His reaction only confirmed what I'd heard through the grapevine. "Oh, just stop it," I said. "Like you said, it's a small town, so don't pretend that you care one bit about me, when you're going after him anyway."
Just thinking about it, I wanted to scream. On that godawful day, I'd done everything they asked. And for what? I hadn't saved anyone – not me or Joel.
Derek stood there for a long silent moment before looking down to mumble, "Well, if he's doing something illegal, it's not my fault."
"Oh yeah? Well, he wouldn't be fighting anymore if you hadn't interfered." I was shaking now with long-suppressed rage. "How could you?"
Slowly, Derek lifted his gaze to mine. In a quiet voice, he said, "Hey, it's not me. It's my dad. He's concerned about you. That's all."
More likely, he was concerned about my money, assuming there was any left. I made a scoffing sound. "Sure he is."
"He is," Derek insisted. "And I am, too. Can't we just put it behind us?"
I stared at him. "Put it behind us? Are you kidding me? When you're still threatening him?" My voice rose. "Listen, you jackass. I don't care how many 'jobs' you offer me, or how many times you stop by, you're not my friend and you're not my family." I could hardly breathe. "So fuck off!"
And this, of course, is when I spotted the white service van rumbling into the driveway. Damn it. It was the plumber, and I was on the verge of losing it.
Or maybe I had lost it. I looked back to Derek, who just stood there, staring at me in stunned silence.
He looked almost ready to cry. And awful or not, it made me feel just a little bit better. I summoned up a stiff smile. "And while you're at it, get the hell off my porch."
Finally, looking like a survivor of some natural disaster, he turned and practically staggered down the front steps and toward his car. With slow, jerky movements, he opened his car door, climbed inside, and shut the door behind him. And then, he sat, not driving away, but not getting back out either.
I was still shaking and couldn’t seem to make myself stop, even as the plumber pulled up and parked beside Derek's car.
I felt like crying, but somehow, I kept the tears at bay, even a half-hour later when I received a double dose of bad news.
One had to do with my plumbing, and the other had to do with Joel.
Chapter 13
I gave the plumber a worried look. "So it's not just a clogged pipe or something?"
He shook his head. "Sorry. More like a clogged house."
"But how?" I asked.
"My guess? You've got a crushed sewer line. And just to be clear, I’m talking the main one." At my confused look, he added, "It's a big, underground pipe that runs from here to the road."
I didn't know a thing about sewers, but I did know that my front yard was huge, which meant that my sewer line was probably a lot longer than most. I winced. "That sounds expensive."
"Well, it's not cheap. You'll need to call in a specialist."
My stomach sank. And here, I thought a plumber was a specialist. "Like who?"
"A sewer contractor." He glanced toward the front of the house. "They'll need to dig up the front yard, see if they can find the damage. And then, they've gotta fix it."
The more he talked, the more expensive this sounded. I wanted to cry. I asked, "I don't suppose it's something I can do myself?"
He gave me a look. "I dunno. You got a backhoe?"
I wasn't exactly sure what a backhoe was, but I did know that I didn't have one. "No." I tried to laugh. "Not that I know of."
"Yeah, me neither."
Inside my pocket, my cell phone buzzed. With a quick apology, I pulled it out and looked at the display, only to feel my heart-rate quicken. There was no way I'd let this go to voicemail.
Excusing myself, I stepped away and answered with a quiet, "Hello?"
On the other end, Mike skipped the hello-thing and said only two words. "Tomorrow night."
I froze. For two harmless words, they struck fear straight into my heart. "You don't mean Joel's fighting tomorrow night?"
"Sure, I do. That's what you wanted to know, right?"
I did want to know, but I wasn't happy to hear it. Sooner or later, he'd be caught, and if Derek had his way, Joel would be in serious trouble.
As my thoughts churned with the awful possibilities, Mike promised to text me the location of the fight. And then, just as I was ready to say goodbye, he said, "So, you got that autograph?"
