All Things Considered

by A B Plum

  “What was Stone’s key for? Did you and he use it to go to a private club?” A snowstorm would’ve deluged LA on the day Stone took Beau to a club that required a passkey.

  “No, Ryn.” Beau removed the key with a sigh.

  Probably thinking I need a new brain transplant.

  “We used it to get into Stone’s apartment.”

  Ryn’s jaw dropped. She swallowed and then asked, “What apartment?”

  “Are you teasing me, Ryn?” Blue eyes rounded with the look of a five-year-old whose big sister had told him Santa’s real identity. He stepped out of the elevator and held his hand in front of the electronic eye for Ryn’s exit.

  “No teasing.” She followed him into the hall. “Where was this apartment?”

  “In Bel Air.” Beau frowned and looked up at the ceiling. “I think it was Bel Air. It was real nice. Two men came to visit both times I went. They weren’t nice.”

  “Who were they?” Careful. Careful. You get too excited, he’ll freak.

  “I don’t know. Stone didn’t introduce us. But they were bad news. That’s exactly what Stone said, bad news.”

  Beau’s shout drowned out Ryn’s next question. “Let me go first. I want to surprise Maj.”

  “Go ahead.” She gave him two thumbs-up. No use trying to keep his attention right now.

  He whooped, skipped across the wide hall, and turned once to look back at Ryn with a huge grin.

  She lifted her two thumbs higher and felt her heart flutter. Unlike Stone—never happy with anyone or anything, it took so little to make Beau happy. Let him see Maj and then ask about Stone’s apartment and the bad-news guys. Maybe he’ll remember, maybe he won’t.

  Determined to let Beau enjoy his reunion with Maj, she hung back. The landline phone screamed, but Beau screamed louder, “Maj. Maj.”

  Tail quivering, an orange-and-white blur raced across the carpet.

  “Maj.” Beau fell on his knees, scooped the cat up in his arms, hugged her to his chest, and then buried his face in her fur.

  Ryn’s throat burned. Despite Beau’s earlier suggestion, she’d been wrong to bring Maj with her for support. With Stone dead, her in Northern California, and Maj as her support, Beau must’ve felt lost and lonely. Inconsolable. No wonder he called Danny at midnight.

  Snapshots of Black Beauty and the puppies and the frozen grave exploded in quick succession and then disappeared in the hole under her heart. She bit the corner of one thumb. God, she was so damned selfish.

  Mercifully, the phone had stopped ringing. She was in no mood to interrupt Beau’s lovefest. She stepped around the feline and her human slave. How long before Beau would require refueling?

  She was counting English muffins when her cell rang. Elijah. She answered, saying, “Go immediately. Buy pizza. Three combos. The super-big size—”

  “Hey! What have you done to work up such an appetite?”

  “Slept. Saw Comfrey. Brought Beau back here.”

  He laughed, that low rumble she liked so much. “You sure three pizzas are enough?”

  “Beau’s here. Can you eat with us?”

  “Sure. I’ll throw in a couple of salads, another medium pizza, and several gallons of Coke.”

  “No Coke. Caffeine makes Beau—and me—too wired.” She laughed. Beau was lying on his back in the middle of the living room floor with Maj on her back on his chest, legs in the air, both super relaxed. They made cows look hyper.

  “Good to know,” Elijah drawled. “I doubt you could take my news on a caffeine high.”

  Ryn’s heart jumped into her throat, and she had to swallow before speaking. “Good news?”

  “Good news. Which I’d prefer to talk to you about in person.”

  The breath she exhaled hissed between her teeth. Maybe he’s worried about someone listening in to our cells.

  She tapped her forehead. Amazing where the paranoid mind can take us. She bit back a snicker and said, “Hurry up then or I start whining.”

  Beau—who could move with the stealth of the principal male dancer in the Bolshoi—appeared with Maj tucked under his arm. “Maj wants a saucer of good cream.”

  Elijah’s good news took second place to dealing first with Beau. “I don’t feed her cream anymore, Beau. Remember? Cream’s not good for her.”

  “That’s mean.” Beau’s mouth twisted and something elusive surfaced in Ryn’s mind as he insisted, “Cream’s her favorite snack.”

