“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You do that.” He was quiet a moment, and then lowered his voice. “And you have to let Jake go for now. Not right this second. Enjoy your summer. When it’s time to make the break, you’ll know.
“I’m not saying you two won’t find your way back to one another eventually, but you’ll torture yourselves if you try to keep this going from so far away,” he continued. “I think you and Jake will be in each other’s lives forever, though the relationship might not always look the same.”
I couldn’t stop from smirking. “So, you’re saying there’s someone else out there for me? Another idiot?”
“Sadly, I think a whole mess of men will line up to let you verbally abuse them. You’re a magnet for some people.”
That, quite possibly, could’ve been the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. “I hope one of them looks like Han Solo.”
1 One
Present Day
“You should wear this.”
My friend Erin held up a magazine and displayed what looked to be a monster straight from my nightmares. It was white, full of lace, and had a circumference bigger than one-hundred women with ’80s hair.
I felt a vein popping in my forehead and focused on my Diet Coke rather than stare at the magazine in abject horror. I knew it had been a mistake to tell her my big news, but I had to tell someone. My best friend Carly was out — at least for serious discussions — because she was about ready to pop out a baby. Besides, the hormones were making her crazy. She was likely to think this new development was a good thing. I had news for her, and anybody who bothered to listen to me. This was not a good thing.
“That dress looks like it could eat me,” I said when Erin didn’t turn the page or redirect the conversation. “I mean ... like literally. I could disappear inside that thing and they’d never find my body.”
Rather than be offended at my critique of her suggestion, Erin cackled like a happy teenager who had just found out Sephora was having a sale. “You’re so funny.” She lightly slapped my arm and went back to the magazine. “It’s beautiful. This is exactly the sort of dress I would want to wear if I were getting married.”
My heart skipped at the word. Married. I hated it. The only word worse was Kardashian ... or reboot ... or Crocs. Oh, that was the right comparison. Marriage was like Crocs. Ugly. Inappropriate for public outings. The sort of footwear only a crazy person would wear. Did I mention the word ugly?
Erin cleared her throat, making me realize I’d lost track of the conversation. It was definitely a mistake to bring her into my nightmare. I’d been looking for someone to vent to, someone I didn’t have to worry about squealing to my live-in boyfriend Eliot Kane, and I’d opted for my sweet-as-pie co-worker. She never caused problems — until now.
“Get a grip on yourself,” I said after forcing a smile that I didn’t really feel. “Nobody is getting married.”
“I thought you said Eliot was going to propose,” Erin said.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use those words.”
She shook her head. “You said he told you that he planned to propose and that you should prepare yourself because it was coming.”
I had told her that. Crap. I should’ve realized she would take the idea and run with it instead of doing what I wanted her to do — which was to tell me I was right to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and turn into one of those crazy preppers who hunkers in a bunker. That’s what I wanted to do above all else. Hide — and pretend he hadn’t warned me a proposal was coming.
“He could change his mind,” I offered, opting to look on the bright side. “When he said he wanted to propose, it was right after Fawn shot a bullet into our ceiling. I think he was feeling emotional.”
Erin tugged a strand of her curly hair behind her ear. “So ... now you don’t want to get married?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I told you when I explained what he said.”
“No. You just said that he told you he was going to propose and then you asked for my opinion.”
That’s not exactly how I remembered things. “And what was your opinion again?”
“I think it’s great.” Her eyes warmed as she rubbed her hands together. “You guys have been living together forever. It’s time you get married. Who doesn’t want to get married?”
Me. I didn’t want to get married. At least ... well ... I didn’t think I wanted to get married. I’d spent the better part of the last ten years telling myself marriage wasn’t for me. I had plans, for crying out loud. I was working hard on my world domination. I didn’t have time for marriage.
Right?
Riiight?
Ugh. I hated everything about this. My stomach was twisted and tight. My dreams were awash with ugly scenes from movies ... and we’re not talking Friday the 13th or Halloween movies. I would do better in those scenarios. Those sorts of movies I would survive. This was something else entirely.
“I think he’s already changed his mind,” I said. “It has been weeks at this point and he’s barely said a word about it. I think his emotions got the better of him and he’s thought better of it since.”
“Who has thought better of what?” a male voice asked. My boss, Fred Fish, cruised into the lunchroom, coffee mug in hand.
Ugh. I should’ve positioned myself in a chair so I could see if anybody was walking down the hallway. I did not want this news getting out. “I’ve been debating dying my hair purple,” I lied.
Fish, used to my antics, looked me up and down. “Purple hair isn’t professional. But you’re wearing rainbow-colored shoes and an inappropriate shirt, so I guess you don’t care about things like that.”
Yup. I’d opened myself up for that one. I glanced down to remind myself what shirt I was wearing and cringed when I realized it was the one featuring a UFO lifting a man out of the woods. It read: “Get in, loser, we’re doing butt stuff.” Eliot warned me about wearing the shirt to work, but I’d ignored the admonishment. The plan was to hide in my hoodie all day, but the office’s climate controls were wonky. And ever since Eliot mentioned proposing I’d been suffering hot flashes that I was convinced meant I was dying of some strange malady brought about because he decided to terrify me with talk of marriage, so I’d stripped off the hoodie without thinking. I hadn’t meant for Fish to see me in this shirt.