I cringed. This was another problem. When I'd promised Mike that autograph, I never imagined it would be difficult to get. Even if Joel and I weren't officially together, I figured he'd at least be willing to scribble his name on something – if not for me, then definitely for a fan.
Turns out, I'd figured wrong, but I hated the thought of not living up to my end of the bargain.
"Sorry," I said, "not yet." Hoping to sound more optimistic than I felt, I added, "But I’m still working on it."
I tried to think. I still had Joel's money. He had to pick it up eventually, right? Maybe, when he did, I could have him sign a receipt or something. And maybe, if I used fancy paper, I could frame the thing so it didn't look so pathetic.
On the phone, Mike gave a cheerful laugh. "You know what? Forget that. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
My shoulders sagged in relief. "Really?"
"Sure," he said. "I'll just ask him myself when I meet him."
I swallowed. "What?"
"Yeah." He hesitated. "You said I could meet him, right?"
Had I said that? I couldn’t remember, but I couldn't rule it out either. At the time, I'd been incredibly distracted.
Regardless, there was no way on Earth that I wanted to encourage any such meeting – not unless Mike wanted an ass-kicking. Damn it. This was all my fault.
I gave a nervous laugh. "But you've already met him."
At the memory, my heart ached like it always did. It had been the night of my birthday. I'd been standing along the roadside, talking with Mike and Chester outside Mike's pickup, when Joel had roared up – in a stolen car, no less – to give me a ride.
On the phone, Mike said, "You mean that night on the road? That doesn't count."
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't even sure it was him."
"Oh, well—"
"So, does he like burgers?"
"What?"
"Burgers," Mike repeated. "I was thinking I'd take him out for a burger and beer."
Funny, I could use a beer right now, and I didn't even like the stuff.
Behind me, I heard the plumber say, "Sorry to interrupt, but I've gotta get going."
I turned and gave him an apologetic smile. I held up a finger to indicate that I'd be just another minute. Into the phone, I said, "Hey Mike, I've gotta go, but I'll keep you posted, okay?"
After disconnecting the call, I turned back to the plumber and said, "Sorry about that."
"Hey, I bill by the hour," he said. "Normally, I'd let you talk all you want, but I'm late for another stop." He ripped the top paper off his clipboard and handed it over. "By the way, I take cash or check."
I looked down at the bill and tried not to cringe. The amount was pretty much what I'd been expecting, but it still hurt to see, especially when the problem wasn't even solved.
As I dug out my checkbook, I asked, "For that sewer work, what kind of money do you think I'm looking at?"
He shrugged. "A few thousand at least."
I swallowed. "Dollars?"
"Well, it sure ain't pennies."
"Why so much?" I asked.
He gave me a look. "You ever price a backhoe?"
It was kind of hard to price one, when I didn't know what it was. "No," I admitted.
"Well, I have. And let's just say, there's a reason I don't have one."
My mind was going a million miles a minute. There was no way I could afford such a major repair, at least not now. "Just out of curiosity," I said, "what happens if I don't get it fixed?"
"That depends," h
e said. "You like raw sewage?"
"Not particularly."
"Then I'd get it fixed. And I wouldn't put it off either."
As I wrote out the check, I wanted to cry. Funny, everything today made me want to cry. It had been one of those days, and now I had a scarier decision on my hands.
But this one didn't have to do with the plumbing. It had to do with Joel. I had to stop him from fighting – which was why, five hours later, I was in downtown Detroit, seeking out Joel's least-favorite brother.
Chapter 14
Standing on the busy sidewalk, I stared up at the tall, upscale building. The building was so upscale, in fact, that when I approached the glass double-doors out front, I was greeted by a uniformed doorman, who said with an easy smile, "Can I help you?"
I nodded. "I'm here to see Jake Bishop."
And just like that, his smile was gone. "About what?"
Startled by his sudden change in demeanor, I said, "Well, actually, it's private."
He gave me the squinty-eye. "You got an appointment?"