  “No.” Ryn made her voice firm, “cream used to be her favorite snack. Maj likes these now.” Walking to the pantry, she felt as if her unconscious was sending her a message. Something important. She handed Beau the blue-and-white can. Was it something Beau said? Or Elijah?

  “What’s wrong?” Beau arched his thin blond brows, and the visible ruts in his forehead deepened.

  Don’t let him see you’re upset. Ryn shrugged. “Just trying to remember something but it slipped away.”

  “That happens to me all the time.” Beau popped the lid on the treats but held the can away from Maj. “Sleep usually helps me. What about your nap?”

  “I forgot to tell you a guest's coming for lunch. You two haven’t met …”

  Once she reassured Beau he didn’t have to return to LA with Elijah, Beau concentrated on feeding Maj. That left her mind free to twist around a dozen different guesses and theories about the good news. Setting the table—the most mindless of mundane tasks—did zip to jog her memory. She kept coming back to one question. What had Elijah discovered outside Los Angeles that could matter?

  The Monkey Boys. He’d found them. They had zero intention of suing.

  Disappointment squeezed her lungs. Dammit, she wanted proof she hadn’t killed Stone. She wanted a normal life back. To hell with Danny’s lawyerly warnings. Let The Monkey Boys sue. So what if they won but she went to prison for murder?

  The intercom buzzed. Was Elijah bringing baked or unbaked pizzas? She announced, “On my way.

  Jogging to the door, she called, “Stay in the kitchen, Beau. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried into the elevator. If Beau got too excited playing with Maj, he’d destroy the apartment like a tank rolling through an occupied enemy village.

  The elevator doors opened in the main lobby, and Ryn’s heart kept dropping to the basement.

  Jack Kent’s smile fell away. “I don’t know who you were expecting, but from your face, it wasn’t me.”

  “Why aren’t you at work?” Ryn blurted, stepping into the lobby.

  “Came home for lunch—hoping I’d find you to say thanks for the new kicks.” He pirouetted in a tight circle while he shook the tassel on his Gucci loafer. “You never did give me your phone number so I couldn’t call you. It was early when I went to work so I didn’t buzz you—in case you were catching your zzzzs.”

  Ryn tried for a smile but the muscles around her mouth froze. Lips stiff, she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Jack nodded. Apparently, though, it was still her turn to carry the conversation. Or Jack wanted her phone number.

  “Looks like everything fits.” She pointed to his shoes.

  Her brain wasn’t processing clever boy-girl talk. How was she going to introduce Elijah if he showed up while she and Jack stood there staring at each other?

  “You had lunch?”

  Too late, Ryn caught herself shaking her head. “I’m meeting a friend.” Said fast with the hope Jack would take the hint and leave.

  “Where you going?” Jack stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on the heels of his new loafers.

  … the last kid chosen to play softball at recess. Ryn felt the flush begin at the base of her neck. He had to be thinking he’d met ruder jokers, but he couldn’t remember when. To confess she was having pizza in her own kitchen without inviting him to join her, Elijah, and Beau ratchetted up her guilt. If introducing Jack might prove awkward, how would revealing her identity feel?

  Only slightly more awkward than parading down Rodeo drive naked.


  She glanced toward the window in the front door. A black Jeep was parking across the street. Images of the white Bronco and the helicopters’ search lights exploded. The driver of the Jeep, toting a bulging plastic bag, waited for traffic to clear. Elijah loped across the pavement like a sleek urban animal used to cutting around cars and buses and motorcycles in Los Angeles.

  “Where’d you say you were going for lunch?” Jack repeated, jerking Ryn’s attention from OJ’s folly to her own stupidity.

  “Not sure,” she mumbled. “I should go back upstairs and wait. See you.”

  Without waiting for Jack to suggest he’d ride up to his place, too, Ryn stepped into the elevator and punched the third-floor button. The car didn’t move. Through the glass, she watched Elijah approach the bottom step. Jack gaped at her as if she was foaming at the mouth.

  She aimed her forefinger at the penthouse button again, but her brain failed to fire. She could barely swallow. Her ears felt as if they’d self-combusted. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. She concentrated on the penthouse key and shoved it in the slot. The doors glided shut just as Elijah reached the top stair and punched the outside intercom.

  Jack called, “Hey! Your friend’s here.”

