“Like a caped crusader?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Sometimes Caleb creeps me out. Other times I want to punch him. This would be an example of the latter. “You’re definitely a pervert,” I said, turning my attention back to Fish. “Eliot is running some background checks on the parents for me. For right now I don’t have much to go on other than what Jake gave us at the conference.”
“I trust you’ll get more information than everyone else before it’s all said and done,” Fish said. “You always do.”
“I am not a pervert,” Caleb insisted, even though I had cut him out of the conversation. “Why do you think I’m a pervert?”
There were so many ways to go with that question. “Well … .”
“Don’t even think of telling him why you think he’s a pervert,” Fish warned. “I don’t want to file another defense for you with Human Resources. Your file is thicker than a hooker’s nipple as it is.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked, frustrated. “How do I keep getting accused of sexually harassing people when you say things like that?”
“I think it has something to do with your attitude,” Fish replied.
“I think you should assign this story to me and take Avery off it.” Duncan Marlow, The Monitor’s answer to the question, “Who is the world’s biggest douche,” sidled up and positioned himself on one side of me. With Caleb on the other side I was trapped in a loser sandwich – and I think the meat was going bad.
“I think you should shove your head in a toilet and repeatedly flush until you come back as someone tolerable,” I shot back.
“You’re always so crass,” Duncan complained.
“And you’re always trying to compensate because you’re hung like an infant,” I said.
“That right there! That’s why you’re always getting accused of sexually harassing people,” Fish said.
“I’m not a pervert,” Caleb said. “I don’t know why you would think that.”
“She thinks that because you dress like a flasher and have perverted tendencies,” Fish said, his temper flaring. “We’ve all seen you looking down the receptionist’s top when you think no one is looking.”
“That’s a lie!”
“I heard you walked into the women’s bathroom last week and pretended you were lost,” I supplied.
Fish’s mouth dropped open. “Is that true?”
“Of course not,” Caleb said. “I … you … I hate this place.” He stomped back to his cubicle, and when I turned back to Fish I found his gaze locked on me.
“What?” I asked.
“Did he really walk into the women’s bathroom?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “I made it up but it sounds totally plausible. Did you see the way he ran away? I think it’s true.”
“You don’t approach stories like this, right?” Fish pressed.
“Of course not,” I said.
“I think this is a shining example of why you should give this story to me,” Duncan said. “This could be a huge story, and she’ll screw it up.”
“You only want it because you think it might land you on one of those national cable news shows,” I argued. “That’s the only thing you care about.”
“That’s a lie,” Duncan said. “I happen to love children.”
“You don’t drive a white van, do you?” I asked. “You could easily be a pervert, too. I hear your wife is leaving you for a pot-smoking mechanic.”
Duncan knit his eyebrows together. “Who told you that?”
That was only one of three gossip tidbits I picked up from various sources several days earlier. I probably should’ve kept it to myself. Had I done that I wouldn’t be me, though. “It was the lead story on Channel 4 Saturday night,” I explained. “They were highlighting the ten biggest douches in the area. The bad news is that you’re not number one yet. That Detroit councilman who was molesting teenage boys got the top spot. You got the second slot, though, so there’s always a chance you can move up. Keep your fingers crossed.”
“That did it,” Duncan snapped, slapping his hand against the wall of Fish’s cubicle for emphasis. “I’m reporting you to Human Resources.” I couldn’t muster the energy to care. This would be the third time he’d reported me to Human Resources in as many months. “What else is new?”
“They’re going to fire you this time,” Duncan hissed.
“Well, that might be fun,” I said. “When you go down there, can you ask the Human Resources lady to have my file ready before they call me down this time? I hate watching them rummage through the cabinets until they find the right file. It takes too much time, and they keep giving me dirty looks. I didn’t lose it. I don’t know why they blame me.”
“I’m not kidding,” Duncan said. “I’m reporting you.”
“Go nuts,” I said, turning my attention back to Fish. “I’m going to file a story and then get out of here. I want to see what Eliot has tracked down and go from there. I probably will be coming and going as I get leads tomorrow, too. I just want you to be aware that I’m not skipping work to play video games, so if that rumor makes the rounds again it’s totally untrue.”
“That’s what you did last Friday,” Fish said.
“I think you’re confused,” I countered.
“The new Lego video game came out last week, and we all know you weren’t covering the Easter egg roll at the community center,” Fish said. “I’m not stupid.”
I was prepared to argue the point but didn’t see the merit. “If you need me, you can text me,” I said. “Not too early, though. We tend to sleep in as late as possible.”
“And I don’t want to upset your boyfriend,” Fish said. “I work out, but I think he might be able to take me.”
Eliot worked out five days a week. Fish walked around in tracksuits and enough gold jewelry to make Mr. T jealous. I was pretty sure Eliot could destroy Fish. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Fish rolled his eyes. “You’re such a suck-up when you know you’re going to be called down to Human Resources.”
“Yeah, see if you can take care of that,” I said. “I’m going to file my story and get out of here.”
