“It is! Gertie made me one on my twenty-first. It’s a Bennett family tradition.” He swung his arm around my neck. “You’re an honorary Bennett. Gertie would be pissed if I didn’t keep the tradition alive.”
“I don’t know,” I slurred. “I’m pretty drunk…”
“Aw, you can do it, babe,” drawled Danny, coming over to give me a wet, sloppy kiss. “Then I’ll take you to my place and give you your birthday present.”
I always tended to get exceedingly truthful when I had too much to drink. Rolling my eyes, I said, “It’s not a present if it’s no fun for me.”
The table erupted in laughter, and Danny went over in the corner to sulk. Maybe it shouldn’t have been too surprising that he cheated on me soon after that.
Pete brought the drink over and set it in front of me, and my friends started chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” So I chugged it. Well, part of it. It was the most horrendous drink I’d ever had, and my stomach did not appreciate it. This one was coming back out.
I ran for the bathroom, not realizing I was so off balance. Pete was on my heels, catching me as I nearly crashed into a row of barstools. Knowing the vomit was imminent, I shrugged him off and continued to the bathroom. I got to the hallway leading to the restrooms and tossed my cookies. Usually, getting it out makes a person feel better, but I felt another round coming. Trying desperately to make it to a toilet this time, I took off for the ladies’ room, forgetting about the mess at my feet. I slipped, and my feet went out from under me. I landed on my ass in a puddle of my own puke.
Alternating between laughing and apologizing for laughing, Pete picked me up and got me a trash can. After I was finished throwing up, he got some paper towels and tried to clean me up. When we got back to the table, our friends had already bailed. I found out later that they had witnessed the puking/falling incident and were grossed out. All of them, including my boyfriend, left Pete alone to deal with me. He was my designated driver, like I had been on his twenty-first, so he drove me to his apartment and cleaned me up, letting me sleep it off on his couch.
—
Even back then, Pete had always taken good care of me. I caught myself smiling as I relived that incident. It really was a good twenty-first birthday story. It gave me something to take my mind off of my desperate attempt to scrub every last bit of Ron’s blood off my body while I was in the shower. When I shut off the water, I could hear Pete playing the guitar he had given me. He was truly a master. I was adequate, but never the genius at it that Pete was. Partly because I didn’t sit around playing guitar all the time like he did.
After I had showered twice, I felt sufficiently clean, so I got out and wrapped a towel around myself. Damn it to hell. I had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me. My clothes were all in my bedroom closet, and Pete stood between them and me. I took a deep breath. We were all adults here, so it shouldn’t be a problem to walk past him wearing nothing but a towel. Then why was I freaking out?
I stuck my head out the door and ordered, “Close your eyes. I need to grab some clothes.”
Pete put a hand over his eyes, but there was an obvious gap between his fingers. “Hey, you’re not naked.”
Scurrying to the closet, I replied, “And you’re obviously peeking. Don’t be a perv.”
“Me?” he asked, feigning surprise.
Armed with my clothes, I shot back into the bathroom. I quickly dressed and came back out. “Sorry to make you wait, but I feel much better now.”
“You look much better, too. You don’t look like Carrie anymore.”
“Thank you,” I said dryly. “Okay, now I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my day. Where do you want me to start?”
“With that prick Ryder taking you to a murderer’s house.”
“Ron’s not the murderer.”
“Not the point.”
“Okay, here goes. Ryder was able to find Ron Hatcher somehow, with his amazing P.I. skills. We went over, pretending to be Dave’s friends, under the guise that we wanted to settle up his gambling debts. It turns out Ron Hatcher is no longer a bookie. He had a gambling problem himself, so he turned to Dave for help. Dave helped him get back on his feet and joined Gamblers Anonymous with him.”
“I told you Dave wasn’t that bad of a guy.”
Sighing, I said, “I know. Dave seems to have been pretty great, actually. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get to know him.”
