by Julie Kenner
While the host introduced the movie, David flipped through the mail he’d snagged from Millie’s earlier. Electric bill, gas bill, insurance bill. Scowling, he ripped open the envelope, cursing when he saw the balance to renew. The bastards had raised her premium again. What did they think? That he was made of money?
He tossed the whole pile back on his desk; he’d deal with that later. Right now, the movie was starting, and he was more than happy to kick back and watch Bogie, the master, in action.
David bolted awake, his legs flying off the desk and his heart pounding as he tried to figure out what woke him. A steady banging repeated, and he rubbed his head while his brain caught up with his body. The door. Someone was at the door.
With a groan, he rocked forward in the chair, cursing himself for falling asleep like that. On top of the bruises on his ribs, he now had one hell of a crick in his neck.
He grabbed the still unopened can of Mr. Pibb and pressed it to the back of his neck. Warm, but the act of rolling it along his muscles helped some.
More pounding, and he hollered for whoever it was to wait a sec.
“I’ve been waiting ten minutes already.” Finn’s voice filtered through the closed door. “What’s up? You got a girl in there?”
At the prospect of seeing his friend, David sped up, sore neck and all. He opened the door and Finn lumbered over the threshold, an overstuffed duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a wide grin spread across his face.
“Hey, not bad.” He dropped the duffel and turned in a half circle, which more or less concluded the grand tour of David’s apartment. “I worried about your sanity when you said you moved in behind Millie.” He took a look around, taking in the small garage apartment. “But this is pretty nice.”
David pressed the warm Mr. Pibb to his forehead. “How’d you get here so fast? I thought you weren’t coming till two.”
Finn squinted at him. “It’s almost three. I thought you were going to be pissed because my plane was late.”
“Three?” David twisted around to see the clock on his VCR. It was flashing noon, just like it had been doing since he hooked it up a year ago. “Shit.”
“Hot date last night?”
David grimaced. “Almost. But not quite.”
A grin tugged at Finn’s mouth. “I hear Viagra can work wonders.”
If his head weren’t pounding so much, David was sure he could come up with a snappy comeback. As it was, he just scowled, then moved to the kitchen to switch the warm Mr. Pibb out for a cold one. He was fresh out of soda, so he grabbed a carton of orange juice instead and pressed the cool cardboard to the back of his neck. “The equipment works fine. The female operator is the trickier issue.”
Finn sprawled across the couch, his former line-backer frame dwarfing the cushions. “Jealous boyfriend?”
“What makes you say that?”
Finn fingered his nose.
“Oh, shit.” David bent down and looked at his reflection on the side of the toaster. Yup. His nose had swelled up during the night and was now a charming shade of purple.
“The things you do for love,” Finn said. “I hope her boyfriend looks worse.”
“Not her boyfriend,” David said. “He’s DOA. Some creep in a dark alley with a mean right hook.” He leaned against the wall. “And I’ll cop to lust, but that’s about it.” Love wasn’t on the radar. Jacey might have knocked him for a loop in a lot of ways, but about that, David was perfectly clear.
“DOA, huh?” His brow furrowed. “Are we talking the Harvard dweeb? That’s the only case you’ve got going, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Shit,” Finn said, never one to mince words. “How?”
“Apparently the heater in his office exploded.”
“Apparently?” Finn was sitting up now, leaning forward.
“Don’t go getting all lawyerly on me,” David said. “The heater definitely exploded. I didn’t mean to open the door to some huge conspiracy. But I was up half the night trying to find some information about the guy, and my brain is fried.”
“I guess so, if you’re trying to find info about a dead guy.”
“Yeah, well.”
Finn laughed. “Your lust is showing.”
“You’re an asshole,” David said, but that only made Finn laugh louder.
The pounding in David’s head increased, and he pulled open the top drawer of his filing cabinet and rummaged for the Tylenol. After managing to pry the childproof top off, he shook out four pills and popped them into his mouth. He took a slug straight from the OJ carton and swallowed, but not quite fast enough to prevent the powdery medicinal taste from clinging to his tongue. He chugged some more juice, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Want some?”
Finn looked from David to the carton and then back to David. “So, what did you find out about the boyfriend?”
“Not much.” David took one last slug of juice, then left the carton sitting on his desk. “He graduated from some unaccredited law school and went to work for Melvin Clements.”
“The guy who defended Joey Malone on that drug trafficking charge. He was all over the news a few years back.”
David thwapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I knew I recognized the name, but was too zonked to place it.”
“So maybe it wasn’t the heater,” Finn said.
“Maybe someone did some work on the heater,” David added. “Someone like Joey Malone.”
“Or someone who wanted to screw Malone,” Finn finished.
David nodded. “Not that I wish anybody dead, but maybe Jacey was lucky. This Al fellow doesn’t sound like the kind of guy she should be getting mixed up with.”
The muscle in Finn’s jaw twitched.
David sighed, knowing what was coming. “What?”
Finn spread his arms wide. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.” He picked a page from David’s manuscript up off the floor. “And I’m sure as hell not saying anything about your not-so-hot date with the dead man’s girl.”
