So, with almost a 50-50 split on the commission, things tend to get ugly. That’s just how I like my government meetings. When everyone gets along you have to dig for a story. And, since I’m inherently lazy, I like my stories laid out for me on a silver platter.
The debate was in full swing, with five different Republican commissioners demanding spots on the budget committee. One of them was my ex-boyfriend, Tad Ludington. He and I had a tempestuous relationship. Okay, we hated each other’s guts. I don’t care who gets on what committee, but I’m against him ever getting what he wants. I’m petty. Sue me.
Jake was now at the lectern, addressing the financial needs of the sheriff’s department in conjunction with board appointments. Since the government pool in Macomb County is relatively small -- everyone knows everyone -- lines had been drawn between most of these people years ago.
“I don’t think the sheriff’s department should have to absorb any more cuts because the county government can’t figure out how to balance its own budget,” he said. No matter how angry I was with him, I was on his side in this fight.
“Well, Sheriff Farrell,” Tad said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “While I sympathize with your problems, this whole county is struggling to stay afloat financially. I’m not sure why you think your department should get special treatment.”
Jake scowled at Tad. Their relationship was rocky -- and I was partially to blame for it. I had broken up with Jake in college to date Tad, and I had been paying for it ever since. I wasn’t the only reason Jake hated Tad, though. Tad’s personality is like a rancid pickle -- he turns everyone off.
“My department brings in revenue for this county,” Jake replied, his tone diplomatic. “We account for more than twenty-five percent of this county’s budget. If you cut my officers, that means I’ll have fewer people out on the roads to bring in revenue. Doesn’t that seem counterproductive?”
“Sheriff Farrell has a point,” Clara Black said. “Cutting revenue producers only sets us back.”
Tad frowned. He didn’t care about the financial stability of the county nearly as much as he cared about sticking it to Jake. “Is it fair for the other departments to absorb all the cuts? The veterans administration, for example, doesn’t bring any money in. Should we make our vets suffer because our sheriff doesn’t want to make his officers work more?”
What a douche.
Jake was incensed. “I’m not suggesting cutting from the veterans department. I’m still waiting for the financial information I requested -- months ago, I might add -- on how much money we’ll be saving when the fiscal year starts. I’m curious about how much savings we’ll be seeing when the commission board is cut in half.”
Score one for Team Tad Ludington Sucks.
“That information is still being determined,” Tad said through gritted teeth. “The county executive compensation has to be taken into account.”
“And how much is that?” Jake asked.
No one answered, so I took the opportunity. “It’s $90,000 a year.”
All eyes in the room turned to me, but I kept my gaze focused on Tad. My mouth twitched with an evil smile when our eyes met.
Jake took a step back and looked at me, gesturing for me to move up beside him. Crap. This was not a good idea. I remained in my seat.
“Ms. Shaw,” Tad said. “This is a public meeting, but the time for citizens to comment has passed. If you have anything to say, you’ll have to bring it up at the next meeting. And in the proper method -- at the lectern.”
I really hate him.
“I’d like to hear what she has to say,” Jake said. “If she has the actual numbers handy, that puts her one step ahead of me. Ms. Shaw?”
I could either let Tad win or help Jake when I was furious with him. You’d think that would be a hard choice, but I really hate Tad. I joined Jake at the lectern, shooting a death glare in his direction, but then focused my attention back on Tad. “The county executive will make $90,000 for the year. We’re eliminating fourteen commission seats at $45,000 each. I’m no math genius, but I still think that means there’s an added $540,000 in next year’s budget.”
“And what about the county executive’s staff?” Tad asked smugly.
“According to the charter provided at the time of the election, the only staff he will have includes a secretary and one other aide. The money affixed for both of those is $35,000 and $45,000 respectively. So, yes, you’re right, that’s only $460,000 extra a year. My bad.”
Tad frowned.
I should have just kept my mouth shut, but that’s not exactly in my wheelhouse. “So, if you’re trying to cut $100,000 out of the sheriff’s budget the question should be, where is that $460,000 going?”
Jake slid a sly smile in my direction as the commission members exploded in a melee of finger-pointing and name-calling. “I can always count on you to liven things up.”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“Because of the lunch thing? I’m not backing down from that.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“I will, however, consider a different agreement, though.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“You tell me what you know and I’ll share information with you. Just you.”
“No strings attached?” That sounded too good to be true.
“An agreement will have to be reached about exactly when you print something,” Jake warned.
I pursed my lips. “I’ll consider it.”
“You do that.”
I glanced back up at the arguing commissioners, including Clara Black, who was banging her gavel angrily while the Republicans in the room demanded the agenda be tabled until further financial information could be distributed to everyone.
“Well, it looks like my work here is done.”
“You have that effect on people,” Jake smiled.
