I'll Say Anything

by Danielle Bourdon

  “How're you holding up, Fins? You okay? I'm sorry you had to go through this,” Jasper said, stroking a hand down my spine. He hovered at my side, glancing from me to Ramsey. “Thanks for staying with her.”

  “I'm doing better,” I said.

  Ramsey slid a hand into his pocket and fished out his keys. “Of course. I'll leave you two to catch up.” Ramsey smiled, a faint curl of his lips, then stepped off the curb. The Rolls wasn't parked far away.

  “Thank you, Ramsey,” I said, not unaware of a shift in Ramsey's demeanor. Unable to concentrate hard enough to figure out what it was, I looked up at Jasper again. “Let's get out of here.”

  “Sure, come on.” Jasper guided me to the parked Camaro, sitting five slots down from the Rolls.

  Ten minutes later we pulled up behind the garage. The police cars were gone now and the street was quiet. I climbed out of Jasper's car feeling twenty years older than I had before the evening began. We went inside the apartment and I headed straight for a glass of water and something to cure the raging headache the events of the night left behind.

  Jasper hovered at my elbow, staring at my face. I didn't need to look to know he was still quite concerned. After swallowing the aspirin, I glanced up into his eyes. My relief knew no bounds. It dawned on me then how much I relied upon Jasper. How much of my life revolved around his. We were intertwined in almost every aspect.

  He cupped my face in his hands, expression shifting through emotions that were not hard to read: compassion, sympathy, worry, affection.

  “I was going to identify you through the scars on our knees,” I said out of the blue.

  “The ones we got when we tripped over the barbed wire?” he whispered.

  I nodded once.

  “That must have been hell. I'm really sorry you had to go through it.”

  “I'm just glad you're all right. That's all that matters.”

  “You look exhausted. Were you sleeping and they came knocking on the door?”

  “No. I wasn't here. Ramsey brought me home and the cop cars were parked outside,” I said, then added, “But I am tired.” It was the wee hours of a new morning, not yet daybreak but not far off.

  “Come on, then. Let's go sleep. We'll talk about the rest of it tomorrow—or later today.”

  I didn't argue. Just then, I felt like I could sleep for a year. Following Jasper into the bedroom, I stripped out of my clothes as if someone else pulled my strings, automatic and wooden. Jasper didn't say a word when I stole his clean pair of pajamas and a tee shirt. Falling into bed, I immediately sought the heat of his body, resting my cheek on his shoulder. Jasper moved my cheek to his tee shirt covered chest so he could drape an arm loosely around my shoulders.

  Unanswered questions surfaced again but I shut them all down. Tomorrow would be soon enough to figure out who had stolen the wallet and how a dead man carrying Jasper's license had wound up a half block from the apartment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Breakfast was a somber affair consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon and a half bagel that Jasper and I split between us. We made the food together and ate for the first five minutes in silence. Bent half over the retro-red table, I stabbed a forkful of eggs, dragged the mess through a pool of Tobasco sauce, and popped the bite in my mouth. At least I felt a little more like me this morning. The numbness had faded and I didn't feel so mentally fragile. Jasper glanced at me often, as if trying to assess my mood and emotions. Finally, I couldn't put the most pressing question off any longer.

  “How do you think that guy ended up so close to our house?” With your ID in his pocket.

  Jasper snapped off a bite of bacon and chewed, a muscle in his jaw flexing. After he swallowed, he said, “I don't know, Fin. It's a wild coincidence or something.”

  “I don't believe in coincidences like that.” And Jasper knew it. What was more, Jasper didn't believe in coincidences like that, either.

  Pushing another bit of eggs around my plate, I looked across the table, chin down, eyes up. Jasper raked a hand back through his hair and slouched in the chair. His hands lifted then fell to his thighs, the meal abandoned for now.

  “I know. And I don't usually either. But I don't have any other explanation.”

