“I wish I knew. Somehow we blew it. I blew it.” Her voice was shaky.
“I don’t understand,” Morgan said. “Didn’t the FDA like what they saw of your product?”
“They didn’t see it,” Laura said. She turned, but only to gaze past Morgan’s shoulder. There were tears in her eyes. “Our entire system crashed and we couldn’t get it up and running in time. We couldn’t demonstrate the software.”
Morgan felt relieved. That didn’t sound so bad. “Will they reschedule the meeting?”
“There’s no point if we can’t get the system working again. I’ll get everyone I can think of working on the problem. No one knows what the fuck happened.”
Morgan was surprised. Laura wasn’t the kind of person who said fuck. Or was she? There was so much she didn’t know about her.
“It’s probably some kind of virus,” she went on. “Which shows you how effective thousands of dollars in security is.”
“You’ll figure it out. The FDA’s probably disappointed too. They’ll wait for you to be ready.”
“I don’t know.” She slowly turned to Morgan. Her face looked older, the exhaustion etched into the fine lines around her eyes. She seemed to realize it was Morgan she was talking to. “What are you doing here?” She sounded annoyed.
“I’m not sure now. We’d talked about getting together to celebrate.” Morgan put her bottle of Champagne on a desk. “Obviously, celebrating is out for today.”
“I’m sorry,” Laura said. Morgan led her to a chair. When she sat, Morgan squatted in front of her, taking her hands.
“Listen. Let me take care of you tonight. I’ll cook some dinner, draw you a bath, tuck you in. You need rest, and it would make me feel good to help you.”
Laura’s eyes did not meet Morgan’s. “No. I have to stay here. I have more people coming in, and I have to coordinate this recovery effort. We have to figure this out. I’ve worked too long for this.” She stood and turned away. “We’ll get together as soon as things quiet down.”
Morgan reached for her, but Laura shrugged her off. “Laura, please. Don’t shut me out. I understand that today has been horrible, but let me help you. Don’t make me wonder whether you’re okay, whether we’re okay.”
Laura whirled around. “Whether we’re okay? I wasn’t aware there was a we yet. And the fact that you’ve somehow made this about yourself is telling. I’m trying to save my company. I can’t worry whether I’m bringing you down or not.”
She strode off toward an office in the opposite end of the room. The door slammed as Morgan stood where she was. The young man with the wine bottle fell into a chair nearby and lifted the bottle to her. “Cheers.”
*
Camille stood at the drinks cart in the corner of her office and poured two fingers of Scotch. It was a ridiculously expensive blend, but she drank it without savoring the flavor. She wanted the kick, the throat scalding effect that made her grimace even as she felt the liquor make its warm, soothing way through her body. If news was bad, she drank four fingers to blunt her anger. She was always angry at bad news.
Today the news was good. The man she’d planted at Daniels Biomedical had just texted a thumbs-up. Literally, an icon of a giant thumb pointing upward. That was all she needed to know that the planned meeting with the FDA had been torpedoed. Her client now had both the code stolen from Daniels and the bit of extra time to finish incorporating it into their own product and making it look like their own.
Another successful campaign, another enormous paycheck. She might have called Tim in to share a drink, or she might have called any number of women to go out and celebrate with. But she did neither. Instead she flopped onto her sofa and called up photos of Allison on her phone. Allison at the opera, on the boat, in her helicopter, on Michigan Avenue with her arms full of shopping bags. She’d even taken a secret shot of her nude, dozing on Camille’s bed after a particularly vigorous bout of lovemaking. She lingered over this shot for quite a while.
She couldn’t shake the sick feeling she had since her run-in with Allison and Peg Ryan at the bookstore. It had not been a coincidence. She’d watched Allison’s house until late the night before, returning early that morning. They didn’t leave the house until two in the afternoon. Camille knew she was torturing herself. Each hour she sat there was another hour of them having sex, growing closer, shutting her out.
She got up and poured more Scotch.
