Page 132 of A Matter of Time

“I don’t care.”

We drove to the Varsity theater downtown where they were showing The Sound of Music, and they had recliners, couches, and overstuffed chairs instead of rows of seats. I got us both steaming mugs of oolong and got a weird look when I passed his to him before I sat down.

“What? You don’t want me to sit by you?”

He just continued to look at me like I had sprouted wings or something equally strange.

“You want me to pull a chair over here in case some hot woman wants to sit down?”

He sipped his tea. “No.”

“Then what’s with the look?”

“No look, it’s just interesting.”

“What is?”

He turned his deep dark eyes on me. “You, Jory.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He smiled over the top of his cup. “Well, the fact that you’re here hanging with me at twenty-two years old instead of out getting laid…that’s interesting.”

I snorted. “I’ll be twenty-three in January.”

“Which has what to do with anything I just said?”

“I dunno.”

“Just talking to hear yourself, huh?”

“No, I just… Isn’t Thanksgiving a holiday you’re supposed to spend with your family?”

“Yes, it is.”

I looked him in the eye. “Well then.”

He stared at me and I stared back, and between my words and the way I met his gaze with my own, he understood what I was trying to say.

“Okay,” he said as the movie started.

And somewhere near the middle of the film he gave my leg a gentle pat as he slouched in his seat. It was not to be missed that the man treated me more like his brother than his assistant. I wondered briefly if he realized it himself.

SIXTEEN

Sitting at the bar the next evening at the Arbor, watching Trip on the dance floor with his friends, I wondered how I had so misread a dinner invitation. I’d thought we would get drinks, move on to dinner, and finally take a walk and get to know each other. I had imagined us alone. Apparently, he had imagined dancing at the club with friends. He’d invited half a dozen people to join us, and he was currently sandwiched between two very beautiful women, doing the bump and grind. As I glanced at them, I realized that what I had thought would be just him and me, he had seen as an opportunity to party. And I could get out there and do some dirty dancing of my own, but I didn’t feel like it. I realized, sadly, that I was a bit tired of the club scene. I’d rather be home ironing my clothes. This was what came of having a fake ID at sixteen. All the excitement was gone by the time you were old enough to legally do all the things the law said you could.

I declined two drinks the bartender tried to put down in front of me, sent over from men I didn’t know, and instead paid my tab and headed for the door. I glanced over my shoulder, but Trip didn’t even notice. I was going to make a clean getaway.

Outside on the street my phone rang, and I leaned back against the glass window and answered it.

“I need to talk to you,” Sam Kage said flatly on the other end.

I was surprised that I was speaking to the detective again. I had thought our last encounter was it. When he came to my apartment in the middle of the night and yelled at me for not letting him protect me, I thought I had finally driven him away. I had hoped I was wrong, prayed I was wrong, but feared I was right. Sam Kage had a hold over me that was hard to articulate, and I was usually so good at talking.