With that one short phrase, Crystal had begun the chain of events that would complicate everything beyond all reason.
As the police car turned onto Madison Avenue, I asked Crystal, "How on Earth did you get the mayor's birthday?"
"The city clerk gave it to me," she said. "I called yesterday, told her I wanted to send a birthday card."
"And her birth location?"
"Figured she was born in Riverside," she said.
"Birth time?"
"I fudged that one," she admitted. "Put the time at noon."
"I can't believe you called her a nympho," I said. "In front of fifty people no less."
"I didn't put it that way. Not exactly." She paused. "Funny too, she always looks so proper in her campaign ads."
I shook my head. "Unbelievable."
"Don't be mad," she said. "I told her nice things too. I thought she'd find it interesting, prove we're not hacks."
"I thought you had a speech," I said. "A nice, simple speech."
"You should talk," she said. "I wasn't the one who jumped two rows to beat Gary with a stack of index cards."
"Hey, he threw his coffee cup at you," I said.
"It was only plastic," she said. "And mostly empty. I don't see why you flipped out over a few coffee grounds."
I looked at her blouse, sporting a lumpy black stain on the shoulder. I didn't have to heart to tell her it wasn't coffee grounds.
"And he called you a kook," I said. "In front of all those people."
In the front seat, Officer Jolly snickered.
"Hey, no one talks to my mom that way," I told him.
"It took two bailiffs to pull you off him," Crystal said.
"I've been doing a lot of push-ups lately," I said.
"On a fitness kick?"
"Uh, something like that."
Officer Jolly pulled into our store's parking lot and stopped.
"You're not taking us to jail?" Crystal asked.
He turned around to face us. "Nah. I know where to find you if Gary presses charges."
"Think he will?" Crystal asked.
"Doubt it," Officer Jolly said. "Gary's got a pretty big ego. I don't see him admitting some little gal beat the snot out of him."
"I barely touched him," I said.
"Yeah," Crystal said, "but he was screaming like a girl."
Officer Jolly's mouth twitched at the corners. "Besides, he'd be hard-pressed to win his case," he said. "Even if it was just plastic, you can't go around throwing things at people."
"Truth is," he continued, "he might've been dragged off to jail himself if Selena hadn't taken matters into her own hands."
As we exited the police car, Officer Jolly leaned toward me and said, "I was sure glad you did though. I've been wanting a piece of that guy for years."
The next day, I had to face the music. I woke early and dressed for another trip to the frozen river. Slipping into my jacket, I recalled my last river-side encounter with Bishop.
In spite of the foul weather, Bishop had looked amazing. I hadn’t. There were worse things, I decided, than frozen hair. I left the plastic bag at home.
A half-hour later, I was standing at the door to Edgar's ice-shanty. I paused, listening to the faint strains of reggae and dreading the butt-chewing I knew I deserved. I braced myself and knocked on the plastic door.
Inside, Edgar sat his usual spot, a pina colada in one hand, a fishing pole in the other. A bag of cheese puffs rested between his bare knees.
I plunged right in. "I guess you're pretty mad, huh?"
"Mad?" Edgar slapped his knees, knocking a few puffs into the fishing hole. "Hah! You're shaking things up – just the thing this town needs." He gave a belch and said, "Scuze me."
Edgar pointed to the blender. "Pina colada?"
I glanced at my watch. It was nine in the morning.
"Sure," I said.
I grabbed a plastic cup and filled it to the rim. Edgar slid an overturned bucket my way, and I took a seat. Together, we peered into the murky hole and awaited a nibble.
I broke the silence. "What happened after we left?"
"Not as much as you'd think," he said. "Gary doesn't have a lot of friends in this town."
"Boy, that's a shocker," I said.
"The guy's a royal pain in the ass," Edgar said. "He comes to all the council meetings, pissing and moaning about something or other."
"Like what?"
Edgar shrugged. "Leash laws, post office lines, unfair traffic lights, you name it."
