Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I think you look beautiful,” Eliot countered.

  “You don’t look like a cow,” I offered. “You look more like an oversized flamingo. I mean your legs are still really skinny and your boobs are starting to meld with your stomach so it’s like you have a big round ball between your lady parts and neck. But you definitely don’t look like a cow.”

  Carly narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits as Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Why did you say that?” Eliot asked, frustrated. “You’ll give her a complex.”

  “Oh, no. I love hearing that I look like a bird,” Carly snapped.

  “Hey, at least I didn’t say you looked like an elephant,” I pointed out.

  “If you keep pushing me, I’ll insist that you be in the delivery room during the birth,” Carly warned, causing my stomach to twist. “I’ll make you my birthing partner if you’re not careful. And let me tell you something, honey, that’s something you’ll never be able to un-see.”

  My heart dropped at the threat. “Isn’t that Kyle’s job? He is the father, after all. Shouldn’t he be in the birthing room with you?”

  “I can have multiple coaches.” Carly almost looked smug when she made the announcement, causing me to swallow hard.

  “I … .”

  “Oh, look, she’s speechless,” Eliot teased, amused. “That hardly ever happens. I wish I had known it was coming. I would’ve filmed it for YouTube.”

  Carly made a face. “I’ll make you come, too, if you don’t stop torturing her. I can have up to three people with me during the blessed event. I’m just petty enough to make you one of them.”

  Now it was Eliot’s turn to shift. “I … why would you want me with you?”

  “Because it would make Avery happy.”

  “You just went out of your way to make her angry.”

  “Yes, but that’s a best friend’s prerogative,” Carly supplied. “I can blame it on hormones, which are crazy, mind you. This morning I woke up craving sex and ice cream. Kyle supplied both. He should’ve been my hero, right? Think again. Ten minutes later I wanted to drown him in the bath tub because he drank coffee in front of me.”

  “Why not just get your own coffee?” I asked.

  “The caffeine is bad for the kid.”

  “Oh, well … .” This pregnancy thing sounded like a real nightmare. “It’s your body. If the kid doesn’t like it, well, I think he should shut his trap and deal.”

  “Don’t start,” Carly warned, extending a finger. “You have no idea what it’s like to constantly be hungry. I have these weird cravings … and it’s always for junk food.”

  Carly fancied herself a healthy eater – which was nothing to brag about, if you ask me – so I couldn’t help but smile. “McDonald’s?”

  “Taco Bell.”

  “Nice.”

  “It’s not nice,” Carly spat, her anger overtaking her. “My butt is going to be huge before this is all said and done.”

  “Getting fat without having people judge you is the only reason to get pregnant, if you ask me,” I offered. “You should embrace it and eat as much junk food as you want. That’s one of the perks of growing a human being inside of you.”

  “Oh, you’re such a feminist,” Eliot teased.

  “I can’t get really fat,” Carly argued. “Kyle won’t like it.”

  “Is he pushing a human being out of his lady parts?”

  “No.”

  “Then screw Kyle and whatever he thinks,” I said. “You can eat whatever you want. In fact, I was thinking that two Coneys and chili fries might be right up your alley if you’re ready to head down the street.”

  “That sounds terrible.”

  “Fine. You don’t know what you’re missing, though.”

  “That sounds terrible because you forgot the cheese,” Carly corrected. “I need cheese on the fries, too. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that your hormones make my attitude appear downright amiable,” I muttered, stepping away from Eliot. “Are you coming?”

  Eliot appeared surprised by the invitation. “I thought this was a girls’-only meal.”

  “I might need you to protect me if she decides she’s really hungry and tries to eat me.”

  “Oh, puh-leez,” Carly intoned. “You wouldn’t taste good … even with cheese.”

  “Duly noted.” I turned my expectant gaze to Eliot. “You’re invited if you want to come.”

  Eliot looked caught. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not intruding,” Carly said, slapping his arm to prod him toward the door. “In fact, you’re buying.”

  Eliot’s grin was sly. “I see how it is.”

  “You’re buying mine, too,” I interjected. “I’m hungry. Plotting revenge makes me work up an appetite.”

  “I’ve noticed. Let me grab my keys and lock up. Hold on.”

  While Eliot rummaged behind the counter I stared out the window, taking in the bustling activity as the carnival workers toiled to set up the festival along Main Street. That’s when a familiar face moved past the window. He didn’t look in my direction, but I couldn’t forget that face after the scene he caused at the dart booth.

  “He’s hot for a carnival worker,” Carly mused.

  “Who’s hot?” Eliot asked, appearing behind us. His eyebrows winged up when he saw who Carly was referring to. “Is that the dude you browbeat into giving you that stuffed shark?”

  “I hardly browbeat him.”

  “I thought he might cry.”

  “Yes, well, he thought he could scam me, but I quickly disabused him of that notion,” I said, watching the man wave a hand in greeting to one of his co-workers. “It seems the same carnival we ran into in Port Hope will be spending the next week here.”

