The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery

by Carlie Lemont

  “Uh... are you, okay?”

  “Huh?” Cassidy’s eyes snapped open to a very confused Cruz.

  “I was reaching for your case,” he said, “then you closed your eyes and made a kind of squealing noise.”

  “You—You’re—” Cassidy struggled. “I was hoping you wouldn’t touch me,” she blurted out. “This outfit’s new, and I didn’t want your grimy pool-cleaning hands to ruin it.” And her posture stiffened as if to prove her point.

  “Okay, then. That’s really... an unorthodox outfit to wear to a shooting range.”

  “Hey, if you look good, you perform well.” Cassidy cocked her hip, straightened the front of her jacket.

  “Well, if that theory’s correct, then I suspect you’ll do really, really, great.” He winked at her before leading the way to the far side of the building to practice.

  Along the stretch of hallway, about every few feet, stood doors that accessed the shooting booths, from where muffled shots resonated.

  Briefcase in hand, Cassidy tagged behind like a well-dressed, fashion-forward, completely-out-of-her-element puppy, and when they’d reached the last firing lane, Cruz turned to her, handing her some protective earmuffs.

  “Here,” he said, “take these. You’ll need to wear them inside the booth.”

  Cassidy scoffed. “I’m not wearing those. They don’t go with my outfit. And don’t get me started on how many other people have already worn them.”

  “Either you wear them, or sustain hearing loss. Plus, it’s club policy; you have to wear them in order to shoot the gun,” he told her in a tone more suited for a father or a youth camp counselor. Neither of these were terribly pleasing.

  “Fine.” She snatched the earmuffs from him and laid them onto a nearby bench. “I’ll wear them, but you owe me.”

  “Tell you what. You wear the earmuffs, and I’ll not only drive you home tonight, but I’ll also take you out for a drink this upcoming weekend. Deal?” Eyebrows raised, he unleashed an award-winning smile.

  Cassidy blushed at his offer and jumped at the chance. “I’ll try to pencil you into my crammed social calendar. Okay, so what do we do first?”

  “Can I open your case to see the gun you brought?”

  “Sure. Be careful, though. It’s not mine, and I don’t want it broken.” She placed the briefcase onto the counter.

  Cruz opened it. “Wow, you have a really nice gun here.”

  For a few minutes, he picked it up and checked it over for who knew what. She really didn’t care. Although, when he lifted the of gun from the case, his flexing biceps caught her attention. He’d started to explain something about guns or bullets or whatever, but his muscles bulged just below the hem of his shirtsleeve and his forearms rippled enticingly as he gripped the gun’s handle. His fingertips slid over the length of the cold steel, and Cassidy closed her eyes, envisioning his hands caressing her soft, well-moisturized skin. So heavenly... But she forced herself back to reality and let out a long-held breath. The lack of oxygen was starting to make her feel faint. Maybe if she passed out, he’d give her mouth-to-mouth. Is he truly interested in her? Her attention drifted back to his big, strong hands...

  “Cassidy? Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Cruz bent low, waved a hand in front of her eyes.

  She smiled. “Oh, yes, of course. I... just got distracted. The gun’s... very distracting.” Ugh. What a stupid thing to say. She blushed, hating herself for it.

  “Well, in that case, how about I start over?”

  “No. That's okay. I got this.”

  “Fine. Just remember to stand how I’d demonstrated so you have maximum control of the weapon. The kickback might throw you off balance a little bit, and you’ll need to be prepared to fire again if the situation calls for it.” Cruz stepped back and draped his own ear protection around the back of his neck.

  Cassidy glanced at him, then down at the gun. “I probably should have paid more attention.”

  “If you have any questions, I’m all ears. Better safe than sorry.”

  But, fearing more long, boring explanations, Cassidy shook her head. “No worries. I’ll be fine. Feet shoulder width apart, right?”

  “You got it.”

  Hearing protection in place, they entered the booth, where the noise level increased exponentially, though the rapid, muffled sound of gunfire didn’t bother her at all. In fact, the most prominent sound was her own breathing, and the rhythmic rush of air in and out began to further calm her nerves.