Marvin was standing next to his cubicle when I turned the corner. His eyes lighted up when he saw me. He’s incredibly odd and says off-the-wall things. He dresses in polyester pants, white button-down shirts and black suspenders every day. He calls it his uniform. He pairs it with white Reeboks. He’s one of the few people I can tolerate at The Monitor on a daily basis.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“What’s up with you?” Marvin countered. “I heard you scooped everyone on that missing kid story you called in yesterday.”
“That’s because I was in the world’s unhappiest place when news came down from the stepmother,” I replied. “It was luck. What about you? What’s going on?”
“I’ve decided I need a woman,” Marvin said.
I don’t know why he thought that was newsworthy. He was always looking for a woman. “What happened to your plan to hang out at the Laundromat and seduce women with your washing machine?”
“I’ve been banned from the Laundromat.”
“Why?”
“I may have accidentally hit on a teenager,” Marvin answered. “I honestly thought she was an adult. I thought the kid with her was her daughter, not her sister.”
“You didn’t … I don’t know … grope her or anything, right?” Sadly I wouldn’t put it past him. When it comes to thinking before acting, Marvin makes me look like some sort of genius, which is really sad.
“I didn’t touch her,” Marvin said.
“Did you say something?”
“I might have said that her butt looked like the juiciest apple on the stand, but that was purely an accident,” Marvin said.
“Uh-huh. What’s your new plan for meeting women?”
“I’m going to start attending those mommy-and-me classes,” Marvin said, inserting a
dramatic pause so I could applaud his ingenuity.
I didn’t want to burst his bubble but … . “How is that going to work?” I asked. “I mean, those are women who have children already. Doesn’t that mean most of them also have husbands, or at least boyfriends?”
“I guess,” Marvin said, shrugging. “The ones who don’t are going to be really vulnerable, though. Those are the ones I want.”
“But … .” Where to begin? Hmm. “You don’t like children.”
“So?”
“If you do find someone at a mommy-and-me class they’re going to have a child,” I pointed out. “You’re also going to be out of place because you won’t have a child when you show up at the class.”
“So?”
“So that means you’ll have to set your schedule around a kid,” I said. “And find a kid to take to the mommy-and-me class – and then come up with an acceptable lie for why you’re there.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Marvin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It won’t be a problem. We’ll hire a babysitter for her kid. My neighbor has five kids. I’m sure she won’t miss one if I borrow it for the afternoon until I find a woman.”
Yeah, that would fix everything. “Have you ever considered that perhaps you should start dating women your own age so you actually have something in common?”
“I don’t want to date someone my age,” Marvin said, making a face. “I don’t like old women.”
Marvin was pushing fifty but acted twelve. That’s why I liked him. Still, his dating tendencies were starting to wear on me. “I worry that you keep picking loser women and then wondering why things don’t work out. If you pick someone your own age … .”
“I’m not doing that,” Marvin insisted. “Women my age make rules. Do you know what kind of rules they make? I’ll tell you. They make rules about not being able to go to the strip club … or bars on a weeknight … or a midnight movie. They demand matching socks and no pot smoking in the house. I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do.”
“You like being bossed around, though,” I said.
“In the bedroom.”
This conversation was taking an unpleasant turn. “I think finding someone to date in a mommy-and-me class is a great idea,” I said finally. What? No one is going to go out with him more than once anyway. It will be fine. “Just remember that the women wearing rings are on the ‘no touch’ list.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Marvin said.
“Of course you’re not.”
7
I hopped into Eliot’s pawnshop shortly before seven and planted a huge kiss on him before he had a chance to greet me.
“What was that for?” he asked, leaning back to study me. “What did you do?”
I scowled. “Can’t I be happy to see you?”
“You’re often happy to see me,” Eliot replied. “That doesn’t mean you greet me with big kisses and smiles. You did something. I want to know what.”
“I did many things today, dear,” I said, embracing my giddiness. “It’s spring and I have a little bit of extra energy following the doldrums of winter. If you want me to be sad, I guess I can try to muster the energy to give myself the blues for you.”
“You’re extremely dramatic sometimes,” Eliot said dryly. “You know that, right?”
“I’m fine with it.”
“I figured you were,” Eliot said, grabbing my chin and giving me a quick kiss. “Tell me about your day.”
“I’m not sure where to begin,” I said. “I fought with two of my co-workers, had a run-in with Cara, listened to Marvin spout off about picking up women at mommy-and-me groups, bought a new Star Wars shirt on the Hot Topic website and evaded a call to Human Resources because Duncan claimed I sexually harassed him again. I filed a story, too.”
“You did have a busy day,” Eliot said. “Wow. Let’s start with the Star Wars shirt. What does this one say?”
“It has a photo of Chewbacca and says ‘Talk wookie to me.’”
Eliot smirked and made a sound deep in his throat that eerily sounded like Chewbacca.
“Now I’m turned on to boot.” I winked at Eliot for good measure.