“So, you’re on board with the purple hair?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
“You’re going to do what you want.” He flicked his eyes to the magazine Erin was happily thumbing through. “Is there something you want to tell me, young lady?” He beamed at Erin. “Do you have news?”
“What?” Erin’s face was momentarily blank and then realization dawned. “Oh, not me. I’m still messing around with those dating apps you told me were a bad idea. Avery’s getting married.”
Fish’s expression was incredulous as he turned to me. “Excuse me?” He acted as if I’d suddenly grown another head.
“She’s exaggerating,” I said.
“I’m not.” Erin was firm, which only served to annoy me. How she could pick today to trip over her backbone was beyond me. I much preferred the days when she kowtowed to my whims.
“Did Avery tell you she was getting married?” Fish demanded, his gaze momentarily dropping to my naked ring finger before he shot Erin a probing look.
“She said Eliot informed her he’s planning to propose,” Erin answered primly. “He said he wanted her to get used to the idea so there weren’t any freak-outs when the big moment does arrive.”
“Really?” Fish’s expression was difficult to read.
“He’s being smart about it,” Erin continued, oblivious to the death glare I was shooting her. “Avery is the skittish sort, but she usually calms down after a couple of meltdowns. Telling her this way, she can get the meltdowns out before he pops the question.”
“It is smart,” Fish agreed, his lips curving. “Did he give her a timetable for thi
s proposal?”
The fact that he was talking about me as if I wasn’t in the room had my hackles up. “I’m right here,” I reminded him. “You could ask me.”
“You’ll lie. I prefer talking to Erin.”
That was the story of my life. Still, his explanation chafed. “I won’t lie. That’s not who I am. I’m a truth-teller, for crying out loud.”
Fish snorted. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think when I see you. Avery Shaw, truth-teller, demure flower.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to irritate me.”
“That takes very little effort.” Fish’s grin was pronounced as he looked up. The way he shifted his stance told me someone else was walking down the hallway. I sensed trouble, but before I could warn him about spreading gossip — and that’s what all this marriage talk was after all, unconfirmed gossip — he was already talking. “Guess who’s getting married?”
I wanted to find a hole to crawl in ... and die. My cheeks burned hot as the publisher, Jim MacDonald, rounded the corner.
“Well, I would think it would be Erin,” MacDonald said, smiling. “Given how upset Avery looks, though ….” He jutted out his hand in my direction. “Congratulations. I can’t say this is a surprise but, still, I wasn’t expecting it just yet.”
I stared at his extended hand. “I’m not getting married.” The words came out shriller than I expected and I worked hard to adjust my tone.
“No?” MacDonald cocked his head “Erin and your esteemed editor seem to believe otherwise.”
“That’s because they’re crackheads. Perhaps you should institute mandatory drug testing. That might help the newsroom crackhead situation.”
MacDonald kept his face impassive but mirth lurked in the depths of his eyes. I already hated authority figures, but the distaste I held for him was suddenly growing.
“Just for the record, if I start demanding drug tests, you’ll be the first on my list,” he noted, folding his arms across his chest.
Given the fact that he was standing and I was sitting, he was in a position of power. I wanted to remedy that, but if I hopped to my feet too soon it would look as if I was running. That wasn’t the message I wanted to send. “I can pass a drug test,” I reassured him.
“That’s good to know.”
“My cousin Lexie dates dealers. There are ways around drug tests,” I added.
MacDonald’s smile slipped. “Really?”
Crap. Here’s the thing: I never think before I open my mouth. Through the years, I’ve learned to accept that I’m a blurter of the highest magnitude. That’s simply who I am. Sometimes it works to my advantage because of my quick wit and acid tongue. Other times, like now, it turns into an alligator in the toilet situation.
In other words, I was about to get bitten.
“Don’t listen to her,” Erin interjected, swooping in to save me. She always helped when she sensed somebody in need, even if she would’ve been wiser keeping her mouth shut and remaining off the radar of the big kahuna. “She’s just nervous. Eliot knew she would be, which is why he did things the way he did. I think it’s romantic that he knows her so ... intimately.”
The way she paused before the last word made the statement sound dirty. “Oh, don’t go doing ... that.” I jabbed a finger at her. “There’s nothing romantic about this situation. In fact, it’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Fish was back to being amused. “I thought the entire thing was some big mistake.”
“It is.” Fish acted like a proper boss, but he was as gossipy as the rest of the staff. Not me, of course. I was a big proponent of minding one’s own business. No, really. Oh, stuff it. “Honestly, who would want to marry me?” I was trying to be self-deprecating and sweet, but I worried the lopsided grin I gave came across as deranged.
“I’ve asked myself that question many times,” Fish admitted. “When you first joined the staff, I was convinced you were a little rough around the edges but would grow into that attitude. I figured you would be one heckuva reporter with time.”
