"Let me know?" I asked. "Lily's parents sold the building and I need a new apartment in four weeks."
"No problem. I'll tell her mother you're going to be homeless soon and you're desperate. Perhaps she'll take pity on you."
I groaned. Janice would love that. She'd tell her friends and everyone would know I was the only Graves that couldn't find a home. "Please don't!"
"But..."
"Moooooom!" I whined. "She's mean and she'll make fun of me."
"Alexandra, how old are you?"
I garbled my age, covering it with a cough, which was pointless because I was pretty certain my mother was there on the day of my birth.
"That's right. Thirty in one month! No whining. Do you see your sister whine?"
"Not lately." Although she was a whiner, ever since she began humping Antonio Delgado, she cheered up considerably. That was an image I really didn't want in my head.
"Exactly. She had a baby, went through a divorce, and what happens? She pulled herself together, started a new business, and met that lovely Antonio. And she doesn't give a shit what Janice Markowitz thinks."
"Mom! You swore!"
"Everyone does these days. You should hear the swearing on the CD I bought your father for Christmas. These rappers are all at it."
I didn't know which was more shocking: that my mother swore for what I absolutely believed was the first time ever, or that she bought explicit-lyric rap CDs for my father, or that anyone still had CDs.
"You should try it, Lexi, it's liberating. Go on, say ‘shit.’" My mother paused. After a moment, she hissed, "Say it."
"Shit," I said quietly, putting the phone down.
I called Lily next, even though she was only downstairs. The shock forced me into the kitchen and I was running my hands along the shelves in search of secret stashes of emergency chocolate. "My mother's gone mad," I yelled at my cell phone on the counter.
"What's new?" came Lily's voice via speakerphone.
"She swore."
"Get the fuck out!"
"Don't you start."
"I thought you were going to say she'd taken up some really crazy new hobby."
"Like belly dancing and Krav Maga aren't crazy enough?"
"When done together," mused Lily. "I'd like to see that."
"Call my mother. She loves you. Don't tell her about the bar though."
"Why not?"
"She'll really get on my case about running my own business."
"Tell her it isn't the right economy."
"I told her Solomon needed me."
"Did you tell her you played the naked bump and grind with Solomon?"
I blushed, a rare reaction for me. Hot, followed by cold, raced through my body. Of course, that could have been because of my hand fastening on a bar of cooking chocolate. Good enough. I tore the wrapper open and jammed a square into my mouth. "No," I squeaked. "I have to go. I have to... do anything but think about this! Thanks for helping!"
"You're so not welcome," said Lily. "What are you eating?"
"Nothing. Chocolate. Cooking chocolate. Oh crap, I think I accidentally ate half of it already."
"That's okay. You're a PI. You're allowed to eat crap."
"What a cliché. I'd rather have a salad but I'm all out."
"Do you want to get a takeout cheeseburger? I think the baby wants one."
"Sure, why not? I'm hungry and I don't have anything in the fridge anyway."
"Plus, it'll stop you eating all that chocolate."
"Too late. Anyway, like a cheeseburger is better?"
"It has cheese," said Lily, but I wasn't sure if that was her argument. She sounded a little confused too. "And we can eat it at my bar."
"Is there alcohol?"
"No. Plus, I'm not drinking and out of solidarity with me, neither should you. Jord isn't drinking either."
"I'm pretty sure I saw him in O'Grady's three days ago having a beer with Garrett."
"That bastard! He put the baby in me so I can't drink. He has no right to enjoy himself!"
"Maybe it was a soda," I backtracked, wondering if I should point out that wasn't why Jord put a baby in her. I was pretty sure he didn't intend to leave a lifetime souvenir so early in their relationship at all; but I didn't think that would go over well.
"In O'Grady's? Hey, maybe we should go there instead and get their cheeseburger with a stack of fries and onion rings."
My mouth watered as I looked at the empty chocolate wrapper. Dessert first... how novel! "Okay," I agreed. "But only because I want to prove that I'm not a cliché."
"By eating a cheeseburger?"
"By not refusing it because I care about my weight, ergo, I am a normal woman, and um, because I do eat a lot of salad and maybe it's a healthy cheeseburger from cows that ate grass and, uh, nice things."
"And because you're totally hungry?"
That too. "I'll be at your door in five."
"Minutes?"
"Seconds."
I insisted on driving, partly because I was being nice, and partly because it meant Lily couldn't complain when I insisted on cruising past my favorite residence in Montgomery: the pretty, yellow bungalow with a neat yard. It was picture-perfect cute and today, as for many years, I was dying to look inside. I should have taken the opportunity while it was for sale months back.
"I'll always love this house," I told Lily. We were parked a little way down the road, and Lily filed her nails while I gazed lovingly at the bungalow.
"You're going to cheat on it with an ugly place, aren't you?"
I gave Lily a sharp look and sniffed. "Maybe," I said, "This place has never been sold and there's not another one like it in town. I know. I've been looking."
