by Andrea Drew
"I need you with me. I can't lose you again." His fingers clenched into a fist so he moved them under the table.
"You won't, I promise. Either you lose me suddenly, which won't happen again, or we keep going like this, a slow and painful erosion, constant unexpressed resentment. What I can do is part of me, and you're asking me to withhold all of that. I can't do it anymore. It's coming between us."
"I need time,” he said. “Let me digest it, think about it some more."
"Okay."
"We'll work it out. I promise, in the end, everything will be all right."
"It doesn't feel like it." She turned her face to look at him, her eyes pleading.
"It probably doesn't. But it doesn't change the fact that I love you."
He walked over and stood behind her and put both hands on her shoulders. Reaching around, he kissed her gently on the cheek. She wiped underneath her eyes, elbows on the table, running her fingers down her face.
Connor moved back to the kitchen to focus on lunch prep. He figured if she ate, she'd be more rational. He could only hope.
He turned off the pasta, put down the knife, washed his hands, and sat back down again at the table.
"I like having you in the office with me," he said.
"I know. It's just...I don't know."
"Mrs. Reeves might scream, fall off her chair, bawl, throw herself on the ground who knows. The news isn't good. You know the drill," Connor said.
"I wish I didn't. I'm not in the mood to babysit your clients today."
"Okay."
"I feel terrible. Mark shouldn't be in child care. But it's not just that. I can't keep going on like this. Just because I can't do anything about it, doesn't mean the visions have stopped. "
Connor got up from the chair and stood beside her, but she barely moved.
"Come here," he said.
She seemed to contemplate whether she would get up. She raised her head, eyes wide, and after a few seconds something in his expression must have convinced her. She scraped the chair back, and stood up. Connor stepped forward and took her in his arms, holding her. She allowed him to hug her for a few seconds, no more, and then pushed him away.
Her eyes had filled.
"I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but we'll get through this," he said quietly.
"Will we? That was never what I imagined when I dreamed of us getting married and having kids."
"Me either, but things will get better."
Gypsy didn't answer, and Connor figured he'd helped her for now. If not, she'd have to sulk until Helen Reeves left.
He moved back from the dining room into the kitchen. "I do need your help."
Gypsy sighed.
He drained the pasta. "My client might freak out. You know how they get when I have evidence. She'll react, I just don't know how."
"You can handle it."
"Like I handled that red head, what was her name, Sybil?"
He turned his head in Gypsy's direction and was rewarded with a smirk.
"Oh, you remembered her name huh? So, who's the client this arvo, did you say Helen?"
"That’s her, Helen Reeves."
"Middle aged?"
"Yeah."
She laughed out loud. "Well, I hardly think a middle-aged woman will throw herself at you."
"You'd be surprised."
"I know I think you’re gorgeous but not every single woman that meets you feels the same." She sat up straighter. "Only ninety-nine percent of them."
"I'm not good with weeping, screaming women."
"You think I am?"
"All I'm asking is that you sit with me in the office. A few feet away as backup will do. I don't need a complaint, neither of us do. If I lose my license, we're screwed."
Gypsy got up from the table and walked over to stand next to him on his left. She rubbed his back from the curve of his spine to the top a couple of times.
"These conversations still worry me," he said.
"Even after three years, or whatever it is?"
"Yep."
"How long do you think it'll take?"
"I don't know, maybe half an hour? I'll get straight to the point."
"You usually do. Remember, I've got my own work to get through. I'll bill you for my time."
Connor paused with a block of cheese in his right hand to look at her. "Hang on a─"
"Gotcha." She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, and then walked back to the dining table. She sat back on the chair, looking at her laptop. She wiggled on the seat.
He pressed his lips together. Cheeky woman. Lucky, he liked her a bit. Or maybe more than a bit.
Leaning down, he took two bowls from the cupboard, emptied the pasta into them, followed by ham and cheese. Plain and basic, just the way he liked it. He gave it a quick stir and headed for the dining table where Gypsy sat, laptop ignored.
