“Basically, yes,” she said.
“And you would be willing to do this?”
“It would be a thrilling little distraction. My life is too mundane.”
“Your definition of mundane is interesting.”
Patricia laughed. “I know. I think I’ll have to imitate Robert and get myself a floozy. Can boys be floozies? I want a gorgeous twenty-two-year-old with muscles and a dazzling smile.”
“I’m sure we can find you a boy floozy.”
“Wonderful. You do that. I’ll meditate on details of money laundering.”
“I owe you,” I said.
“No, that’s silly. I’ll figure out some concrete details and call you.”
I acquiesced and we hung up. I stretched to set my phone on the coffee table. The movement made Nickels decide suddenly that my feet were made of deception and possibly catnip. She attacked. I froze. That seemed to confuse her. Her claws were on the cusp of full extension, her nails pressed into my bare feet. It was a perfect threat. We stared at each other, poised to react. She relaxed suddenly. Her claws retracted. She licked my big toe and started purring.
“It’s not nice to threaten people like that,” I said.
Nickels disagreed. The claws came out and she bit my toe. I froze again. This game wasn’t fun. The front door next door closed loudly. Nickels jumped off the couch and sprinted for my room.
It was the middle of Robin’s shift so Andy must have just walked in. I grabbed my phone and shot off a text. Two minutes later, there was a knock at the back door. Andy waited all of two seconds before letting herself in.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.
I pushed myself upright. “I got you something.” I went into the kitchen and grabbed the Ray-Bans box off the table. When I turned around, Andy was directly behind me. “Whoa.”
“What is it?” She leaned into my space.
I handed the box over. Her eyes got big, but she didn’t say anything. Guessing wrong would probably make the magical present disappear. She went back into the living room and sat on the couch. She wrestled the box open, shook the glasses case out. It wasn’t until she popped open the case that she looked up. Her mouth was open in a little shocked O.
“What do you think?”
Her response was to put the aviators on and run to look in the bathroom mirror. I followed her.
“Dude, they are like totally bitchin’.” She turned back and forth to get the full visual.
“They fit okay?”
“Yeah.” Andy nodded. As if disagreeing would lose her the bright shiny present forever.
“Look at the floor. Make sure they don’t slide down too much.”
She complied. They stayed in place. Good.
“Alejandro is going to be so jealous. We watched Top Gun last night,” she said.
I laughed. “So you kinda liked it, then?”
“Duh. I told you I did.”
“Yeah, but seeing it once in a theater is different from showing it to your friends on repeat.”
“Yeah. It’s whatever.”
Wow. All that. I backed out of the bathroom. Andy continued to pose. She could be enamored of herself for hours. Ah, to be young again.
Chapter Seventeen
“You know I love art and you know I love you, but this is pushing the limits of both.”
Kyra tilted her head to the side. She took a deep breath. “I would really like to argue with you because I think art has inherent value.”
“This doesn’t have value.”
The video looped again. It was two separate videos cut together. One was video of the Gulf War. The second, a naked dude painting himself with latex body paint. At the end of the video—which I had now seen three times—he removed the paint in a seemingly painful manner while the explosions from the war reached their crescendo.
“The more I watch it, the more I feel like I’m just being forced to look at this dude’s penis,” Kyra said.
“It’s like the epitome of white male entitlement.”
“Yes. War and dick pics, but under the guise of art.”
“White. Male. Entitlement.”
Kyra finally looked away from the screen. “I was told that it was inelegant, but the artist showed real promise. That’s a direct quote, by the way. Inelegant, real promise.”
“And who told you this lie?”
“A friend, an artist.”
“Ten bucks it was a dude,” I said.
Kyra huffed. “Yes.”
“Your friend is blinded by his privilege.”
“I’m aware, thanks.” She tucked her hands around my arm and leaned into me. “He wanted me to tell him if the kid was worth giving a spot to in his artist collective.”
