The rest of the week had been so crazy for me at work that I came home most evenings and fell into bed fully clothed. We were in the weird stages of getting to know someone. If we saw each other every day, it probably wouldn’t be an issue.
As it was, I felt like we took two steps forward and then three steps back. His texts had been short and to the point and our phone calls hadn’t lasted more than five minutes. I just told myself that his week had been as hectic as mine.
It was absolutely not because he’d changed his mind about me. That thought left me with a pit in my stomach and a weight in my chest.
“Mija? Do you think that can be worked into your schedule?”
Oh, shit. I’d zoned out.
“Absolutely, Abuelita.” Just then a loud screeching came from inside the house, “Um, I’m just going to have to call you back. I have another call coming in.”
“Lauren, is that the thing? Como es que se llama esa mierda… ah, smoke alarm! Do you—” I hit end and ran inside to a very smoky kitchen.
“Oh, Jesus!” I didn’t even know where to begin. I turned off all the burners and threw open the windows. When the alarms continued to screech, I grabbed a broom from the small closet in the hall and began waving it wildly under the detector, trying to push the smoke out.
All I managed to do was knock an empty pasta sauce jar into the floor with the broom handle, shattering it.
“Fuck!” I roared and flipped the broom over to sweep it up into the dustpan. In my haste, I rested my hand against the wood floor and sliced my palm open. I wrapped it in paper towels and continued sweeping as the screech of death continued.
Once I was certain that Mike’s kitchen floor was glass free, I tried to determine what set the detectors off. It was the spaghetti. I’d left the burner on high, so all the water had evaporated, leaving behind blackened sticks of pasta.
I grabbed a couple of potholders and carried the pot onto the back porch. Maybe it’d help clear out the smoke. I lifted the lid on the sauce and discovered that the bottom of the sauce had scorched on the pan, while the top still had bits of raw meat floating around in it.
My hand chose that moment to bleed through the towel and right into the pot of meat sauce. I couldn’t have stopped the tears even if I’d wanted to at that point.
I grabbed another bundle of paper towels and the bottle of wine and went back out onto the porch.
If he’d been on the fence about me before, this should firmly push me into the non-datable category. It wasn’t even about me not knowing how anymore—I just sucked. I tilted the bottle back and took a long drink.
Two bottles later and I still didn’t feel better about things. My hand was still oozing blood and I kept bursting into tears. This was why I couldn’t attempt to cook ever again—it was too stressful.
The dust kicked up out on the dirt road and I saw Mike’s truck.
“Well, it’s official. I’m about to be dumped,” I lamented, before taking another long swig and stifling the sob that was fighting to break free.
He parked and got out with a huge grin on his face. He took one look at my bandaged hand and tear-stained face and the grin faded.
He jogged up the steps. “Lauren? What happened?”
I held up the bottle and gestured with it wildly. “I made you dinner. And, well, it turns out that I don’t know how to cook. I should go.”
I stood up, but he stopped me. “Hey, calm down. I bet what you made is fine.”
I snorted, “Well, the spaghetti is nothing but burnt sticks and the pasta sauce has raw meat blended with scorched bits. Oh, and I bled in it on accident. It’s a real gourmet experience.”
He went inside and came back out almost immediately to join me on the swing. He took my hurt hand and unwrapped it. “I get what’s happened in there, but how did this happen to your hand?”
I held the wine bottle between my legs and wiped away the tears on my cheeks. “I set off the smoke alarm and then when I was trying to wave the smoke outside, I knocked over a jar of pasta sauce and it broke. I cut my hand trying to sweep that up.”
Mike pressed his lips into a flat line and looked away.
“Stop. Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”
His shoulders shook. “But, it kind of is. Jesus, Darlin’, you’ve had a day.”
The sky began to turn red as the sun set and I laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wanted to impress you.”
He pulled the bottle from between my legs and took a drink before replying, “Oh, I’m impressed. Up until now, I didn’t think it was possible for someone to have so many things go wrong while trying to make spaghetti.” I swatted him on the thigh and he grinned, “But, you made up for it with dessert.” Then he raised the bottle of wine in a toast.
I tapped my fingers against the bottle before replying sarcastically, “Yeah, I really saved the day.”
“You know, Red. I might have some Pop Tarts lying around somewhere.” Mike winked at me and took another swig.
I smiled. He didn’t care that I wasn’t Martha Stewart as long as I remembered to bring wine.
He took another long drink. “You never had your dads teach you how to cook while growing up?”
Uh-oh.
I was two bottles past keeping my mouth shut. At this point in my drinking, I’d hand over my social security card and bank information if he asked for it.
I took the bottle from his hand and upended it for a little more liquid courage. “Well, Josué and Isaac didn’t exactly raise me. My mother was an addict growing up. So, while other girls were worrying about why the star quarterback hadn’t called them back, I was worrying about where my next meal was coming from. She tended to take off on these benders and leave me to fend for myself. I stuck to canned soups and things like that—foods that didn’t require electricity to be eaten.