"Thanks for making lunch." She took her bowl.
"No problem."
Unspoken words hung in the air, a cloud of buzzing vapour.
They ate in silence for a few moments.
"What time's this Helen arriving?" Gypsy asked.
Connor dropped the fork and checked the silver watch on his wrist. "Two o’clock. Twenty minutes."
"Okay." She finished chewing and then said, "So, what evidence you got?"
"Photos."
"Of what? Him caught in the act with some other chick? Busty red head by any chance?" She smirked.
"My sides are splitting."
Rather than expressing shock or upset when he'd told her about the prospective client coming on to him six months ago, Gypsy had laughed and hugged him, while he remained rigid. He counted himself lucky the stupid bird hadn't taken it further, due to lack of witnesses. If a client reported him, sued, or sought to get his license revoked, they'd be in the financial mud. Gypsy told him not to stress, which didn't help. Apparently, her theory was that by worrying about it, he'd make it happen which struck him as complete bullshit. She didn't seem to grasp that a disaster like that would ruin them, but then the financial pressure lay primarily on him.
He gazed at her as she finished the last of her lunch, and realised how far they'd come in nearly four years together, but also how much they hadn't known when they'd moved in together. They should have talked about the important issues like money, children, child care, the practical matters. In the early days, they'd gone with the flow, pushed along on the sea of hope and happiness, confident it would all work out, love would conquer all, which turned out to be a crock. Yeah, love was important, but it took more than love to sort issues out. It took patience and persistent, traits that weren't exactly at the top of his list.
"So, are you going to tell me, or enjoy while I suffer the pain of anticipation?" Gypsy said, fork poised in front of her face.
"I did catch Mr. Reeves in the act, but not with a busty brunette."
"Oh yeah?" Gypsy dropped her fork into her bowl and sat up straighter, lunch finished.
"I followed him to Chapel Street. I took photos from the car of him kissing and groping another man. "
Gypsy gasped. "Another man?"
"It happens."
She rubbed at her chin. "Well, yeah, I guess it does, but it's the first time you've found a bloke with another bloke, isn't it?"
"Yeah, especially a usually conservative type. Joe Reeves is a Project Manager by day and closet bisexual after hours."
"Sheesh. You would've thought he'd be more careful if he didn't want his wife to know. Or maybe this is his way of telling her. Not exactly tactful."
Connor checked his watch. "We'll find out soon."
Gypsy slid the bowls across the table. He stood, heading toward his office. As he reached the hallway, the front door bell rang. He opened the front door and she stood on the top step, a well-groomed, slim, middle aged blonde.
"Mrs. Reeves." He smiled. "Come in, please."
"Thank you." She smiled back and headed through to his office.
"Take a seat, I'll be with you in a moment." Connor turned and made for the kitchen, where Gypsy had resumed her post at the table, eyes riveted to the laptop screen.
He leaned over and whispered inches from her ear, “She's here, in the office. You ready?"
Gypsy brushed the front of her top and sighed. "She's early."
"You look fine," he whispered, taking her hand to guide her toward the office. "Let's go."
Gypsy stood, blowing out a breath, and he let go of her hand. She followed him to his office.
Mrs. Reeves sat tightly on the chair, clenching her hands together tightly.
Gypsy moved to sit to the right of Mrs. Reeves, about two feet away.
"I hope you don't mind, but I asked my fiancé, Gypsy, to sit in with us. I find sometimes a woman's touch can help with news of this type," he said.
"So, it's bad then." Helen's voice sounded huskier than he remembered it. She cleared her throat.
"Well, I do have evidence. I followed Joe for some time, I have a series of photos. There's no easy way to prepare you for this. He may be having an affair."
Gypsy flicked a look at Connor and Helen swallowed hard, a visible lump in her throat shifting downward like a tough piece of beef.
