“He’s not my boyfriend!” I yelled at Smithie’s back.
It was kind of a stupid thing to say because I was still holding Eddie’s hand and it might have been that’s what it looked like.
Eddie turned his hand around, his fingers curled around mine and he tugged me forward.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
“I caught a ride with JoJo,” I told him.
Immediately, he changed directions.
“Where are we going?” I pulled at his hand, either to get mine out of his or to get him to stop, either one would work for me.
I didn’t succeed and Eddie kept walking.
“I have to go to the station and then I’m taking you home.”
Oh no, I couldn’t let him take me home.
“Eddie I can get a ride with—”
He jerked me to a halt and gave me a look that shut my mouth. Then he started walking again, pulling me along behind him.
He walked me to a shiny, red, Dodge Ram. It even had those fancy lights on the top. He opened the passenger side door for me and I tried to get into the high seat gracefully considering my short skirt and slut shoes. I managed it, but just barely.
“Why don’t you take me home first?” I asked him when he got in the car.
“Because, I missed my opportunity to talk to you this afternoon. So, even though it’s nearly two o’clock in the fucking morning, I have you all to myself for the first time and you’re gonna answer a few questions.”
I buckled my seat belt (safety first) and then crossed my arms on my chest. I didn’t have time to talk to Eddie (not to mention, I didn’t want to talk to Eddie). I needed sleep. I didn’t have a full day off until Sunday, that was—
I was too tired to count them but it was too many days away not to sleep.
I tried to talk him out of it.
“I don’t understand why you’re so curious about me. I’m just a quiet, normal person. I know you don’t want me bringing a bad influence into Indy’s store but…”
He’d started the truck while I was speaking. At my comment, he turned to me, forearm on the steering wheel.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Indy. And, I hate to break this to you, but you’re anything but normal.”
My head gave a little jerk and I glared at him. “Yes I am! I’m your normal, average, everyday girl.”
He shook his head.
“Your normal, average, everyday girl does not work in a strip club. She does not get bizarrely serenaded by her father in a bookstore. She does not transform into a new girl every time she does something to her hair or makeup. And she does not guard every scrap of personal information about her life like it’s a State secret.”
“I do not guard every scrap of personal information!” I snapped.
“Tell me something personal then,” he returned.
I tried to find something interesting about myself. I was too tired and freaked out and anyway, there wasn’t much interesting about me. So I threw out the first thing that came to mind.
“My favorite color is green,” I told him.
He turned away from me, put the truck into gear and said, “Doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
He pulled out onto Colorado Boulevard.
“Your favorite color is not a piece of personal information.”
“Yes it is.”
“Okay, then, your favorite color is a boring piece of personal information that doesn’t tell me a thing about you.”
I gave up and looked out the window. It seemed a good way to go.
We were silent all the way to the station.
When he parked, I jumped down from the truck, wishing my slut shoes resided in perdition. He came around and grabbed my hand again and we walked into the station.
I’d never been to a police station in my life. It was cleaner than I expected it to be, it didn’t look like NYPD Blue at all. He walked me through the halls and took me to a room with lockers. He opened one, obviously his, pulled out a flannel shirt and handed it to me. “Put that on.”
It was a nice thing to do. It wasn’t only chilly but I didn’t wear my Smithie’s uniform anywhere but at Smithie’s and his shirt would cover me up.
I put his shirt on and it smelled like him. It was then I thought the shirt wasn’t a good idea. Smelling Eddie on Eddie was disturbing enough. Smelling Eddie on me was too much of a good thing.
I didn’t have a chance to object. He took my hand again and walked me into another room, this one big, mostly dark and full of desks. There was one guy working: typing on a computer. He looked up when we walked in and his eyes took in Eddie’s bloody t-shirt and knuckles.
“Tough night?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, not inviting further discourse.
The guy’s eyes moved to me.
“Looks like you won.”
Eddie didn’t reply and walked me over to a couch and turned to me.
“Wait here. I’ll be five minutes.” Then he was gone.
I sat on the couch and the guy was watching me.
“There was a bit of a bar brawl,” I explained.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“It started for a good reason.” I don’t know why, but I decided to defend Eddie.
“Eddie start it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You the reason?”
I bit my lip then said, “Yes.”
“That’s a good enough reason.”
He turned back to work and I took the opportunity to fish the fifty from my cleavage. It was hard won. I should probably give it to Eddie for the trouble I caused him but I needed it too much. I put it in my wallet and then waited.
Then I waited some more.
Then I looked at the couch and decided it looked really comfortable. So, for research purposes, I decided to check and see if it was comfortable. So, I stretched out on it and within minutes, I was dead asleep.
I woke up smelling Eddie.
For a second I thought I was dreaming but I could feel the sunlight against my closed eyelids, so I opened them. I saw unfamiliar surroundings and shot bolt upright in bed.
I was in a queen-size bed that had plaid sheets and a denim covered comforter. There was a dresser with a mess of stuff on the top, hardwood floors with no rugs, mocha colored walls with no pictures, one nightstand with an alarm clock, phone and some change on it. Then I saw, on the floor, my bright red mini-skirt, my purse and my slut shoes lying next to a pair of jeans, cowboy boots and a bloodstained white t-shirt.
“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and stared down at myself. I was wearing my black, cotton, bikini briefs, my Smithie’s camisole and Eddie’s flannel shirt.
I looked back at the alarm clock. It was 11:45.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I shouted and ran to my mini-skirt.