  Cassidy donned a pair of beautiful pink latex gloves before picking up the weapon, which sat heavy in her grip. She held it straight out in front of her, shocked by how difficult it was to maintain a steady hand. Her plan was to fire off a quick couple of shots and look sexy while doing so; no sense in wasting this golden opportunity to impress.

  Cassidy released the safety and clicked back the slider-thingy she vaguely remembered Cruz showing her earlier. Then, ready to show off her skills, she tossed her blonde ponytail to one side, cocked her hip to the other, and glanced back at her friend.

  He smiled.

  She melted.

  Go time.

  Her finger found the trigger. The recoil, however, was stronger than expected, and she stepped backwards to catch her balance as both arms involuntarily jerked upward toward the ceiling. Worse, she fired a second time into the rafters.

  “Cassidy!” Cruz yelled, rushing to her side. “Let go of the trigger!”

  “What?” She missed his words, but didn’t miss the hand he clamped around her wrist nor the arm he wrapped around her waist.

  She melted—again.

  He removed the gun from her grip, not with aggression, but pure professionalism. “Wow,” she said, “that’s not what I’d expected.” And she pulled off the earmuffs. The room was surprising quiet. Every shooting alley was now empty; she and Cruz were alone.

  “Me either,” Cruz said, out of breath, jumpy.

  “You look a little nervous.” She winked. “You scared or something?”

  “It’s like you hadn’t listened to a single word I said! Your stance was wrong. Your... your... Wow. Just... everything.” He shook his head.

  “Oh, great pep-talk, coach. So, basically you’re saying I suck at this.”

  “Not saying that at all. What I’m trying to—”

  “Hey, maybe instead of cleaning pools, you should be a motivational speaker. Or better yet, you’d be fantastic at giving eulogies. You could say, ‘Well, here’s hoping there actually is a Heaven!’”

  At this, Cruz chuckled and held out his hand. “Come here.” Cassidy inched closer. “I was just surprised, is all. I wasn’t expecting to almost die today.”

  Cassidy smiled sheepishly, eyebrows and shoulders a bit elevated.

  “Now let’s try this again, and this time, follow my instructions. I have a eulogy to give in the morning.”

  Smirking, Cassidy fake-slapped him with a gloved hand as they shared a laugh.

  Second time around, everything was different. With earmuffs in place, Cassidy gripped the handgun, fingers closed around the textured handle and, mindful to keep the barrel pointed toward the floor, she squared herself up.

  “Now,” Cruz said, “widen your stance. Your feet should be at least shoulder width apart. Bend your knees slightly; your weight shouldn’t be on your heels.” Even though he was well-versed in gun technique, he also made it clear and easy to follow.

  “Like, this?”

  “Not quite. Try to relax.”

  “I am relaxed—Ow!”

  “What?” He grabbed away the gun.

  “Hand cramp.”

  “Gimme,” he said and, taking her hand into his, began to massage her palm. Cassidy started to melt for a third time. “That better?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Good. Maybe you were confused by my explanation earlier since I was using my left hand. Everything I showed you is the same, but use your right. Now, put the gun in your right hand. You’re going to use yo
ur left to help steady the weapon. Hold it firmly, but don’t squeeze too tight. Relax. Breathe.” He edged back and took a seat behind her while Cassidy adjusted her stance according to his instruction. She grimaced.

  “This feels really awkward,” she said. “Are you sure this is right? You’re not playing a joke on me, are you?”

  Cruz rose and, with his hands on his hips, scrutinized her, walking behind from one side to the other.

  Cassidy huffed. “What is this, the Westminster Dog Show?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to help position you.” Without waiting for confirmation, Cruz knelt and began to physically place her feet how he wanted them. Normally, Cassidy would have recoiled from someone else’s touch, but instead, she stood quiet and steadfast. Next, he put his hands onto her hips, rotating them slightly to the right, then positioned himself behind her with the front of his body now glued to her backside. Cassidy breathed in his scent—an intoxicating mixture of cologne and man. The heat of his chest permeated through her jacket, warming her mood, while her mind wandered to the various possibilities: dating, earth-shattering sex, marriage... until his gentle voice broke her trance.

