Jasmine and Jealousy

by London Lovett

  I felt quite defeated as I headed back across the street. Several customers sitting at Les's counter high outdoor tables caught my attention. Rico, one of the Taco Brothers, was sipping an iced coffee. Cody, the marketer, was sitting across from him nursing a coffee of his own. His thin shoulders were slumped forward, and he wore the expression of a child being scolded. Rico had one of those clear, loud voices, so it was easy to catch his side of the conversation. Nosy curiosity made me pause as I reached the section of sidewalk in front my shop where I was out of view of the table area. With Cody getting so obviously lectured, I hoped it had something to do with his chalkboard antics.

  "You've got to do a better job, Cody. You know, Vince," Rico said. "He thinks he gets to call all the shots, and for now, you know, because of the thing with Angel, I'm just letting him think he's in control. I don't need to make him any angrier than he is."

  "You're the one who made this truck a success," Cody said. "You're the one with the personality and customer relations. And Vince knows it. He knows that truck is nothing without you. Or me. I've gotten us five hundred more followers this month."

  "That's not good enough," Rico said sharply. "You need to step up your game."

  "So you think I'm doing a crummy job too? You're just trying to hide behind your big brother."

  Things were getting heated . . . so I lingered a little longer. It was mostly me wanting to feel a bit of revenge for Franki. I'd never seen her so upset. In fact, I could hardly remember a time when she was the least bit distressed. She ran that diner so smoothly, she always looked in complete control.

  "I'm not hiding behind Vince. I'm just saying we all need to do our part. Look, you were out of work and down on your luck, and we let you join the business."

  "You needed someone to do social media and marketing," Cody offered sharply in his defense. "None of you had any skills in marketing. You let Angel do the financial part of the business, and she had no experience."

  "Right, because she's my wife. She's family." I couldn't see Rico's face, but I imagined it stretched much tighter with tension than a few seconds ago. "And this isn't about Angel. It's about you. We need you to step up your game, or we'll have to let you go. There, I said it. I don't like to have to threaten you with being fired. You're a good friend. Just do better."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll do better but don't forget, I've put a lot of hours into this taco truck. Spent the last few years building up your following and I won't forget that." Heavy footsteps plodded along the sidewalk.

  I leaned back and saw Cody stomping away from the coffee shop. With the conversation over, I had no choice except to go inside the flower shop. Ryder looked up expectantly from the vase of roses he was trimming. His big eyes and hopeful expression nearly broke my heart.

  "Did you talk to Lola?"

  I shook my head. "She was with a customer, a woman who seemed determined to find the perfect chairs for an antique table. I'm sorry I failed at my mission. Kingston seems to have taken her side in the situation. He's perched on a hat tree."

  "Figures."

  "If only that silly bird hadn't removed the note from his leg," I said.

  Ryder picked up a rose and snipped off the end. "Aha, so now you think my Hedwig stunt might have worked."

  I shrugged. "It was kind of a unique, romantic gesture. Maybe we could find a real carrier pigeon."

  He chuckled. "No, I think it's going to take a much grander gesture to get through Lola's hard head. Just not sure what yet."

  I peered at him through squinted eyes. "I can almost see those little gears spinning inside that brain. Can't wait to see what you come up with. Let's just leave my traitorous bird out of it. After all, he'd sell his soul for a smile from Lola . . . and a peanut . . . and a hard-boiled egg. His standards aren't too high."

  Chapter 8

  Ryder and I were busy arranging bouquets for a woman's club banquet. Having something to occupy his time helped, but the surest way to get him to stop thinking about his troubles with Lola was to steer him toward the topic of his adventure.

  "I'll probably regret asking this but what was the scariest thing that happened to you out in the Amazon?" I pushed three pink carnations into the vase.

  "The scariest?" Ryder tapped his chin with a sprig of feathery fern. "Hmm, there were so many, it's hard to pinpoint the worst."

  "Oh boy. Now that I've opened that particular can of worms, I better be ready to face the crawly little buggers."