“That’s rough. I mean, not as rough as this, but still.” We turned away from the wall of screens. It was bad enough that there were fifteen large televisions. The fact that they were high def just made the entire thing painful. Especially for the thirty-second close-up of the guy’s scrotum.
The doorway to the rest of the gallery was across ten feet of whitewashed cement flooring. Projectors mounted on the ceiling played the video on the floor. To enter or leave the room, one was required to become a part of the image for a moment. As they hurried past, the viewers cast strange shadows on the floor.
Kyra and I left the room. The rest of the gallery suddenly seemed unappealing. The curator or owner—whoever had cast this space—clearly had questionable taste.
The warm evening breeze felt cleansing. Kyra convinced me to go to the Shady Lady. She slid her hand down my arm and threaded her fingers through mine. We walked a couple of blocks in comfortable silence.
“What are the chances the artist intended it as a criticism of white male entitlement?” Kyra asked.
“Was there some indication that it was meta or analytical?” I was asking myself as much as her.
We went another half a block.
“No. There wasn’t. It felt more like he was asking to be reassured of his vulnerability and brilliance. As if stripping was worth something,” Kyra said.
“Stripping could be worth something.”
“If he were objectified. It was presented as though he expected to be objectified, but it wasn’t actually objectifying.”
I opened the door with my free hand. Kyra led me inside. It was busy, but nowhere near peak. We worked our way to the center of the room. The bar itself had three sides. The bartenders moved between sections depending on the ingredients they needed. The result was measured chaos. I used my scant height advantage to get Kyra to the bar. She used her pretty eyes to snag a bartender. He handed over my beer and Kyra’s cocktail in record time. I looked up through the carefully stacked bottles to the other side of the bar. When I caught sight of Jerome St. Maris, it took me a moment to comprehend his presence. I needed to stop coming to this goddamn bar. Jerome seemingly hadn’t noticed me. Maybe that meant he wasn’t here to harass me.
Kyra and I grabbed our drinks. Halfway to the door, I realized she was talking to me.
“Huh?”
“What’s up? You totally just checked out. That’s not like you.” Kyra squeezed my hand.
“Oh, sorry. Let’s get out of here.” I opened the door.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes.” I waited until we were on the patio and well out of Jerome’s earshot. “There’s a dude who’s like my rival dealer. He’s been picking off my client list. He was across the bar.” I nodded at the now closed doors.
“I take it you didn’t expect to see him here?”
I shook my head. “I never expect to see him. But I have run into him here before so I don’t know why I’m surprised.” I shrugged. “Maybe because he has a Victorian era bar built into his dining room.” Shady Lady had a whole mid-nineteenth century vibe going. It was dumb. People loved it.
“He’s your rival but you’ve been to his house?” Kyra asked.
“Oh, umm. I broke in once.”
Kyra laughed. “You’re interesting.”
“Cash?” The question came from behind us. It was unmistakably Laurel’s voice.
I turned, dreading the hell my night was about to turn into. Laurel was sitting with a guy who had to have at least a foot on her. He was skinny, but his arms and shoulders were ripped. He was good-looking in that boring straight guy way. I knew an hour after meeting him, I would struggle to describe his features. He looked familiar, but I was certain I’d never seen him.
“Laurel. Hey,” I said. Kyra’s grip on my hand tightened. I pulled her toward their table with me.
“What are you doing here?” Laurel looked at Kyra, then back at me. Her posture, her tone, everything about her was neutral.
“I was going to ask you the same.” I attempted a smile, but it didn’t go well.
“Just grabbing a drink.” She didn’t elaborate beyond that.
“And since my sister is being rude, I’ll introduce myself. Lance.” The guy held out his hand and I shook it.
