“We’re getting dinner,” Eliot said. “The question is where. Do you want good food or greasy food?”
Now that was a loaded question. “What do you think?”
“WE SHOULD just pay to reserve a booth at this place,” Eliot said, ushering me into the downtown Coney Island restaurant ten minutes later. “We never branch out when we’re eating. Do you notice that?”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “We tried Grandpa’s new food truck several times and we don’t usually eat at food trucks.”
“Sometimes I think you argue simply because you like to,” Eliot grumbled, pulling up short when his gaze landed on Jake and Cara at a central booth. “Uh-oh.”
“This is not good,” I said.
“Do you think she’ll pick another fight with you?” Eliot looked intrigued.
“I don’t care about that,” I scoffed. “They’re sitting at our usual booth. You know I don’t like change. Make them move.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. “You really are unbelievable,” he said, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward Jake and Cara.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Forcing you to make nice with Cara, because you’re driving me crazy,” Eliot replied, not missing a beat. He plastered a smile on his face as he approached the booth. “Good evening.”
“Hey,” Jake said, running his tongue over his teeth as his gaze landed on us. “I didn’t realize you guys would be eating out tonight.”
“Yes, well, I’m not in the mood to cook, and Star Wars SpaghettiOs aren’t going to cut it tonight,” Eliot said. “We decided to grab a quick bite before heading home. Um … do you mind if we join you?”
Jake looked like a deer caught in the high beams of drunken deer shiners. “Why?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Cara said, collecting her purse and moving from one side of the booth to the other so she could share Jake’s seat. “Join us.” Her smile was friendly when directed at Eliot but cold when she shifted it in my direction. Of course, I could be imagining it. I’ve been known to fall victim to a persecution complex or two … or ten. It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Knowing I would fight the effort because I didn’t like feeling penned in, Eliot forced me to slip inside first. I think he worried I would say something stupid and bolt. I’ve been known to do that a time or two … or ten … too.
“How was the rest of your day?” Cara asked brightly.
“I was accused of sexually harassing a co-worker, and tried to talk Marvin out of visiting mommy-and-me classes to pick up women,” I answered, causing Jake and Eliot to chuckle, and Cara to knit her eyebrows.
“You’re sexually harassing your co-workers?” Cara asked, confused. “Why?”
“Just Duncan Marlow,” I replied. “I generally do it because it bothers him, and when he’s upset I’m happier.”
“But … do you say sexually suggestive things to him?” Cara asked.
“Mostly I tell him he acts the way he does because he has a small penis and he’s overcompensating,” I said. “It’s actually a normal thing. The more blustery a man’s personality, the smaller his penis, generally.”
“Thank you for that illuminating dinner conversation tidbit,” Eliot said.
“What? It’s true. You’re not blustery, so you’re safe. You should be happy about that.”
“That’s still inappropriate to say in a work environment,” Cara chided. “What does your boss say?”
“Today he told me that my Human Resources file was thicker than a hooker’s nipple,” I said. “I have no idea what that means, but it doesn’t sound good.”
This time Eliot’s laughter was loud enough to earn an outright frown from Cara. “You can’t possibly think it’s okay for people to speak like that in a professional setting, Eliot.”
“I think you’re confusing your work setting, which is probably quiet and normal, with Avery’s,” Eliot replied, choosing his words carefully. “A newsroom is not a normal setting, and her newsroom is abnormal even for that profession.”
“But … anyone else would be fired for saying something like that,” Cara argued. “I don’t understand why she still has a job.”
“Cara, I think you want me to be fired because it would make your life easier if I didn’t cover stories at the sheriff’s department,” I said, ignoring Eliot’s pointed glare and Jake’s uncomfortable shifting, and drilling to the point without preamble. “The truth is, I’m one of the more normal ones in that newsroom, and while that might be terrifying, it’s still the truth.
“Our religion editor spends his lunch hours reading the perverted details of sex crimes at the courthouse,” I continued. “Our editorial assistant has Tourette’s – only she says annoying things like ‘good golly’ instead of swearing, which would be fun – and a persecution complex, and not a fun one like I have. Our court reporter is rumored to like taking the advertising women on regular dates and screwing them in a very uncomfortable position, and I’m not talking about a Volkswagen.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Cara sniffed.
“That’s because you don’t work around crazy people,” I shot back. “My boss wears track suits to work and enough gold jewelry to make Burt Reynolds in the seventies jealous. Marvin has gotten into so many sexual fiascos I’ve lost count, and that includes going to sex clubs and climbing out of bathroom windows when his conquest’s husband comes home.
“Our education reporter wears pants that are a good six inches too short and he walks around jingling change in his pocket,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he’s jingling something else in there while he’s doing it just because he gets a thrill touching himself in public. One of the page designers visits his girlfriend in jail every weekend. He has a wife and kids, but prefers the mistress, and she’s going away for being a freeway shooter.”
Cara’s mouth dropped open. “You’re making all of that up.”