After voting to suspend the meeting, the room cleared out pretty quickly. After a few minutes, only Jake and I and a few commissioners remained. I caught sight of one other person out of the corner of my eye. I felt my heart drop to my stomach when I realized who it was.
“Crap.”
“What?” Jake looked over his shoulder. “Who is that?”
“Whatever he says, just ignore it.”
“What am I ignoring?”
“Hey.” The figure moved up to Jake and I shyly. “I, um, I thought your name was Willow? I didn’t realize you were Avery Shaw. The Avery Shaw. That’s really cool.”
“Hi, Zack,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and bright. This really couldn’t have happened at a worse time. “What are you doing here?”
“I work in the tech department for the county,” Zack replied. “These things are televised.”
“I didn’t realize you worked here.”
“Who is this?” Jake asked, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, I’m Zack Fortin.” Zack extended his hand. “I’m a big fan of yours.”
“Fan?”
“We only have like three actual celebrities,” I reminded Jake. “And they’re all white rappers. You’re like the fourth Beatle -- the one no one can ever remember the name of.”
Jake ignored me.
“I think you do a lot of great things for this county,” Zack said, clearly nervous.
“Thank you,” Jake smiled. “How do you know Avery?”
“I met her the other night at speed dating. Although, she said her name was Willow.”
Jake glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?”
“Does that mean your friend’s name isn’t Cordelia?” Zack looked crushed.
Jake snickered. “I’m guessing her name is really Carly.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. She was really pretty.”
“And she’s married,” Jake said. “I’m guessing Ms. Shaw and her friend were just checking things out. They weren’t really there looking for dates.”
“I kind of figured that out wh
en that big guy stormed in and dragged her out,” Zack said.
“Big guy? Long hair? Tattoos?”
“Yeah. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately.”
Well this was getting uncomfortable. “I should really get back to the paper,” I said. “I have a story to file. It was nice seeing you again, Zack.”
“You, too.”
Jake followed me out to the hall. “He seems great. I think you should give him a shot.”
“Shut it.”
Jake’s face sobered. “Think about what I said.”
“I will.”
“And don’t wait too long.”
“Why? Is there an expiration date on this offer?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Let’s just hope there’s not an expiration date on you where this is all concerned.”
Jake is such a killjoy sometimes.
Twenty-Two
I hammered out my story quickly and shot Fish an email to tell him it was in the news queue. A quick glance at the clock on my phone told me I had an hour before my shift was over, which meant I had plenty of time to catch up on the office gossip before I left for the day.
I started with Marvin. He worked nights, so he was only halfway through his shift. “What’s new with you?”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked sharply.
“I mean what’s new with you?” He was clearly up to something.
Marvin glanced around the room nervously. “Have you met that new woman in advertising?”
Since I tried to avoid interacting with people in every other department -- and sometimes my own -- that was a big, fat no. I shook my head. “Why? Is she like a circus freak or something?”
“No,” Marvin shook his head. “Why do you always go to the weird stuff?”
“Because it’s you,” I pointed out. “You always take it to a weird level.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, what’s up with the new advertising chick?”
“She’s hot for me.”
I placed my tongue in my cheek to keep from laughing. Marvin thought every woman he met -- and some obviously gay waiters -- was after him. I had tried explaining that a gay man would never want him, his lack of fashion sense being only one of the reasons, but he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t allowed to go to the bathroom if we were out to dinner and there was even a chance the waiter might be gay.
“I thought you were off women?”
“I’m only human.”
“Of course.”
“Anyway, I went over and introduced myself to her yesterday, and now she wants to put her hand in my pants.” Marvin was deadly serious.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” That visual was going to give me nightmares. “Why do you think she wants to … get with you?”
“Because she suggested we get coffee.”
“Maybe she’s just cheap and wants you to buy?” I suggested.
“You know I don’t like coffee.”
“So? Maybe she doesn’t know that.”
“Everyone knows that coffee is code for sex,” Marvin explained.
“Since when?”
“It’s on the Internet.”
“So are a multitude of kitten videos and September 11th conspiracy theories. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“If you’re going to make fun of me, then this conversation is over,” Marvin said.
Well, if that was the new rule, we were never going to speak again. “Fine,” I said. “Do you like this woman?”
“She’s married.”
Cripes. Really? “So you think this woman is ready to throw her marriage out the door because she asked you for coffee? What were you talking about right before she asked you about having coffee?”
“That new coffee place downtown,” Marvin replied. “She’s the ad rep for them and I’m writing a story on it.”
“And you don’t see a … correlation there?”
“No.”
Of course not. “Just tell her you’re off women.”
“Well, let’s not be hasty.”
“You said she’s married,” I reminded him.
“You know me, that’s not enough to deter me.”