  On the penthouse floor, Ryn kept her finger on the OPEN button and inhaled several times. Beau skidded to a halt in front of the door. “I broke the lamp!” he wailed, his breath ragged, his face scarlet. Shifting from one foot to the other, he pointed at where a fifteen-inch Waterford lamp had sat on a console table behind the sofa. “Maj didn’t do it. I did.”

  Ryn, having just saved her ass, fought the impulse to laugh. Perspective. Everything hinged on perspective. Beau thought he’d hit the wall. She thought she’d hit the wall. She wasn’t about to take him apart.

  “It was an accident.” In his case, not so in hers. “Let’s sit down until Elijah gets here with the pizza.”

  “I hope it’s soon. I’m starved. Playing with Maj works up my appetite.”

  The intercom squawked and Elijah asked, “Is there a magic wand?”

  Jack had apparently climbed into his elevator and ridden into the sunset after opening the front door to a seven-foot-tall black guy. Surprised and more relieved than she wanted to admit, Ryn punched the DOWN button and called to Beau, “No more messes, okay?”

  He kept his eyes on the floor and cooed to the wiggling cat.

  “Beau? Did you hear me? Any more messes and you may not get to eat until you clean it up.”

  Still shaken by the near miss with Jack, she couldn’t miss the echo of the condescending tone Stone had used so often.

  How many times had she told him his attitude sucked?

  Before the elevator plunged three stories to the lobby, she stepped back into the apartment. Beau didn’t look up, but cuddled Maj as if she was his only friend.

  “Beau?” Ryn knelt next to him on the carpet.

  His massive shoulders stiffened. He continued stroking Maj.

  “Beau? I’m sorry I was so mean.” Something shifted in her brain, but she didn’t try to catch the memory. She moved closer to Beau, but didn’t touch his hand yet. “No matter what happens, you and I can always work it out together, okay?”

  He cocked his head toward her. “Are you sure? Maybe I should go back to L—”

  “No.” She laid her hand on top of his. “Absolutely not. I want you to stay here. With me and Maj. I want to show you I’m sorry.”

  She held her breath as he met her eyes, held her gaze, and whispered, “You aren’t mean, Ryn. I know you’re tired.”

  “Can you forgive me?”

  “Yes.”

  It was that simple. No hesitation. No conditions. No humiliation or making her beg. His single-syllable answer raised a welt on her heart. She opened her mouth, and his stomach growled.

  “I’m hungry,” he said.

  “Me too. I’m starving. I’ll go let Elijah in.” Ready to apologize for keeping him waiting in the hot sunshine, she rode down to the first floor one more time.

  When she opened the front door, the apology died in her throat.

  He pushed inside, demanding, “What the hell were you doing talking to Garrett McCoy? You think he doesn’t recognize you without hair?”

  Chapter 23

  “Garrett McCoy? Are you craz— I have hair. What are you talking about?” The walls contracted and Ryn’s knees went weak. Here she was about to over-react one more time. Maybe she was the crazy.

  “Yeah, call me crazy—and I’m blind.” Elijah’s hazel eyes darted from corner to corner as if Ryn was hiding the sleazoid reporter under his nose. “That was Garrett McCoy or his evil twin.”

  “Isn’t everyone supposed to have a twin in the world?” Ryn rubbed the left side of her chest. Could Elijah see her heart thumping through her shirt? She shook her head. “Must be the pizza sauce that messed up your vision. That was Jack Kent—the neighbor I told you about.”

  Elijah filled up the soaring space in the foyer, making Ryn feel like a kindergartner looking up at the principal. “You never told me your neighbor looked like Garrett McCoy.”

  “I wouldn’t know the bastard if I met him. So how could I tell you Jack and he look enough like brothers? Separated at birth?”

  Elijah didn’t crack a smile. “For my peace of mind, what say we drop by Mr. Kent’s place on the way up?”

  “What about the pizzas getting cold?”

  “I know how your oven works.”

  Ryn shrugged and stepped into the elevator. Elijah’s insistence was grating on her nerves. No way Jack Kent and Garrett McCoy were one and the same. No way. She punched the second-floor button and eased back into one corner. Elijah stood away from the mirrored wall and stared straight ahead at the doors. Ryn’s skin tingled. So Elijah was another male who, like Stone, had to be right all the time.