  “Oh, man.” Eliot rubbed the back of his neck. “This means you’re going to look into that murder, doesn’t it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, I know you.” Eliot shook his head. “Just be careful … and don’t fall behind on your packing. We’re on a schedule. Do you understand?”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that you may never have sex with me again,” Eliot replied, pressing a hand to the small of my back and urging me toward the door. “Come on. Lunch is on me. Then I have a lot to do this afternoon.”

  He wasn’t the only one. I mustered a smile and then let my eyes roam the carnival grounds as we headed toward the Coney Island restaurant. I had a lot to do this afternoon. I had a feeling it was going to be a lot more exciting than the normal festival story.

  7

  Seven

  After turning in my story – and frightening Fish with a look that promised bloody and brutal retribution – I headed home to pack. That’s where Eliot found me an hour and seventy-five curse words later. Here’s the thing about collectibles: They always come in specific boxes with molded Styrofoam. That means said collectible will fit only in the box one way, and I’m not good at figuring out that way. By the time Eliot walked into the office I’d only managed to pack ten things in sixty minutes, and my mood was darker than the roots on a Kardashian when she decides to go blond for a week.

  “Hey, Trouble.” Eliot’s eyes lit with amusement when I shot him a dark look. “I thought you’d have more done than this.”

  “Don’t push me,” I warned, wagging a finger. “I’ve had an absolutely terrible day. Between Fish not recognizing my worth, Duncan being Duncan, and having to interview excited festival organizers all day … well … I’m in a mood.”

  “You’ve been in a mood since I met you.” Eliot sat on the floor next to me and watched as I slid a green hourglass – one from the Harry Potter collection at Noble – into the package. When I tried to close it, of course, it didn’t fit together correctly.

  “Oh, this bites!” In a fit of rage I moved to throw the hourglass against the wall, but Eliot grabbed it before I could, calmly flipping th
e hourglass around so it nestled snuggly in the evil Styrofoam mold and tugging the cardboard sleeve over it before setting it to the side and shooting me an expectant look.

  “Hand me another one,” Eliot ordered.

  “How did you know it fit that way?” I asked, annoyed. I handed him one of the boxes for a Lord of the Rings Weta environment. “It’s taken me forever to work each one out.”

  “You can kind of tell by looking at the molds,” Eliot replied. “Your mind doesn’t figure out spatial things very well.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s an insult, but since it’s wrapped around geek talk I can’t decide how much of an insult.”

  Eliot smirked. “It’s not an insult. You just don’t look at things and see the way they fit together. You can see the way a case fits together … or a story … but with physical things it’s another story.”

  “Luckily for you I’ve figured out how we fit together,” I grumbled.

  “I think that’s lucky for both of us.” Eliot pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Tell me about your day.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” I replied. “I already told you that Fish is on my list … and Duncan … and anyone who voted to give me the festival coverage. To hear Fish tell it, only Marvin took my side.”

  “So Marvin isn’t on your list,” Eliot mused. “He’s a weird dude, but he’s loyal. I wouldn’t be happy to know that he was your only backup in a tense situation, but if there’s ever an office takeover due to politics, I think he would be a fine choice to have your back.”

  I rolled my eyes as I reached for a set of Star Wars bookends. “He makes me laugh. That’s all I care about.”

  “He’s funny, too.” Eliot momentarily played with the ends of my hair before reaching for another collectible box. “We close tomorrow morning. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t forget that. It’s a big deal. We’re buying a house … and moving into it.”

  “Speaking of that, I thought I would take a load of stuff to the house after we close. I filled the back of my truck up with stuff from my apartment. I figured it would save us a trip.”

  “That’s probably a good idea, but in this neighborhood someone might steal it,” I reminded him. “The guys across the street are due for a marijuana meltdown, and those two idiots who live next door haven’t brawled with one another in months. They’re due for an ass-kicking contest.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll deal with it should it become an issue. I don’t think any of those people would be stupid enough to touch my stuff.”

  “Because you’re so manly?”

  “Because I’ll kick their asses and not feel bad about it in the least,” Eliot replied. “At least we won’t have these issues when we move into the new house. I doubt the neighbors in Macomb Township will be interested in smoking dope in the front yard while a pair of possibly inbred brothers beat the crap out of each other and then call the cops to report themselves.”

  “Probably not,” I conceded. “We’ll have a different set of problems out there, though.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s a conservative area, and I’m not talking about politics,” I reminded him. “Everyone there goes to bed by ten at night and they all mow their lawns to a specific height. They don’t wear Star Wars shoes … or Harry Potter robes … or fuzzy pajama pants with lewd hobbits on them.”

  Eliot chuckled. “Are you telling me that you’re worried about moving from a neighborhood that has ten bad elements to one that has none?”

  “I’m telling you that when we move to the new house I will be the bad element,” I corrected, causing Eliot to still.

  “That’s not true,” he said, after a beat, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind my ear. “I’m sure you’ll get along with the neighbors.”

  “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that neighborhood is full of stay-at-home moms and book club groups. I have no problem with that – other than the fact that I would have to hang myself from the chandelier if I was forced to stay home with kids all day. I won’t fit in with them, though. You need to realize that, accept it.”

