He slid a brass key off his key ring and handed it to me. I flipped on the light and dumped my backpack on the single bed. A resistance machine, a treadmill, and an assortment of kettlebells were strewn across the floor. Derek picked up several and put them in the corner, effortlessly carrying them. Although he was lean and wiry, he was evidently strong as well. His easy smile and his friendliness had put me at ease.
“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. This was above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Not a problem. Towels are in the cabinet by the shower. You can have first go at the bathroom,” he said.
I plugged in my phone, dug the sweats out of my backpack and took a shower. I toweled my hair off as I went into the kitchen.
“Next,” I said, “and if I start picking up women with stories about my marathon times and my sexual conquests, blame the Axe body wash I used.” Brett smiled at me.
“I told Derek, but I wanted to tell you, too. Thanks. You’ve been very kind.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Good night,” I said.
I texted Ainsley, Phone plugged in now. I’m ok, they r not shady.
She replied immediately with, I want proof of life. Selfie or call now.
Laughing, I took three pictures of the room—the pile of workout junk, my backpack spilling out makeup and socks, and a picture of me with wet hair sticking my tongue out.
Now she could stop worrying, and I could go to sleep.
3
I got up early to make breakfast for the guys. I wanted to cook for them as a thank you for coming to my aid and giving me a place to stay. Their refrigerator was stocked, so I figured they liked to cook at home. I chopped spinach and sliced mushrooms and tomatoes, cracked eggs and ground fresh pepper. I made a hearty frittata that smelled amazing, with some herbs and a sprinkling of cheese. I was cutting up melon and tossing it with berries when Derek wandered in.
“Something smells amazing in here,” he said.
He was shirtless. I deliberately put down the paring knife so I wouldn’t accidentally chop off my finger because I was distracted by his pecs and biceps. His low-slung sweatpants showed off washboard abs and a narrow trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband at his hips. I swallowed hard.
“It’s the Axe body wash I borrowed,” I said.
“Strange. When Brett uses it, I’m not the least bit attracted to him,” Derek said, raising one eyebrow mischievously. I looked down, color flooding my cheeks.
“I think you smell the frittata. I wanted to make breakfast, thank you boys for helping me out.”
“No thanks needed. We were both sworn to serve and protect.”
“Still, most people wouldn’t have stopped to see if I needed help, much less given me a ride and a place to stay. I appreciate it. And I’m sorry I acted weird about it. I’m not used to asking for help or needing it. I’m pretty—”
“And independent. Pretty and independent,” he said.
“Um, thanks. I was going to say pretty cautious. I don’t get in the car with strangers, whether they have a badge or not. Thank you for being understanding and—for being good people. There’s too many bad ones out there,” I said.
“You’re preaching to the choir on that one. I’m a cop. Nearly all I see are the bad ones, the ones who sell drugs and beat up their landlords and steal cars.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“Somebody has to protect the innocent,” he said, his mouth grim, “If what I do keeps one asshole from beating up his kids or getting behind the wheel when he’s drunk, it’s worth it.”
“Careful, I might start to think you’re noble,” I teased.
“I’m not. I’m just a man trying to do the right thing. That shouldn’t be a big deal. It should be what’s expected. Men doing what we’re supposed to—protect the weak, stand up for what’s right.”
“That’s pretty revolutionary,” I said, “Next thing you’ll be saying that everyone should pay their bills and take responsibility for their actions.”
“Exactly. People might start to think I’m crazy. I mean, I pick up strange girls by the side of the road.” He grinned, and I was pretty sure my heart flipped over.
“I’m not strange. I’m just an intern with car trouble. I was really lucky you stopped.”
“No,” he said forcefully, “every car that passed you should have stopped. That’s what’s wrong with people—no one wants to help. Everyone just wants to pass judgment instead of serving one another.”
“Most people don’t want to get involved with somebody else’s problems. All I’m saying is that I’m glad you and Brett aren’t like that. You looked out for me. I won’t forget that.”
“Are you like the Godfather or something? Because if you’re looking to return the favor, there’s a desk sergeant down at the precinct who’s always making me redo paperwork. You could have him rubbed out for me.”
I gaped at him.
Derek laughed, “You should see your face! I was kidding. Thanks for breakfast. I’m going out for a run.”
As he went to change clothes, Brett came out, much less wide awake than Derek had been. He nodded to me, scooped food onto his plate and shoveled it in without speaking.
“Listen I really appreciate what you guys did for me last night. I’m going to call a tow truck and get that sorted out this morning, maybe find a paying job and a place to live. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
He practically grunted, “You’re fine,” around a mouthful of frittata. He took his empty plate to the sink and, with a mumble, disappeared into his bedroom again. I wondered if my presence in the guest room was keeping him from his workout or if he just wasn’t a morning person. Or if he didn’t like me as much as Derek did. I admitted to myself at least that I was very attracted to them both—Derek with his flirting, his outgoing nature, and Brett who had been so considerate but was shier, more standoffish. As I got dressed, I found myself sitting on the bed, not looking up a towing service, but thinking of the way Derek’s rock hard chest and abs had looked—the fact that, despite the small town good girl that I was, I wanted to lick caramel sauce off of him. I stifled a laugh, imagining the look on his face if I asked to do just that. Like if I bought a jar of caramel topping and said, “Hey, if you’re not busy later, can I lick this off of your naked body?” I shook my head. The combination of car trouble and not getting the room I’d planned on renting had apparently made me crazy. Because that wasn’t the kind of thing I went around thinking about.
