by Ellen, Tracy
Nodding my head at everything Luke is saying, my grin faltered at the next thought, ‘Holy Hannah, this man wasn’t kidding. He really does know me.’
The intercom hummed quietly for so long, I made a move to turn it off when Jack spoke again in a subdued, gruff voice, “You’re really serious aren’t you, Drake? Okay then, I’ll take what you said under advisement.” His voice went louder, “Now, what about what I said on how to play your cards right with Junior? I’ve had a ringside seat for years and it’s been a circus.” Then Jack snickered, “But I’ve got to hand it to you, getting her to come to your farm last night was a first and I’m impressed.”
The need to reach through the intercom and strangle Jack warred with my distracted, bewildered amazement. ‘Are my sex life habits really that much of an interest to everyone who knows me in this Godforsaken town, or is Jack really that expert at observation from being a cop for years?’ I can only shake my head and hope it’s the latter.
Luke laughed shortly. Hearing that familiar sound, I don’t need to see his expression to know exactly how he looks right now.
“The day I need advice on how to play my cards rights with a woman, you’ll be the last man I call.”
Jack grunted out in amusement, “You arrogant prick, go off to breakfast and grill that shirtless homo that broke Anabel’s heart ten years ago. Find out what the asshole’s up to while I take care of business here.”
“Found your balls, did you?” Silently, I laughed grimly right along with Luke.
I can perfectly picture Jack Banner’s expression when I serve him his lunch. We’ll see how smug Jack is when his big homophobic, misogynistic balls are on a platter, with a side of his own blood for dipping.
“Yeah, I’m girding my loins as we speak,” was the dry reply. My front door buzzer went off; interrupting my pleasant retribution daydreams and making me jump sky high.
I had no time to really consider the ramifications of the conversation I’d so shamelessly, but so successfully, eavesdropped on. I didn’t like Jack talking about my past to Luke. It was puzzling why he seemed to be encouraging Luke to pursue a relationship with me. It should be plain to him that Luke wasn’t interested in relationships, any more than I was.
Dashing over to the hall closet, I found a hoodie to throw on so my breasts weren’t sticking in Jack’s face and rendering him a worse idiot. I grabbed another quiche tartlet from the bag on the way back to buzz Jack up. This one smelled like rosemary and sun-dried tomato.
Catching a glimpse of me in the mirror propped in the foyer, I stopped and almost spit out the food in my mouth. I looked like death warmed over. I actually have circles under my eyes! My hair is a snarled, frizzy mess, my skin could use a good dose of moisturizer from the whisker burn, and my feet are dirty. Turning my head to perform a pit stop check, I didn’t smell so good either. I had worked up a nervous sweat kicking Not-So-Immaculata’s ass.
I downed the rest of my coffee as the apartment door squealed open.
Jack bellowed up the stairs, “Anabel, we need to talk!’
I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, guzzling it down as I met Jack back in the living room.
Jack looked me over and recoiled in mock horror. He snickered, “Having a hard time keeping up with a real man, eh, Junior? You are never going to hold onto a man like Luke if you don’t take better care of yourself.”
“Why, you are the sweetest little matchmaker. Just another altruistic community outreach program you’ve started, Chief?” Laughing, I plopped on the couch. “What brings you here today?” I added with a straight face and innocent eyes, “Feeling a little jumpy?”
From long habit, Jack eyed me with suspicion, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. His thoughts were elsewhere and his expression was darkly moody. His lower lip was sticking out. He looked down to avoid my inquiring gaze and moved restlessly. In shocked amusement, I realized the Chief is actually shuffling his big cop’s feet. His ruddy cheeks got ruddier and he looked everywhere except my face.
“I’m sorry you almost got killed on Sunday. It was an error caused by the police, my police, and I’m just...” Jack lifted his eyes while he stumbled over his apology and the remorse was genuine. All the aggressive machismo I overheard in his voice with Luke is gone. In its place, his expression is sick with worry. This is the Jack that I’ve known all my life.