“Josué had been my guidance counselor at school and when he couldn’t reach my mother over some trouble I’d gotten into, he showed up at the duplex I’d been living in. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me,” I paused, as memories from that night came back to me, wanting to shut down.
Mike’s expression hadn’t changed once since I started talking. He was also a detective though, so keeping his face impassive was part of the job.
I forced myself to continue. “When I started college, I was more concerned with getting good grades and proving to both Josué and Isaac that I wasn’t going to turn out like my mother than I was with learning how to cook. Then, I wanted to get a job and start making my own money. I found that drive-thru worked well enough and never took the time. It sounds stupid.”
He reached over and pulled my hand into his. “It’s not stupid. I can’t believe you went through all that and turned out like you did. Statistically, you’re an anomaly. Who gives a fuck if you can cook or not? You got me for that.”
We passed the bottle back and forth and watched as fireworks exploded in the distance. And for the first time that night, I saw the situation from his perspective, and was finally able to laugh about it.
Chapter Twelve
Late July 2014
Me-
“So, I’m grabbing dinner with David. Will you be around later?”
I hadn’t made a lot of effort to see David lately—between the club and work, I didn’t have a lot of free time. I owed him a night out though—he’d called me earlier, sounding like shit.
He’d fallen into a bottle of whiskey the minute their relationship imploded and it didn’t sound like he’d managed to climb out yet. He was hung up on this idea that Landon, the man Elizabeth had been sleeping with, had broken into their house.
I’d rolled my eyes and told him, “He’s clean, David. Guy doesn’t even have so much as a speeding ticket. So, there’s no chance of me bringing him in and holding him indefinitely as you so helpfully recommended the other night.”
That was the problem with the break-in—there were no prints and the only thing stol
en had been a picture. In all honesty, it wasn’t really high up on our list of cases to solve. Plus, Landon Scott had a solid alibi for that night.
My priority had been keeping Grey happy. We’d begun picking up Sons of Death members for petty shit and that was going about like I’d expected.
It wasn’t a productive day unless I was getting death threats, right?
Lauren replied,
“I promised Elizabeth I would go over and help her pack up some things. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night, unfortunately. Call me later?”
I stared sullenly at the message. I didn’t know why it bothered me—it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her almost every night since we got together.
One month in and I still wasn’t tired of her. It was weird to think that I hadn’t been against monogamy, I’d just been sleeping with the wrong women.
It had shocked the hell out of me.
I’d fallen head over ass for Lauren and anytime there was a lull in my schedule, I was thinking about her.
I glanced down at my watch and saw that I still had a good fifteen minutes before David arrived. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.
“Hey,” she said in a soft voice.
I smiled, just like I did anytime I heard her voice. You know, real manly shit. “Hey yourself, Red. How’s it going?”
There was a lot of background noise and she sighed. “I’ve been recruited to pack up the guest bedroom and these boxes are,” she huffed, “so fucking heavy. Why can’t they just stay together so we don’t have to play counselor?”
I laughed, “Darlin’, I have no idea. So, you don’t think you can break away early and meet me?”
“Mike Sullivan, are you trying to get into my panties?”
I damn sure was.
Sex with her was like nothing I’d ever experienced. She was constantly checking in with me to make sure I was enjoying it as much as she was and it didn’t seem to matter how many times I assured her that I was, she was certain that she was lacking. She’d once insisted that it couldn’t be as good for me because, “I don’t even know any tricks.”
She knew enough to turn an ass hound into her man though.
When I didn’t answer, she continued, “I’m going to take your silence as a yes. And, in that case, my answer is okay.”
I beamed. “That’s my girl. You text me the minute you’re done and I’ll fake a fucking heart attack if I have to.”
She gave a soft chuckle. “You got it, Tex.”
“You started drinking without me? Fucker.” David slid in the booth across from me and I quickly ended the call. He looked homeless—his hair hung down around his chin and his beard looked to have remnants from his last few meals hanging out in it.
I tried not to stare. “Hey man, good to see you. I just got here a little early and ordered a Guinness while I waited.”
He grabbed the drink menu and eyed it suspiciously. “So, who were you on the phone with—the fuck buddy of the week?” I clenched my jaw.
He just lost his marriage…he just lost his marriage…
David didn’t notice and continued, “Damn. Maybe you had it right all along—if you just screw around, then you never have to worry about getting your heart broken. Cause I gotta tell ya, this fucking sucks.”
The server came and took his order and he went back to staring straight through me. I wanted to tell him I’d been talking to Lauren, but he was in really bad shape, and gloating would’ve been in poor form.
“So—she won’t see you, but is she still seeing him?”
He stiffened. “I don’t know—I guess I just assumed she was keeping us both at a distance while she sorted everything out.”
I nodded before taking a drink and scanning the menu, “I know I asked when you first told me, but did you ever suspect she was screwing someone else?”
He went quiet for a few minutes and stared at the table, before responding, “I never saw anything out of the ordinary. Looking back on it though, the signs were there.”
It was the first time in the entirety of our friendship where I had nothing to say. We’d slipped into an uncomfortable silence when a woman with blonde hair walked up.