"No," I admitted. "Do I need one?"
In truth, there was a reason I didn't have an appointment. I hadn't called ahead, because I didn't want Jake to know that I was coming. I'd never met him in person, but I had talked to him on the phone for like thirty whole seconds.
It hadn't gone well.
In front of me, the doorman gave a weary sigh. "Look, he's engaged, alright?"
I drew back. Talk about insulting. "You think I’m here to hit on him?"
"I don't know. Are you?"
"No."
He gave me a dubious look. "If you say so."
He turned away, heading toward a tall desk in the center of the lobby. Unsure what else to do, I followed after him. After reaching the desk, he opened the top drawer and pulled a thick, black appointment book. He flipped it open to someplace in the middle and turned it around to face me.
He handed me a pen and said in a bored tone, "Sign your name. I'll add you to the list."
"What list?"
"Of people who stopped by."
I felt my gaze narrow. I didn't drive five hours to be given an obvious brush-off. "Does he ever look at the list?"
The doorman gave a non-committal shrug that didn't inspire a whole lot of confidence.
It felt like a kick in the stomach. Then again, everything felt like a kick in the stomach. On top of everything else, I wasn't feeling so great. A couple of hours east of here, I'd made the unfortunate decision to partake in gas station nachos, and I'd been queasy ever since.
Or maybe it was just nerves. Either way, the doorman wasn't helping.
"Look," I said, "I'm here about his brother."
"Uh-huh. Nice try."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Sorry, but I've heard them all."
Desperately, I tried to think. "How about Luna? Is she here?" I'd never met Jake's fiancée, but that was her name, wasn't it?
Before the doorman could answer, a loud commotion made us both turn to look. Near the small bank of elevators, a couple of college-aged guys had emerged from the nearest elevator and were arguing up a storm.
One was blond, and the other had hair so dark, it might've been black.
"Your ass," the blond one was saying. "Bruce Lee would've mopped the floor with that guy."
The dark-haired one gave a snort of derision. "No way, dude. Compared to him? Bruce Lee's a pussy."
The blond froze. "You wanna say that again?"
"Hell yeah," the dark-haired one said. "Pussy, pussy, pussy…"
Suddenly, the blond took a flying leap straight for the dark-haired guy. A moment later, they were rolling around on the ornate carpet with a whole lot of scuffling and swearing. Somewhere behind them, an attractive girl around my own age stepped out of the same elevator.
She stared down at them and groaned, "Oh, crap. Not again." She looked to the doorman and called out, "Pete, get the hose, will ya?"
Immediately, the guys stopped fighting. The blond sat up and said, "Nice try. He don't got no hose."
"Yeah," the dark-haired guy said. "Like we're gonna fall for that again." He pushed himself up and looked to the blond. "We should give her the hose. See how she likes it."
The blond grimaced. "Dude, you hear how that sounds?"
Now, they were both looking disturbed. In unison, they shifted their gaze to the girl.
She held up her hands. "You know what? I'm not even asking." She looked around the lobby and froze when she saw me staring. After a long moment, she cocked her head to the side and said, "Melody?"
Now, it was my turn to freeze. She knew me?
Was that Luna?
Chapter 15
Five minutes later, I was inside the elevator, riding up toward the top floor. As it turned out, she was Luna, and she'd recognized me from some photos she'd seen on the internet.
Imagine that. For once, all of that unwanted media attention was doing me some good.
Inside the elevator, it was just the two of us, and the upward momentum wasn't helping my stomach. Luna gave me a concerned look. "Hey, are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah." I swallowed. "Sure."
But from the look on her face, she wasn't buying it. "What, you don't like elevators?"
Elevators were fine. Gas station nachos, on the other hand, were something I'd be avoiding from now on. What on Earth had I been thinking? But I hadn't been thinking, and that was the real problem.
Unfortunately, it was one of those problems that no one would want to hear, especially someone I'd just met. I forced a smile. "Something like that."
