“Bea,” he says, looking down at his beer. “You’re looking well.”
“Thank you. You too.” He does. He’s either had plastic surgery or he’s been eating his Wheaties. His skin has a glow and the small age lines around his eyes are gone—all in less than a year. Lucky him.
“I hope you don’t, you know, mind I’m here.”
“Of course not. It’s always nice to see you.”
Nana glances at Steven, then me. “I was just telling Steven about your new job.”
“I can see you’re doing well,” Steven says, still not looking at me.
“I think I’m going to find Hilda,” Nana says. “You two talk.”
I shoot her a look. Nana squeezes my arm before walking away. I’ll bet after a beer or two she and Mrs. R will be dancing on tables or passed out on the couch, or in the corner scrapbooking. She is the source of my lack of party genes. Before I had to start working nights, I barely left my house after dark. Heck, I would barely ever leave my apartment if not for April. Now I usually wake up at two and spend my evenings at bars or malls or just sitting outside having a glass of wine with Oliver. Weird how I just realized that.
“You really do look good, you know,” Steven says.
“My building has a gym,” I say, not really lying. “I get bored.”
He sips his beer. “So, Kansas, huh?”
“Kansas.”
“I was surprised to hear you left. I always pegged you for a lifer.”
“Needed a change. Kansas is as good a place as any.”
“How’s your head doing?”
“Hard as always. I’m completely healed. I don’t even get headaches anymore.”
“They ever figure out what happened?” he asks.
And here’s reason number fifteen I broke up with Steven: I knew if he ever found out what I can do, he’d probably arrest me for possession of a deadly weapon. He’s not the most open minded of people. We were together for two years and not once did I ever consider telling him about my gift. I took great pains to make sure he never found out. We never spent the whole night together in case I had a nightmare and the bed levitated. If I felt myself get too emotional, I’d walk away. If I ever slipped up and something was banging or floating, I’d distract him, usually with my feminine wiles, which would just lead to more problems. I’m amazed I was able to carry on for as long as I did.
“Blood clot,” I lie. “Gave me some medicine and no problems since.”
“Good. I was really worried,” he says.
“Thank you. The flowers meant a lot. Really.” His cheeks flare up a little from embarrassment. Guess my booty shaking did a number on him. We don’t say anything for an uncomfortable moment. Really, what do you say to the man whose heart you broke, or at least trampled on a little? “I’m sorry. About you and Allison. I thought you two were good together.”
“Yeah,” he says, still looking at his beer. “It hadn’t been working for a while. Nobody’s fault really. What about you? Seeing anyone?”
“Not really,” I say with a small smile. “I mean, it’s sort of very complicated.”
“How?”
I shake my head. “There’s this guy I like. A lot. But he’s … it can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he’s sort of my boss, for one. He’s a widower. And … it’s just not going to work out.”
“That’s tough. But you’re okay out there besides that? Happy?”
“There are moments, I guess. For the most part I like it. I have friends. The job is very fulfilling when I’m not fending off the crazies.”
“One of those crazies do that to your neck and arms?” he asks, pointing to the scar on my neck (Oliver) and arms (zombies).
“Kids. There’s always a biter in the lot.” Time for a new topic. “What about you? How’s the job? Still on patrol with Artie?”
Artie being Artie Rupp, Steven’s partner of four years and a huge piece of work. Forty-five, divorced thrice, and still a patrolman after twenty years. From what I’m told, he failed the Sergeant’s exam five times before giving up; three for the Detective’s. I’m stunned he’s passed the physical every year with his constant smoking and forty extra pounds. I would not want him responding to an emergency of mine. He pinched my butt twice before I threatened to tell Steven. Never did though. Partly because I was afraid he’d punch Artie and partly because I was afraid he wouldn’t. I put it at fifty/fifty. I’d bet old Artie would flip his lid if he found out I was working for the FBI. It’s like the difference between high school football and the NFL.