  "Other than the usual snake dropping down from a tree limb just inches from my nose and stepping into a hole filled with army ants, one incident stands out because it happened on my first day at camp. It sort of opened my mind to the reality that I was going to meet up with a lot of foreign creatures, some who looked scary and were perfectly harmless and others that looked perfectly harmless but were deadly. Since you've lost at least one shade of pink since I started talking, I'll stick with the scary looking but harmless for this particular tale."

  I nodded. "Probably a good choice."

  "My first night at the camp, I finished setting up my personal space. It was just a cot and a small table with a wash basin. There were outdoor showers and restrooms and the mess tent was at the opposite side of the site. I was feeling pretty adventurous in my new hiking boots and khaki shorts as I headed to the dining tent for my first meal with the rest of the team. There were about eight of us at one time at the camp. Some of the more veteran scientists shared their time at camp mostly because they were either due back to their college campuses or they were out on a lecture circuit." Ryder plucked a bright orange Gerbera daisy from the vase. "Six of us were sitting down to a meal of rice and papaya—"

  "Rice and papaya? No wonder you look so skinny." I waved a flower at him. "Continue."

  "After a few minutes of introductions and friendly chatting, I pushed my spoon into the rice. I was extremely hungry, so even though it didn't look like much, I was looking forward to it. As I lifted the first spoonful to my mouth—" Ryder acted out the spoon lifting. "Right then, a goliath tarantula meandered across the table. I swear to you, he even turned his big, fuzzy head toward my bowl to get a sniff of my rice before deciding to move on."

  "On the table? A big tarantula." I put down the pruning shears I was holding and wiggled my fingers. "The kind with eight legs and big hairy torsos and fangs," I added quickly. "Don't they have fangs?"

  "Yes, the kind with eight legs and fangs. Fortunately, the venom in their fangs is relatively harmless, however, Gomez was not there to bite humans, just to check out what they were eating."

  I laughed. "Did you call him Gomez? Or is that some scientific name for the species?"

  "Scientific in the way that scientists named this particular tarantula Gomez. They kept the little guy around because he was great at keeping the dining tent free of rodents and pests."

  I pressed my hand against my stomach. "Glad I already ate lunch."

  "Try eating with the fuzzy, little monster eyeing your papaya." Ryder turned his vase around to inspect it from all sides. It was so nice having him back as my floral assistant. I'd been left nearly traumatized by Barbara, his replacement, who was talented with flowers but had zero people skills . . . or crow skills. It took Kingston a week to start looking me in the eye after the Barbara incident.

  "I like a little adventure." I picked up the shears and trimmed some carnations. "But I can't imagine camping out with tarantulas."

  Ryder chuckled. I'd gotten his mind off his woes, so it was worth having to hear about giant spiders and snakes. "It definitely took some getting used to. I confess the first few weeks I went through an entire ritual of taking apart the bedding on my cot to make sure nothing had joined me for a cozy nap."

  A visible shiver pulsed through me, giving Ryder another moment of mirth. "You'll have to excuse my wimpy reaction, but I seriously get creeped out if a moth flies into my house."

  "Moths, eh? Have I mentioned the white witch moth that plastered itself across my laptop screen?" R
yder opened his fingers wide. "Bigger than my hand."

  My phone rang. I grabbed it greedily as if it might jump away or worse, stop ringing. I held it up in triumph. "Would love to hear all about it, but I've got a phone call." I scurried away to the office.

  "I'll save it for later," Ryder called to me with a laugh.

  "You just saved me from hearing about a witch moth that was bigger than Ryder's hand," I blurted in lieu of the customary hello.

  Briggs didn't respond.

  "Are you there?" I asked.

  "Just trying to sort out everything you just said. There's a witch moth that's as big as a human hand?"

  "Yes but I know little about it so don't ask any other details. I rushed out of the room when you called because I was still trying to absorb eating rice and papaya with a goliath tarantula."

  There was another long pause.