Sadly, that was true. “So, what’s the hold-up?”
“She’s got kids.”
“And?”
“And I’m not crazy about kids.”
“You don’t have to be their stepfather to let her hand wander in your pants,” I said.
“I know, but kids are always messy,” Marvin said. “They always have jam on their hands --- even if there’s no jam in their general vicinity.”
“I’m thinking you should give this more thought,” I offered.
“I think so, too.”
“What’s up with you?” Marvin asked.
“I’m in a fight with Eliot.”
“Why?”
“He keeps thinking he’s the boss of me,” I replied, explaining about his little lunch ambush the previous day with Jake.
“I’m sure that went over well.”
“Nope.”
“You’ll make up,” Marvin said. “You’re too hot for each other not to.”
“Not everything is about sex,” I said.
“It is in my world.”
We lapsed into silence for a minute. Marvin was shifting slightly so he could have a clear view across the hall into advertising. I didn’t think he was going to be doing any “thinking” where the new advertising representative was concerned. I tried to distract him.
“Do you know anything about that speed-dating event they’re holding at Fly a Kilt every week?”
Marvin looked surprised by the question. “I don’t think you’re going to find anyone you like there.”
“I’m not looking for me.”
“Who are you looking for? Your cousin Lexie? She’s kind of hot. She shouldn’t need speed dating, though,” Marvin said. She also only dates black men -- but I didn’t say that to Marvin. The last thing I needed was another racist diatribe.
“No, not Lexie.”
Marvin pursed his lips. “I thought your friend Carly was married,” he said. “That is why you refused to set me up with her.”
That and she would kill me if I tried. “She is. We were just checking it out.”
“I’ve been there.”
I was surprised to see that Caleb had joined us in the center aisle. Since he was seated on the far side of the cubicles -- people wanted him as far from them as possible -- that means he had to have been eavesdropping to hear what we were talking about. He’s a lot sneakier than he looks.
“You went to speed dating?” Somehow the visual playing through my mind didn’t match the man standing in front of me.
“I’m in the market for love, too,” he said.
“Aren’t most of the people at speed dating … younger.” There was no diplomatic way to ask him whether the fact that he was so old -- and creepy -- had turned people off.
“Some people like a mature man,” Crumb replied stiffly.
“You weren’t there the other night.”
“I had a previous engagement.”
I didn’t want to know what he did with his weekend nights. That was just too weird to consider.
“Are you going back?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I met some really nice people.”
I bet they couldn’t say the same thing about him. “Have you met any potential dates?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “I’m optimistic that I’ll be able to wear someone down at some point, though.”
Gross.
After Crumb returned to his cubicle, I exchanged a dubious glance with Marvin. “I bet he hasn’t had coffee in years.”
Marvin smirked. “I heard a little something about our friend Caleb.”
“Like what?” I lowered my voice. What? I love gossip. That’s why I became a reporter.
“One of the clerks at the courthouse told me that he has lunch there every
day,” Marvin answered, matching my lowered tone.
“At the hot dog stand? I ate there today. It was pretty good. Why? They didn’t have a salmonella scare, did they? Although, to be fair, I wouldn’t think a hot dog would help that irritable bowel syndrome he’s always complaining about. Talk about an overshare, by the way.”
“No,” Marvin shook his head. “I mean he actually eats in the courthouse.”
“Where?”
“The records room.”
Well, that sounded boring. What kind of gossip was this? Since Crumb hadn’t been trusted to cover a court case in years, though, that didn’t make much sense.
“Why would he be having lunch in the records room? What is he looking at?”
Marvin’s eyes were sparkling. He loved gossip, too. “According to the secretary, he checks out old sex crime cases and reads about them, like he’s reading a book, while he munches on a sandwich he brings from home.”
Gross. “Why?”
“Because he’s a pervert.”
“There has to be a better way for a pervert to get his jollies,” I said. “That’s just gross. And morbid.”
“Maybe that’s what he’s into,” Marvin suggested.
Huh. That was food for thought. Really nasty food, but food all the same.
Twenty-Three
Although it was in the opposite direction I was heading, I drove past Eliot’s pawnshop on my way home. I was mildly disappointed to see that not only was Eliot not in the store, but his truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot. He obviously wasn’t hiding under his covers and crying because I wasn’t speaking to him.
Well, two could play at that game.
When I got to my house, there was a surprise waiting for me. Eliot’s truck was parked on the street in front of the house. Since I had managed to work myself up into a right and proper snit during the eight-minute drive home, I was mildly flabbergasted to find him here.
I let myself in through the back door, kicking my shoes off and leaving them in the middle of the laundry room just to spite him. I hung my purse on its designated hook -- Eliot had been busy making “improvements” to my house for months -- and then squared my shoulders before I entered the kitchen.
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