She felt helpless, which was unfamiliar territory. She couldn’t seem to walk away. She spent hour upon hour watching and following Allison, and for what? Ryan had stolen her away. Watching them wasn’t going to make that any less true, but she felt compelled to stay close.
She wasn’t happy with the way things went with Allison in the bookstore, but she was glad about the confrontation with Ryan. She saw the fear in her eyes as she tried to stand in front of Allison and look the hero. She was afraid of Camille. Most people were, though she wasn’t going to physically intimidate Ryan. That would just push Allison further away. She had another card to play, one she was anxiously waiting for from Jim Braddock. She was going to destroy Peg Ryan.
Feeling better, she called a woman she’d met the previous weekend and told her to get dressed up. She’d go out and celebrate after all.
Chapter Eight
Thursday, December 11
Peg held the hand of the person on either side of her, part of a large circle of people reciting the Serenity Prayer. It was the traditional ending of every AA meeting. She’d been to thousands of them and never tired of the rituals that opened and closed each one. They were the only predictable thing about an AA meeting, What happened in between was as varied as people were.
The church basement had a low ceiling, and Peg always felt she was about to skim it with the top of her head. There were men here much taller than her. They arrived at the meeting hunched over, as if they were ducking for cover in a firefight. They left the same way, gathering outside in front of the building for cigarettes and talk. Peg joined them and chatted for a few minutes with some of the people she’d become friendly with, huddled together in their winter coats. She was amazed at how long they would stand there talking when it was below freezing. It was true Chicagoans were hardier than New Yorkers. Nicer, too.
Peg saw Joan crossing the street toward her. She was tall and gangly, pierced and tattooed, dressed in a thin black leather jacket and skintight blue jeans. Her boots had three-inch heels, which made her look like she was pitching forward, unable to compensate for the increased height. She was in her early twenties and one week sober. Peg excused herself from her friends and met Joan on the corner.
“Hi, Peg.” Joan had a hard time making eye contact. She looked past Peg’s shoulder, as if she were talking to someone behind her. She was jittery, unable to keep still. Peg smiled at her. She hadn’t seen or heard from Joan since her second day sober, when she’d given her number to her and told her to call if she wanted to talk. She seemed very rocky. She didn’t hear from her, of course, and she was surprised to see her again.
“Were you coming here for the meeting? Because it just ended,” Peg said.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Joan said. Peg stepped to her side to try to line up with Joan’s gaze, but it was a moving target. “I guess I’m supposed to get a sponsor.”
“You’re supposed to be doing a lot of things. How’d it go this past week?” She saw Joan lower her gaze to the sidewalk.
“I drank.”
“When was the last time you had a drink?” Peg said. She kept her tone neutral.
“Last night. I kind of got in some trouble.”
The poor kid looked miserable. Peg waited for her to say more.
“DUI. I got out of the county jail a couple hours ago.”
Peg saw Morgan’s car pull up to the corner. They were supposed to have dinner, but this kid could be lost for good. Peg put a hand on her shoulder. “We should talk, but I have something I have to do for the next hour.” She could see f
ear cross Joan’s eyes, either fear that she was actually going to have to talk to Peg, or fear that she wouldn’t be able to. She probably didn’t know which. If she was anything like Peg was in those early days, she was afraid of everything right now. “There’s another meeting starting here in twenty minutes. You go to that and I’ll come by here afterward and pick you up. We’ll go have coffee down the street.”
Joan didn’t say anything, but she looked Peg in the eye and nodded before going into the building.
Peg heard Morgan gunning her engine, an unsubtle way of telling her to hurry the hell up. She walked over and got in the car.
“What are y’all talking about out there?” Morgan asked. “I mean, weren’t you talking to each other for an entire hour during the meeting?” Peg didn’t have the energy to explain what went on in an AA meeting.
“I was making arrangements to meet someone in an hour or so.”
Morgan stared at her. “An hour? We’re having dinner. Are we going to have to speed eat?” She sped down Ashland toward their favorite sushi place in Lakeview. Peg felt like they were on a crime-in-process call. She expected Morgan to pop a blue light on the top of the Saab.