4
I pulled myself together, made some calls and looked at online job boards. In no time, I hopped a bus downtown and interviewed for a waitress position. I could work there in the evenings, leaving my days free for the internship at Envy. Cinders was an up and coming gastropub that seemed to do a brisk business. I’d be waiting tables in a tiny green tee and black pants with a little black apron, hustling artisanal burgers and fresh kale chips to the hipster diners, bringing loaded pasta nachos to the bar. It was work I could handle and a schedule I was almost sure I could manage. The start time was really close to when I finished at Envy, and it would be a push to change clothes and make it in time. I’d just have to focus and be efficient.
I dropped by the Envy offices—a glamorous chrome-and-white open plan affair with splashy black and red abstract art on the walls and impossibly sophisticated, beautiful women of every race and age at the standing desks, the coffee machine, the elevators. I was a little starstruck, but I managed to find HR and let the rep know I was in town and would report the following day on schedule.
Miriam, the HR rep I’d been talking with, stretched to her full height of probably six feet, and with a toss of her long, tiny braids, insisted on giving me the tour a day early. She showed me where the layout for the next issue was being assembled, the computer bay where the graphic design team created the illustrations and stock photos for fill-in. By the time I’d been introduced to Liz Markham, the features editor, I was ready to
squeal and beg for her autograph. The whole publication was every bit as smart and polished and sexy as I’d imagined.
“I looked over some of your samples myself. The article you wrote about the campus availability of birth control was quite good, Lynette. I look forward to bringing you onto the team,” Liz Markham said to me. I wanted to clutch my chest in thrilled shock—Liz Markham knew who I was and had read one of my articles. Read it and LIKED it!
“Thank you,” I stammered.
“If you’d like to come a bit early tomorrow, we have a weekly staff meeting at eight on Thursdays. You’d be welcome to join us,” she said graciously. I couldn’t believe it! I was going to get to sit in on a staff meeting at Envy with one of the most award-winning features editors in the business—a woman known for her hard-hitting style, her insistence on vetted sources and verifiable studies, her refusal to settle for fluff about which celebrity was dating whom. She had the brain of an investigative journalist and the heart of a designer—the perfect blend of smarts and style. She was my idol. I had hoped I’d get to meet her during my internship. I never dreamed she’d speak to me directly or invite me to meetings. I was so excited I wasn’t sure I could keep from squealing and jumping up and down. Only the knowledge that I would look like a complete idiot kept me from indulging.
I thanked Miriam like she’d just given me an extra kidney or something. I squeezed her hand until she said “ow” as politely as possible and took it away. I messaged Ainsley that I had gotten to meet Liz Markham. She would appreciate the significance of that.
I visited several possible rentals—at least two of which looked like they should have crime scene tape around them. Seriously. One had blood spattered on the ceiling, obviously blood, which the landlord insisted was ‘probably some kinda spaghetti sauce that exploded’ nowhere near the kitchen. I’d paid the towing service, and my car was at a mechanic who promised to look at it as soon as he could, while saying something terrifying about how much an alternator would cost. By the time I returned to the loft, impressed again by how beautiful and secure the converted firehouse was after facing the reality of available rentals, I was reluctant to fork over the money for a few nights in a cheap motel and look for a rental on Sunday—my day off from the restaurant. I knew I had to get some sleep for my first day at Envy and the staff meeting where I couldn’t wait to watch, learn, and take notes. I was greedy—I wished I could stay at the loft again.
I climbed the stairs, knocked at the door. Brett let me in. I was bursting with excitement about the internship, about getting a job at the first place I applied, but I felt a little shy with him. I would have told Derek everything at once, but Brett was more subdued and I took my cue from him, not acting bubbly as I felt.
“How was your day?” he said, “Derek will be back soon. He went to pick up something to eat.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, tell him I said thanks again and bye, okay?”
I went to get my backpack from the spare room, feeling disappointed I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to them both together. Thinking already that I’d miss seeing them, that I’d imagined telling them about my invite to the staff meeting, maybe toasting with bottles of beer in celebration. It was a silly, sitcom dream, to have a supportive friend group excited about my success, ready to joke and laugh with me.
“Wait. Please stay until he gets back. We’d like to talk to you.”
“I—” I was about to make a smartass comment about if they meant to question me in their official police capacity. I wanted to snap at him because I felt discouraged and sad about my apartment hunt and about leaving the loft and the guys. But I reminded myself how kind they’d been, how wonderful and sweet. So I bit back my rude retort, shifted my weight, “If you think I should hang around for a few minutes, I will.”
I set my backpack by the door, perched on the rolled arm of one of the recliners.
“You could sit down. Tell me how your day was,” he said diffidently.
“I’m sure you have enough on your mind,” I said, “I’m fine. I’ll wait.”