"I'd like to see them."
"Before you see them, you should know, your husband is having an affair possibly with another man."
"What?" Mrs. Reeves’ voice cracked.
Connor opened the top drawer of a cabinet to the right of the desk, removed a file and placed it on the desk. Helen Reeves gaze followed his hands as he opened the file to reveal several enlarged photographs. He picked up the first two and looked at them. He'd taken them from his phone when parked a way down from the club, and had managed a series of roughly twenty shots. Only four of them were clear enough to see faces but there was no mistaking Mr. Joseph Reeves, engaged in a passionate kiss with another man, who looked a fair bit younger.
Gypsy turned her legs around so she faced the side of the client’s chair. Mrs. Reeves' attention remained riveted on the photos in Connor’s hand. He reached forward and left them on the outer edge of the desk, inches away from her.
Mrs. Reeves picked up the photos and stared at them without blinking for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only ten seconds. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Once her eyes opened, she giggled.
Connor met Gypsy's gaze. Most of his clients either ran like terrified animals from his office, often before he'd finished giving them the information in full. Others became silent, their reddened faces and tense muscles a ticking time bomb. Some exploded, and others went into hysterics in his office.
But it looked like in Mrs. Reeves case this was a non-event. Thank God.
"Is this all? A kiss with another man?" She laughed, a breathy gush of relief. "I imagined the worst, a young blonde or maybe he'd got someone pregnant. But this? This is not as bad as I thought, experimentation, nothing more."
Connor flicked a glance at Gypsy. She looked as dazed and incredulous as him. In nearly three years, he hadn't encountered this. Did Mrs. Reeves worry about status and what others thought? Just when he thought he had people figured out, something like this happened.
Human nature. After more than a decade in the police force and now almost two years as a private detective, he thought he'd seen and heard it all. The darkest of violence, gruesome murders, and savagery. But this insistence on remaining a married woman, the idea that somehow her husband having it off with a bloke didn't count, shocked him. The desperate necessity of maintaining the status quo rankled.
"So you're not bothered by this?" Gypsy said.
Connor glared at her, sending her what he hoped was the shut-up signal, to stay out of it. She didn't look back at him, so she hadn't got the message. She'd been a psychic there for a while, jumping in during investigations and although her heart was in the right place, she'd been almost killed. His own Sentinel abilities had resurfaced for a while, but they'd both turned the switch off so hard there it had been more than two years since either one of them relied on mental communication. Besides, all he did as a Sentinel was intercept spirit communication, usually from psychic to spirit, and in at least one case it had been for the better. The whole thing however remained little consolation compared to the risk of other cops finding out about him. Possible fall out of a damaged reputation if word got out meant he'd put a dampener on his abilities as a way to get through each day.
Mrs. Reeves’ nervous laugh had subsided, and she'd put the photographs back on the desk. Colour rose in her face. "No, I'm not. It's just a kiss, probably a one off with a man. Experimentation and curiosity. Nothing more."
Connor knew it was more than a kiss. He'd seen them grope each other and disappear hand in hand. He had photos for that too, but left them in the file until he could get a better idea of response. He wouldn't shatter the woman's illusions further. It would possibly piss her off, not to mention her husband and he didn't want the problem of an unpaid bill, either. So, he left it undisclosed.
"You might be right," he said. He shifted in his chair. "Here's the bill. Can you make payment by bank deposit?"
Mrs. Reeves smiled and reached for her phone. "Yes, I'll do a bank transfer now. I have your bank details."
"Sorry, but you're going to stay married─" Gypsy began.
Connor put a hand up to quiet her. "Anyway, I'm sure you're busy, Mrs. Reeves. Once you've processed payment, I'll issue a receipt. I hope I was of some service to you."
Her smile widened.
"Yes, thank you." She finished tapping on her phone and held up the screen to show Connor. “I've just put through an online banking payment. Thank you again for all your hard work, Mr. Reardon. I can move on now."