“Now I’m freaked out,” Eliot said, although his smile remained in place. “Why did you sexually harass Duncan?”
“He was trying to get Fish to give him the Sierra Jackson story because he thinks it’s going to go national and he wants to be on those cable news channel crime shows.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” Eliot said. “That still doesn’t explain why you sexually harassed him.”
“I might have mentioned him having a small penis and working hard to overcompensate.”
“That will do it,” Eliot said. “Do you want me to beat him up?”
“Meh.”
“I’ll do it,” Eliot offered. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “I would feel bad asking you to beat him up, though, when I can do it myself.”
“I have no doubt,” Eliot said, narrowing his eyes as he did math in his head while going through his daily receipts. “Tell me about Cara.”
I knew he wouldn’t let that one go. I tried to slip it between other issues so he would forget about it, but he’s no idiot. “There was an … incident … at the sheriff’s department today.”
“I figured that part out on my own,” Eliot said. “Spill.”
“Well, when I got to the sheriff’s department the woman behind the bubble pretended she was too busy to buzz me in so I had a fake phone call on my cell phone and loudly talked about the jail’s problem with bedbugs until she let me in,” I said. Here’s a tip: When in doubt, muddle the conversation with mundane details to soften the blow of what you’re really worried about sharing.
“That sounds … just like you,” Eliot said. “Did Cara overhear you doing this?”
“No.”
“Avery, I know you’re hiding something and I’m not going to let it go until you tell me,” Eliot said, locking gazes with me. “This is going to go a whole lot better for everyone if you just tell me and get it over with.”
Here’s another tip: When you have a reputation as a fast talker you’re eventually going to find someone who sees through all of your antics and knows when you’re trying to distract him. It’s really bad luck when you fall in love with him.
“I’m afraid you’re going to yell at me,” I admitted.
“That’s a distinct possibility,” Eliot shrugged. “The odds of me yelling increase the longer you drag this out.”
I blew out a sigh, resigned. “Fine. You brought this on yourself, though. Just remember that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Eliot’s attention was seemingly on his receipts, but I could tell he was bracing himself for whatever I was about to say. I almost felt bad for him. That lasted until I remembered that he was forcing me to tell the truth and he really had no one to blame but himself.
“Well, after I got buzzed in I headed for Derrick’s office,” I explained. “I didn’t knock because … well … I was hoping to catch him doing something embarrassing so I would have blackmail material.”
“Of course,” Eliot said, not missing a beat.
“He wasn’t alone. Jake was in there,” I said. “I talked to them a few minutes. I demanded information that no one else had and they didn’t give it to me. Jake told Derrick and me we made him feel old because we’re so immature. You know, the usual.”
“I’m familiar with ‘the usual,’” Eliot said. “Get to the part about Cara.”
“We all walked down to the conference room together and there was a running joke about Derrick being whipped because of Devon, and somehow I might have rested my head against Jake’s shoulder and batted my eyelashes to get my way,” I said, cringing when Eliot glanced up. “That’s when Cara came in and accused me of still having feelings for Jake.”
“You rested your head against his shoulder and batted your eyelashes?”
&nbs
p; “Yes. I’m sorry. We weren’t doing anything, though. She just picked the worst time ever to walk in.”
“And that’s it?”
I racked my brain for anything else embarrassing I might’ve done. “I guess I kind of got nervous and went off on a tangent about getting busy, but I made sure she realized I was getting busy with you and not Jake. She took it the wrong way.”
Eliot barked out a laugh and shook his head. Then he turned his attention back to his receipts. “You’re nothing if not entertaining.”
Was that it? “Aren’t you angry?”
“Should I be?” Eliot asked.
“No, but that’s never stopped you before,” I answered. “I’ve done hundreds of things that I think are no big deal and you freak out about them.”
“How many of those things involved you possibly getting hurt?”
“Like half of them,” I replied. “That means half of them were just you freaking out.”
“Yeah. I think your math is off, but I’m going to let it slide,” Eliot said, stowing his receipts and reaching for his coat. “What do you want for dinner? Do you want me to cook or buy you something?”
Life was rarely this easy for me. I couldn’t help being suspicious. “Is this a trap?”
“Let’s eat out,” Eliot said, shaking his head. “I know you’re going to bug me to run those background checks later, and we’re going to be busy working on your tab again. I don’t feel like cooking, and we both know the only thing you know how to cook is SpaghettiOs.”
“Hey, those new Star Wars SpaghettiOs are divine,” I argued. “You should be so lucky to have me cook those for you.”
“I’ve eaten those things three times this month,” Eliot reminded me. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because I cooked them and you wanted to prove you love me.”
Eliot smirked. “I ate them because you cooked them and they put you in a sexy mood,” he corrected. “I don’t think SpaghettiOs are really food. I put up with them because you like them. It’s the same reason I ate the Campbell’s chicken noodle soup with the Star Wars pasta in it and the Star Wars macaroni and cheese. I don’t really like those things.”
“I’ve completely lost track of what we were talking about,” I admitted.
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