“Awesome. What a great lead-in.” I stretched out on my back, hands folded over my stomach. “Okay, doc. Shrink me.”
He snorted. “Maybe you should take a little time for yourself.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re burning the candle at both ends right now. I hate to see the way you’re running yourself down, forgetting to take care of you.”
“Taking care of me. What’s that even mean?” I turned my head to look over at him. “I’m not being deliberately difficult, I promise. It’s just that I have no idea what that means. I’ve never been that sort of girl—the spa day type.”
He laughed. “No shit. I had no idea.”
“No need for sarcasm.”
“You know what I’m saying. I know you too well. But you could, I don’t know, maybe take a long weekend? Go somewhere with sand and, I don’t know, palm trees?”
Oh, that sounded way too good. However… “How do you suggest I do that? I have to check on Mom in the morning and at night to be sure she’s eating and taking her meds and, you know, not burning down the house.”
“And there’s nobody else in your family who can take care of that? Even for a little while?”
“I don’t know. You’d be surprised how quickly people disappear as soon as the immediate drama has passed.”
“I don’t know. I remember how many people promised to be there for me when Suzanne and I were splitting up.” His voice took on a faraway quality. “I had a practically brand-new kid I wasn’t gonna get to watch grow up. I had worked myself into a near nervous breakdown over Smythe.” His voice tightened.
“Have you heard anything about him?” It was a pathetic ploy to get him to change the subject—I didn’t like talking about myself, especially when I knew he was right.
“No. He went quiet after his release. Six months of nothing. I guess I should be glad about that.”
“You don’t sound glad.”
“I don’t trust him—and besides, we weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you.”
“Damn.” I snapped my fingers. “So close to getting you to forget.”
“I wouldn’t forget.” He cleared his throat and went on. “There’s something I learned when things were bad. You wanna hear it or not?”
“Sure. Hit me.” I rolled onto my side with my arm bent, my hand under my head.
“You have to give people the chance to step up sometimes. You can’t rely on them to do it for you. They might mean well, but they have their own lives, and if they don’t hear that you need help they’ll assume you have things under control. And you don’t.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he shook his head with a look I had seen before—one did not argue with that look. “You’re losing your grip on yourself. You need to speak up and ask whoever you need to ask for a weekend off. Hell, ask them to start stepping up the way you have—check on her a few nights a week, or swing by on the way to work. Something. You can’t carry the whole load for much longer.”
Tears filled my eyes before I could help myself. Nobody could’ve been more surprised than I was when I started to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I ran the back of my hand over them, feeling ashamed. “It’s just that nobody said that to me before, and…it’s nice feeling like somebody gets it.”
“You just need permission to do what you need to do. So do it. Make the call. Take care of you first.”
I nodded, still too choked up to speak. Even if he didn’t love me the way I wanted him to, he cared enough to give me permission to take care of myself. I told myself to let that be enough. “You sure it would be okay for me to take a little time off?”
“Honestly, I wish you would take more time than that, though I would miss you too much.”
“You would?”
He nodded firmly. “Of course. I miss you now. We all do.”
There he went again, making me think he might mean something more, then taking it away. He was too good at that. Or I fell for it too easily. “Thanks. I do want to come back full-time, too. You know that, right?’
“Of course. But in your own time. Get things figured out—you can’t keep living in survival mode forever.”
“You’re right. Damn. I hate it when you’re right.”
“Really? I thought you were used to it by now.”
I rolled my eyes as I sat up. “I’m going in to cover for Spencer while he checks on Charlotte and the baby.” They had just welcomed their second child a week earlier.
“Getting you back on active duty is something we can talk about once you have things settled with your mom. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
“Okay, boss.” I gave him a quick salute before walking out.
Chapter Three – Pax
I held my tongue as she left my office, to keep from telling her I’d always be there if she needed me. For anything. Day or night.
It was the oldest story in the book. Two coworkers, people who respected each other and liked each other a lot. One was the boss—me. And as the boss, I couldn’t tell her how many of my dreams featured her. I couldn’t tell her how many times I wanted to do unspeakable things to her on top of my desk. I couldn’t even tell her how much she meant to me for fear of everything getting all mixed up. Because it was all mixed up inside me. The line between friends and more-than-friends wasn’t just blurred. It was nonexistent.
Being her boss was one reason why I couldn’t act on the insane attraction I felt toward her. The other was my attachment to Suzanne. She had all but cut the cord when she slid that diamond ring on her finger in front of me. It was over for good. I had to let go of her, even if I still couldn’t be with Christa. It was bad enough I had a handful of agents who ended up getting involved with their clients over the years.
The alarm on my phone sounded, bringing me back to my senses. I had something to do.