“What’s going on? You’re acting like a maniac.” She peered at Morgan and was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “Why don’t you pull over and I’ll drive? You look a little…emotional.” She’d never seen Morgan anywhere near this vulnerable.
“I’m not emotional,” Morgan muttered, pulling over to a bus stop. They swapped seats and rode in silence the rest of the way. Morgan seemed too busy keeping her tears at bay to relax enough to talk. It didn’t take a genius to figure out something had tanked in her new relationship. After they’d ordered dinner, Peg got her to at least say that much.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I went to her office to congratulate her after her big day with the FDA and found that the whole thing had been a disaster. I was only trying to be supportive, but she acted like she hated me.”
“Your skin isn’t very thick, is it?”
Morgan looked at her sharply. “My skin’s plenty thick. I’m a cop.”
“It seems to me that in relationships, you’re a babe in the woods. Do you want to hear how to not be miserable?”
Morgan reluctantly nodded.
“Don’t take it personally.” Peg poured more tea into their cups. “The poor woman had just had her guts ripped out. She wasn’t thinking about you when she lashed out.”
“It sure seemed like she was.”
“I think the idea of having a relationship is scary for you. It’s scary for me, and yet I find myself falling into one whether I’m scared or not. Instead of worrying whether Laura likes you or not, worry about whether she’s going to be okay. Give her a little time to absorb the shock.”
“Why does that make me cranky?” Morgan asked.
Peg smiled. “Because it’s so simple you should have known it yourself?” Morgan glared at her. “I think this’ll be fine. Just don’t push. Don’t put yourself first.”
Morgan chewed, drank some tea, and wiped her mouth. “Do you think I’m selfish?”
“I think you’re human. Your fear of being hurt trumps almost everything. But acting out of that fear will probably guarantee you get hurt anyway.”
“I didn’t do anything terrible,” Morgan said. “I said I wanted to know if she and I were okay.”
Peg shrugged. “That seems reasonable, unless you look at it through Laura’s eyes. She had nothing to give you at that moment and probably resented you asking her for reassurance.”
“Christ, have I fucked this up already?” Morgan was pushing pieces of sushi around her plate.
“Give her a little time. She’ll spring back,” Peg said. She popped a slice of tuna roll into her mouth and glanced at her phone. She didn’t want to miss Joan.
Morgan looked at her with a little hope in her eyes. “Sensei, how did you become so wise?”
Peg laughed. “Hard experience.” She pointed at Morgan’s plate. “Eat up. I have to get back so my young friend doesn’t walk into the nearest tavern.”
*
Morgan considered Peg a close friend, but she was no good when she wanted a drink. She couldn’t drag Peg into a bar. And she wouldn’t want to right now, anyway. Peg was also not much for consoling and bucking up. She let Morgan know she cared, but she also let her know when she was fucking things up. It could be irritating.
She walked into The Lady Bug, a new bar named after one of several lesbian bars that thrived in the eighties and slowly died off in the years since. It was a quintessential Chicago corner tavern, far from fancy, which made it perfect for Morgan. Andi was behind the bar, cutting up limes, pausing only to grab a bottle of beer for Morgan before taking up her paring knife again. Morgan drank in silence for a while. Her friendship with Andi was not a chatty one.
“It’s quiet for a Thursday night, isn’t it?” Morgan finally said.
Andi shrugged one of her beefy shoulders. She was a weight lifter and it showed. She kept a baseball bat behind the bar, but Morgan doubted she’d ever need it. Andi could toss people around like beanbags. Morgan knew from personal experience, though the facts of that particular evening remained fuzzy.
“I suppose. The basketball team just left. That tones it down a bit.”
“Any women from our old team still playing?”
“No way. They’re all much younger.” Andi scooped the lime slices into a bin and started on the lemons. “They think we’re about a hundred years old.”
“That’s because we are.” Morgan pushed her empty bottle across the bar. “Set us up with a couple shots.”