  “Me, either.” None of it made any sense. Someone had died, however, and that was a tragedy all the way around. I felt mildly guilty for my relief that it wasn't Jasper. The residual shock and unbearable pain of thinking he might have been dead would stay with me for the rest of my life.

  “I have to leave early. Got a show to work after lunch, then another late night shift. You want a ride to the Olympus or are you taking the day off?”

  Setting down the fork, I picked up the bagel and tore off a tiny bite. “I'll go in to work, but I don't have a shift until later. I'll take the bus.”

  “All right. You sure you're okay, Fins?”

  I met Jasper's eyes across the table again and smiled a small smile. “Yeah. Still getting over it, I guess.”

  “I can imagine. It'll take time. I'm going to hit the shower and I'll see you later, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Be careful going to work.” A small shiver of paranoia hit at the last second.

  Jasper gathered his plate, stepped closer to kiss the top of my head, then walked his dish to the sink. “I will, don't worry. See you later.”

  Once Jasper had showered and left for work, I went through the motions of cleaning the small apartment. It wasn't dirty, just cramped, and we tended to leave glasses sitting on the end table all the time. The mundane activity helped clear my mind.

  I showered, spending a few extra minutes under the hot spray of water. Pushing hair back from my face, I fought off a strange onslaught of grief and chided myself over the few stray tears that slipped down my cheeks.

  “Get over it, Finley. He's not dead.” My voice cracked as it bounced back off the narrow tiled walls.

  Heading into the bedroom a few minutes later, towel wrapped around my head swami style, emotions once more under control, I changed into a favored pair of jeans, a pull over tee shirt of yellow and sneakers instead of boots. A stray balloon left over from Jasper's surprise birthday decorations hovered in one corner of the room. It sparked an idea.

  Going to the closet, which was ridiculously small, I rifled through hanging shirts for a small shelf close to the floor where I new Jasper kept the jar of money. Our savings for the mechanic shop. Grunting with effort, pushing at clothes, my fingers landed on a cool metal lid. Grabbing the jar, I pulled it out and stood up. Out of money, I needed a few bucks to fulfill the idea I'd had for Jasper.

  Except the clear glass jar which was supposed to house some six-thousand odd dollars was completely empty.

  *

  “He moved it. It's here somewhere.” Stifling down a different kind of panic, I set the jar aside and ransacked the room. Thoroughly. There weren't many places to hide the money. I found nothing. No stash.

  Next came the apartment. I searched every kitchen cabinet (there weren't many of those, either), under the cushions of the loveseats, behind the loveseats, and every other nook or cranny I could think of. I even dove my hand down into Jasper's extra pairs of boots, feeling around the inside.

  Nothing.

  Taking the time to quickly dry my hair and pull it back into a ponytail, I found my cell phone and made a call. As much as I hated to do this, I needed time to find out what happened to the money.

  “Hello, Finley,” Ramsey said.

  “Hi. Listen, I know I should talk to my shift supervisor about this, but you were there and saw what happened. Is it all right if I take today off? I'm having a rough time.” It wasn't a total lie. The events of the evening before had left me a little off my game. Better today, certainly, but not one-hundred percent. With the missing money, I couldn't concentrate on anything but finding it.

  “Sure, sure. Take all the time you need. Feel free to call me any time you need to do something like this. I'm here.”

  The vague emphasis I per
ceived in the words I'm here made me think Ramsey meant he was here for me for anything I might need him for, not just work matters. He really was a great guy.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it, Ramsey.”

  “You're welcome. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

  “I'm good. But I'll let you know.” After trading goodbyes, I hung up and dialed Jasper's phone, knowing as well as I was standing there that he wouldn't answer. Not unless he was between shows. The exclusive club he worked for mandated turning off all cell phones so as not to interrupt the guests's experience.

  When I got Jasper's voicemail, I left a message. “Hey, it's me. Can you call me back as soon as you get this?”

