1 Who, What, Where, When, Die

by Amanda M. Lee

"It's really not a big deal. We just tend to do things differently, I guess. Jake is a follow the rules guy and I'm not."

  "Says the guy who won't give me my gun two hours early."

  Eliot pretended I didn't say anything.

  "Truth be told, I respect Jake and I even like him most of the time. I just don't think he feels the same way about me."

  I thought about it for a second and silently agreed, no, Jake didn't like him. And, as much as I would like to believe otherwise, it wasn't just about me. I was just a contributing factor. A small one, at that.

  Eliot and I continued to drink and talk. I was surprised how easy he was to converse with. He was also quite interesting. He liked eclectic music. He loved movies. He liked video games. He was the male version of me. Or, more aptly, I was the female version of him.

  When I got up to finally go to the bathroom, I realized I was drunk. I think falling into the next table was a dead giveaway – even though I tried to play it off. Eliot seemed to notice, too, as he helped me regain my rather shaky feet.

  "You can't drive home."

  Now, this was a pickle. I clearly was too drunk to drive home but I didn't have a lot of options here.

  "You can stay at my place," Eliot offered.

  Well, that was a scary proposition.

  "No, I'll just sleep in my car." Was I slurring my words?

  Eliot ignored my argument. Instead, he hoisted me up, threw me over his shoulder and dropped two twenties on the table. I wasn't too drunk to notice that he grunted slightly when lifting me up. That wasn't really a boost to my ego.

  "Hey, you're not the boss of me!" I was definitely slurring my words. I wasn't sure, but I thought I probably wasn't cute anymore.

  I didn't remember much after that, just darkness.

  Twelve

  I woke up to a feeling of intense pain. The light was far too bright. My mouth tasted like it was bathed in cotton. And my head legitimately felt like it was going to explode into a million little pieces. How did this happen?

  Whoa, wait, where did this happen? I clearly wasn't in my own bed. That was my second thought.

  "Wow, you look scary in the morning."

  Crap, here was my third, I was waking up on the couch of the hottest man I'd ever seen in real life and I was hung-over as hell. I don't look great in the morning on a good day. I didn't even want to know what I looked like this morning.

  "Coffee." I sounded like I had a frog in my throat -- and it was dying.

  Eliot sat down on the end of the couch next to me and I saw his face for the first time this morning. He looked flawless. Despite his long hair, he apparently didn't wake up with bed head. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

  I struggled to a sitting position and accepted the professionally made cafe mocha he shoved in my face. "You went to the coffee shop?"

  "Yeah, I don't make my own coffee. I don't like it."

  I filed that away for future reference. The beautiful in the morning man didn't like coffee.

  "I guess I got a little drunk last night," I stated the obvious. "I'm really not a very good drunk."

  Eliot smirked. "You were fine, if a bit heavy to carry across the street. I guess I'm glad that you didn't eat dinner before hand."

  I grimaced. He clearly thought I was fat.

  He must have read my mind. "You're not fat. You're solid. I like a woman with a little meat on her bones instead of someone who starves herself."

  I was pretty sure I'd been insulted. Solid is code for lard butt. "I need breakfast." Hey, I couldn't change my solidity right now, and my stomach was rumbling as if it hadn't been fed in years instead of hours.

  "Well, if you get up and get in the shower then I'll take you to breakfast. Then I'll get you your gun and I'll show you how to shoot it."

  Right, the gun. I struggled to get up and momentarily lost my balance. Quick as a cat, Eliot grabbed my arm to steady me. "Where's your bathroom?"

  Eliot pointed down the hall. I took my coffee with me. I figured I was going to need it. When I walked into the bathroom I got my first look at myself and it wasn't pretty. My hair was pasted to the side of my face and I'd clearly drooled on myself in my sleep. Nice. In addition, the little bit of mascara I'd put on the night before was now smudged halfway down my cheek. I was definitely lust worthy.

  I mainlined the rest of my coffee and climbed into the shower. There was nothing I could do about it now.