“Yeah,” Steven says, “he’s good. Talking about getting married again.”
“Really? Who to?”
“Remember Wanda? The bartender at the bowling alley?”
“The one who looks like she’s been in the sun since the Seven-
ties?”
“That’s her,” he says. “They’ve been dating about two months now.”
“Well, good for them. Fourth time’s the charm, right?”
“I know you two never got along,” Steven says, “but he’s changed. Lost a lot of weight. You wouldn’t recognize him.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, sipping my beer. I have no desire to spend a second with that oaf. Once again Steven and I are locked in an uncomfortable silence. We’ve pretty much covered everything but the weather in polite conversation. Duty done. Cherry margarita time. “So, I’m gonna … ” I point to the house.
“Right. Yeah,” he stammers. “Talk to you … later.”
“Sure. Yeah.” With a gracious smile, I walk away toward the house.
“Shit. Wait!” Steven calls before he grabs my arm.
He turns me around. “What?”
He releases my arm. “I—I had this whole speech planned out in the car. Things I wanted to get off my chest, but I forgot all of it,” he chuckles. “You just look so great, and it’s a little overwhelming, and I’m not so good with words.”
“That’s okay,” I say.
“Really I just want to say I’m glad you’re back. If you get bored, maybe we can do something together. Bowling or movies, whatever you want.”
“Um, I’d like that,” I say politely. Yeah, right.
He wants sex. He’s gone without for a few weeks and now he’s sex starved. I’m a likely candidate as he has been down my road before. Okay, I have so been hanging out with Oliver too much to have actually thought that last statement.
His face lights up. “I’ll call you then.”
“You know the number.” With another cordial smile, I escape inside before he can say another word. Carlos runs up to me, eyes wide from excitement and too much sugar. “Hi.”
“I want—I want to show you my video game!” he says, bouncing up and down like a rabbit. He grabs my hand, leading me into the bedroom he shares with Manny. A group of kids sit on the two beds and floor. Manny and Javi’s niece Tina swing their arms back and forth with white controllers as Mario and Princess Toadstool play tennis on the screen. Oliver and I play this game all the time. He kicks my butt with his super-reflexes but we still laugh our butts off. I almost bust a gut when we play Just Dance. And—
Crud. A low wave of sadness ripples through my stomach, giving me pause. I miss him. Not even forty-eight hours, and I miss him.
“Aunt Bea,” Flora says as she jumps off the bed. “I love you.” Those stick arms wrap around my waist, squeezing out the bad feelings. “Manny won’t let me play!”
“This game isn’t for babies!” Manny says with a sneer. He swings again but not in time. Tina whoops and smiles at her opponent.
“I want to play next!” Carlos whines.
“No way,” Manny says.
“I’m gonna tell Papi,” Carlos counters.
“Do it and I’ll punch you in the arm!”
“Hey!” I say. “Don’t threaten your brother.”
With her perfect Mom timing, April walks in carrying two cherry margaritas. She is a woman
of her word. Flora darts toward her mother.
“Mami, Mami, Manny won’t let us play!”
“Manny, I told you everyone had to take turns. Let someone else play.”
“But it’s mine!” Manny says in a huff.
“No, it’s mine. I paid for it and unless you have two hundred dollars to give me, then that’s the way it’s gonna stay. Give someone else a turn. Now!”
“I hate you!” Manny tosses the controller down and storms out. Without missing a beat, Carlos scoops it up and starts swinging.
“Miss Kansas yet?” April asks.
I just smile.
She kisses Flora’s hair, hands me a margarita, and looks back at the kids. “You guys behave.”
I follow her out into the hallway, then into the master bedroom. She shuts then locks the door. Like the rest of the house nothing matches in here. IKEA and Wal-Mart furniture fill the small space. I sit on the bed, sipping my sweet drink. You can barely taste the tequila, just the way I like it.
“Okay, so what did he say?” April asks as she sits down.
I tell her almost word for word.