Andi poured cold vodka into two shot glasses. They knocked them back, and she swept the glasses off the bar and into the sink. “So what brings you in, Detective?”
Morgan wasn’t sure she wanted to replay the conversation she’d just had with Peg. “Maybe I’m just ready for a little company.”
Andi snorted. “I don’t think so. There are plenty of pretty girls here, and you haven’t so much as swiveled around in your chair. Something’s off.”
Morgan frowned. She’d been in Laura’s orbit for such a short time, but her life beforehand seemed simple, filled with bottles of beer, girl watching, and lots of casual sex. It seemed like a long time ago, a different person ago. She took a drink from the new bottle Andi put before her. “I guess you could say that. I met a woman I like a lot, and it seems the feelings aren’t mutual.”
Andi looked surprised. “Really? I can’t remember the last time you were with a girl who wasn’t into you.”
“Well, I thought she was at first, but it turns out I was wrong.”
Morgan spun her stool around and checked out the women in the bar. A group of four women were seated around a table, their long coats draped on the back of their chairs, their bags dropped to the floor. They were chattering with great animation, and Morgan thought it unlikely it was about their office jobs. Each was taking peeks around the bar to see who was there. As Morgan looked them over, she saw one of the women had turned in her chair and was looking at her with undisguised interest. Morgan swiveled back to face the bar.
“See? That’s what I mean,” Andi said. “That is exactly the sort of woman you’d normally be escorting out the door before the night was over.” Andi looked concerned as she stared down at Morgan, who was hunched over the bar. “I don’t know who your woman is, but it looks like she hurt you bad.”
Morgan motioned for another shot. “I guess.”
“Well, don’t just sit around getting drunk. Go find her. It’s got to be worth the risk to see if she really isn’t interested in you. It might not be what you think.”
It seemed no one was going to allow her to wallow. She drank her shot and put her jacket on. “We’ll see. Thanks, Andi.”
As she got into her car, Morgan knew she was on the borderline of being legally drunk, but cops generally used a different gauge. If another cop took your keys b
efore you left a place, then you knew you were too drunk to drive. Otherwise, you were good to go. As if on automatic pilot, the Saab headed south toward Wicker Park, just as it had that morning before she went to work and that afternoon when she got off. She’d desperately wanted to catch even a glimpse of Laura.
She pulled over across the street from the house and parked by a fire hydrant. Lights blazed from the windows of the stone mansions up and down the block, and a few people were out giving their dogs their last walk of the day. Morgan turned off her headlights and stared at Laura’s house. There was light seeping through the upstairs front window. Laura was home and probably getting ready to sleep. She didn’t understand how she could think there’d been nothing special between them. Morgan knew there was. But in her office the day before, with the feel of ruin in the air, Laura had dismissed her as if she’d been a one-night stand, much as Morgan had dismissed so many women herself. Perhaps this was some kind of cosmic justice, to which Morgan had no defense. She fiddled with her phone without really seeing it, wondering how things had become so bad she was stalking her girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend?
The phone rang and scared the hell out of her. Some fearless cop she was. She saw Laura’s name on the display and panic set in. She stared at the phone and tried to decide whether to answer it. She couldn’t think. The phone flew out of her hand when she heard a rap on the passenger side window. It was Laura. It was a ghost.
“Let me in!” She saw Laura mouth the words as she held her phone to her ear and rapped on the window again. Morgan leaned over to open the door and Laura jumped in, hugging herself against the cold. She wore sweatpants and a T-shirt. Slippers were on her feet. How did Morgan miss seeing her come out of the house?
“Jesus, it’s freezing,” she said, cranking up the heat in the Saab. Morgan sat speechless as Laura turned in her seat to face her. “I owe you an apology. I screwed up yesterday. I was almost out of my mind with fear about my project, and I’m not at all used to you being in my life. I just screwed up and used you as a punching bag. I’m sorry.” She took Morgan’s hand in both of hers, waiting patiently. But Morgan didn’t speak. “Are you going to say anything?”
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