  Twenty minutes later I walked out of the bathroom in the same clothes from the night before, but feeling infinitely better about my appearance. I had that pink, just showered thing going for me, despite my lack of makeup. I was at least presentable again.

  Eliot was sitting at his small dinette table, reading The Monitor. He looked up briefly when I walked in the room.

  "I can loan you a T-shirt if you want?"

  "I'm fine," I said looking down at the Red Wings jersey. It didn't look too bad to me, despite the amber stain splashed on my breast. "So, how about that breakfast?"

  We went downstairs and I noticed his pawnshop was open. "How is your store open when you're here with me?"

  "They're called employees."

  Smart ass.

  We both walked down the street to the Coney Island. The food may be unhealthy but it was delicious. Once inside, I greeted the owner with a friendly smile. I was in here a lot.

  Eliot ordered pancakes while I went for eggs, hash browns, ham and toast. When in doubt, go with the grease.

  We kept the conversation light over breakfast. There really isn't much to say after you pass out on a guy and he has to carry you home. You just pretend it didn't happen.

  When my breakfast made it to the table, I couldn't help but dig in with gusto. I tend to eat with enthusiasm.

  Eliot seemed amused at my vigorous egg dunking.

  After a few minutes of nonstop eating and no talking, I noticed that Eliot's attention had been diverted to the door at the front of the diner. I almost didn't want to look, which made me have to look.

  I turned around and caught sight of Jake swaggering in alone. He seemed to freeze in time when he saw us. This wasn't going to be good.

  I could almost see the mental struggle engulfing him. In the end, he decided to acknowledge us rather than pretend he didn’t see us.

  "Avery, Kane," he said, sliding into the both across the aisle from us. He thanked the waitress as she brought him a cup of coffee and a menu.

  I didn't know what to say. It was kind of an uncomfortable situation. I looked over at Eliot. He was smiling widely. He seemed to like the situation.

  I decided to make the first move. "Have you heard how Lando is doing?"

  Jake looked blank.

  "The guy I hit with a shovel."

  Jake shook his head. "The guy's name was Lando?"

  "Yeah, Lando Skywalker."

  Eliot barked out a loud laugh. Even Jake looked amused. "Seriously, where do you find these people?"

  I ignored him as I started cutting into my slab of ham. Screw them both.

  "Well, Lando is fine. He was released this morning. I don't think you have to worry about him bringing you flowers again."

  Well that was good news.

  Jake placed his order while I polished off my breakfast and then looked to Eliot's plate. He'd only ate half his pancakes and one of his sausage links. He saw me licking my lips and pushed the sausage plate towards me.

  Jake witnessed the exchange and frowned. "Isn't that the outfit you were wearing when I saw you last night?"

  Don't answer that. Divert.

  "I'm getting a gun today and Eliot is showing me how to shoot it."

  If Jake noticed I didn't answer his question he didn't make it obvious. Instead he shot a glare Eliot's way.

  "You sold her a gun?"

  "She passed the background check."

  "Yeah, and she's also the most unbalanced person I know."

  "It's not like I'm going to get my period and shoot someone." Geez.

  Both Eliot and
Jake regarded me suspiciously.

  "Someone would have to really piss me off to get me to do that."

  Jake raised his eyebrows.

  "No, I mean really piss me off."

  Both men were still silent.

  "Screw you both."

  Eliot merely smirked and plopped a few bills down to pay the tab. "Well, come on Hickok, let's get you armed and dangerous."

  He nodded in goodbye to Jake and waited for me to get up and follow him. I got the distinct feeling that Jake was watching us leave and he wasn't happy. It gave me a perverse thrill.

  After retrieving my gun, Eliot took me to the gun range in Clinton Township. I didn't know what to expect, but this wasn't it. It was filled with middle-aged white fat men. I was the only woman. I guess I knew where all the men went to get away from their wives on Sunday afternoons now. Of course, that was information I never really needed.

  Eliot was eternally patient as he showed me how to load the gun and aim it. I got the feeling there was a question he wanted to ask, but didn't know how to broach. Finally, I couldn't take the tension anymore.

  "What?"