“I knew it! He’s still totally in love with you.” She sighs. “Man, I am so jealous. Now there are three men who want you.”
“And now you know how I felt in high school when the tables were turned.”
“So if he calls, are you going to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, just don’t lead him on.”
“Of course not.”
My cell phone buzzes again. I roll my eyes, but April looks at the purse. “You getting that?”
“No. It’s just Oliver trying to drive me nuts. I’m not speaking to him right now.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Before I can stop her, she reaches across for my purse.
“Hey!” I shout.
With a wicked grin on her face, she grabs the phone. “Bea Alexander’s phone. April Diego speaking.”
“Hang up!” I whisper. I attempt to snatch the phone back. April stands up, still grinning.
“Well, hello,” she purrs. “It’s nice to finally talk to you. I’ve heard so much.”
I mouth, “Hang up,” but she shakes her head and starts walking back and forth listening. “No, nothing like that,” she assures him then pauses to listen. “Well, I did hear that,” she says seductively. I glare, but she smiles at me. “Let’s just say if I wasn’t married … ” She throws her head back laughing. “You are a naughty boy.”
I mouth, “What the heck is he saying?”
She winks and continues listening. “Well, I could do that, I suppose, but she seems a little mad at you right now.” She listens. “No, right now she’s outside madly flirting with her ex-boyfriend.” She pauses. “That’s the one. They look so cute together slow dancing out there. I’ll tell her you called, I promise. Have a nice night. Bye.”
She flips the phone shut and starts cackling like a madwoman. “Oh my God,” she continues, “you totally have to have sex with that man!”
I snatch the phone back, scowling. “Jerk!”
Still cackling, she sits next to me on the bed. “You didn’t tell me he’s British!”
“He hasn’t lived there for years.” About three hundred to be exact. “Why did you tell him that stuff about Steven?”
“Duh! To make him jealous, brainiac. It so worked. He got all quiet then said, ‘the police officer?’ like he wanted to punch him or something. He is so hot for your body.”
“So everyone tells me, including him.”
“Well, I know sex with Steven wasn’t so great, and you didn’t like it so much, but I’d bet my kids’ college funds that man could get you to change your mind.”
“Never happening.”
She takes a sip of her margarita, looking over the rim, and her eyes can’t contain her desire to keep talking. The dam breaks a second later. “But you really, really, really could use it. And here’s this hot guy like aching for you and you’re just like, ‘No. Whatever.’ That’s beyond wrong. You’re only young once and a mind-blowing orgasm is a life experience you need. And—”
“April!” I say. “Shut up! I am not sleeping with him. Not now. Not ever.”
She calms down a little and pouts. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Well, you know what would make me happy?” I stand up. “A hot dog. I’m starving, and you’re neglecting your guests. Let’s get back out there, okay?”
She sighs. “Fine, but this conversation is not over.”
“Yes, it is. Come on.” I unlock the door and open it for her. April gets up and we walk out together. She hasn’t liked Will since the whole war began. She won’t give up until I’m spread eagle on Oliver’s bed.
She stops dead at the end of the hallway and spins around. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she says. “I can feel it, and I don’t like it. You’ve never done that before. You can tell me anything, you know?”
“I know,” I say. I pull her into a hug. “I know.”
I just don’t know how to make her understand. Not without telling her everything. About my first case. About Dallas. About what Oliver really is. About how close we really are. And really, how can I make her understand about us when even I don’t?
FIVE
YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN
THE NEXT THREE DAYS roll by with ease. I sleep in, I watch a lot of TV, and I eat. My ideal vacation. I play the good granddaughter, taking Nana out to lunch and a spa one day. I play the good godmother, accompanying the Diego family to Legoland. I play the good best friend, baby-sitting the kids while April and Javi go out for their first date in months. It’s amazing how easily I fall back into my old life.