Down in the lobby, I'd briefly explained that I was here because I was worried about Joel. That's all it took. Almost immediately, she was whisking me into the elevator and hitting the button for the penthouse.
Inside my pocket, my cell phone buzzed. Reluctantly, I pulled it out and took a look. Damn it. It was Derek of all people. Hadn't he bothered me enough for one day? With a sigh, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and let it to go to voicemail.
Luna said, "I know that look."
"What look is that?"
"It's the 'why-is-this-turd-calling-me' look." She glanced toward my phone, now tucked away in my pocket. "Ex-boyfriend?"
I shook my head. "More like an ex-friend." I considered everything that Derek had put me through. "But he's still a turd." It wasn't a word I'd normally use, but it definitely fit. "And actually," I added, "he's part of the reason I'm here."
"So he's a jealous turd?"
"Jealous? What do you mean?"
"Well, you already told me that you're worried about Joel. And now, you're telling me that the turd – who I now know is a guy – is one of the reasons you're here. So let me guess. The turd's trying to break you two up?"
"Me and Joel?" In my heart, I felt that all-too-familiar ache. "We are broken up."
"What?" She gave a little shake of her head. "You can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because he's so crazy about you. The last time I saw him, he was so happy." She paused. "Okay, he wasn't happy the whole time, because he was pretty mad at Jake. But he was definitely happy. I could tell." Her eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't dump him, did you?"
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal a marble entryway that led to a single set of double doors. But Luna wasn't moving. "So, did you?"
"No. Not really. In a way, he dumped me. Sort of." I pushed a hand through my hair. "Actually, it's all really complicated."
She nodded. "I can relate to that."
Finally, she turned and led us out of the elevator, heading toward the double doors. When she reached them, she pulled out a key card and swiped it across a nearby security panel, saying, "Jake's a real stickler about security."
Once we entered the penthouse, it was easy to see why.
I took a good look around, taking in the expensive furniture, the stylish décor, and the stunning riverfront view, visible through massive floor-to-ceiling
windows.
I turned to Luna and said, "You have a beautiful place."
"Thanks," she said, motioning me toward a stylish sitting area. "But it's not mine. It's Jake's."
As we sat down, I said, "But you're engaged, right?" Even if I hadn't already known, the giant rock on her ring finger would've been a dead giveaway.
She gave me a sunny smile. "Yup."
"So why'd you call it his place?" Normally, I wouldn’t be so nosy, but given the fact I was about to spill my guts – hopefully, not literally – I figured I might as well settle in for some serious sharing.
Luna gave it some thought. "I don't know." She looked around, as if seeing the place for the first time. "It's just that he had it before me, you know?" She gave a rueful laugh. "On my own, I could never afford something like this." She paused. "Or a place like yours for that matter."
At my confused look, she added, "I saw it on the internet."
"Really? Where on the internet?"
"You know. That feature on…" She paused as if thinking. "What was the show? Fanciful Living?"
"Oh. That." Around fifteen years earlier, my parents had given a televised tour for some charity thing. Little did they know that the footage would stick around forever, and now, thanks to the internet, offer virtual tours with just a few clicks.
"So," Luna said, "your house was built by some mobster, huh?"
"More like a bootlegger," I said. "You know, during prohibition and all that."
"Yeah, I saw." She leaned forward. "Any dead bodies in the basement?"
I tried to smile. "Not that I know of." Of course, I couldn’t be certain, since I didn't have access to the basement. In truth, I hadn't been down there in years. And technically, it wasn't so much a basement as a wine cellar.
For all I knew, there could be a pile of corpses ten feet tall, stacked among the wine racks. Somehow, the thought didn't help my stomach.
Across from me, Luna lowered her voice. "You're not gonna be sick, are you?"
"Excuse me?"
"You were looking kind of green there for a minute." She studied my face. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I nodded. "I was just thinking, that's all."
"About Joel?"
"Something like that."
"So tell me," she said, "What's going on?"
Something True (Joel Bishop Book 2) Page 6