“Can you ever forgive me for putting you and Reg in such danger?” Jack ground this out between tight lips, and then punched his huge fist into his other palm with a brutally loud smack. “When I think about Gustav getting a hold of you and how things could have gone, it makes me nuts! I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you on my watch.” His voice is raw and plaintive, “Dammit, tell me what I can do to make you not mad at me, Anabel!”
To see Jack behaving in such a way when a simple, “I’m sorry I fucked up” would suffice, I knew I had to put a stop to his groveling. Otherwise, he will never forgive me when he comes back to his male senses, and rightly so. This is disgustingly emotional.
I stood up and put my hands on my hips.
“Oh sure Jack Banner, you act all sorry, but I know how tough you are. I bet you fired the cop that didn’t see Gustav hiding high up in the turret wrapped in a black sleeping bag. You’d never have a man working under you that did such shoddy work. Well, Reg and I screwed up, too, and we’ve lived here for twenty years.” Jack started to protest, but I held up a hand and shook my head firmly. “No Jack, everything I’m saying is true. I’m ashamed of us both. So, my forgiveness is instantly yours on one condition.”
Eagerly but somewhat leery, Jack eyed me. “What condition, Junior?”
“Here’s the deal. I can’t live with myself knowing I caused a policeman to lose his job—right or wrong. You give your word to make sure this cop gets a recommendation for another lateral position.” I shrugged. “Maybe at a desk job in another town or whatever you decide is fair. After all, you’re the Chief of Police, not me. Then you and me; we’ll be square.”
Jack quickly looked down at his feet again, but not before I caught the sly gleam. When he looked back up, his face is wearily resigned to the inevitable. Under that mask, the horse-trader getting the best of a deal sharply sparkled in the depths of his eyes.
He uttered a long, resigned sigh almost worthy of…well, me and muttered, “I suppose I can do this, but only for you.” He pointed a finger and barked, “As long as it’s a desk job, because I don’t want that fuck up out causing any problems somewhere else!”
Grinning, I nodded in eager agreement and clapped my hands. “You’ll really do this just for me?”
“I give my word.” Jack actually smiled back. If great white sharks could be said to smile. I saw a lot of sharp, white teeth. It is getting so nauseating in here; I have to fix the balance of power in the Universe.
Stepping forward, I gave Jack a tight hug. “So, we’re squared away then and back to our usual selves?”
He hugged me back and patted my shoulder awkwardly, “Yeah, thanks for forgiving me and…”
Looking up and giving Jack’s thickly muscled arms a brisk shake, I interrupted ruthlessly, “So, when are you going to ‘fess up it was you that Crookie saw in bed with Cheryl Crookston, you damn, dirty horn dog?”
Jack reared back in shock, but recovered quicker than most. His voice was a whispered hiss, as if we’d be overheard. “What are you talking about?”
I walked towards the kitchen to toss my empty bottle, laughing over my shoulder. “I’m talking about you borrowing Reg’s truck for the weekend.” I wiggled my ass in a dance move and taunted, “I’m talking about a secret rendezvous with a married woman my age. A woman married to one of my nerdy friends. Is this not ringing a bell yet, Don Juan Ding-Dong?”
Jack stared back silently. Hands on his hips, the blackest of thunderclouds are gathering above his head and the twisted scowl is growing on his face.
Walking back towards him, my smile is stormy, too. “I o
nly hope you’ve had all your shots before dipping your wick into that particular cesspool, Chief Casanova.”
Jack pointed a finger and tapped my shoulder, while he warned on a roar, “You watch that smart mouth of yours and you keep it shut. You’d better stay out of my personal business, little girl.”
I reached up and poked his thick shoulder back. “No problem, nobody will hear it from me, if you agree to stay out of mine! You want to talk with me about killers, or any other criminal enterprises that concern me or my friends, so be it. I agree that you’re absolutely right about that subject and it only makes sense we share information. I can deal with that, but my personal life?” I waved a finger up at his face. “You’d better back off, Chief of Bad Advice!”
Jack caught my finger waving under his nose and looked like he wanted to tear it off and eat it for breakfast. Then he paused, steely gray eyes meeting limpid blue.
