He slumped into the stool next to Gertie at the counter. “Hey,” he muttered.
“Coffee?” I asked gently.
Pete rubbed his face. “Not that it’ll help, but yeah, I’ll take some.”
While Gertie gave him a pat on the back and murmured something to him, I got our largest to-go cup and filled it full.
His gaze narrowed in on the cup I’d set in front of him. “No ceramic mug this morning? Are you trying to tell me something?”
I took a deep breath. I was still learning how to deal with the new Pete. Before his ordeal he’d been the happiest guy on the planet, always smiling and joking around. Now sometimes he was downright sullen, reminding me of one particular group of young Java Jive regulars that still clung to the emo movement. If he started wearing guyliner, I was doing an intervention.
Smiling contritely, I said, “No, I just thought since it’s past the time you usually go to work, you’d be in a rush.” Pete had inherited Java Jive from his dad, but his real job was being an audio engineer at one of the major recording studios on Music Row, only a few blocks away from here.
“I don’t need you to mother me, Juliet.” Pete never called me “Juliet” unless he was mad at me. It was always “Jules.” He’d called me by my real name a lot more times than I’d have liked in the past few months.
Gertie reached over and patted his hand. “Settle down, big fella. She didn’t mean anything by it.” She gave him a motherly glare. “But you really should get your ass to work, especially since you’re taking the afternoon off to gallivant around the countryside.” Pete and Ryder were going rock climbing this afternoon.
“Fine,” he groaned, getting up out of his seat and giving Gertie a peck on the cheek. He waved at me with a halfhearted attempt at a smile. My heart ached as I watched him slouch out of the coffeehouse with a marked lack of spring in his step.
“That boy needs to get laid.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gertie, come on. It’s too soon. He’s not ready to dive back into the dating world.”
“There are ways to get laid other than going out on a date.”
My skin crawled from that remark coming out of his grandmother. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Prude,” she muttered under her breath.
—
That morning we went through the motions of our daily grind at Java Jive: Rhonda, my least favorite daytime barista, was rude to several customers (who all deserved it, but still); Camille, my favorite daytime barista, took every opportunity to run back to the kitchen to flirt with the assistant cook, Wayne; and Brandon, the head cook, kept his head down and didn’t say much to anyone. I did my normal routine of checking the freshness of our food and placing food supply orders, and then when it got busy at lunchtime, I helped out in the kitchen. Also, as expected, after our noon rush Ryder came in to eat lunch and to see me. I took Camille’s place out front so she could have a break.
Ryder took his usual stool at the counter so we could talk while I worked. “Hey, babe. You doing okay this morning after tossing and turning all night?”
I hadn’t realized he knew I hadn’t slept well. “Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired, that’s all.”
He reached over and took my hand. “You don’t need to lose sleep over my safety.”
“I know. But I probably will anyway. And speaking of safety, why in the hell are you taking Pete rock climbing of all things? That sounds like something you’d do, but not him. He’ll probably hurt himself, you know.”
He waved away my worries. “Oh, he’ll be fine. I thought some fresh air might do him some good. He’s been kind of moody lately.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Kind of?”
All joking aside, I was thrilled at the idea of the two of them hanging out together. When they first met, they couldn’t stand each other, but they’ve since actually become friends. It certainly made my life a lot easier than when all they would do was trade insults back and forth.
Wayne stuck his head through the pass-through between the kitchen and the front counter, calling, “Hey, Juliet, the food delivery guys are here early.”
“Thanks, Wayne,” I replied. Coming out from behind the counter, I went and put my arms around Ryder’s neck. “Sorry, duty calls. Please be careful. And promise you’ll take care of Pete.”
“I promise.”
—
About three hours later I got a call from Ryder. “Hey, Juliet. It’s me. You, uh…” He sighed into the phone. “Can you meet us at the Vanderbilt ER?”
“What?” I cried, dashing for the door. “What happened? Who’s hurt?”
“Pete.”
Every great mystery needs an Alibi
eOriginal mystery and suspense from Random House
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