  “You’re shaking. Don’t be nervous.”

  “I’m just cold, is all.” Her voice quivered as a bead of sweat trickled down her spine. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Cruz slid his hands down her arms, which had since dropped by her sides, and firmly took ahold of her wrists to pull her arms into the correct firing position. She maintained her grip on the gun and held both arms in place. Her head relaxed back onto his shoulder.

  “You have to look at what you’re going to shoot.”

  Cassidy cleared her throat, snapped her head up. “Look at what I’m going to shoot. Got it.”

  “Once you have the target lined up, take a deep breath”—Cruz inhaled, and Cassidy mimicked him—“then slowly let out your breath, and fire.”

  Cassidy pulled the trigger. She didn’t fall backwards. She didn’t lose control of the gun. She lowered the weapon to her side. And the two of them remained locked in their positions, neither ready, nor willing to move. Cassidy relaxed back into his chest as the heat of his body warmed hers and their breathing fell in synch. Based on his lower body’s reaction to their closeness, she wasn’t the only one who wanted more than just their breaths moving together. Eventually, Cruz stepped back, and Cassidy placed the gun onto the small metal table next to her.

  “That was... amazing,” she said, though her pleased comment had nothing to do with the great shot she’d just made.

  “Yes, it was.”

  They stood facing each other, and even though they were separated by only a few feet, Cassidy could still sense the intense electricity between them. But soon an awkwardness began to grow, and she did her best to keep her mouth closed, for fear of saying the wrong thing. She started rummaging through her purse, wishing she’d brought her own car.

  “What’re you looking for?”

  “My cell. I need to call a cab.”

  “A cab? I thought I was taking you home.”

  Cassidy glanced at her watch and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure you have plenty of stuff you still need to finish here. I wouldn’t want to impose... or wait.”

  “Actually, I’m all done. I’ll be ready to leave when you are.” He placed the gun back into the briefcase.

  “Okay, then.” Cassidy packed up her belongings, and they made their way out to the parking lot, where she said, “My car’s at the bar where I’d met my friend who drove me.”

  “Which bar? We could go have a drink, if you want.”

  “Normally, I’d say yes, but I have to be up early tomorrow. So, if you don’t mind, could you just drive me to Ted’s Bar and Grill?”

  “Of course.” They got into the car.

  As he drove, Cassidy started to fiddle with the air vent, feeling flushed. “Is it hot in here?” she said.

  He turned up the air conditioner. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Much. So, you know the way to Ted’s?”

  “Absolutely! I love Ted’s. Great atmosphere.”

  And together, they laughed at this.

  “You know,” she said, “it’s so nice to have a pleasant adult conversation with someone. Seems like I rarely get that opportunity. Although, the other night at the pool was nice.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know you had kids?”

  “What? Good Lord, no! I talk to patients who sadly can't always communicate like adults, or at least they don’t always act like it.”

  “Getting old is pretty scary...and sad. You’ve got quite a meaningful job. You must enjoy it.”

  “I do, for the most part. But it can be very, very draining. JJ and I often refer to it as ‘soul-sucking.’”

  “So... you and this JJ? Friends and coworkers, or—?”

  “Friends, for the most part. Although we do work together. He’s the best friend I’ve had in years. Not the greatest conversationalist; we mostly end up making fun of people, which he claims is to help us compartmentalize our daily stress. Or, maybe we’re just mean.”

  “You don’t seem mean to me. Maybe JJ’s right, or maybe I’m just biased. Hey, look... can you believe it? We’re here already.”

  Cruz circled around to the front lot, where they found Cassidy’s car, and an awkward silence settled between them. Never one to enjoy a silence like that, Cassidy couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

  “Well—”

  “How about—”

  They looked at each other, then laughed.

  “What was that?” Cassidy said.

  “No, you were about to say something. You go first.”