"So last night," I said, "Gary wasn't there just for us?"
"Fortune telling?" Edgar said. "Unlikely."
I shook my head. "That guy needs a hobby."
Edgar snorted. "Or a foot up his ass."
"Even better," I said. "I'm almost afraid to ask, what happened with the law repeal?"
"You can probably guess," Edgar said, "it didn't pass."
I took a nice long slug of the pina colada. "No surprise there." I studied the opening in the ice. It was smaller than a washing machine, but just barely. "Isn't that hole a little big?" I asked.
"You betcha," Edgar said.
"Why?"
"Little hole, little fish." He spread his hands. "Big hole, big fish."
I saw his point. "What do we do now?" I asked.
"Time for Plan B, a regular council vote," Edgar said. "Already got it on next month's agenda."
I felt a wave of panic. "We’ll have to wait a whole month?"
"Heck," he said, "you'll need that long for the smoke to clear." He grinned. "Think you can keep a low profile 'til then?"
I blew out a breath. "We can try."
Still, my mind was whirling. I couldn’t stay in Michigan that long. At the very least, I'd have to make a quick trip South, if only to avoid getting fired from my real job.
An hour later, the cheese puffs were gone, along with my third pina colada. I rose on shaky legs and thanked Edgar for his advice and hospitality.
When I left the shanty, the tropical warmth faded fast. Slipping and sliding across the frozen waterway, I stumbled to the riverbank and weaved my way to the lot where I'd parked the Mustang.
Sweet nectar of warm car. I picked up the pace. And then I remembered, I was in no condition to drive. It wasn't even noon, and I was hammered. I considered my options and picked the easiest. I’d simply fire up the Mustang and sit in toasty comfort while I sobered up.
Weighing the pros and cons of the teeniest little car-nap, I tugged on the driver’s side door. Nothing happened. I tried the passenger’s side. It didn’t budge. Cursing, I dug in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Dead.
Looking around, I spotted Carmen’s Coffee and Tea. No way was I doing that again.
Instead, I’d simply walk back to The Crystal Moon and retrieve my car later. It was only twelve blocks. How bad could it be?
By the final block, I was a human icicle. I stumbled into The Crystal Moon with frozen feet, raw hands, and pellets of snow plastered to my hair. The place was packed, no surprise, considering it was nearly lunch time.
From behind the coffee counter, Crystal looked up, her face registering concern.
"Mocha," I groaned. "I need a mocha. Extra hot."
"Oh my God," she said. "What in heaven's name happened to you?"
"I went down to see Edgar and–"
She peered at my face. "You're drunk."
"Am not."
She leaned in close and sniffed my breath. "Pina colada."
"Jus' a sip or two." I squinted at her. "But I think I need the teeniest little nap."
With an effort, I fumbled into my pockets and pulled out my keys. I looked down. There were far too many. I gave a quick shake of my head. No. It just looked like too many.
Damn it.
In front of me, Crystal turned to holler into the book room. "Hey Bishop!" she called. "Help Selena upstairs, will ya?"
Chapter 20
My jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious.
"What
?" I slurred. "He's here? You're kidding, right?"
I heard a familiar male voice behind me. "Nope."
I whirled around, stumbled, and nearly fell into him. Instantly, his arms closed around me, propping me up against his hard chest.
Oh God, this was so humiliating. And intoxicating. His arms were steady, but my heart was racing. I made a feeble effort to push away. "Sorry 'bout that."
He didn't let go, and I heard that old smile in his voice when he said, "Why? I'm not."
I made a half-hearted attempt to push away, and then remembered something. Oh my God. My hair. It was a frozen icy mess, a thousand times worse than that stupid plastic bag.
With a mental groan, I pressed my face into his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, I felt his pecs, strong against my cheek, and his hard biceps, contracting against my shoulders. I needed to hide, somewhere, anywhere. If I was lucky, I'd simply disappear.
Pressed against me, his body felt warm and strong, and I felt my eyelids drift shut for just an instant. A moment later, my feet left the ground as he swooped me up into his arms.