The mansion leaves me alone. I receive no e-mails, no texts, nothing. Radio silence. For all I know they’re in Hawaii on a case involving a lava monster or doing exactly what I am, enjoying some downtime. Either way they only invade my thoughts in passing, no more aches or mental deconstructions. Even April has dropped the subject, though I can tell she’s just biding her time.
I flip the radio station from Coldplay to Christmas music, getting me in the mood for one of my favorite activities of the year: Christmas shopping. I adore shopping, but as much as I enjoy shopping for myself, I like shopping for others more. I just love the look on their faces when they unwrap the gift and see that you know them. That you love them. It’s worth fighting the crowds at the mall.
April invited me shopping with her. Great thing having a friend with a ten-percent discount since her salon is in the mall. I let her share mine when I worked at Hot Dog on a Stick in high school, and she returns the favor now. I park on the top level, lucky to get a spot there. The only gift I have at present is a Mexican cruise for Nana and Mrs. R.: five nights in a two-room suite, option for a full spa day. This will make up for all the towels and picture frames they’ve gotten over the years.
I have no clue what to get everyone else. Heck, I don’t even know who I’m buying for. I mean, do I get the FBI agents something? The only one I sort of know is Agent Wolfe and my extent of knowledge on him is he loves golf and Lynyrd Skynyrd. I should probably get the others something too. Coffee mugs, maybe. They do like their coffee. George, Nancy, and the others I’ll just look around. Something will strike me. Shopping is where I shine.
April waits outside Macy’s in black trousers and T-shirt, scanning the crowd for me. I’ve dressed down today with my hair in a ponytail, comfortable black jeans, and black Wonder Woman graphic girl T-shirt. I gave up the rich stuff when Flora puked on my cashmere sweater at Legoland. Two hundred bucks in the trash. Corn dog, ketchup, and milkshake do not come out.
“Hey!” April says as I walk up. “This place is nuts, even for a Saturday! I’ve had back-to-back clients all day.”
“Sure you’re up for shopping?” I ask.
“The day I’m not is the day I jump off the Coronado.”
We stroll into a department store where harried men and women da
sh back and forth in search of the perfect gift. The lines at the registers are five deep, with every other person bouncing up and down in frustration at the wait. A tall man in a business suit holding lingerie sighs and rolls his eyes as we pass. I’ll never understand why this time of year brings out the worst in people.
April leads me to the women’s section and starts browsing. “I saw this top I think Gabi would like. Here it is.” She holds up an orange and black blouse.
“Looks fine,” I say with a shrug.
“I hate Christmas,” April says. “I should just get everyone gift cards or something. What do you want this year?”
“A gift card sounds great. To Barnes & Noble.”
April stops browsing. “I can’t get you a gift card,” she says, putting her hand on her hip. “That goes against the best friend code! I’m supposed to get you the perfect gift, something that you need! That shows I know you!”
“April, last year you got me sneakers.”
“Which you totally needed!” Her jaw sets. “You don’t understand, okay? The other day I totally realized that … you have this whole new life. New state, new job, new friends, even a new look! You’re all confident and secretive. I don’t feel like a part of this new you. I want to contribute something to this new you, something that when you look at it you can say, ‘There’s April, she’s here with me.’ You know?”
“I had no idea you felt this way,” I say, “but you’re wrong. I haven’t changed. I’m still me. Insecure, nerdy, all of it.”
She can’t meet my eyes. “You’re not.”
I touch her arm. “April, you are my best friend. If I move to the moon, we’ll still be best friends. That will never change, no matter what, okay?” I wrap my arms around her and she rests her head on my shoulder, hugging me back.
“God, I’m sorry. I’m PMSing hard core right now.” She pulls away. “Javi forgot to put the lid on the trash can this morning, and I screamed at him. I should be quarantined.”
“It’s okay. I threw an orange at Oliver last month when he made a rude comment about my shoes.”
April wipes the moisture from under her eyes. “Ugh. I can’t believe I ruined happy shopping time.”
Death Takes a Holiday Page 7