I preened under the compliment.
“I was only half right,” he continued. “You’ve turned into a great reporter, but as a person you’re a mixed bag.”
My smile slipped. “I’m a great person.”
“You’re still rough around the edges. The initial error was mine. I assumed you would grow up. Now I know you’re destined to be who you are. As for marriage, I was convinced no man would ever put up with you. I turned out to be wrong.”
I recognized that he was trying to placate my nerves, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “Have you ever considered that Eliot might be mentally unstable?” Even I couldn’t believe the question was coming out of my mouth, but I barreled forward. “I mean, he could have an undiagnosed brain tumor or something. That might be why he thinks I’m marriage material.”
“Oh, I’ve been wondering about his mental health for a good two years now.” Fish shot me a wink. “The thing is, I think he’s the male version of you. I don’t believe he would ever spend an entire evening coming up with an elaborate play for two mittens shaped like sharks, but he’s a man who knows who he is and what he wants ... and apparently what he wants is you.”
My stomach did another long, slow somersault. “So ... where did we land on the mental health thing again?”
Fish’s chuckle was low and hearty. “I think he’s relatively sane. Taking you on full time seems to be something only a crazy person would attempt, but he’s managed to tip toe through the minefield that is your brain longer than I thought he would. He’s a good match for you.”
I wasn’t expecting the heartfelt words or his earnestness. Somehow, that made it worse. “Okay, I don’t want ... whatever this is.” I hopped to my feet and gestured toward the empty space between Fish and MacDonald. “I’m pretty sure Eliot changed his mind. It’s not going to happen. He was just feeling schmaltzy in the moment because he’d convinced himself that my life was in terrible danger.”
Fish exchanged a knowing look with MacDonald. “I guess this is why he gave you a heads-up weeks before he pulled the trigger. It only further proves that he understands you on a level nobody else can. He knew exactly what to do.”
“How is this a good thing?” I was beside myself. “I think he’s trying to see if he can drive me insane. Then, when I completely lose it, he’ll have me committed and move some other woman into my house and throw away all my Star Wars stuff.”
Fish’s grin widened. “Yes, he definitely knows you.”
I was over this conversation. “And, on that note ....” I started to move toward the hallway. Sitting at my desk and researching proposal-induced aneurysms was preferable to this.
“I actually came back here for a reason,” Fish called to my back, causing me to slow my pace.
I cast a look over my shoulder. “Something other than driving me insane?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re acting as your own chauffeur on that front.” His smirk never diminished. “I have a story for you.”
“What story?” I would take practically anything at this point. Well, within reason. I had no interest in anything popping up out of the senior center or some school fundraiser fluff piece. Human interest stories were out of the question, too.
“They found a body at the train tracks on Groesbeck. We don’t have much information now — it’s most likely a homeless person. Somebody needs to check it out. You’ve already finished your morning piece, so … ”
Normally, this wouldn’t be the sort of story to pique my interest. I was more than happy to embrace it today, though. “I’m your woman.”
“You’re Eliot Kane’s woman,” Fish countered. “I’m looking forward to seeing what sort of ring he puts on that finger to mark his territory.”
That did it. I was at the end of my freaking rope. “I’m heading out on my story now.”
“Have fun.”
“And congratulations,” MacDonald called out as I hit the adjacent hallway
. “You’re going to make a lovely bride.”
Seriously, could my life get any worse?
2 Two
The brisk wind made me pull my coat tight when I exited my car. I had parked behind the empty factory next to the lot where the sheriff’s department had taken up position because I worried they would try to block me from leaving should I tick somebody off.
The sky was a flat gray, a color that would be the norm for the next few months. Winters in southeast Michigan are a mixed bag. Snow was still a reality, but climate change had brought fewer snow dumps in recent years and replaced them with ice storms. That was both a blessing and a curse, depending on if you had to be out on the roads immediately following a storm. The sun would be a limited commodity until March.
I cut along a path that separated the back of the property from the train tracks, wrinkling my nose as I passed a dumpster that should’ve been empty. The factory had closed the year before and moved operations to countries with less expensive labor. Whatever was rotting in the dumpster hadn’t come from the factory.
I lifted the lid on a whim. I had to stand on my tiptoes to look over the rim to see if there was a body inside. The rancid stench wasn’t from human decomposition. It looked as if nearby neighbors — if I had to guess, the people living in the ramshackle apartments across the road — were using the dumpster as free trash removal. Garbage bags, rotting food and what looked to be a few needles were clearly visible.
“Looking for a new place to live?” an amused voice asked from behind me, causing me to jump.
I shot a dirty look toward my cousin Derrick, one of the highest-ranking deputies with the Macomb County Sheriff’s Department, as I lowered the lid. “Ha, ha.”
His grin didn’t falter as he folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing?”
“It smelled.”
He waited, and when I didn’t offer further explanation, he cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a dumpster. They all smell.”
“Yes, but this smelled potentially evil,” I replied. “I thought there might be a body in it ... or maybe a door to an alternate world.”
Mayhem & Mistletoe Page 2
