up as Cade said, “Princess…”

  We could argue all day, or I could go to lunch with my best friend and see what everyone was saying about the app—then maybe Jamal would listen.

  Chapter Twelve

  The diner was packed by the time we arrived at the height of the lunch hour. Scarlet’s hair was a wave of smooth curls, her makeup was heavier and darker than usual yet somehow even with her ivory skin she didn’t look overdone. She filled out her form-fitting black sweater with a V-neck collar and long sleeves better than I could in my dreams, and her black leggings hugged the curve of her behind in a way that made every man watch her entrance in thigh-high stiletto boots. She still wasn’t as tall as I was in my combat boots, but she did femme fatale much better than I could on my best day. Even my short skirt and tight pink jacket couldn’t stop the tunnel vision Scarlet created. Which was totally fine by me. The only reason I’d worn the silly outfit was because I’d made the big error of telling her about the almost birthday kiss I was beginning to think I’d imagined.

  When Patty, the hostess, told us there were no tables or booths available, Scarlet said we’d take a seat at the bar and sauntered down to the two end seats with me in tow. If you’ve never sat at the bar at the Hazel Rock Diner, you wouldn’t see this decision as a big deal. But the seats at the diner aren’t just stools, they’re stools made from real saddles. My skirt was going to be a huge issue.

  Scarlet swung a trim leg over her saddle and looked up in time to see me sit side saddle. Even that was tricky.