She smiled questioningly. “David Greene?”
He nodded and I saw it coming before she ever even reached into her handbag.
Fuck.
She thrust a large manila envelope into his hands. “You’ve been served.”
He placed it down on the table slowly, as if it contained anthrax. “Fuck!” He roared and the restaurant went silent.
Jesus Christ.
He jumped up and grabbed onto the edge of the table, shaking it violently, and taking in ragged breaths. I’d been around him long enough to feel justified in worrying that he was about to launch it across the room.
I stood up and placed my hand on his back. “David, I need you to keep it together—at least until I can get us out of here.”
His teeth were clenched together as he answered, “I’m fine. Don’t I seem fine?”
I choked back laughter and grabbed my wallet before throwing a twenty down on the table. He’d crossed over into bat-shit crazy territory. For good measure, I held up my badge to keep them from calling the police and dragged his ass out the front door.
Once we reached his truck, I spun him around. “Man, I know she picked a really shitty way of going about this, but you need to calm down and go talk to her.”
His eyes narrowed. “Go talk to her? Really, Detective? That’s the best idea you’ve got? I’m pretty sure that talking to me is the last thing she wants to do as she just had me served.” He stepped around me and climbed into his truck.
“David—let’s leave your truck here. Just come back to my place—”
He cut me off, “No, I don’t want to be around anybody right now. I need a fuckin’ minute, okay?”
I nodded. I got it, I did. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
As I watched him drive away, I wondered if Lauren knew that Elizabeth had set all this in motion.
I sat on the stairs by Lauren’s front door, eating French fries, and wishing she’d come home.
“Mmm… McDonald’s. Dinner of champions.”
I looked up guiltily from the bag to see her smiling at the foot of the stairs. I fished the extra burger out and waved it in the air. “You hungry? I cooked.”
Lauren smiled, but something was wrong. She just seemed off. “I’m okay for now. Have you been waiting long?”
I gathered up the food and joined her at the door. “No, just a couple of minutes. Rough night?”
She nodded and hung up her purse and keys on the hook next to the front door. “You could say that. Would it be alright if I just laid my head on your shoulder and tried to forget this day ever happened?”
Food forgotten, I led her over to the couch. “Start at the beginning.”
She brought her knees up to her chest, making her appear even smaller than she already was, and laid against my arm. “Work was just…difficult. We had a patient that arrived a half-hour late for their first appointment and when I tried to explain why we would need to reschedule, he copped an attitude with me and blamed it on all the paperwork we emailed over for him to fill out. It was emailed out three days ago and apparently, he’s been working on it since then.”
Lauren rubbed her temple as if reliving it gave her a headache. I turned her until she was nestled between my legs and began rubbing her neck and shoulders, while trying not to question who I’d become.
Comfortable again, she continued, “That’s not the half of it. He told me that if I refused to see his daughter then I’d be sorry—said he’d wait for me in the parking lot and work the ‘uppity bitch’ right out of me. So, I had to dismiss them from the practice.”
I didn’t realize I was taking it out on her shoulders until she cried out. I was livid. It was like David getting served times a thousand. “I’m sorry, Darlin’.” I rubbed her back softly to make up for it.
She shrugged. “I think they just forget they’re dealing with actual people sometimes. It’s fine now; I was just stressed out in the moment.”
I was going to find this guy and work the douchebag out of him—I doubt there’d be anything left by the time I was done. I took a deep breath and calmly asked, “What was his name?”
She tilted her head back and looked up at me. “Why? You gonna arrest him?”
I shook my head, using every ounce of willpower to keep my voice calm. “Nah, you handled it fine—I just like to know these things in case he ever ends up getting booked down the road. We can make his stay…unpleasant.”
I was absolutely going to go after him.
She gave me an upside-down smile and I tapped her nose with my index finger. “Andrew Vierling, but that’s only to be used if he ends up in the slammer.”
I nodded dramatically. “Yes, Red. For official police use only.”
I was gonna give him to Grey. The thought made me smile.
She sat up and turned around to face me. “Anyway, I thought the day couldn’t get any worse and then I got to Elizabeth’s. Mike, she’s pregnant, and understandably freaking out.”
I sat there in shock. “So, she’s pregnant. Jess is pregnant. Wait—you’re not pregnant, are you?”
I playfully poked her in the ribs and she smirked. “Not even the slightest bit. Are you disappointed?”
I gave a mock sigh, still trying to cheer her up. “I guess we’ll just have to keep practicing until we get it right. Did you know that David was getting served tonight?”
Her eyes widened and she sighed, “No. I mean, I knew she was looking into her options. So, how does that work? Did they just find him on a job site?”
“They found him at the restaurant. He’s still hung up on this whole Landon thing and looked like absolute shit—I just felt awful for him. We’re fucking lucky they didn’t call it in since he was disturbing the peace…to put it mildly.”
She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my chin. “It makes me feel so guilty. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and I can’t share it with my best friend. I just wish there was some way for them to work this out.”
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