Mrs. Reeves stood up and turned. Gypsy tried the look of death but it wouldn't work on him. She would be the first to complain if they couldn't pay the bills. She'd have to suck it up.
He followed Mrs. Reeves to the front door and closed it behind her. He stepped down into the office to peer through the window, checking she was back in the car before turning to Gypsy. As usual, her hair crackled with nuclear fission, and her hand was out, ready to begin with her ridiculous hand gestures and pointing that came with every argument.
Here we go.
"You liar, you dirty rotten liar."
Connor sighed and headed for the kitchen to make coffee.
"What did you want me to do?” He said without looking back at her. "Show her the picture of her husband groping another guy? Of them heading off hand in hand to a hotel room? Would that have made you happy?"
"Don't start. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You lied to her to keep the peace. Her husband is screwing someone else, and you didn't tell her because you're worried about her paying the precious bill!" The muscles in her cheek tightened and her teeth were clenched. She had almost hit full flight, anger peaking.
"So what? I can't win with you. If I'd told her the truth, you would've been pissed off I upset her and I'd talked you into helping me pick up the pieces. She paid a deposit but wouldn't have paid the final bill and then you'd crack the shits. Seriously, what do I have to do to win with you?"
"You make me sound like the worst woman in the world." The pitch of her voice had lowered from hysterical anger to loud antagonism, and her hands had dropped to her side.
Connor knew better than to bite. He turned to her and looked her in the eye. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."
He wondered what had happened to them. They'd been together four years, living together for nearly three, and since they'd started a family it had all changed. The pressure, the annoying habits, it wasn't fun anymore. They didn't talk the way they used to, didn’t laugh or spend any quality time together.
Gypsy sat down heavily on the couch, her hands over her face for a second. She pulled them away. "But you're the one always going on about liability, legal cases waiting to happen, and you're terrified you'll lose your license. I
f you keep on banging on about it, it'll happen, a self-fulfilling prophecy."
Connor sat down beside her. The silence stretched between them.
"I'm tired, exhausted and it's only two thirty." Said Gypsy
"Me, too."
Another longish silence.
"So, what are you going to do about Mrs. Reeves?" Gypsy had rocketed from fury to antagonism and now to calming down in a matter of seconds.
"Leave it. She doesn't want change, happy with the status quo. Helen Reeves has paid the bill and moved on."
Gypsy rested her hand on the couch seat beside her. "Aren't you shocked by what just happened?"
Connor paused. "A bit."
She shook her head. He knew she didn't understand. He was stunned too, but he was aware that seemingly respectable citizens hid all sorts of secrets. He had been surprised by the client’s reaction, but he despaired more about his own marriage. However, he couldn't or wouldn't show that to Gypsy. It would mean weakness. Surely she knew that?
How would he tell her of his terror at not providing for her? That he somehow sensed the gap between them growing by tiny increments day by day, a chasm of inky darkness.
"But how can she live like that?” Gypsy continued. “Do you think she knows he's sleeping with a man? Even if it's kissing, that's bad enough. How does something like that not devastate her?"
"It probably does, but she can't show it or risk public humiliation. She doesn't want her settled life to change."
A long silence again. It rolled around like a mass of swirling dust mites.
Gypsy stood up and moved closer to him, less than a foot away. Her face was beautiful, even during an argument. Those eyes held him every time, mesmerizing.
"I guess our life could be worse." She grabbed him gently by his shirt front, pulling him forward just enough for her to kiss him. The sweet scent of her breath wafted over.
"It could. One of us could be sleeping with another man." His mouth twisted. "And I know it's not me."
She smiled. "I don't doubt it. One is more than enough for me."
She got up and walked away. She had never been great at affection at the best of times, and even more so after a fight. He should have kissed her but the hard-sharp communication almost knocked him over. The pot of anger had simmered down to a low bubble rather than a furious boil.