"Maybe you could get another bungalow and just paint it yellow. Paint on, paint off, or whatever Mr. Miyagi said," she added, flapping her right hand up and down with the nail file like a paintbrush.
"It won't be the same."
"You have to stop stalking this house."
"What's it gonna do? Call the police?"
An unearthly scream pierced the quiet air, long and haunting. All of a sudden it stopped. Lily and I looked at each other. A dog howled and Lily shivered.
"Please tell me we didn't just hear someone getting murdered."
"Nope, totally didn't."
"Oh, thank God. I really don't want to see any corpses. It would ruin my O'Grady’s special and I'm really hungry. You think we should wait and see what happens?" Lily asked.
"Maybe." We waited. Lily finished filing her nails. I counted all the panes on the bungalow's windows, then took some photos with my cell phone camera. Lily tapped her feet; I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. "I don't hear anything else," I said, at last. "It was probably nothing."
"Great! Can we go eat now?"
"Yeah. Thanks for coming with me."
"It was my idea to go out for dinner!"
"No, I meant to see the bungalow. It's my happy place."
"Not like I had any choice." Lily stroked her slightly protruding belly. It rumbled and we both looked at it. "Can you drive us to my happy place now? Please?"
Gunning the engine, we got there in record time. Not that it mattered. Lily called ahead and placed our orders, ensuring the food was on the table the moment we sat down since I didn't want to eat at her bar as the tables weren't in situ yet. I don't know if the pregnancy was making her extra hungry, or she was just generally hungry, but she ate faster than a woman on a diet, locked in a cake factory without security cameras. Setting her fork down, she wiped her hands on the paper napkin and scowled.
"What did I do?" I asked, glancing at my onion rings next to my half-eaten burger. I could give them to Lily. I didn't want to, but I could. She was my best friend and incubating my niece or nephew.
"Nothing. It's your brother."
"What did he do? Which one?" I had three brothers. It was hard to work out which one she was mad at, though I could take a guess as I stabbed an onion ring with my fork
.
Lily didn't say anything. Instead, she whipped out her cell phone and hit the button, pressing it to her ear. "Are you drinking?" she said. "Hah! Liar. I can see you, you know. Turn around, buster."
I turned around, locking eyes with Jord, who was standing at the bar with our other brothers. Jord held a beer and looked sheepish. My brothers raised their glasses to us, and turned away, giggling into their beer mugs.
"You know, it's not so bad just having a beer," I told Lily. "Don't get irrational."
If steam could have come from Lily's ears and nose, it would have. Her eyes widened, and the vein at her left temple pulsed. Then, she slumped into the booth and stuck her bottom lip out. "I am, aren't I?" She dialed again. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw Jord contemplate not answering, before thinking better of it.
"Enjoy your drink, honey. I'm sorry. I love you," said Lily. "No, I love you more. No, I do love you more. I love you so..."
I grabbed the phone. "Can you order me a melon mojito and bring it over? Lily will take hers virgin. You suck. No, you suck more." I hung up and Lily giggled.
"I wish I had brothers and sisters."
"Sometimes, I wish I were an only child."
"It gets lonely," Lily told me, not for the first time. Ever since we met at school, she pretty much became an honorary Graves, hanging out at our houseful of people day and night, loud people; and going home to a quiet house with uptight parents who didn't have a lot of time for her. Sometimes, I enjoyed the peace and solitude of her home life, but I wouldn't have swapped my upbringing for the world. It was the same kind of life their child would have, exactly the one Lily wanted for him or her.
My brothers ended up sharing our booth before Lily and Jord headed home, probably to do something really gross. So hurrah for staying at the bar, only that meant Daniel had to drive my car home and help me upstairs, and, well, yeah, he made sure I got into bed too, before dropping my car keys on the nightstand. The last I heard was the apartment door clicking shut, and a minute or two later, the sound of Garrett's car leaving. Then I was off to Sleepyland in my best kitten pajamas, sleeping a dreamless sleep for the first time in a very long while.
Chapter Three
"You ready for this?" Solomon gave me an imperceptible look as he pulled into a parking space in front of a dull, red brick building downtown. I kept my sunglasses on and hoped my queasiness didn't show. It hit me hard this morning that I drank one mojito too many; the most obvious clue being my green-hued skin, and waking up with my kitty pajamas on inside-out and a pillow atop my head.
I gave him a "humph" that could have meant anything from “raring to go” to “I really want to go back to bed — now” and looked up at the building. I don't know what I expected from Million Matches, but this didn't look like the kind of place rich folk came to find potential partners; but then, what did I know? I found my last boyfriend during a temp job and he was there undercover. I didn't know yet what to call Solomon? Ex? Fling? Former lover? None seemed appropriate. Friend, maybe. Boss, definitely. Anything else was yet to be defined. That lack of definition gave me a few sleepless nights, just as many, in fact, as whether Maddox was really playing an undercover role a few weeks ago, or having a little extra on the side with Detective Blake.
"Hello? Earth to Lexi."