“Cash. I’m—” I didn’t really know how to explain my relationship to Laurel. Colleague seemed weak. Everything else seemed like a lie. Jerome made the decision for me when he emerged from the doorway behind the Kallens. “I’m Laurel’s girlfriend.” Laurel and Kyra both sucked in deep breaths, but neither of them said anything to contradict me. “Kyra, this is the guy I was telling you about. Meet Laurel’s brother Lance.”
Lance seemed confused at the sudden shift, but when Kyra smiled flirtatiously, he did too. Kyra dropped her hand from mine. I stepped into Laurel’s space and kissed her cheek.
“What the hell?” Laurel whispered.
“Jerome St. Maris,” I whispered back.
She groaned and pulled away. “I’m glad we were finally able to get you guys to meet,” Laurel said to Lance and Kyra.
“Me too,” Kyra said brightly. “How many times have we already tried?”
“Three at least.” Laurel tried to match her tone and failed. “But now it’s official. Lance Collins, Kyra Daneshmandan.”
A lot happened when Laurel said those magic names. Lance seemed to realize that he was now participating in an undercover operation. He relaxed at finding his role. Kyra realized that Laurel had information. I saw the moment Kyra tucked away her anger. She was going to let me have it later. That wasn’t going to be fun.
“Sit down,” Lance said.
“Yeah, please do.” Laurel shifted a seat to make room for us. I sat with my back to Jerome and hoped that would be enough. I was great at lying to me.
“Cash?” Jerome asked. Laurel and I turned. “And the bodyguard.” He smiled at his joke.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” I was aiming for casual. I fell short.
“Living the dream.” He shrugged as if living the dream was too much effort. Like he had so much chill he didn’t even know what to do with it. He snagged a stool and dragged it to our table. The scraping of the heavy stool legs was grating and deafening. “So what are we up to tonight?”
Laurel looked at me. I looked back. I had no clue how we ended up here and I didn’t know how to get away.
“Dancing,” I said, inexplicably. I fucking hated to dance.
Jerome smiled. “I love dancing. Where are we going?”
“Badlands.” Laurel upped the stakes with the gayest of the gay clubs.
“They have the best beats,” Jerome said. “Plus, I always get hit on. Great for my ego. Even if they are just fags.” I glared at him. He shoved my arm. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“Good one.”
“You know, I don’t think that’s very funny,” Kyra said.
“Hey, girl. I’m just playing. Cash knows I love to fuck with her.” Jerome smiled with the abandon of a guy who knew he could joke away anything. But he had never met Kyra.
“Be that as it may, jokes like that contribute to a culture of violence. When we aren’t accountable for our language, then we lose accountability for our actions.”
“Whoa. Someone went to college.”
“I have to be educated to disagree with you? That’s condescending as fuck.” Kyra drained her drink and stood. “I think it’s time to go dancing. Like I was promised. You’re not invited,” she said to Jerome.
Lance drained his tumbler and stood. “Everything she said.” He grinned. It was good someone was enjoying this.
I took a drink of my beer. I hadn’t even tried it yet. It was good. Laurel stood. I wasn’t going to get to finish my beer. I was okay with that.
“Okay. I get it.” Jerome put his hands up and backed away, still smiling. “You guys have fun dancing.”
Kyra shook her head and led the way off the patio. She curled her hand into the crook of Lance’s elbow. Laurel and I fell into step behind them. Laurel threaded her arm around my waist and I threw mine around her shoulders. It was for show. She was stiff. I was stiff. No one was happy. Actually, Kyra and Lance looked quite pleased with the direction their night had taken. They talked and flirted and laughed. We turned up Sixteenth, which finally removed us from Jerome’s sightline. Laurel dropped her arm. I did too.
“That was a fucking disaster,” Laurel said.
“You’re goddamn right it was.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking?” I repeated. How was she mad at me?
“Yeah, you can’t just bring the chick you’re screwing to a bar where a known associate hangs out.” She kept her voice low, but I was sure it still carried.
“That’s bullshit. You can’t regulate where I go. Also, I had no knowledge of him hanging out there.”