  "What's the deal with you and Farrell?"

  Well, that's a loaded question. "What deal?"

  "Don't be cute. Seriously, I can tell you have a past."

  I met Eliot's gaze and knew lying wasn't really an option. "We went to high school together." Hey, omitting information isn't really lying.

  Eliot arched his right eyebrow and waited for me to continue.

  "We dated in high school."

  He continued to wait.

  "Okay, we were kind of engaged."

  Eliot just took the information in and didn't react.

  "Well, we weren't really engaged. It was more like we were engaged to be engaged. He gave me a promise ring."

  Eliot grinned at my discomfort. "What happened?"

  "What do you mean what happened? I was sixteen. He went into the Army and I went to college. We were just too young."

  "And now?"

  "There is no now." I mostly believed that. "We are two people who used to date who happen to run into each other all the time because our careers overlap."

  After the shooting lesson, Eliot said I wasn't half bad, I decided I needed to go home and have a nap. Eliot had another idea.

  "I think we should run out to Partridge Creek."

  "Why?"

  He looked at me like I was from another planet.

  "Because that's where you were threatened yesterday and they happen to have their parking lot wired with video cameras so we could at least see if we can recognize who left the photo on your car."

  Huh, why hadn't I thought of that?

  "What makes you think they'll just let us watch their security videos?"

  "I know the head of security." Of course he did.

  I pushed the thoughts of a refreshing nap out of my head. Some things were more important. "Let's go."

  When we got to the mall, Eliot went for the valet parking, which kind of surprised me. He didn't seem like the valet type of guy even though he drove an expensive Jaguar.

  He caught me looking at him. "It's just quicker."

  I shrugged. I didn't really care.

  Eliot knew the way to the security office, so I followed. My hangover didn't allow me to take the lead. In fact, Eliot was lucky I managed to remain on my feet at all. Once inside, he greeted the guy at the desk with a friendly wave. "Hey Tom, do you think I could look at the security footage from the parking lot from yesterday?"

  Tom didn't even ask why. "Sure. You know how to use the equipment right?"

  Eliot nodded and headed to the back of the office and sat down at a monitor. He immediately started a search. "What time did this happen?"

  I told him and he started searching through the footage. "Where did you park?"

  After about five minutes Eliot navigated the footage until he found my car. I had just pulled in and the camera showed me shoving a Snickers bar into my mouth as I exited my vehicle. Hey, apparently I'm solid.

  Eliot fast-forwarded the footage for about twenty minutes, until a figure appeared in the frame and moved towards my car with a purpose. We both leaned forward to get a better look. The figure was clearly on camera putting a piece of paper -- or the photograph -- under the windshield. Problem was, the figure was hidden by a white hoodie.

  There were no features that were discernible. Eliot tried looking at him from different angles and there was just nothing.

  "It's like trying to identify a stormtrooper," I lamented. "It's impossible."

  Eliot looked at me sideways. "You really are a nerd's wet dream, aren't you?"

  Thirteen

  In my world, Monday mornings are ugly. To be fair, most mornings are ugly, but Mondays make me want to shoot someone. Guess it's good I now had a gun, which I'd conveniently put away in the desk drawer in the office. Out of sight, out of mind.

  I was already running fifteen minutes late when I got into the shower, so to cut time I took an extra ten minutes under the soothingly hot water. I needed to wake up.

  By the time I got to work, the newsroom was predominantly empty. Most copy editors work nights and all the reporters were in the weekly meeting. I silently cursed myself for being late, glanced down at my black and white plaid Capris and juniors black tee with the words "Vader was framed" on it. I knew Fish was going to be livid when he saw me, but there wasn't much I could do about it at this point.

  I went into the meeting room, trying to slide into a chair without Fish noticing. It didn't really work in my favor.

  "Nice of you to join us, Avery."

  My co-workers just rolled their eyes. I really missed Marvin at these meetings, but he worked a later shift so he wouldn't be in for a few hours.

  "Sorry, my alarm didn't go off." This was a regular excuse for me.

  Fish frowned at my answer. I decided to answer the glare with my best fake smile.