  With hours to go before he had a break between one show and the next, I decided to go over the apartment again, this time with a fine tooth comb. I checked every single pocket of Jasper's pants, moved the top mattress to look beneath, and rifled through every item in the freezer. If a container was closed, I opened it.

  The money just wasn't there.

  Remembering the garage, I opened the connecting door and snapped on the light. There were no cars in either bay, since we had no mechanic work at the moment. A work bench lined the entire right wall, built by Jasper. I went through every toolbox, bin and drawer I could find. I didn't think Jasper would hide the money in the garage, which wasn't protected by any kind of alarm or security. If someone broke in the other door leading to the landlady's backyard, we might not hear it in the apartment.

  Then again, maybe Jasper had found a kickass hiding place in here—and if so, then I wouldn't find the money anyway.

  Stepping into the apartment, drenched in sweat as the temperature rose throughout the day, I wiped my wrist across my forehead and checked the time. I should be able to catch Jasper between shows if I left for the nearest bus stop now. Snatching my license, phone, bus pass and sunglasses off the table, I pocketed everything but the sunglasses and left the apartment. Eyes shaded from the glare of the sun, I set out along the alley, and then the sidewalk, for the bus stop. It was late afternoon pushing early evening and the city was alive with pedestrians and vehicular traffic.

  Riding the bus along the back streets, I stared out the window, imagining what kind of answer Jasper might give me. It occurred to me then that maybe Jasper had found a location and put a down payment on it. Maybe he hadn't told me because he was keeping it a surprise. Heartened by the thought, I endured the constant chatter of fellow riders until the bus reached its stop.

  Disembarking, I made my way along the side of an impressively classic building. The two story facade was white as alabaster, with black tinted windows flanking the double front doors. I knew the foyer was almost as elaborate as the foyer of the Olympus, with marble floors and gilt trimmings. The club catered to patrons who could afford to pay top dollar to see some of the best private shows in Vegas.

  To find Jasper, who wouldn't be anywhere near the foyer but in the back, accessed by the employee entrance, I strode up to the door and exchanged hellos with the doorman. Even though it was a back entrance, security was tight. I knew the doorman, thankfully, a friend of Jasper's who had spent time at the apartment on the weekends. He let me in without a problem.

  Moving from intense sunlight to a dim corridor, I pushed my sunglasses up and turned right, following the hallway to the employee area. A man stepped out of the door when I was still twenty feet away, decked out in a stark suit of black and white. He flashed a smile at me.

  “Hello, Finley.”

  At first I didn't recognize Tyler, one of the four who had set me up as an escort for Ramsey. “Oh, hey. How're you?”

  “I'm good, I'm good. Sorry you had to deal with Adrian. I heard about that.”

  “It's no problem. Ramsey was amused in the end, so you got what you wanted.” I didn't hold any grudges for the surprise 'outfit'.

  “You here to see Jasper? He's in the break room. I can get him for you.” Tyler thumbed back to the door he'd just stepped out of.

  “Actually, yes. That would be great, thanks.” I didn't want to have a conversation with Jasper in front of his peers, especially one involving money.

  Tyler disappeared through the door while I paced up and down the hallway, staying close by. The floors here had been covered in short crimson carpet, the walls decorated with dark brocade wallpaper and gold trim. Recessed lighting lit the corridors while maintaining an almost mysterious atmosphere, which was part of the allure of the club.

  The door opened again, and Jasper stepped out. In the months that Jasper had worked at the club, I'd never seen him in his 'work attire'. The black suit with its crisp white undershirt and burgundy vest fit Jasper like it was hand tailored just for him.

  Maybe it had been.

  For whatever reason, I couldn't find words at first. Clean shaven, with his hair styled elegantly away from his face, he almost didn't look like the Jasper I'd grown up with since childhood.

  “Cat got your tongue, Fins? I'm waiting for the guffaws to start,” Jasper said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. He had one hand in a pocket, the other hanging free.

  A tangle of words and phrases locked up my tongue, and when I finally unwound the syllables, I cut straight to the chase. “The money's missing.”