“That’s not even the tip of the iceberg,” I said. “Newsrooms are places for freaky people to congregate. I’m the good one at The Monitor. Think about that.”
“But … .”
I shook my head to cut her off. “I know you think there’s something weird going on with Jake and me, but you need to get over it,” I said. “We grew up together. We have a unique relationship. When you add Derrick to the mix, things often get out of control. You’re the one making things difficult. It’s not everyone else.”
Cara’s eyes bounced between Eliot and me before settling on him. “You’re not bothered by the amount of time they spend together? I have trouble believing that.”
“I was bothered when I first started dating Avery,” Eliot admitted. “I didn’t understand the relationship. I knew Jake from a different time … when we were both different men. I saw him as competition. It took me a little bit to realize he wasn’t.”
“Thanks, man,” Jake said dryly, earning a grin from Eliot.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Eliot clarified. “Neither Jake nor Avery are cheaters. They have a past. I decided I either had to accept that past or walk away, because if I want to move forward with her Jake is going to be part of the package. That’s just the way it is.”
“But … what if they decide to take off together one day?” Cara pressed. “How will you handle that?”
“I’ll have a broken heart,” Eliot replied, not caring in the least that his admission made him look vulnerable. “They won’t do that, though. They can’t live on top of one another because they’ll kill each other. They care about each other, but not in the manner you think.
“Avery is right – and don’t let it go to your head, blondie, because I’m not repeating it no matter how much you beg,” he continued. “You’re making things difficult here, Cara. We’ve all come to grips with how things are going to work between us. You’re making completely unnecessary waves.”
“She was flirting with my boyfriend,” Cara challenged.
“No, she wa
sn’t,” Eliot argued. “She was messing with Jake to get him on her side because she likes to win and she wanted to beat Derrick. You don’t understand the relationship, so you keep jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
My heart rolled at Eliot’s words. He really did get me. It was kind of nice.
“Avery has to win,” Eliot said. “She can’t lose. It’s not only that she doesn’t want to lose. She physically and mentally can’t do it. It’s an annoying quality, but it’s also endearing in a very weird way.
“You have to decide whether you really want Jake in your life,” he continued. “Avery isn’t going anywhere. She doesn’t really lose, and even if it looks as if she’s losing she almost always manages to turn it around. Basically it comes down to this: If you want Jake, you’re going to have to put up with Avery.”
“That was almost poetic,” I said, resting my chin on Eliot’s shoulder. “You’re going to get really lucky tonight.”
“I know,” Eliot said. “That’s why you’re banned from eating onions.”
“I don’t think I’m going to ever get used to the way you people interact,” Cara muttered.
Jake answered, and his words took me by surprise. “That’s on you,” he said. “If you can’t deal with our friendship, then you’re going to be the one leaving. It’s not going to be these two.”
“I guess I have some serious thinking to do then,” Cara said, reaching for the menu.
“I guess you do,” Jake agreed.
8
“What are you doing today?” Eliot asked the next morning, sliding a plateful of pancakes in front of me. They were shaped like Yoda’s head. He really is nothing short of genius on the domestic front.
“Where did you get the molds to make these?” I was beyond excited.
“I’ve bought you so much Star Wars stuff that those little shopping bots have taken to advertising items they think I might like when I’m online,” Eliot replied. “When I saw the pancake molds I couldn’t resist, especially because you would eat eggs and hash browns seven days a week, and I prefer a little variety. This ensures variety.”
“Man, if I didn’t already love you this would tip me right over the edge,” I said.
Eliot grabbed his own plate and sat next to me, narrowing his eyes when he read my shirt. “That’s a new one. It’s not Star Wars.”
“I like a little variety sometimes, too,” I said, smoothing my “Straight Outta Hogwarts” shirt. “Because I’m going to be hanging around the hood today, I thought I should fit in.”
“What hood do you think you’re hanging out in?”
“The one outside of the missing girl’s father’s house,” I replied, refusing to buckle despite Eliot’s obvious desire to moderate my plans.
“I’m almost afraid to ask this, but where does the father live?”
“Warren.”
“The good part of Warren or the bad part of Warren?” Eliot pressed.
I wasn’t sure there was a correct answer to that question. “What part will make you get off my case?”
“I’m not on your case yet.”
“You’re getting ready to be on my case.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know you,” I answered. “I don’t plan to do anything dangerous. Believe it or not, I don’t seek out trouble. I plan to talk to some neighbors and see what information I can track down. Until you get more for me with your background checks, I’m kind of stuck.”
“Hey, I’m running searches,” Eliot said. “There’s not a lot there but I’m doing the best I can. As far as the other thing, I know you don’t go looking for trouble. It always seems to find you, though.”
“Well, it won’t today.” I was forty percent sure I was telling the truth.
“I know it won’t,” Eliot said. “I’m going with you.”
I frowned. “Eliot, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not acting as your babysitter,” Eliot said. “I am going as your … bodyguard.”