My eyes flew open. "Heeeeey!" I said. "I can walk. Jeez!"
"I know," he said, but made no move to let go.
Crystal spoke up. "Upstairs, first door on the left."
"Got it," he said, and began moving toward the staircase off the book room.
"Aw c'mon," I said, "put me down."
As we moved, from somewhere near the book room window, I heard a familiar female voice call out. "Hey, you can pick me up if you want."
My face was flaming. It was Rae Ann, a regular customer. I'd never hear the end of this.
Bishop's response, a muttered curse, was drowned out by a chorus of female laughter, followed by a second female voice. "When you're done with her, come back. We'll be waiting!"
Upstairs, he took the keys from my loose fingers. Without setting me down, he reached out with one hand and opened my apartment door. Inside, he lowered me onto my small sofa and claimed the chair opposite it.
Sprawled out, I turned my head to face him. "What were you doing here, anyway?" I mumbled.
He was grinning. "I came to tell you something."
"Yeah?" I squinted over at him. "What?"
He leaned forward and said in a low, teasing voice. "I told you so."
"Huh?"
And then, somewhere in my cloudy brain, snippets of our prior conversation hit home. There was something about Gary and my contempt for people who solve their problems with violence. Obviously, Bishop had learned what happened at that city council meeting.
I closed my eyes, and heard myself mutter, "Son-of-a-bitch."
It felt like just a moment, but the next time I opened my eyes, Bishop was already gone.
Later that afternoon, I slunk down to the coffee shop, where I found Crystal manning the espresso machine. I pulled up a tall barstool and told her about my latest conversation with Edgar.
I finished by saying, "So it'll be at least a month before we can legally tell fortunes again."
She frowned. "A whole month?"
"Yup. Unless you want to sell fortune rocks."
"I dunno…" She bit her lip. "I already told Gabriel we wouldn't."
"Yes, but you're the owner, not him."
"But he's an important part of this team."
"Yeah, part-time."
"Oh forget it," she said, reaching under the front counter. She pulled out a small package and handed it over. "Here, this’ll cheer you up at least."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Remember the guy we met at the council meeting? The guy from Detroit?"
I started opening the package. "Conrad Harrison?"
"Yup." Crystal watched as I pulled out the contents. "Oh, how sweet," she said. "Your index cards from the meeting."
Aside from a few that were crumpled, most seemed intact. I'd put a lot of time into those notes and should've been a lot more careful with them. Probably, I should've clobbered Gary with my shoe instead.
The box included a small note from Conrad. I read it aloud. "Good luck fighting City Hall. Call me if I can help." By his signature, he'd jotted down his personal cell phone number.
"Good thing he didn't see you earlier," Crystal said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you were snockered."
"I wasn't snockered," I said. "Much."
"So about Bishop…" She lowered her voice. "Did you guys do it?"
I stared at her. "It?"
"Yeah. You know. Screw."
"No. We did not screw."
"Too bad." She glanced toward the book room. "But he's still upstairs, right?"
"No." I looked around. "Didn't you see him leave?"
"Nope. And we were watching for him, too."
"Who's 'we'?"
"Me and the girls from the book club." She grinned. "Remember Rae Ann? She called him scrumptious."
I felt myself frown.
"Don't worry," she said. "I told 'em you had dibs."
"Dibs?"
"Unless–" She glanced down at the box of index cards. "–you're calling dibs on Conrad instead."
"I'm not calling dibs on anyone."
"Oh, that's just your hangover talking."
"I'm not hung over."
She peered at my face. "So, did you puke?"
"Oh for crying out loud," I said. "No, I didn't puke. I can handle my alcohol just fine, thank you very much."
"Yeah," she said. "Just like you handle the cold."
If she only knew. I handled the cold a whole lot better than I had ever handled Bishop, and not just today. Right from the start, he had a way of turning everything upside-down, including my own assumptions.