“I’ll be back in a while,” I said to Lydia as I left. She asked where I was going, but the door between us was already closed by then. I wouldn’t have told her, anyway. I wouldn’t have told any of them. They’d probably have me committed if they knew.
It was a balmy day for the first of December, and the snow that had recently fallen was turning to slush and running over the sidewalks, pooling in the gutters. I hated that, but not as much as I hated ice. Like all New Yorkers, I grew up with a deep hatred of ice and pretty much all winter weather. It slowed me down, and I didn’t like being slowed down.
A balmy day. A good day to walk around outside, maybe through the park. A good day to people watch. Would he be watching people?
I turned down familiar streets, crossing from Brooklyn into Queens. He thought he could start a new life there. Like he could run away from what he did. I could’ve told him that men like him never changed, that he would never be free of his past. A monster couldn’t change his spots.
He met every Monday morning with his parole officer, and at exactly nine-fifty-five I caught sight of Jonathon Smythe waking down the street toward the double doors, hands thrust into his pockets. He looked like a man pretty pleased with himself and his place in the world. And why wouldn’t he be pleased? He had been free for almost an entire year.
And I had spent every Monday morning sitting across from the criminal justice building, watching for him. I wanted to be there the day he missed his first meeting. I wanted to be the first to know that he had gone off the grid, so I could spring into action. Even though the sight of him made my stomach churn, I had to be there. I had to look at him and know he was still walking the streets.
I was so busy watching him, I didn’t notice the man standing on the other side of the car. The knock on the window startled me—I reached for the Glock in my waistband on reflex and would’ve drawn it if the sight of Ricardo Montez didn’t stop me. I pressed the button to unlock the door and braced myself for what I knew was coming.
He handed me a cardboard cup of coffee as he climbed into the SUV. “I knew I’d catch you here one of these days.”
He nodded with a grim look. “Come on. Did you think you were the only person who cares what that filthy bastard does? But you’re even more committed than me.”
“Maybe we should both be committed,” I grumbled.
He snorted. “Yeah. Maybe we should. So, you come here every week?”
“Every one.”
“And he’s always there?”
“You know he is. Don’t pretend you’re not using all your police connections to follow up on him.”
“I wish you would let me use my police connections to do my job, and just get along with doing yours.”
I took a gulp of the coffee, which was already lukewarm. I wondered where he got it and how far it had traveled with him. “You of all people should know better than to think I would do that.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Maybe it’s time we both moved on,” he suggested, though I could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn’t believe himself.
“You’ll move on when I move on, and I don’t think I’m moving on any time soon.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye. “You saw that girl. You heard her testimony.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“Do you wanna see another girl go through something like that? We might not get so lucky next time, finding her before he wastes her.”
“It’s been a year. An entire year.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“You’re my friend, Pax, so I’ll let you get away with that.”
I smirked. “Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I’m saying. I don’t need you to shrink me.”
“Funny. You’re the second person today to accuse me of doing that.”
“So maybe you’re the one with the problem, not us.”
I chuckled and relaxed in my seat. “What’s new with you?”
“Not much. Well, actually, there is one thing. I’m thinking of asking Elise to marry me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I punched his shoulder. “That’s great news, man.”
“Yeah—she’s the only woman I know who can handle my schedule, so I figure I might as well pin her down.”
“And she keeps you looking a helluva lot better than you used to. You’re wearing decent suits, getting haircuts on the regular.”
He snorted. “She’s even got me drinking those green juices. Can you believe that? She’d have a fit if she knew I was even holding a cup of coffee.”
“Where’s she keep your balls? In a jar by the bed? Or is there a special pocket in her purse?”
“Hilarious.”
I extended a hand to shake. “I’m happy for you. Really. That’s great.”
He smiled. “What about you?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m serious.”
“So was Suzanne.”
“Really? When did you see her?”
“Yesterday. When she told me she’s engaged.” I rubbed the back of my neck, where tension had miraculously appeared.
“No shit.”
“Is it engagement season and nobody told me?”
“I guess you’re not a fan of this, then.”
I shrugged, staring out the window toward the building across the street. “He’s a good guy. I’m glad for her. She deserves a good guy in her life.”
“And what about you, I ask again?”
“Do you think I deserve a good guy in my life?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I do. A big, burly guy who keeps you in your place.”
“I’ll put myself out on one of those dating apps.”
He pressed his lips together like he was thinking something over. “What about Christa?”
Keep it together. “What about her?”
“Don’t be cute. Now that you know Suzanne’s off the market…”
“What are you saying? That I was holding myself back just in case she wanted to be with me?”
“Maybe. You might not even have recognized it. It might not have been deliberate or conscious. But I think maybe you were.”
“And now you’re shrinking me.”