"Here!" I plastered on a smile as I looked up to meet Solomon's beautiful brown eyes. I shoved my man problems into the corner of my mind that contained a big stick and a vault. If those distracting thoughts snuck out of that dark corner, I would mentally bash them. Twice.
"It's practically a done deal," Solomon continued with whatever I forgot to listen to. "All the director wants to do is check you over and make sure you'll fit in with their clientele. That's a nice dress. Pretty."
"Um, thank you. What exactly do you mean by 'fit'?" I had the uncomfortable feeling of being paraded about at a Miss World contest while being found a little closer to Near Miss. My dress was nice though: a pale pink shift that I got half-off on sale two years ago, with nude pumps, and a laser-cut, leather pouch bag that I found a huge discount for online. Heck, I was a sales ninja.
"Just that you're the kind of woman who would attract their kind of clientele," Solomon confirmed, glancing over me once more. His eyes lingered a moment too long and I gulped. "Or, more specifically, our unsub," he continued.
"I love it when you say 'unsub'. It's so Criminal Minds."
"I don't like the word 'perp'."
"It does sound like the noise a demented chick would make."
"Unsub it is." Solomon nodded, then fist-bumped me. Maybe I read it all wrong. Maybe he did just think I looked right for the meeting, because in that moment, I never felt less desirable. A fist-bump didn't exactly scream Solomon wanted me, and didn't want our fling-or-whatever-thing to be over. A fist-bump said "Hey buddy" and nothing sexy at all. What was wrong with him? That stream of jumbled thoughts reminded me, and I visualized my mental big stick bashing the stray thoughts involving my boss having the hots for me. Or not.
While I smoothed an imaginary crease from my skirt and wondered if my dress was suitable, Solomon exited the car, walked around and opened the door. "You look fine," he told me, without emphasis on “fine” not that it was important or anything. I slid my legs out, took a brief moment to see if Solomon was eyeing them — no — and grabbed my purse. It was really nice. I had seriously good taste.
The dating agency was accessed by a buzz-in entrance door with only a discreet black and gold label. It was sandwiched between an accountants’ and a small fashion label. We took the elevator three floors up and stepped into a small lobby. It was exquisitely decorated with an antique desk, behind which perched a red-haired woman around my age, in a black suit and emerald blouse that matched her startlingly green eyes. She looked up and blinked with appreciation, then smiled as Solomon approached her and introduced us, only then noticing me. Great.
"I'm Madeleine, executive assistant. If you'll just take a seat," the redhead said, indicating the leather sofa under the window. "I'll let Ms. Callery know you're here." She stood and moved around the desk, revealing long slim legs, beneath a knee-length skirt, and super high heels. One look and I recognized Manolo Blahnik. Damn it! How high end was this place? Even the receptionist spent big bucks on fancy shoes! I had the uncomfortable feeling that my small wardrobe of fancy dresses and pantsuits would just not cut it with these people.
Moments later, the shoes returned - presumably the body in them did too, but I must admit being fixated on the elegant curve of the heels. She directed us towards the office of Solomon's contact, who awaited us at the door.
Million Matches' director was around fifty, although with some artfully placed Botox, she could definitely pass as ten years younger. She wore a pale blue skirt suit and had blonde hair that rested lightly on her shoulders. A Rolex adorned her wrist and a neat pair of gold earrings were her only other jewelry. Her bright red lipstick was most definitely not discreet, but perfectly applied. She reminded me a lot of Lily's mother. Discreet, elegant, yet slightly aloof. However, Lily's mother was a lot aloof. My entire family found it puzzling how so distant woman could produce such a bubbly, warm-hearted child. I found myself wondering if Ms. Callery had children, even though it was entirely irrelevant to the case. She was wearing a gold wedding band, so I guess she successfully made her own marriage, always a plus in her game, I decided.
"Helen Callery. Good to see you again, John. This is your protégé?" she asked, directing the question to Solomon as she shook his hand.
"Yes. Lexi Graves," he replied for me as I blinked at her use of his first name. Except for hearing it from him, and occasionally from me, I don't think I ever heard anyone call him anything but his last name.
Nevertheless, I smiled. Protégé sounded nice. Better than trainee anyway, although I assumed I graduated from that position a couple of solved crimes ago. "Pleased to meet you." I offered my hand and she gave it a firm shake, her eyes quickly running over my dress. Seeming
to approve of my attire, she indicated we should sit in the blue upholstered chairs opposite her desk. Closing the door behind her, she moved to sit in her chair. As we made ourselves comfortable, I looked around. The office was sparse, but elegantly appointed. The furniture was nice, slightly more modern than the reception through which we entered, and there were a cluster of framed black and white photographs of happy, smiling couples crowding one wall. "Satisfied customers?" I asked, nodding towards them.
"Yes, indeed." Helen smiled as she ran her eyes over the montage of couples she managed to unite. "Here at Million Matches we do exactly what we say we do. We match wealthy clients with their perfect partners. These are just a few of them, and we've had seventeen marriages in the past two years."
04 - Shock and Awesome Page 3