  "Are you there?" I asked again.

  "Yep, just cancelling that surprise vacation to the Amazon rain forest. However, I do think I'm going to have to sit down with Ryder and hear all about his adventures. They sound interesting."

  "He'd love that. I started the whole conversation about scary creatures in the Amazon to get his mind off Lola. It worked, only I just wasn't brave enough to stomach any more."

  "Is Lola still not talking to him?" Briggs asked.

  "You know Lola. She likes to drag out the drama. She'll come around soon . . . I hope. At least for Ryder's sake. Enough about the soap opera in my life—how is your day going?" I asked with just enough sing-song tone to let him know I was particularly interested in one aspect of his day.

  "I just had a meeting with Detective Fairchild. I can tell she's very by the book, which is fine. Her office will be in the Mayfield Precinct since the Port Danby station is so small."

  For no apparent reason, except my own silliness, I was relieved to hear she wouldn't have an office in the same building.

  "So, by the book, meaning she follows protocol. That's not a bad thing, is it?" I asked. "Seems to me you're a by the book kind of detective too."

  He cleared his throat. "Except when I allow my girlfriend and her super nose to sniff for clues at a crime scene. Then, occasionally, protocol is broken when I take her along on a witness interview."

  "Oh yeah," I said disappointedly. "So you think Detective Fairchild won't take too kindly to those types of indiscretions?" I'd been so worried about him working closely with another woman, I hadn't considered how a new detective might hamper my own investigative endeavors.

  "Probably but that's all right. I'm still in charge of my own investigations, and I prefer to have you and your cute nose along for the ride."

  "That's nice to hear. For a second there, I thought I was going to have to sneak around and do my own shadow investigation—"

  "Lacey—" he said in that serious tone he used whenever a lecture was near.

  "I'm just teasing. I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, we've been murder free for a bit. Maybe we'll make it through the rest of this hot summer without a dead body."

  "Let's hope. Hey, new detectives and giant spiders aside, the real reason I called was to let you know I have the night off."

  "James, you know I've already—"

  "Yes, yes, I know you're going to eat dessert with your other boyfriend, but I was hoping you could spare an hour for your less interesting boyfriend before you go to Marty's. Bear has been waiting all day for a walk. The neighbor couldn't take him because he had a sore throat. Maybe along the beach, where it's nice and cool?"

  "Well, my social calendar is quite full, but I think I can take an hour out for my boyfriend. And you're not less interesting, you just weren't around in the early part of last century when all the good stuff happened."

  "I see so I'm second best because I've only been alive for three decades." His phone beeped. "Got another call. I'll see you later. Love you."

  "Love you too. Bye."

  Chapter 9

  The abrupt time change, jet lag and disappointing homecoming finally caught up to my assistant. I sent Ryder home an hour early with a pat on the back and some encouraging words. Neither of us had spoken or seen Lola for the rest of the day. Her shop was dark by the time I locked up for the night. More than once, I'd picked up the phone to call her, but I decided it would be better not to get involved. Hopefully, my eccentric friend wouldn't push the whole thing too far. I'd hate to see it ruin their relationship.

  Kingston's talons clacked against his perch as he performed his nightly egg dance. I cracked open the shell and peeled it away from the hard-boiled egg. I swirled around too quickly from the bowl of eggs and nearly pitched headlong over Nevermore. The cat had finished his dinner and was anxious to sit on the front porch to bird watch.

  "All right, Mr. Pushy, we'll go outside for a bit. Then I have to hurry down to the beach and meet your favorite big dog, Bear." Nevermore and Bear were still not buddies, but we'd made some progress. Nevermore's extreme fear and dislike of the big dog was both understandable and a worry. How could James and I ever marry if our pets couldn't live in the same house? Not that any talk of marriage had occurred, at least not with any seriousness or detail. Still, it was a pleasant future prospect, but I didn't want us to end up on one of those reality shows with the crazy title like—"It's Me or the Cat".