  “What?”

  “The money. In the closet. It's gone.” I watched Jasper eyes, recovering from whatever strange pause I'd suffered at the site of him in a suit. He tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. Exhaling he squinted one eye and looked at me again.

  “I know.”

  “So you know it's not in the jar? Is it somewhere else in the apartment? I searched the garage, every inch of it--”

  “Finley...”

  “Well. It's gone. I mean, if you've got a surprise waiting or something, and I'm on the verge of blowing it, then tell me to mind my own business and I'll drop it.” That would be just like me to ruin Jasper's plans.

  He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, as if contemplating what—or how much—to tell me.

  Once more, my stomach knotted up with tension. I didn't usually believe in women's intuition and all that crap, but right then, I just knew something was wrong. Jasper was not being the Jasper I knew.

  Then, a shocking thought hit. My eyes widened as I closed the distance and stared up into his face. “You gambled it away, didn't you?”

  I didn't want Jasper dead by any means, but I'd kill him if he blew six grand on slots or roulette or poker.

  “No, no. I didn't gamble it away. Look, I've got something going on. Just trust me that the money will be back in the jar soon. All right?”

  I arched a brow. “How soon is soon?”

  “A few months.”

  “Did you get a shop?” I came right out and asked.

  “No.”

  “Then what? Jasper, there are all these things suddenly, that I don't understand. Help me out, here.”

  “The money will be back in the jar in a few months. That's all that matters. Okay?”

  After last night, I found it hard to drill him into the ground with questions. If Jasper said that he hadn't spent it gambling, I believed him. He wasn't prone to straight up lies, but that didn't give me an answer to where the money went.

  “All right,” I said.

  “I promise,” Jasper added.

  My mouth quirked at a corner. What could I say to that? He'd promised, and our promises were as good as gold.

  “That's good enough for me, then. Sorry to bother you at work.” I wouldn't keep him.

  “I don't mind. It's tedious waiting between shows anyway. You feeling better today?”

  “Good enough to tell you that your fly is open. Hope you got tipped good from your last guests.”

  Jasper whipped a look down, parting the edge of the suit coat.

  The mischief felt good. His fly wasn't open at all, and he smirked when he glanced up.

  “I'll see you later,” I said on my way by.

  Jasper le
aned over just as we were even, shoulder to shoulder, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Later shorty.”

  Outside, feeling off kilter and odd, I took my time on the return trip to the bus stop. In fact, after seeing the small crowd gathered around the bus stop bench, I decided to walk home. It was a long way, but I didn't care. I had nowhere to be, and maybe the trek would exercise some of my demons.

  Chapter Twelve

  What are you doing?

  Trying to sleep. Quit texting me.

  You're not asleep. You're answering too fast. You okay?

  Yeah.

  I'm not reassured. Want me to bring home some Beans?

  Are you trying to rot my teeth out of my head?

  It would be an improvement.

  I laughed. Laying on the bed, one arm propped behind my head, the bedside lamp on for comfort and light, I stared at the cell phone screen with relief. Truth was, I'd been having a bad time tonight. Memories of the morgue and the horrible feeling Jasper might be dead had plagued me once the sun set. Every attempt to sleep failed. So I indulged in a few more texts with Jasper to tire myself out.

  You're not supposed to text and drive.

  I'm not driving. You avoided my last comment.

  I like my mangled face just the way it is. Beauty is overrated.

  At least you don't have to worry about me falling in love with your crooked eyes and big ears.

  The comment caught me up. My stomach somersaulted, then tightened. I snorted and tapped at the screen.

  You need someone with chicken legs and fish lips, you know, to match your own.

  I've got Beans.

  Don't deviate.

  I do not have fish lips.

  You do. They're very fishy.

  How would you know? You've never kissed them.

  No, I certainly hadn't. My thumb paused over the screen a moment.

  I don't need to feel what I can clearly see.

  Your lips aren't anything to write home about.

  They get the job done.