David plucked the page away. Nobody, not even Finn, read his pages before they were ready. “If you’re finished giving me grief, I’m starving.”
“If that’s the criteria, we’re never going to eat.”
David laughed and clapped his buddy on the back as they headed for the door. “You’re a pain in the ass, but I’m glad you’re back.”
“Good, because they screwed up my apartment. I stopped by Millie’s on my way in and begged the guest room until the end of the month.”
David turned to look over his shoulder as they headed down the stairs to the garage. “How’d you manage only two weeks? I’m surprised she didn’t snag you for the full semester.”
“She tried, but I prepaid on the apartment. I’m well-versed in covering my bases where Millie is concerned.”
True enough. Millie more or less considered Finn one of the family. About the only difference David could see was that Millie hadn’t made marrying off Finn a mission—yet.
They spent the ride to Studio City catching up on the important things—Finn’s never-ending stream of women, which teams they hoped would make it to the World Series, whether Arnold’s latest action flick was a piece of shit or worth at least a matinee ticket. The usual. By the time David pulled into a parking space behind Dupar’s, they’d pretty much caught up on all the essential news.
A diner that had been around forever, Dupar’s on Ventura was the last thing a tourist might expect to be walking distance from Universal Studios, CBS’s Studio City lot, and gegobs of Hollywood muckety-mucks. Famous for its basic food and older waitresses, the place was no frills all the way, and David swore that some of the grizzled regulars were holdovers from the silent film era.
He loved the place, and at least weekly packed up his manual Olivetti, grabbed a back booth, and went to work with a bottomless cup of coffee and a cheese omelet for sustenance. Today he and Finn both ordered meatloaf and mashed potatoes, the same thing they’d
been ordering since they started hanging out there after school.
“So are you going to follow up on this explosion thing?” Finn asked after the waitress left with their orders.
“Uh, no. The guy’s dead, remember? I don’t think Jacey’s too keen on finding the big, dead, dumb palooka. And without a paycheck coming my way, I don’t have a hell of a lot of incentive to bother.”
Finn took a sip of water. “The whole thing smells hinky. I bet there’s another Stalking here somewhere.”
David rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Novels, remember? I’m writing novels these days.”
“I just figured you needed the dough. But maybe you forgot to mention that you won the lottery.”
David grimaced. Finn compulsively bought lottery tickets, in the hopes that those lucky numbers could finance his early retirement. So far, in the last ten or so years, David estimated his friend’s total winnings at about eighty-three dollars.
“Or did Susan’s remarriage solve all of your money problems?” Finn continued, not even missing a beat.
“Barely made a dent,” David admitted. When his ex had remarried, David had been freed from the chains of alimony. But with all of Millie’s bills, David hadn’t noticed any extra padding in his checking account.
“You could always sell the Studillac.”
“I thought about it,” David admitted. He’d considered selling his car for about two seconds, then immediately dismissed the thought. There was no way in hell he was ever going to part company with that car.
“Yeah?” Finn asked. “You must really be strapped for cash.” He frowned. “Maybe you should just tell Millie everything.”
David shook his head. “Can’t do it. Millie would never let her poor precious nephew make the sacrifice.” If Millie knew, she’d sell her house and David loved that house. He’d spent his childhood there and it overflowed with his memories.
Besides, he wasn’t about to force Millie to move into some antiseptic apartment community with shuffleboard tournaments. Not if he could help it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be making the sacrifice,” Finn said. “It’s not like you’re rolling in the dough.”
“I’m surviving.”
“Your parents can’t really help you out, either, can they?”
David shook his head. So far, he hadn’t told his parents about his own money troubles or Millie’s. They’d worry, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do. “A teacher’s retirement doesn’t go very far,” he said. “Especially living in London. And their apartment is pretty expensive. They’re loving retirement, but they’re not exactly living in the lap of luxury.”
The food came, and Finn dug into the mashed potatoes with gusto. “Well, that alimony deal sucked,” he said, coming up for air. “Even if you’re still feeling the pinch, it must be nice to be cut loose from Susan.”
David put down his fork, his appetite dissolving like Alka-Seltzer in water. “Don’t I wish.”
“Oh, shit. What happened?”
“The IRS says we owe seven grand for the last year we filed a joint tax return. We’re supposed to meet with some government flunkie next week to go over all my Schedule C deductions and prove to the government that we paid what we owe.”
“Damn.”
David nodded. That pretty much summed up the situation.
“That marriage is like an albatross,” Finn said. “And Susan’s probably about ready to strangle you.”
“True enough.” He drew a pattern in the potatoes and then tossed down his fork. “And I don’t blame her.”
“What? You saying you cheated on your tax returns?”
“No, I’m saying she put up with a lot from me.”
Finn shook his head. “You’re the only man I know who makes excuses for his ex-wife.”
“Hell, it’s the truth. She wanted her little gingerbread house and her kids and her SUV and she expected me to get all that for her.”
“But that’s not what you’re about.”