“And I bet you don’t like how it feels any more than I do.”
I laughed. “No. I don’t.”
“It’s time to get back on the horse, big fella. You need a woman just as much as I did. More, maybe, because you’re an even bigger workaholic and you’re in even worse shape than I ever was, even if you put up a better front than I did.”
“I do remember to shave on a regular basis. And my clothes are generally wrinkle-free.”
“But you live in a dinky little apartment and you’re completely alone except for when your kid comes to visit.”
“I’m a loner. I’ve always been that way.”
“Not always, man. My memory is a long one.”
I nodded slowly. “I know.”
He clapped one hand on my shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone now. Just think about it, huh?” He grabbed for the door handle, but before he opened the door, I cleared my throat.
“Why did you immediately go to Christa?”
He turned to me with a smirk. “Why do you think? Only because you two have had the hots for each other for years and everybody knows it.”
“Everybody knows it, huh?”
“Yeah. So get the stick out of your ass and take the woman on a date and screw her brains out, the way you want to. After all this time it’ll be amazing. How many years of foreplay has it been?”
“It hasn’t been foreplay in the first place.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He went to leave again, and I cleared my throat again.
“You think she’s into me?”
“Jesus Christ, how old are we?” He climbed out of the car laughing.
“Seriously?” Did I sometimes think there might be something there? Yeah, but I usually told myself it was just wishful thinking.
“Yeah, seriously.” He rolled his eyes. “Just go for it, okay?” His eyes darted from me to the space over my shoulder. I followed his gaze until we were both watching Jonathon Smythe leave the building across the street.
“Fucker,” I growled.
“Promise me you won’t follow him around,” Ricardo muttered.
“Sure.”
“Do I have to escort you back to the office?”
I turned my head toward him. “Don’t you have work to do someplace else?”
“I’m calling Lydia in a little while to make sure you’re there.” He closed the door, shaking his head. I watched until he turned the corner and decided to trail Smythe for a block or two before going back to the office. Maybe it was time to start moving on.
Chapter Four – Christa
Even as I sat at a client’s apartment, backing Spencer up, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Pax suggested. Should I take a vacation?
I felt intensely disloyal just thinking about it. How could I go off and have fun when Mom was sitting at home, confused, lost in her mind? How could I forget about the responsibilities I had at home? I was power of attorney, for Christ’s sake. If she needed something while I was gone, like if she had an accident or somebody came by and tried to con her into doing something like giving them money, there would be nothing I could do. I wouldn’t be there to sign papers. I wouldn’t be there to tell the con artists to fuck off because she had no say over her finances anymore, anyway. I wouldn’t be there when she inevitably got confused and needed my help.
I sat there, watching TV, braiding and unbraiding my hair. A thoughtless habit, something I did when I had a lot on my mind.
“Are you all right, dear?” The woman I sat with was a friend of Spencer’s wife, Charlotte. Miss Movie Star turned Miss Broadway Star. She was actually a nice person who I got along with pretty well, and the client whose apartment I was in had some problems with an angry business manager to had a tendency to show up and break things around the place. Priceless antiques had already been destroyed, bu
t Angelica Hughes was willing to look past that. It was when he threw a priceless vase at her head that she took umbrage.
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.” I was sitting in an apartment owned by Broadway royalty. The woman had four Tony awards and a host of others lined up along her bookshelves. And yet all I could think about was the mess I was in.
“You look quite distracted. A little distraught, even.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry. My friends always give me a hard time about how keen I am to read their expressions and assume something is wrong with them. I’m very observant—one of the things about being an actress is the need to observe the world.”
I managed to smile. “I have a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“Of course. I could tell.” She was sitting on the far end of the tasteful sofa, but moved closer to the chair I sat in and leaned toward me. “Please. You can share with me if it would make you feel better.” Like she was collecting stories and impressions for future performances or something.
What did I have to lose? I gave her the Reader’s Digest version of what was happening at home—how I was considering giving up my apartment since I spent so little time there anymore, how my mother needed me, how I no longer felt as though I had a life of my own. How much I missed working actively as an agent and hated sitting around, doing nothing. “No offense,” I added at the end of that. “I enjoy sitting here with you, of course. But it does get dull when this is all I ever do.”
She nodded sagely, absorbing everything. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Oh, no. I don’t mean it that way. I was merely curious as to whether that was all you were upset about.”
“I see.” I smiled, feeling foolish. “My boss—who is wonderful—suggested I take a little time off. Vacation. Something to reset myself.”
“That’s a great idea! And isn’t it wonderful that your boss suggested it himself! I understand many employers aren’t exactly eager to offer vacation time to their employees—I know my producers never would.”
Lewis Security Page 62