  “Well, I don’t really care about that,” Eliot said. “You have more than enough friends to keep you occupied. You seem worried about it, though. You don’t have to fit in with the women in the neighborhood to make me happy. You just have to be you.”

  “Even if I tick them off?”

  “Oh, Trouble, I know you’re going to tick them off. It’s a gift. You can’t shake it. We both know that.”

  “Um, well … yeah.” I rubbed my cheek as I glanced at the growing pile of packed items. “It’s weird. Tomorrow we’re going to officially own our new house. This won’t be home anymore.”

  “Hey.” Eliot put his finger under my chin and turned my head so I had no choice but to lock gazes with him. “This is still home until we get settled. Even after that, we’ll always have great memories of this place. It’s okay to miss it.”

  “It’s not even a good house, so why should I miss it?”

  “Because you had a lot of fun here, and change is hard for you.”

  I didn’t bother hiding my scowl. “Why isn’t change hard for you?”

  “Because this is a change I’ve wanted for quite some time,” Eliot replied. “You and I are building a life together. This is the first time we’re doing something really concrete … and that’s important to me. I know it’s different for you. Change is hard in that minefield you call a head. I’m expecting a few hiccups.”

  “You don’t know,” I challenged. “I could be great at moving to a new house. For all we know, you might be the one who doesn’t fit in.”

  Eliot snorted. “I’m sure that we’ll be the talk of the neighborhood together. Our new neighbors won’t be able to stop talking about the saintly hot guy with long hair and the crazy woman he’s moving in with.”

  “How do you know I’ll be the crazy one?”

  “Because I’ve met you.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I guess that’s fair.” I took a moment to glance around the room. Everything but my collectibles were packed. “We have about an hour’s worth of work to do. Then I thought we could order some Chinese takeout – on me – and go to bed early.”

  Eliot arched an eyebrow, surprised. “Why do you want to go to bed early? Are you sick?”

  “No, but I’m going to cause your heart rate to speed up and make you gasp for breath so you might think you’re having a heart attack,” I replied. “It’s kind of like this is our last night here – even though I know it isn’t. Tomorrow things change.”

  “Ah.” Eliot knowingly bobbed his head and grinned. “You want to send this house out in style.”

  My cheeks burned as I worried my lower lip with my teeth and averted my gaze. “Kind of.”

  Eliot squeezed my hand and smiled. “Sounds like a plan. Get packing, woman. Then I’ll stuff your face with as many spring rolls as you can swallow before wowing the crap out of you.”

  I didn’t want to smile – it only encouraged him, after all – but I couldn’t stop myself. “You’re pretty full of yourself. You know that, right?”

  “Fear not, my dear,” Eliot teased. “If you play your cards right, we’ll be full of each other in two hours.”

  That sounded like the perfect way to spend our last normal night in the Roseville house. It would be a quiet night before a big move … and I couldn’t think of any other way I’d rather spend it.

  “THEY’RE ALL staring at us.”

  I stood in the driveway of the new house the next morning, hands on hips, and glared at Eliot as he lifted a box out of the back of his truck. I had half of the day off, so I decided to help him carry in the first load and get a set of new keys before leaving.

  It took forever to close – I seriously don’t think I’ve ever signed my name so many times, and that includes the long-forgotten winter days when Lexie and I were bored teenagers working at the family restaurant and pretended we were fam
ous and signed autographs for people (whether they wanted them or not). Once we were done with the seemingly endless paperwork, Eliot said he was heading straight to the new house to handle changing the locks. I had nothing better to do, so I followed.

  Now that I was here, I couldn’t shake the unease I felt whenever anyone walked past us. I could feel them staring at me, even though I refused to make eye contact. They were judging us. I just knew it.

  “They’re not staring at us,” Eliot countered, shaking his head. “They’re curious about the new people moving into the neighborhood. That’s human nature. It’s no different than the time you convinced yourself that the guys on the corner of your street in Roseville were running a chop shop out of their garage.”

  “They were running a chop shop out of the garage,” I countered. “I wrote an article about it.”

  “Hmm. I forgot about that.” Eliot looked pensive. “Well, that’s neither here nor there.”

  “You’re only saying that because I was right and you were wrong. Just for the record, I’m always right.”

  “Duly noted.” Eliot kicked up his heel and smacked me in the rear end as he moved past, chuckling as I scowled. I watched him disappear inside the house, resting my hip on his truck as I glanced around the neighborhood. I didn’t care what he believed, I knew they were staring at us.

  Out of habit (you make regular eye contact to scare off potential home invaders in Roseville), I locked gazes with one of the women walking down the street. She wore skintight leggings and pumped her arms up and down as she clutched small weights while traversing the pristine sidewalks. Her expression was unreadable when looking at me. I didn’t miss the way her eyes gleamed when Eliot walked out of the house, though. She seemed interested – in him, at least.

  “I thought you were going to help me,” Eliot prodded, drawing my attention back to him. “Wasn’t that the deal? You help me unload and then I buy you lunch before heading off to work.”

  “How do we even know they have food out here?” I challenged, opting to pick a fight rather than help. “It’s probably all Indian and sushi restaurants. You know I hate Indian food.”