Pete smiled, but said nothing. However, the look on his face told me he was dying to say, “I told you so.”
I continued, “Anyway, then Ryder asked Ron why he threatened Dave during the conversation you overheard. Ron said that Dave was mixed up in something with his old cellmate.”
“You know who that is, don’t you?”
“No,” I said, surprised. “Do you?”
“Logan’s brother, Rob Carmichael. That’s why Dave always watched out for Logan. Because Rob is a no-good criminal, and Dave was worried Logan’s big brother wasn’t setting a good example.”
“That makes sense. Dave was trying to get Rob to stop whatever current scheme he has going, which Rob denied being involved in, like any good criminal would. Anyway, Ron Hatcher thinks Rob had something to do with Dave’s murder. He says Rob sicced Johnny Brewer on Dave to scare Dave out of narcing to the police.”
“Was that the fight at The Dirty Duck Charlene told me about?” asked Pete.
“Yes. Ron stopped the fight. He told Johnny that he knew Rob’s secret, and if they didn’t leave Dave alone, Ron would go to the cops himself and implicate Rob and Johnny both. After Ron got through telling us that, he got shot, so that was the end of the story.”
“How did Ron get shot? Did Ryder do it?” Pete asked suspiciously.
“No…There was a bit of a drive-by…”
“A drive-by?” he exploded, jumping up. “Holy shit, Jules! When you told me Ron got shot, I didn’t think it would be from a drive-by! Did you got shot at, too?”
I hesitated. “Well, yeah…but Ryder shoved me down onto the floor and made sure I was out of the line of fire.”
“What a gentleman,” Pete grunted.
“There is a bright side to this story.”
“And what could that possibly be?”
“When the police hauled me to the station, Detective Cromwell told me that I’m not a suspect, and really never was. He wanted people to think that I was their best lead so that the real killer would relax. I think they’re close to putting it all together.” I smiled hopefully.
Pete sat back down next to me and pulled me into a hug. “That is great news. I bet it’s a big weight off your shoulders. Now, will you quit your sleuthing once and for all?”
“Absolutely,” I said happily, enjoying his warmth.
“Jules?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
He broke our embrace and plucked something up off the floor. It was an empty condom wrapper. Shit. This was going to get real ugly, real fast. With exaggerated patience, he asked, “Who?”
I looked away. Pete had made it very clear that he thought Ryder was dangerous and that I should stay away from him. Granted, he was not the boss of me, and I could make my own decisions. But he had never, ever gotten in the way of any of my relationships before. Now, for some reason, it was very important to him that I not get mixed up with Ryder.
“Ryder,” I admitted quietly.
He threw the wrapper back on the floor and got up again, this time pacing angrily around my room. “The one time I ask you to steer clear of someone—the one time, Juliet. How can you be so blind to how dangerous he is?”
Pete never used my complete first name. That is, unless he was so pissed at me that he couldn’t see straight. It was like your mother using your middle name. I could count on one hand the number of times it had happened during our more-than-a-decade-long friendship.
“I am an adult, Pete. I get to decide who I
see and who I don’t. Not you.”
“Somebody needs to watch out for you! You’re acting like a stupid teenager!”
“And you’re acting like my father, not my friend! Besides, you’re just…you’re just jealous!”
His eyes looked hurt, but he otherwise ignored me. “Can’t you see he’s using you?”
Throwing my hands in the air, I said, “So what? I’m not going to marry the guy! He’s not even my type!”
“Then why in the hell are you sleeping with him?”
“Because it’s fun!”
“Oh, it’s fun, huh? So does his name do him justice? Did he ride you like a pony?”
“Pete…” I warned. He did not want to go down that road with me.
He stopped pacing. “Wait a minute. So let me get something straight. You sleep with this asshole, and then he drags you out to the ghetto to get shot at, only to take off without a word? Sounds like a real prince. You sure do know how to pick ’em, don’t you?”