He cocked his head and started snickering.
“Why you little…”
“I hated being at odds with you, too.” I said simply, squeezing his large finger that had captured mine. “You’re my rock, Jack Banner. You’re one of my three main guys.” I added in quick explanation, “The pecking order changes according to your current display of dickishness.”
Jack snorted at that, but patted my shoulder. “Keep putting up with this old man. I’m a grouchy bastard and I know it, but you’re my angel.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned at that stupid name, but only said, “Do I have to worry you’re going to be letching after my cousin Layla and her friends, Celeste and Misty, when they get here tonight from Florida? They’re only twenty-three and nubile.”
“That’s right, Thanksgiving’s tomorrow. Two o’clock, as usual?” At my nod, Jack gave my shoulder a final avuncular pat. “I do like Layla. She has a good head on her shoulders.” He said snidely, “But don’t worry about your girlfriends; they’re way too old.”
I laughed. “Creepy! Do you need your victims to be teenage virgins these days, so they can be impressed with your experienced… prowess?” I skipped beside him to follow his big strides to the stairs, ignoring his shaking head. “Hey, did you know that’s why some men prefer very young, innocent women? These men can’t deal with comparison. They’re often very successful men, as far as professionally. Personally, they go after the naïve babies since they can’t perform at an emotional and physical level to satisfy a sexually mature woman. They’re called…”
Jack interjected bluntly, “Yeah, they’re called pedophiles, Junior. I arrest those disgusting perverts all the time.”
“I didn’t mean illegally young! Good god, you have a filthy mind, Chief. I meant more like the age you now prefer. You know, eighteen or so.” I added helpfully, “Like Stella.”
Holding up a hand, Jack cut me off. “If you’re done busting my chops, I’ve got work to do.” He glared down at me under lowered white-blonde brows and warned, “Keep all your girlies under control this year. I do not want my holiday weekend ruined by a call to come get your sorry butts out of jail again.”
“But what is a Rock for, if not to get you out of hard places?” At Jack’s squinting stare, I shook my head on a laugh and answered, “Sorry, but I can promise nothing. Celeste and Misty have never been to Minnesota before. Layla says they plan on rocking this state. When I partied with them last April in Florida, those girls were like wild animals.” I called down after the departing Chief as he stomped down the stairs, “They really know how to rock, my Rock. I had so much fun! I was with four different men in three days! Sorry, none of them were married, but all of them were high-hopping hoop jumpers!”
At this, Jack froze mid-stomp at the landing. His face red, I’d goaded him enough to yell back up at me, “You are a respected business owner and a role model for young women in this town, and for your cousin Layla! You need to act mature and settle down, you pinhead! Enough with the men jumping through hoops…”
“Never! It’s my biggest talent and what I do best!” I shouted over the half wall. Peering down, I reminded him sweetly, “I am only twenty-eight. Maybe when I am your age, I’ll settle down just like you have. You’re my role model.”
“I’m a man, not a role model!” He fired back in return. “You have eggs and they’re getting old! Mark my words, Miss Shitkicker, you will lose Luke Drake if you keep up this way.”
I burst out laughing, incredulous. “Did you really just say I have old eggs? And that I’ll lose Luke Drake if I don’t…what? Start making some omelets?” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Your eggs are scrambled, Jack Banner!”
My apartment door slamming with a reverberating thud was Jack’s answer.
Smiling in satisfaction, I brushed my hands off and said out loud, “Yep, squared away and back to normal.”
My door buzzed immediately. At the intercom, I saw Jack in the view screen.
“Are you lost, little boy?”
“Listen, there’s a crew coming at 9:15 a.m. sharp to finish cleaning your attic room and repair the window. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes because I warned them you have to open your store by quarter of ten. They’ll remove the tape with them on the way out.”
“Roger that, Chief!” I was touched at his thoughtfulness. “Should I call you if they aren’t here by 9:16 a.m.?”
