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I huff my bangs out of my eyes as I keep cramming more shit into the bag until I’m finally done. I think I’ve made a clean escape but run into my neighbor who happens to be the biggest snitch this side of an interrogation room. I fight the urge to tell her snitches get stitches as she asks me about the man waiting downstairs on me.
“Found yourself a boyfriend, deary? Finally.”
See it’s the ‘finally’ that really irks me. She didn’t have to add it. It’s not like I’m clueless about the fact that I’m socially awkward and don’t date. Bitch.
“No, Mrs. C. He’s just driving me to Birdie’s.” Eventually, I’m sure he’ll deliver me to Birdie so I can drop the puppy off and he can be done with me. I give the nosy old bat my brightest smile. “Wow, you must be tired today.”
Mrs. C loses her smile. “Why?”
There’s the real old geezer hiding behind that false smile and false teeth. I hate people who pretend to be something they aren’t. “Well, Roland didn’t leave until six this morning, did he?” I mention the building’s maintenance man who is as ancient as Mrs. C is. And married. “Must have been a hell of a leak.”
I give her the smile that’s gotten me into more trouble than it’s gotten me out of and finish locking the door and turning to run down the stairs. Let that sink in, Mrs. C. You tell on me, I tell on you. I might not have a great homelife, a hot cop to keep me warm at night, or any of my shit together…but I know how to play the game of life and have a terrible case of insomnia most nights.
I throw my bag in the back beside Brownie and slide in. You got to work with what you got and all I got was the smart-ass gene and maybe a chip or two on my shoulder.
Chapter Three
____________
Brook
True to his word as soon as he gives me a tour of his house and tells me what room to sleep in Waylen is gone, leaving a perfect stranger to tiptoe through his house. I wonder if he has one of those ‘nanny’ cam things hidden somewhere so he can keep an eye on things. Probably not wise to prance around the living room naked…just in case.
That still doesn’t stop me from looking in every room and exploring the whole house. It’s a big house for a bachelor. I wonder if he’s divorced, and he got to keep the house while she kept everything else. He’s got a great backyard too. It even has a pool I would love to go splash around in…if this had been under different circumstances of course. I remind myself that I’m only here because I have to watch Brownie for Birdie while she’s being hunted by murderous villains protected by her hot cop boyfriend who looks at her like she might have hung the stars and moon.
I try not to pay attention to the jealousy that rises up at the thought that Birdie has a man and…I’m still playing with puppy dog tails and wondering why boys don’t like girls who can kick their asses. It’s not that I started out kicking guy’s asses or mouthing off. I just didn’t like boys making fun of me or trying to poke at my best friend. Birdie was always too sweet to poke back. You get a reputation for having a lethal tongue and it doesn’t take long for the boys who date to not want to even try with you.
I flop on the couch and turn the big-ass tv on. It’s really the only thing here that screams MAN PALACE. I can picture Waylen sitting around with his buddies yelling and screaming at the TV when ‘the game’ is on -football or hockey or basketball or whatever game it is they watch. The first three channels all have fucking rom-coms on them. Like even the universe is trying to rub it in my face that everyone is running ahead of me, and I’m still left in the kiddie pool of life. Birdie’s having sex with a hot detective who wants to frisk her in all the right ways and I’m still a virgin.
Hell, even the other girl we used to hang out with has gone off and gotten married over the summer. I’m pretty sure she ordered her spouse in the mail but I’m not judging. Much. She and Sergei will be very happy once they get past the language barrier. And the fact he might be involved with the Russian mafia and in witness protection. I’m sure it will all work out for them in the end. See, I’m a romantic at heart. I believe in true love. I just don’t want to see it in my freakin’ face, which is why I turn on an action-thriller with big chase scenes and order the largest pizza I can have delivered.
I spend the night loving on Brownie and trying to ease my pain with copious amounts of cheese. The next morning I expect to hear something from Birdie but there’s nothing. At noon I started trying to call her. I worry at first that maybe I shouldn’t because what if I’m the reason the bad guys find her all because I called? But after three I don’t even care anymore. Birdie would call even if she was running from villainous murderers. There hasn’t been a day we’ve not talked to one another since we met in kindergarten. She would call…if she was able.
The whole ‘able’ part is what scares me so badly. It’s what keeps me pacing the floor for hours while cleaning up the puddle Brownie made in the kitchen. It’s why I pounce on him as soon as Waylen comes through the door late in the dark of the night.
“What happened? Is Birdie okay? I’ve been trying to call her all day long and she’s never not called me. Did something bad happen?”
He looks tired. And heads right to the kitchen to open counters and lift the lid off the pizza box that I demolished about five hours ago.
“The bad guys came again.” My heart thuds at his words and my mouth goes dry. “We were ready. Me and Gareth took the live one down and handcuffed him.”
“Live one?” What the hell does that mean?
“Gareth took out the one that went after Birdie after she got a few swings of her own in.” Swings? Birdie took a swing at someone. That doesn’t sound like Birdie but then how can I be sure what she would and wouldn’t do if her life were at stake? I know I would fight like hell. I hold my breath and wait for him to give me more. “Anyway, the guy who lived sang like a canary and told us why all of this was happening. Turns out our current mayor had some secrets he wanted to be hidden…permanently. Bob was onto him and about to turn his ass in when the jackass hired thugs to kill the. Little good it did him since everyone knows everything now.”
I try to take it all in. Is he supposed to be telling me all of this? Isn’t there a rule against it or something? But he goes on.
“So I went to arrest the fucking mayor and he committed suicide before we could break through the door. Three dead bodies and one guy who’s up the fucking river. The paperwork is a nightmare.”
I think I went stupid a little bit because it’s taking me a lot longer to process what he is telling me.
“You…saw…?”
He nods. “Don’t think about it, Brook. I’m trying not to. Have you eaten? Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”
“Shouldn’t you be at the station or something?”
He shakes his head. “I fired my gun too, so until everything goes through I’m pushing papers and taking a much-needed vacation. As is Gareth.”