“Me? I know how to…” I sputtered. “You were dating Cecilia Hollingsworth, the Wicked Witch of the South! You have no room to talk!”
“Don’t turn this around on me. I told you there was something shady about him, and now he’s proven it. He deserted you. Real men don’t do that.”
“You don’t know him!”
“You don’t, either!” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could practically see the wheels turning inside his head. “You know, you never mentioned his last name all the times we’ve talked about him. You don’t even know his last name, do you? That’s epically slutty, Juliet. I thought I knew you.”
I got very still. Pete had to have felt the rage radiating off me, because his gaze faltered. Angry tears were threatening to spill down my cheeks at any moment. I said softly, with extreme restraint, “Get out.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Now.”
Pete stormed out, slamming my front door. I collapsed on my bed and bawled my eyes out. We had never fought like this. Our friendship was strong, but I didn’t know if things between us could ever be the same again.
Chapter 19
After I did my best to put myself together, I trudged back to work. Even counting all of the craziness I’d been through this morning, I was still back midway through the lunch rush at Java Jive. It felt like I was going through the motions. I helped in the kitchen, giving Brandon a rest from training Wayne, who was doing surprisingly well, given that it was his first day. When the evening shift workers came in, I needed a change, so I let the guys in the back train Wayne, and I took care of the counter out front.
During our afternoon lull, I took the opportunity to take Jamie back to the office to speak to her about Brianna’s claim that she was stealing money. I wanted to make sure to be very sensitive, considering I knew exactly how it felt to be wrongfully accused.
“Sit down, Jamie,” I began. “Are things going all right for you here? Any problems or issues you’d like to discuss?”
She shrugged. “Not really. All of us are stressed about the extra work and everything, but you already knew that.”
“Right. Do you feel that your salary is fair?”
“It’s food service. Everyone’s salary sucks.”
Nodding, I said, “I can’t disagree with you there.” I cleared my throat. “Jamie, I want to talk to you about the process you use when working the cash register. When you receive cash, do you put it directly into the till, or—”
“Have you been talking to Brianna?” she snipped.
Smart girl. “I just want to make sure that everyone is using the same system to ring in and accept payment for orders,” I replied casually.
“I can’t believe that she went to you.” Jamie shook her head. “She must be off her meds again. Did you know she’s bipolar?”
“No, that’s really none of my business.”
Color rose on her cheeks, and she raised her voice. “Well, here’s something that is your business. I’m not stealing money from this place. I tutor other college students in what little spare time I have. Sometimes they don’t have their money when we meet for tutoring, and since I’m such a nice person, I let them bring it to me here at work once they scrape it together. So, yes, I’m accepting cash from customers and pocketing it. My cash that I earned working a second job. Is that a problem?” That would definitely account for the fact that no money ever turned up missing in our end-of-day reports. Mystery solved.
Sighing, I said, “No, Jamie. It’s not a problem. Thanks for clearing that up. Sorry I had to—”
She interrupted me. “Are we done?”
“Yes.”
Getting up abruptly, she left without saying another word. Damn it. I had pissed off yet another employee. This wasn’t my day. I wanted to crawl back into my bed and have another good cry. However, I didn’t have time for that, because now I needed to speak to Brianna about the misunderstanding about Jamie. I hoped that discussion would go better than the one I just had.
I contemplated hiding in the office for a while, but when I heard yelling, I rushed out to find out what was going on. Jamie and Brianna were behind the counter, having a screaming match. Cole was standing to the side, and oddly enough, he looked a little turned on.
“You are such a lying little bitch! Keep your nose where it belongs!”
“I saw what I saw, Jamie! You’ve been stealing money, and you can’t lie your way out of it.”
“It’s no secret that you’re totally nuts—”
I stepped between the two of them. “That’s enough, ladies. Jamie, take your break now, please. Go outside and cool off. Brianna, my office.”