“How is that different?”
“I won’t ground you when you mouth off,” Eliot replied. “This is going to work out for both of us. I’ll take my laptop and continue my background checks. You can stalk the neighbors and lie to little old women to get information without me getting in your way.
“When I get something important I’ll share it with you,” he continued. “When you get in trouble I’ll be there to get you out of it. I think this is the best of both worlds.”
He was so full of crap. “When I get in trouble? Don’t you mean if I get in trouble?”
“It’s cute that you can ask that with a straight face,” Eliot said. “Now eat your Yoda pancakes and we’ll argue during the drive. Wow. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”
“Fine,” I said, grabbing one of Yoda’s candy eyes and popping it in my mouth. “It’s going to be a big argument, though.”
“I can’t wait.”
“YOU’RE going to stay here, right?”
Eliot glanced up from his laptop an hour later and made an exaggerated face that might have been comical under different circumstances. He sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, opting to park beneath a tree so he wouldn’t be overheated by the sun, and immediately started his computer work. “I thought I would tie myself to you and follow you wherever you go when you con people out of information today,” he deadpanned. “Then, when you get in a bitch fight with the other reporters, I thought I would start screaming ‘I love you’ and begging you not to leave me so they know you’re really a winner.”
“Your sense of humor rears its ugly head at the worst times.”
“I will be right here,” Eliot said. “I won’t get in the way of whatever scam you plan to run. If you get in trouble, though, I want to be close. Unless it’s with a woman. If you get in trouble with a woman you can slap it out on your own without me.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Just make sure someone films it,” Eliot added. “I might want to see it.”
“You’re so sick,” I muttered, although I leaned over to give him a kiss before exiting the truck. “Don’t abandon me here. I might need a ride, and you’re the one who insisted on us being in the same vehicle.”
“Why would I leave you here?”
“Maybe you think it’s funny.”
“Yes, that sounds just like me,” Eliot said. “I often drive you places and leave you there to find your way home. What can I say? I’m sick that way.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You’re in a mood this morning.”
“I was in a great mood until you started being you,” Eliot said. “I’m not stopping you from doing your thing. I’m merely here to make sure your thing doesn’t end up with you getting hurt. I kind of like you. Sue me.”
It’s hard to be angry with someone when they’re doing something because they love you. Somehow I think I can still manage to do it. “Don’t act all squirrelly and follow me around,” I warned. “You don’t look like you belong in this neighborhood.”
Given the ramshackle homes and booming car radios, the statement seemed rather obvious and unnecessary. “I’ll take that under consideration,” Eliot said. “Do not leave this general area without telling me, and whatever happens, do not cross over to Eight Mile for any reason.”
“Yes, sir!” I rolled my eyes as I mock saluted.
“Fine. Go to Eight Mile. Get killed. See if I care.”
“Oh, thank you so much for your permission,” I said, letting my sarcastic nature out to play.
“I can see you’re spoiling for a fight,” Eliot said. “I’m going to hold off until you’re done so we can fight and make up at the same time. I hate delaying the gratification.”
“You really are sick.”
“Right back at you,” Eliot said, grabbing the back of my head and giving me a kiss. “You drive me crazy. You know that, right?”
“It’s a gift.”
“It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Eliot said. �
��Be good and have fun. If you need me I’ll be right here.”
I pointed to the group of reporters standing in front of the Jackson home. “Do they look fun to you?”
“They look like you’re going to eat them alive,” Eliot replied. “If I get anything I’ll text you.”
I left Eliot to his computer and suspicious thoughts. I knew darned well he was keeping a closer watch on me than he claimed. Sadly, I was getting used to it. I didn’t change my attitude or actions. If anything, knowing that Eliot was there should I get in over my head allowed me to trash talk others even more than I normally would. I don’t think that’s what he intended, but there it was.
Devon stood next to the Channel 4 van as I approached, and I pasted a bright smile on my face. “You look great today. That’s a very flattering skirt. What’s going on?”
Instead of falling for my obvious ploy, Devon crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to be nice to get information,” she said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know just to get rid of you.”
That was a relief. “Has the father come out and said anything?”
“No, and I don’t expect him to,” Devon said. “We’ve been stuck out here since the morning broadcast, and there’s been absolutely no movement in the house.”
“What about the sheriff’s department? Have they been here?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
That made absolutely no sense. “Do you get the feeling something else is going on here?” I asked, momentarily forgetting that Devon worked in television, so that naturally meant she had the news instincts of a conspiracy theory blogger.
“What do you mean?” Devon was confused.
“I mean that this entire situation is weird,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t like it. Something feels off. The sheriff’s department is being tight-lipped with information.”
“That’s normal.”
“That’s not normal,” I argued. “That might be normal in a murder investigation, but it’s not normal in a kidnapping. In a kidnapping they need us to get information out for them. They either suspect something they don’t want to make public or they literally have no clues. Either way, there’s something going on.”
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