Chapter 21
It was just a couple of days after the carjacker's visit, and I still didn't know what to think. Mostly, I thought he was a liar and a thief and too damn gorgeous for his own good.
But I knew nothing for sure, well, except for the gorgeous part.
So I tried to focus on my mom's store. I'd been reading Tarot cards forever, but only for fun. Lately though, Crystal had been pushing for me to do it for pay.
"Hey," I told her, "you're the fortune-teller, not me. I'm just the barista. Summer help. Remember?"
"But people keep asking for card-readings," she said.
Crystal was a classic astrologer, and pretty good at palm reading too. But for some reason, the cards had never been her thing.
"You should learn," I said. "It's not that hard."
She stuck out her chin. "I don't want to."
"But you'll have to eventually," I pointed out. "In a few months, I'll be gone to college."
"I already told you, you're not leaving."
My jaw clenched. "And I already told you, yes, I am."
"Not according to your chart."
I knew exactly which chart she meant. My astrological chart, which she consulted way too often for my liking. Sometimes, it was almost creepy. "It doesn't matter," I said. "I don't make decisions that way."
She smirked. "If you say so."
She'd been telling me this for weeks, and I was beyond sick of it. In late August, I would be going away, thanks to a fairly decent scholarship to Florida State University. I felt myself smile. No more winters. At least, no more Michigan winters. Not for a while anyway.
"You can smile all you want," she said, "but you're still not going anywhere."
We were still bickering about it later that afternoon when a large, brown delivery truck rumbled into our small parking lot. From the coffee shop's window, we watched as a uniformed driver got out and walked around to the cargo area. He pulled out a giant-sized box and started loading it onto a hand-cart.
I turned to Crystal. "Did you order something?"
She glanced away. "Uh, sort of."
"What?" I asked.
"An espresso machine."
I glanced behind the front counter. "But we already have one."
"Yeah, but this one's better. Brand new.
" She grinned. "Trust me, you're gonna love it."
I frowned. "But how'd you come up with the money?"
Her smile faltered. "For starters, I'm trading in the old one."
"Oh." I glanced at our old machine. "But how'd you pay for the rest?"
"Well, that's the thing." Crystal gave me a half-wince, half-smile. "I sort of borrowed it."
"From who?"
"Well, uh, you actually."
"Me?" With a pang, I considered the stash I used to have. "But I don't have any money."
"Sure, you keep saying that. But the other night, I found a whole bunch in your wallet."
I stared at her, praying she wasn't saying what I thought she was saying. "You're kidding, right?" I gripped the table in front of me. "You went through my wallet?"
"Oh c'mon, it wasn't like that," she said. "I didn't realize it was yours. Not at first anyway."
My head was spinning. Even for Crystal, this was a first. Usually, when she "borrowed" my money, she at least told me about it.
She grimaced. "You're mad, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm mad," I said. Just days earlier, I'd accused him of stealing it. My voice rose. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
I glared at her. "You did not."
"Sure I did. But you were in the shower, so maybe you didn't hear. But I did tell you."
I was still trying to catch my breath. "But I need that money for Florida."
"Oh c'mon," she said. "Don't get all stressed out. You're not going. Remember?" She gave me another shaky smile. "Besides, we're partners, right?"
I made a scoffing sound. "Funny, we're only partners when you want something."
"That's not true."
"Sure it is," I told her. "The rest of the time, I'm just your employee."
"Oh c'mon, you're not just my employee." She reached out to squeeze my hand. "You're my favorite barista."
I yanked my hand away. "I'm also your daughter." My voice was shaking. "And you stole from me."
"Oh c'mon, I didn't steal anything. Here, lemme show you."
As I watched, she marched to the front register, lifted up the cash drawer, and pulled out a thin black notebook. Returning to where I stood, she plopped the notebook onto a nearby table. She leafed through a few pages until she found the one she wanted.
She pointed to the last entry in a long column of hand-written numbers. "See?" she said. "If I were stealing it, would I write it down?"
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