Jamie stormed off, and Brianna dissolved into a puddle of tears. I couldn’t take much more of these raging teenage hormones. I steered Brianna into my office and shut the door.
“Look, Brianna—”
“You said you’d leave my name out of it! You promised!” she wailed.
“I did leave your name out of it. Jamie was the one who mentioned you, and even then, I did not let on that it was you who had come to me.”
“I’m going to quit.”
“You’re not going to quit. This will blow over. Jamie will calm down, and soon it will all be forgotten.”
“No,” she replied, her chin quivering. “This is the last straw. I quit.” Brianna got up and removed her apron, throwing it down onto her chair and storming out of my office.
Son of a bitch bastard. I put my head in my hands. Today was going from awful to off-the-charts horrific. I felt like I was in an out-of-control car headed off a cliff. The only thing I could think of to do was make myself a waffle taco. Then, if I was lucky, I’d get sick and I could go home. Stalking into the kitchen, I wordlessly started making the dreadful dish, four sets of eyes trained on me.
When I folded the waffle and started stuffing taco ingredients into it, Wayne asked tentatively, “Is that on the menu, Juliet?”
“No,” I replied, not elaborating.
No one said anything else, and when I was finished making my concoction, I stormed back out, locking myself in the office. I took a huge bite of waffle taco and was shocked at how good it tasted to me. I guessed shitty food really could make a person feel better. Before I could take my next bite, the phone rang. The caller ID was blocked. Probably another reporter trying to trick me into talking.
Irritated at being interrupted, I snapped, “Java Jive.”
“Is this Juliet Langley?” The voice on the other end was low and odd, almost electronic-sounding.
I had had enough of people harassing me this week, so Redheaded She-Devil decided it was time to take it out on this guy, whoever he was. “Yeah, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to talk to one more sleazebag—”
He interrupted, “I won’t miss next time.”
Instead of scaring me, those words ignited my rage. “What? Next time? Did you shoot at me today? Screw you, asshole! I’ve had a lot of shit rain down on me this week, and I’m done with it! Do you hear me? How abou
t I come and kick your ass instead? How would you like that, you cowardly son of a bitch?”
He replied, “You’re dead,” and hung up.
Those last two words washed over me, and I immediately began shaking. Why did I say those things? I obviously pissed him off, whoever he was, and now I was dead. Instantly sickened by the sight of my waffle taco, I pushed the plate away and put my head down on the desk. This was out of hand. Briefly considering calling the police, I ultimately decided not to bother, since I didn’t know what they could do about one threatening phone call. I didn’t have a recording of the conversation, the guy used a voice changer, and the caller ID was blocked. Someone who took the time to do those things wasn’t about to call from his landline and leave a traceable number on Java Jive’s phone records. I needed help. Where was damn Ryder when I needed him?
In an effort to calm myself down (which didn’t work, by the way), I took some time to place an ad for Brianna’s job. In reality, now that I had Wayne, who seemed to be doing just fine, I could take over Brianna’s spot and we would still have the same amount of staff. That was, unless someone else quit. Which, given the way my day was going, wasn’t out of the question.
Back in control for the most part, I went out to check on Jamie. She had returned from her break, and besides the surly expression on her face, she seemed to be doing fine. Approaching Jamie and Cole, I said quietly, “Brianna quit. But now that we have Wayne, I can take over her position until I hire a replacement. Are you guys okay with that?”
“Whatever,” was Jamie’s response.
“Cool,” said Cole.
The dinner crowd was starting to trickle in, so I kept myself busy taking orders and keeping the front of the house clean. Pete came in and headed straight for the back, not saying a word to me or even glancing in my direction. That was fine with me. I didn’t want to talk to him, either.
Unfortunately, a few minutes later he appeared next to me and said curtly, “Juliet, a word?” I reluctantly followed him back to the office. He closed the door. “What’s this I hear about Brianna quitting?”
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