There was a garbled noise on the intercom, then the order, “Go upstairs while they are here and walk around the room. This will clear out any sissy worries of being scared over goblins and crap like that rolling around in your pointy head.”
“Your fatherly concern is heartwarming and, as always, outdone only by your gentle words.”
“You’re so lucky I am not your father, Miss Lippy, because I can guarantee you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week!”
“Ha! I already feel that way. Thanks and goodbye!” I walked away from the intercom this time.
Twenty minutes later, I was done with my second steaming shower. I am skipping my outside run today because simply walking upright is an accomplishment. After I finished drying my hair, I noticed a text from Anna saying she would be over at 9:30 AM.
I got busy fixing the damages from my night of depravity. I first dressed in contraband Vaseline, band-aids, and vanilla-rose scented body butter. Then on went a matching red bra and thong so frilly, I was in ultra-feminine raptures. Next was an ocean blue Bel’s T shirt and black jeans tucked into tall, black boots with very high heels. Slipping on black onyx dangly earrings that are very Spanish Gothic, I am ready to concentrate on book business. Wednesdays meant payroll and scheduling.
Bel’s Books should be busy today, but not as busy over the Thanksgiving weekend as a bookstore in the cities. Since Northfield is a college town, many of the students leave for home over this holiday. The locals leave town at dawn to go shopping for Black Friday deals found closer to the Twin Cities and the shopping malls. Better them than me. I can’t think of much else more frightening than the prospect of facing tired Christmas shoppers fighting over one-day only deals.
I still staff extra employees during these days, but more so I can come and go freely. Traditionally, Layla comes to visit over this long weekend each year and she stays at the apartment with me. It’s our base of operations while we all have a blast spoiling her rotten with what we call our “Women Weekend.”
Layla is an Axelrod. Her father, my Uncle Bob, is my Dad’s younger brother. Layla has three older brothers, but no sisters or mom. Her mom died of a brain aneurysm not long after Layla’s birth. Uncle Bob has never remarried. All my male Florida cousins and my Uncle Bob are basically nice men. It’s just that poor Layla, being the youngest and only girl, has been smothered and over-protected by boys since birth. She loves to visit with her female Axelrod cousins in Northfield and get into all sorts of mischief.
My cell buzzed again. It is Mac calling. It’s unusual for her to call me this early, but I guess we have a lot going on today to co-ordinate and she probably assumes I’ll be too busy later in the store.
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br /> “This better be good, Sister.”
Mac demanded on a laugh, “You tell me how good is good. Last I knew, Sister, you were looking pretty trashed last night and ended the party to go upstairs with Mike McClain to have a talk,” she snorted delicately on that word, “and somehow you ended up getting brought home by Superman this morning?”
“I love this town. Who was it, the flower shop or the bank?” I asked on a return laugh, naming the two businesses near my building where friends of Mac work.
“You’ll never know.” Mac protected her sources without an ounce of shame. “Mike’s looking mighty fine these days. That boy was always cute, but now he’s something else.” She made a growling noise and I snickered. “When Diego and I walked into Bel’s last night, I was blown away to see you were friends again after all these years. I’m glad for your sake, but what are you up to over there? I was told there had to be at least ten men outside your store this morning. One was reportedly half-naked,” she teased and then added, “but that seems strange because it’s not that warm out today, is it?”
I was still giggling. “You’ll never know what I was up to. But rest easy, there were only five men outside this morning. Two of them, make that three of them, don’t really count as men.” She spluttered at that, but I changed the subject. Hesitantly, I asked my oldest sister something that has been bugging me for a long time, “Mac, how come Diego is the man you chose to marry after all the years of being single?” I hurried on, “I mean, I get it was love at first sight and all that crap, but seriously—what made someone so normally sensible and cautious like you up and marry him so quickly?”
There was silence on the line for a moment then Mac answered, “It was love at first sight, Anabel. There’s no ‘all that crap’ about it.”
Frustrated, I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and paced down the hall to the foyer. “I know you call it that, but where did the need for no caution come from? What if it’s merely massive sexual infatuation and you wake up in two months and look at this guy and say, What the…?”