“I know.” David ran his hands through his hair, his stomach raw, just like it always was when he thought about how he’d screwed Susan over. “I’ve always known. And I married her anyway.” Lesson learned. That was one mistake he didn’t intend to make twice.
“You’d been together since eighth grade. You guys were like an asteroid screaming straight for planet matrimony.”
“Very poetic. Thanks.” David tapped the bottom of a ketchup bottle, his efforts apparently having no effect on the contents. “Well, shit.”
“And you did try,” Finn said.
That David had. He’d donned the suit, pulled the noose tight around his neck, dusted off his shiny new master’s in journalism, and headed into the city to bring home the paycheck. On weekends, he’d worked on his book or traveled. At first, he tried to get Susan to go with him; after a while, he learned to quit asking.
During the week he was miserable. On the weekends, Susan was. And that’s how it went, until Susan finally got miserable enough that she asked for a divorce. At least she had the guts.
And David knew just what a shit of a guy he was when he realized that the day she filed for divorce was the happiest day of his life.
Of course, they should have never gotten married in the first place, but David had mistaken hot sex and inertia for love. After years of dating, everyone had expected a wedding, David included.
The really sad part was that on their wedding day, Susan had really, truly loved him. But by the time they divorced, that feeling had shriveled up and died. Hell of a testimonial—just by being himself, he’d managed to snuff out love.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “The deductions were for my writing, but she’s on the hook, too. Her new husband’s out of work, though, and she’s afraid the IRS is going to attach their bank account.”
“But you’ll pay it, right?”
“Hell yeah,” David said. “The deductions were for my writing expenses. But—”
“You’re broke,” Finn finished.
David nodded. “No one can get blood out of a turnip. Not even the IRS.”
“You better hope you don’t owe, then. Or you better find some money quick.”
“Don’t I know it,” David said, and he imagined Marva sitting on his shoulder, whispering true crime in his ear. He scowled, silently telling the Marva apparition to shut up.
“So tell me about your new lady,” Finn said, clearly thinking about David’s most recent paying client.
“How much time did you spend at Millie’s, anyway?” David let out an exasperated sigh, then resumed his banging on the butt end of the bottle. “She’s not my new lady.”
“No?”
“No,” David said, his voice firm. Jacey might set his motor running, but she’d made it perfectly clear that she wanted the house, the picket fence, and the hamster. He’d already screwed Susan. He didn’t intend to let history repeat itself.
“Then what is she?” Finn asked. “Just a quick fuck?” He spoke cavalierly, but his eyes were knowing, and David banged harder on the ketchup, fighting the urge to frown. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with Finn’s summation, but if he dissented at all, his friend would jump all over it.
“We didn’t get that far,” he said, punting. He gave up on the ketchup and set the bottle aside. “And I may not even see her again. Like I said, dead boyfriend. Case closed.”
“All the better,” Finn said. “No conflict of interest.”
“I’m not looking to get involved,” David said. “What is it with everyone butting into my life these days? Millie, Marva, and now you.” He picked the bottle back up and gave it one last wallop. A huge glob of ketchup spurted out, burying his meatloaf.
“Not butting in,” Finn said. “Just expressing a friendly interest. You’ve been out of the game since your divorce. It’s time to jump back in. The water’s fine.”
“I date,” David said, his mind drifting to Leila.
“Drive-by dating,” Finn said. “Even I
can manage more than a series of one-night stands.”
“I manage just fine, thank you.” He’d gone out with Leila three times. Once to the theater and twice to bars. He’d gotten laid all three times, and each time Leila had gone home before two, citing an important hearing the next morning. David couldn’t have been happier. “I just make a point of dating women who are like me—just looking to have a good time, no strings attached.”
“Fine. Why not have your good time with Jacey? She obviously got under your skin. And it’s not like you have to marry her,” he added, more or less summing up David’s entire theory of dating. Except for some reason that theory didn’t jibe when he tried to plug Jacey into the mix.
“I don’t think so,” David said, grasping at the first straw he found. “She got under my skin all right, but the woman rubs me the wrong way.” He barely even knew her and already he bickered with her more than he had with any woman he’d ever met. Of course, he enjoyed their bickering more than he cared to admit, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Jacey’s fiery temperament would translate to the bedroom. Truth be told, he’d love to find out.
“Maybe she just rubs you,” Finn said.
David sighed, giving in. “Maybe she does. But I’m not going to do anything about it. I was suffering from temporary insanity last night,” he said. “The woman’s on a husband quest. And since I’m not interested in auditioning for the part, it wouldn’t be—”
“Chivalrous?” Finn laughed. “Buddy, you have got it bad.”
David just scowled and concentrated on his lunch. “Boyfriend dead. Case closed.” He looked Finn in the eye. “End of story.”
Finn held his hands out in surrender. “Is that your final answer?”
“That’s it,” David said. He concentrated on scraping the excess ketchup off his meatloaf, studiously avoiding his friend. Because, in truth, that wasn’t it. In truth, David still owed Jacey an ice cream.