  “I was just going to say you have a really nice car for a pool guy.” And she burst out with another nervous laugh. “What were you going to say?”

  Cruz stared down at the floor for a moment before he met eyes with her, serious and amiable. “I was hoping we could do this again sometime.” He smiled. “Soon. Really, really soon, actually.”

  Cassidy’s smile wouldn’t leave her face. “That’d be great. I’d love it.”

  Then, he leaned in for a kiss. Cassidy’s heart raced, and her palms grew sweaty. Damn! Do I need a stick of gum? Do I smell? More importantly, do I use tongue? But, silencing her insecurities, Cassidy parted her lips and closed her eyes, prepared to let the sparks fly and the Earth move. Slowly, she leaned in... when her movement was pulled up short and her purse strap tightened around her neck like a noose. It’d been closed into the car door!

  Her eyelids popped open in alarm. Damn you, Louis Vuitton and your well-made leather handles!

  “I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.” She freed her arm of the purse strap and opened the car door.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “I... gotta go.”

  “Don’t forget the—”

  Cassidy was pulled up short again.

  “Seatbelt,” he finished.

  They both laughed, although she more just wanted to cry.

  “Thanks for a lovely afternoon,” she said, averting her eyes and getting out of the car. “Hope to see you around.”

  After rummaging through her bag, Cassidy found her keys, got into her car, and gave Cruz’s vehicle a sidelong look as he drove away.

  “Ugh!” She cupped her face into her palms. “I am so embarrassed. I hope my car blows up when I start it.” I could use an actual girl for a friend right now. I need to talk to someone. The only real friend she had was JJ. He wasn’t a girl, and wouldn’t be of much help. Plus, the “mother hen” in him would be upset about her going to the shooting range. The bar looked locked up tight so she couldn't return the gun tonight. She took the gun from the case and put it into her purse for safe keeping. She wasn't going to lug the case around with her and didn't feel comfortable keeping it in the car. She pulled away from Ted's and headed straight home.

  So, even though Cassidy had sworn up and down that she’d never reach out to her mother to dis
cuss her love life, Virgie was her last hope for a listening ear. Cassidy pulled into her apartment complex, parked her car, and made the dreaded phone call.

  “Hello?” Virgie said.

  “Hey, mom. How’s it going?” Instinctively, Cassidy started the mental clock that counted down the minutes before her mother brought up Cassidy’s lack of a boyfriend.

  “Good, dear, good. I’m sitting poolside with my friends. We’ve just finished brunch.” Then Virgie whispered, “You won’t believe these ladies. All gold-digging sluts, every single one of them.”

  “I thought you just said they were your friends,” Cassidy said as she got out of her car to make her way toward the apartment.

  “I’m not saying they aren’t fun to hang out with. Just giving you some background information, that’s all. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Did you get married and not tell your dear old mother?” The dramatic flair in her mom’s voice always made Cassidy laugh through her tears of madness when dealing with the infuriating woman.

  “No, but I did meet someone.”

  “You did? He’s not in prison, is he? I’ve been watching this television program where desperate women fall in love with convicted murderers on death row.” She paused. “Trust me, it doesn’t end well.”

  “Mom! You make me out to be some kind of freak!” Reaching through the phone and slapping the drink out her mom’s hand would have felt great, but proved possible. “Your gold-digging slut friends will get the wrong idea about me if you keep saying stuff like this.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. I was just making sure you hadn’t lost your mind or something. Living alone, cooped up in an apartment with a dog can do that to a person. Trust me, dear, I’ve filled these ladies in on your... situation.”

  “My situation? I’m single, not terminally ill.” Cassidy sighed. This conversation wasn’t going where she’d hoped, though pretty much expected.

  “You’re not getting any younger, Cassidy. And it’s not like you’re a divorcée. I mean, it’s understandable if you’d been married and had gotten your heart broken. Something tragic like that, you know? Like had an elderly husband who’d died—left you a ton of money. All the more reason to lock yourself away in the house like some old spinster. But really, you’re barely thirty. The girls and I think you need to join one of those online dating services. Candy says—”