“You can talk to me. I know Derek is—let’s say more popular with the ladies than I am. But I’d like to know how it went at the mechanic. Do they know what’s wrong?”
“The guy said it sounds like the alternator.”
“Can he find you a rebuilt part to replace it with?”
“I don’t know. He mentioned the cost for a new alternator and the installation. After that I may have blacked out in shock.”
“It might be a good idea to ask about a rebuilt option to save money. It’s not a new car. There’s no reason to waste money on a new part when a used one will work,” he said.
“Thank you. That sounds like something my dad would say,” I said, giving him a half smile.
“Then your dad is obviously a genius, like me,” Brett said, his dimple flashing in his cheek. My brain short circuited over his smile.
“He is. How was your day at work?”
“It was ok. About like most. I stopped in at the bar on Legion Street and nabbed a guy we had a warrant out for. He gets wasted and beats up his wife, skips bail. So on lunch break, I just stopped over at one of his favorite places and happened to see him. We went to the station and pretty soon the judge refused to rebond him thanks to his history. So tonight, his wife and kids can sleep easy.”
“You went on your lunch hour to look for some dirtbag who hits his wife?”
“Yeah.”
“Most people just go get a sandwich or something on break.”
“I got a sandwich afterward. I can do both,” he said with a shrug like it was nothing.
Had I found the only two old-fashioned gentleman left in the world? It was weird and amazing to talk to Derek and Brett, to notice their innate goodness, their determination to look out for people and stop the bad guys. They made me want to believe that most people were like them, when I knew otherwise.
“You two are like something out of an old movie. Like the Gary Cooper sheriffs, the good-looking lawmen who clean up a town and have excellent manners. I used to watch those westerns with my dad.”
“Thanks, I think. I mean, I think Gary Cooper’s dead, so I’m going to hope that was a compliment and not you saying that we both remind you of really old dudes.”
“Not at all,” I laughed, “I think it’s awesome.”
Derek entered with two enormous bags that smelled deliciously of garlic. My mouth watered, and I swallowed hard.
“Hi,” I said, “I was gonna take off, but Brett thought I should wait and say goodbye in person.” I wondered at once why I’d hung around there when it would be so much harder to tell them both goodbye together.
“No need to rush off. Have a seat, we’ve got plenty of Chinese for dinner,” Derek said, his easy smile making me want to stay even more.
I went to the kitchen and got napkins, asked if they wanted forks.
“I can use chopsticks. Brett here needs a shovel. Just grab the biggest spoon we’ve got,” Derek said.
I held up a soup ladle. Brett shook his head, “Fork’ll be fine for me. I need something better than a stick to eat with. If I was raised by wolves in the forest like this dude, I could probably manage it,” Brett teased back. I smiled, liking how at ease they were with each other, catching that same comforting feeling I’d had in the squad car—the easy rapport and playful spirit I felt with them.
I sat down and decided I might as well ask for what I really wanted, “Actually I was wondering—I know I’ve imposed enough already, but I wanted to ask you something. Would it be okay if I stayed here one more night? I report to my internship in the morning and then to a shift at my new waitress job. I’d spend my lunch break looking for an apartment, and if I didn’t find one, I’d stay at a motel until I do.”
“No,” Brett said. My face fell. I tried to nod, at like it was totally understandable, no big deal.
“We want you to stay,” Derek said.
“Not just one more night,” Brett put in, “We talk
ed it over while we were on patrol this morning. Decided to offer you the extra room for as long as you need it.”
I couldn’t believe it. I jumped out of my seat in excitement. I hurried over to Brett, hesitated when I was about to hug him and just patted his shoulder awkwardly. I shifted my weight, grinning. Derek got to his feet, rounded the table and gave me a bear hug. I was dumbstruck by the fact that I could feel every ridge of his muscular torso through his t-shirt. I remembered to clap him on the back like a buddy and pulled back.
“Is that a yes?” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “as soon as you tell me what the rent is.”
“We can keep it pretty low. We’ve got this set up where the property taxes and the mortgage and everything is covered between the two of us, and we split utilities. I guess we can divide those three ways instead of two, and you can pay what you planned on spending on the room you intended to rent.”
“No way, this place is way nicer,” I said, “I don’t want any handouts.”
“You cook a really good breakfast. I’d be willing to take fifty bucks off the rent if you’d make breakfast once in a while,” Derek said.
“I’ll make breakfast once a week,” I said, “Sunday morning.”
“Deal,” he said, shaking my hand.
I sat down, grabbed some chopsticks and rubbed them together.
“You trying to start a campfire with those?” Brett asked playfully, scooping his food up with a fork.
“Nope. I’m trying to scrape off the splinters. I always do that with cheap takeout chopsticks.”
“Does it work?” Brett said.
“I never had a splinter in my tongue so I’m gonna say yes,” I said. Satisfied with my scraping, I scooped chicken and broccoli into my mouth and made a sound of approval.
We ate in companionable silence for a while and then Derek and Brett talked about a case they were both working, careful to avoid names to keep confidentiality around me. I knew they had to, but I was curious to know more, like the journalist I was.
Cuffed to my Roomies Page 2