  What was it with men—the need to be right? Genetic?

  When the elevator stopped, Elijah didn’t wait for Ryn to precede him into the hall. “Which apartment?”

  “Two thousand.” Ryn stepped off the elevator. “He said his neighbor was the odd guy on the floor.

  Elijah made a face and shifted the pizza sack. “Funny. Ha. Ha.”

  Decorated like the penthouse hall with lots of green plants and a large mirror sided by two chairs, this hallway boasted a little less space than the penthouse hallway.

  “Wait here,” Elijah ordered. “Just in case.

  Just in case what? Ryn bit her tongue. Elijah’s height must have given him the idea that everyone—except basketball players and tall men in the circus— had to look up to him. Her stomach grumbled. Too bad, Elijah, but she’d invite Jack to join them for pizza. It seemed the least she could do after treating him so rudely.

  Elijah waved and rang the bell. By the time Ryn reached his side, he was pushing the bell again. Loud. Insistent. Next, he raised his skillet-fist and pounded the door.

  “Must’ve gone back to work,” Ryn said.

  “Huh,” Elijah snorted. “If Jack Kent and Garrett McCoy are one and the same asshole, he crawled back under a rock.”

  “I think he went back to work.”

  “Fine. Here’s my last word on Garrett McCoy. He’s a snake—and as poisonous as they come.”

  The smell of tomato sauce and oregano filled the elevator. The rumble of Ryn’s stomach broke the silence, but neither spoke. She rubbed her temples. She needed to go to the bathroom, but luckily the Provera was working so she wasn’t desperate. But the familiar fatigue was crawling through her again.

  “Where’s the pizza?” Beau met them in the foyer with Maj in his arms.

  “Right here,” Elijah said. “Hope you don’t like anchovies.”

  “I haaaate anchovies.” Beau hung back as Elijah strode into the penthouse and whispered to Ryn, “Who is that?”

  “Elijah White. Sorry, I thought you’d met. He’s trying to find proof I didn’t mur—hurt Stone.” … losing it. When did I think they’d met?

&nb
sp; “But why don’t the police believe me, Ryn? I told them you could never hurt Stone. You loved him.” Beau’s light blue eyes filled with tears. Maj yowled.

  Ryn held her arms out. “Let me cuddle Maj for a minute, okay?”

  Beau surrendered Maj immediately. “Are you sad?”

  She nodded. “A little. And, I’m hungry. Why don’t you go help Elijah? Get to know him a little?”

  “Okay. I already set the table so you can sit down.” On his way to the kitchen, he pulled out a chair at the glass dining table.

  Ryn thanked him, slipped into the chair, and swallowed tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of Beau. The only time she’d ever cried in front of him was about a year ago during a quarrel with Stone. Their discussion had suddenly escalated into a full-blown argument. She no longer remembered the subject or the trigger. But at some point in the middle of the accusations and verbal warfare, she’d realized—in a blinding moment of clarity—how hopeless it was for her and Stone to stay together.

  Until she’d started crying, Beau watched and listened—like a child between warring parents. He handed her his handkerchief and patted her shoulder. When Stone kept railing at Ryn, Beau had told him in a whispery voice to stop hurting her.

  “You’ll be sorry if you don’t—’cuz I’ll make you sorry, Stone.”

  “Are you okay?” The anxiety in Beau’s tremulous voice penetrated the vacant spaces in Ryn’s mind.

  “I am okay.” She pasted on a smile. “But I’m hungry enough to eat my fingernails.”

  He frowned but let her have the lie. “Pizza makes just about everything better.”

  The first bite of the pesto sausage pizza supported Beau’s philosophy. Elijah’s ahhhhh lit up Beau’s face as if he’d baked the pizza himself. Beau announced he liked the tomato sauce better and settled in to enjoy his third piece of pie while Elijah started on his second slice. For the next thirty minutes, satisfying hunger required no words. Beau laid his fork and knife across his plate first and declared he was full—a statement Ryn had rarely heard. Mildly shocked, she gave him the okay to find Maj.

  This was Elijah’s cue to suggest she and he take care of their “debris.” He crushed water bottles while she squashed the pizza boxes.