“We ran into him there before.”
“He followed me there before. That’s an important distinction,” I said.
Kyra and Lance cut through the park connecting Sixteenth and Fifteenth. We followed them, but I slowed my pace to let them get ahead of us.
“If you have to draw distinctions, you’re not being careful enough. This isn’t something you can participate in when it’s convenient,” Laurel said.
I was tired of being lectured. I stopped walking. “Fine, Detective. You have an issue, let the DA’s office know. They can contact my lawyer.”
Laurel stopped and glared at me. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her muscles were tight. I shoved my hands in my pockets and glared right back. This was never going to work if she wanted a puppet CI. That wasn’t our deal.
Kyra and Lance must have realized that we weren’t following them anymore because they looped back.
“Laur, I’m completely lost here, but we probably need to be a few more blocks away before we break up this party,” Lance said.
“Yeah, okay.” Laurel didn’t acknowledge me. She just turned and kept walking. We were ten blocks from Badlands, but only two from Shady Lady. Lance was right.
We walked another five blocks. Kyra and Lance toned down the whole flirting and laughing thing, but not by much. Finally, we came across an alley and ducked into it. The four of us stood under a sickly orange streetlight and watched each other.
Laurel broke first. Which was probably fitting. “Cash is my CI,” she said to Lance.
“I kinda figured.” Lance shrugged and turned to me. “It’s nice to meet you. When she’s not being an asshole, which is rare because she’s a total asshole, Laur speaks highly of you.” He grinned. “But mostly she’s just a jerk. So don’t take it personal.”
“Thanks?” I said.
“She’s not even the biggest asshole. You should meet Logan. He’s our younger brother. He didn’t want to be a cop like the big kids so he became a lawyer.” Lance shuddered.
I smiled despite myself. “At least one of you turned out charming.”
Lance brightened. “Hey, that’s me, right? I’m the charming one.”
We laughed. Laurel scowled. Kyra fumed. This was going to get rough. Well, more rough.
“This has been super fun, but I think it’s time for me to head home,” Kyra said.
“Wait.” Laurel put her hand out. “I should probably explain some things.”
“Like what?” Kyra asked.
“Like how I knew who you were. It’s not weird, I promise. You just came up as an associate of Cash. You’re not in some file somewhere. According to Sac PD, you’re a private citizen. That’s it.”
Kyra relaxed mildly. “But you know my name.” She emphasized you. It felt loaded.
“And that’s because I’m an asshole, like Lance said.” Laurel attempted a smile. “You probably know that Cash and I had less than auspicious beginnings. I tracked her romantic involvements more closely than I should have. I was concerned about the validity of our cover. But that’s about me, not you.”
That was quite a speech. I wondered which of us Laurel was lying to.
Kyra nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ll walk you home,” I said.
“No. I’m good.” Kyra started to walk away.
I rushed to catch up to her. “Kyra. Wait. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really. I’m just not feeling like being around people right now.”
“You sure?”
“I’m pissed, but not at you necessarily.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I am. But I’ll let you know, all right?”
“Yeah, okay. Let me know that you got home safe though. Just text me,” I said.
“I will.”
I watched her walk away. We had been friends for years. This wouldn’t change that. But it felt like a shift regardless. I didn’t know what to make of it. I turned back to the Kallens. They both quickly shifted their gaze to the ground.
“So this has been an interesting night,” Lance said. Laurel and I nodded. “I guess you two are used to this sort of thing. Since you’re all up in the undercover business. But it was interesting for me. Oh, shit. Are you going to have to put this in a report?” He groaned. “My captain is not going to like this.”
Apparently, Lance talked when he was uncomfortable.
“No. We don’t need to report it,” Laurel said.
“But that douche was an associate, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s the subject of an ongoing investigation. That was barely a sneeze compared to the rest of his file. There wasn’t much worth noting in that exchange.”
The Price of Cash Page 14