  I grabbed a cold drink and a few of the catalogs I'd received in the mail, all filled with things I didn't need. But it was always fun to browse. My mom called it the most convenient form of window shopping.

  I tucked the catalogs, one with fall sweaters, scarves and boots and one that contained everything under the sun including, according to the cover, a pet dander air filter that was a necessity for any cat owner, under my arm.

  Nevermore held his tail straight up, with just the tip curled, as he trotted down the porch steps to the trees in the front yard. Several sparrows twittered angrily down at him as he sat at attention beneath their branch.

  I'd gotten to the center of the clothes catalog and was ogling a pair of outrageously priced but absolutely fabulous knee high boots when Dash called from his porch. "Hey, neighbor." He bounded down his steps and across the two lawns.

  His deep summer tan made his smile blindingly white. Dash sat on the step next to me and leaned over to look at the boots. "Those are nice. I think Kate owns a pair just like that."

  "That wouldn't surprise me." I closed the catalog. "I don't think I've ever seen Kate Yardley wear the same clothes or shoes twice. She has the wardrobe of a movie star and pulls everything off like one too."

  It was somewhat unusual for Dash to bring up his on again and mostly off again girlfriend. Kate was constantly dating and engaging herself to new men, occasionally even dangerous men who were on a murder spree, but that was another story. The one man who garnered most of her focus was my neighbor, Dash. I was almost convinced Kate's less than generous feelings toward me had to do with the fact that I lived right next to him. She seemed to have gotten the notion that Dash and I were destined to be an item. While I couldn't deny that I found him charming and incredibly handsome, Briggs had always been the man for me. I knew that almost from the start.

  I peered sideways at him. "Are you back together with Kate?" I asked.

  His slow response gave me a preview of his answer. He leaned down and swept a piece of grass off his shoe, an obvious stalling tactic.

  "I won't judge," I said. "I just hope it's something that works out this time . . . for both of you."

  Dash nodded and stopped fidgeting with his shoe. "Me too. I guess I'm just tired of bouncing around in the dating world. It's exhausting."

  I turned toward him. "That's also not a good reason to take up with Kate. Just because you're tired of the dating world? Kate is serious about you—"

  "I know. I know. That's what brought me back to her. I need someone like Kate to ground me." Thinking about flamboyant Kate Yardley, the woman who literally went through three engagements in a year, as grounding material made me smile. I hoped my grin was
too subtle to notice but Dash spotted it. He chuckled.

  "I know Kate doesn't exactly seem grounded herself."

  "She definitely is in business. She runs a very successful boutique, and she's her own best marketer. And speaking of marketing, did you happen to notice the bright green taco truck on Pickford Way?" I was just as glad to veer off topic. It was always hard for me to find really positive things to say about Kate, and I didn't want to say something that might make Dash rethink this new rekindling of a relationship. I genuinely hoped it worked out for the both of them. (Although, I didn't relish the idea of her eventually becoming my neighbor.)

  "Sure did. I ate four tacos in record time at lunch," Dash said. "They were delicious. I'll probably head back again tomorrow if they're still there."

  "Oh, they'll be there," I said. "They've got a two week permit."

  "That did not sound like a happy comment. Did you not like the food?" he asked. Nevermore had bored of the sparrows and returned to the porch to nuzzle his face against Dash's shoes.

  "The food was delicious. But their marketer had written some inflammatory stuff about Franki's Diner, all not true of course. She was terribly upset."

  Dash reached forward and scratched Nevermore behind the ears. "Poor Franki. She's got to know that our loyalty is to the diner. The taco truck is just a nice change of pace."

  "Yes but two weeks is a long time for her business to be slow. Especially at the end of summer. And you know how proud she is of the food she serves. This sign said her food was greasy and processed. James made them erase the name Franki from the sign, but that was about all he could do."

  "That's not right. Maybe I won't go back there tomorrow. Although, that guacamole—"

  I turned on the step. "Like pillowy clouds of avocado, right?"

  "Best I've ever had."