by Tara Brown
“Oh yeah. And cook, and he never gains weight. He’s so lucky.” Callie winked at me.
“Okay, I think I need a drink.” I turned and left the room.
“Me too.” Phil followed.
Matt and Ashley ended up in the kitchen but Mike never came in.
He stayed, cornered and ridiculed by the two savage girls who acted like they’d known each other for years.
We didn’t speak. We drank and listened as he took a beating. I was glad Phil hadn’t brought his kids.
As I was finishing my first cider, he finally blew.
Mike shouted, “FINE! YOU WANNA SEE IT? HERE IT IS!” There was rustling of clothes and girls giggling. “WE’RE EVEN! CAN IT END NOW? I’M SORRY! JESUS! I WILL NEVER TAKE ANOTHER PICTURE SO LONG AS I LIVE!”
We all cringed.
Phil clinked his drink against mine. “I like her.”
I laughed nervously. “Yeah.”
Ashley nodded along. “She’s hot and funny and smart and not afraid to say what she thinks.” His eyes darted to Matt. “You’re now dating the girl version of your best friend. I think we’ve got some repressed homosexual tendencies you will need to bring to your next counselling session.”
“Duly noted.” I finished the cider and placed it on the counter. “Let’s barbeque before I get drunk and have to ride home bitch and pissed on that deathtrap.”
“I’ll get her drunk and you can get a cab,” Matt muttered. “Or just sleep here. But I’m recording whatever happens. You know that.”
“You’re disturbed.” I sighed, grabbed another cider, and headed for the deck to grill the meat.
It was going to be a long night.
Epilogue
Callie and I were curled up in my bed, watching reruns of X-Files when the phone rang. I answered it when I saw Phil’s number. “Hey, Phil.”
“Hey, Simon. So it looks like Dubhe and Carter are both dead. Both bodies were found in an abandoned old warehouse in Port Coquitlam. Carter has been dead a lot longer, obviously. We’ve been moved off the case until they come up with some other leads. Forensics are there now, trying to find some evidence. I suspect they won’t find anything. The owner of the warehouse is some tycoon who has plans for it in a couple of years but currently it’s under the care of a property manager. Until they know more, we’re off. They need us in Richmond tomorrow. There’s a school there where we think one of the kids is catfishing the other kids, pretending to be a teenaged boy from the States. She’s trying to get them into a suicide pact. It’s going to be a couple of days of this.”
“Okay. So no shop on this one?” I asked.
“No. You’re going to be a physics teacher tomorrow. Just a sub. You can handle that, right? It’s for eleventh grade.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m sending the school info and all your details. Jamey is coming with you. I will need the bathrooms bugged. The teachers say that’s where the majority of the bullying happens. The schools have no cameras; some bullshit act where the kids are entitled to privacy. Be there early so they can get you squared away. Only the principal knows who you are.”
“Okay.” I sounded dubious. I was. I’d never taught anything in my life.
“Night.” He ended the call, leaving me fairly uncomfortable.
“Did he just ask you to sub a classroom?”
“Yeah.” I sighed.
“It’s physics. You got this.”
“I’m not worried about the subject as much as I am the talking.”
Callie lifted her head from my chest and kissed my cheek. “If you got me with one sentence, you totally got this.”
She kissed my lips next and for half a second I believed her.
Then I remembered I got her because she found my fumbling for words adorable.
I was screwed.
I snuggled into her as Mulder crept through a dark hallway with a flashlight.
“Mulder is so hot,” Callie mumbled, getting comfy again.
It made me grin. Of course she thought the nerdy FBI geek was hot. Add some glasses and you basically had me.
I didn’t know if it was God paying me back for making me so friggin’ awkward or if she was just the person for me, we matched and were made for each other, but whatever it was, I was grateful.
We’d been together three weeks and already I was completely smitten. I’d even told my brother about her.
I was part of a “we,” and for the first time, I couldn’t imagine her not being mine.
She was mouthy, crazy, full of life, and sometimes full of shit, but she was perfect. She balanced out the inept and shy guy in me.
No matter where I was going in the world, where the road led me or the RCMP forced me to live, I hoped it would be like this, her by my side, wearing her shit-kicker boots and telling Mike to go screw himself.
Maybe not as polite as that though.
I kissed the side of her head, taking a deep inhale and sighing.
“You’re a cheeseball,” she whispered.
“Yup.” I nodded.
She glanced up at me, grinning.
The look in her eyes was everything.
The End.
Stay tuned for Second Chance, Book Two of the Dinner Club Series.
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