  "So, what were we talking about?"

  Apparently that was a question I shouldn't have asked, because everyone groaned in response.

  "Well, I was telling everyone about the dinner I had at El Charros."

  My eyes found their way to the end of the table and took in Melvin "Ribs" Kowalski. Everyone else seemed steadfastly trying to ignore him. Melvin is a nice guy. He's a 60-year-old Polish American with a gregarious personality and a really cheap pocketbook. He's also obsessed with food. He reminds me of Dom Deluise, for some reason.

  Melvin is one of those people who manages to get a free meal wherever he goes -- and it's always "tremendous." Apparently, the cheaper the meal, the better it is in Melvin's world.

  Melvin continued on his food rant, purposely ignoring the look of boredom on everyone's faces. Apparently my outfit wasn't the most irritating thing in the room. "So we ordered dinner and they brought out this huge bowl of chips and salsa. I'm telling you, this was the best salsa I've ever had in my life. It was tremendous. Did you know these chips are free? Anyway, we just loaded up on the chips and took the food home to have later. That way we got two meals for the price of one."

  Everyone sighed with relief because they thought Melvin was done. Boy, were we wrong.

  "Then, on Saturday, we went to that new Polish place in the Clem," he barely took a breath, I swear. "You have to pay by the pound. It's one of those cafeteria-style places. And they had these great looking ribs. So, you know what you do to save money? You cut the ribs from the bone and leave the bone on the buffet. It's cheaper and more filling."

  "Isn't that stealing?" I didn't even know who asked the question, but it's the same one that went through my mind, so I looked up to Melvin to hear the answer.

  "No, it's not stealing. They want you to do that. They expect it. Don't be ridiculous."

  I didn't even know what to say to that. Fish apparently did.

  "Maybe instead of focusing on ribs, you should focus on your writing."

  While Melvin may be personally likable, professionally he'
s a menace. He spells everything wrong, he never fact checks and he attributes everything to "some guy". I think he's capable, but he's just lazy. He once quoted himself in a weather story, I kid you not. “It’s a beautiful day today,” said Melvin Kowalski.

  Melvin looked unconcerned by Fish's consternation. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the story you filed on Friday?" Fish wasn't backing down. This didn't look good.

  "That was a great story."

  "It was tremendous." I looked around, about four of us had said it in unison under our breath, so the whole room had heard.

  Now Melvin looked annoyed.

  Fish just continued like he hadn’t heard us. "Yeah, it was a great story. A great story that quoted the dead guy."

  Whoops. Like I said, Melvin isn't exactly known for his accuracy.

  "Your story, it quoted the dead guy instead of the cop." Fish was livid. Of course, my question was, why didn't the copy editors catch it, but it didn't seem like a good time to bring it up so I let it pass. I was comfortable with Fish’s rage being directed at Melvin, and not at me.

  Melvin seemed unimpressed with the anger. "Maybe that's what the dead guy was feeling?"

  Things quickly degenerated from there and I thought I'd escape the meeting relatively unscathed until Fish threw one last line out.

  "Oh, Avery, you'll have to cover the county commission meeting this afternoon. No one else is available."

  Well crap.

  Given Fish's mood, I decided not to argue but that didn't stop me from grumbling all the way back to my desk. When I checked the clock, I realized I'd lost a whole hour of my life to that meeting and now I'd have to lose about five more during a county commission meeting that would focus on the county's dwindling budget.

  Macomb's government consists of a county board, made up of twenty-six commissioners, who all vote on what's in the best interests of their district. Recently, as a cost cutting move, the residents of the county decided to switch over to a county executive form of government. When this goes into effect in six months, half the commissioners are going to lose their jobs and now they're all jockeying for political position -- including my ex-asshole Tad.

  After typing in a few briefs and obits, I made my way downtown, parking strategically in front of Eliot's pawnshop instead of the courthouse and walked the three blocks down the street. I think I was secretly hoping to run into him. I didn't. There was some pretty young girl working the counter when I walked by. I mentally cursed myself for caring.