Not only was I super late for Fortnum’s, I hadn’t called Mom. She would be worried sick. I’d left my cell phone in my apron (with my tips) and Smithie had taken them away.
I had to get to a phone immediately to let her know I was okay. Then I had to call Indy. Then I had to call a taxi. Then I had to get the hell out of there.
I pulled on my mini-skirt trying not to think of how I got from the police station to Eddie’s house, to Eddie’s bed and out of some of my clothes. I looked back at the bed and saw that only one pillow had a dent in it. I also saw that the other pillow had a note on it. I ran to it, my skirt still unzipped at the back, and snatched it off the pillow.
Gone to work. When you get up, call me. And he left a phone number.
“Shit!”
I ran out of the room, my hands at my back to zip the skirt, I made it to the hall and crashed head-first into Eddie.
I flew backward a step, which would have been more if his hands hadn’t caught me.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I need to use your phone.”
No greeting, no nothing. I was close to hysteria and Eddie m
ust have sensed it because he made no comment, walked out of the hall and into the living room. I followed him, finishing the zip on my skirt. He grabbed a cordless phone and handed it to me.
I took it and bent my head over it immediately, wandering away from him and punching in the number to home.
Mom answered on the first ring.
“Mom?”
“Jet! My God, I’ve been worried sick.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No, I’m not, I’m worried sick. Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m safe. I’m sorry. I left my phone in my apron and things got a little strange at the club and I fell asleep at the police station.”
What was I saying? She didn’t need to know that, I’d give her another stroke.
“Excuse me? Police station?” Mom asked, her voice rising.
“It was nothing, never mind. I’ll be home soon.”
But I heard the phone being moved around and then I heard Trixie.
“Jet! Where are you? Your mother’s been worried sick. What’s this about a police station?”
I closed my eyes, overcome with relief that Mom wasn’t alone. I sank down on the sofa, leaning forward, I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hand. “Trixie, I’m so glad you’re there. Is Mom okay?”
“No she’s not okay, we’re both not okay. You didn’t come home last night.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Is she all right? Was she able to get to the bathroom, take care of herself?” I asked.
“She’s fine. She got herself up, walked to your room and saw you didn’t come home so she called me. I came over and took care of her.”
“Has she had breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Were you able to get her she dressed?”
“Yes! Where are you? You didn’t answer your cell. We called the bookstore; they didn’t know where you were. No one was answering at the club. We were scared to death.”
It then occurred to me where I was and my head snapped up and I looked at Eddie. He was standing; shoulders leaned against the wall, arms crossed on his chest, watching me.
Shit.
I looked back at my knees. “I’m at Eddie’s.”
Silence.
“Trixie?”
I heard her say, not into the mouthpiece, “She’s at Eddie’s.”
The phone was moved around again and Mom said, “You’re at Eddie’s?”
Her tone was both hopeful and snoopy. Neither of these were good things.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Listen, Mom, I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“No, no, don’t rush. We’re okay. Ada’s coming over and Trixie’s managed to rearrange her appointments. Take your time.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for divine intervention.
I waited a beat and nothing happened.
Guess God was busy with war and famine and the like.
“Mom, I’ll be home as soon as I can get there. Okay?”
“Is Eddie bringing you home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Am I going to meet him?”
“I don’t know. Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, doll face,” she said, her voice totally changed from pissed off mother on the edge to sweet as pie. “See you.”
I pushed the on/off button and looked up at Eddie. “I’ve got to call Indy.”
“I called her before I came home. She’s not worried. Her people come and go as they please,” he said.
Not me, I worked mornings. She needed me for the rush hours and that’s when I worked for her. I’d never been late for Indy.
I got off the couch, put the phone in its receiver and walked across the room, passed Eddie, to the bedroom. I nabbed my slut shoes and sat on the side of the bed.
“Your Mom okay?” I looked to the side and Eddie was leaning in the doorway.
I bent double and started to slip on my shoes.
“Yeah. Trixie’s there and Ada’s coming over.”
The next thing I knew, Eddie was crouched in front of me and he took my shoes away.
My head jerked up.
“Hey!”
“I want you to get back into bed,” he said, straightening out of his crouch.
“What?” I screeched, half flipped out, half angry, jumping off the bed, which placed me standing less than a foot away from him.
“Get back into bed,” he repeated.
“I can’t get back into bed. I have to get to work.” I began to slide away but he twisted his torso and tossed the shoes in the direction from whence they came. After he’d done that, he came back around and his arm came out, blocking me.
Then he said, “I carried you from the station to the truck, from the truck to bed and took off your skirt and shoes, and you slept like the dead the whole time. Work can wait. You need some rest.”
I couldn’t think about Eddie carrying me around or taking off my clothes or how any of that made my belly feel, so I didn’t think about it and focused on the current drama.
“Work can’t wait. I need the money,” I told him.
“How much did you give him?” Eddie asked.
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“Your Dad. How much did you give him?”
My blood pressure skyrocketed.
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped.
He took the mini-step forward which had me moving back. The backs of my legs hit the bed and I had nowhere to go but down and he was inches away.
“Move back,” I said.
“I asked how much you gave him,” Eddie repeated.
“Move back!”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars, okay?”
I gave in. I had to, he was leaning into me and I had nowhere to go and I really needed room to move.
“I’ll give you five hundred dollars to get back into bed.”
My mouth dropped open and I didn’t say a word. There were no words to say.
“I’m absolutely serious. You get in bed and I’ll give you five hundred dollars. I’ll go back to work. You rest, eat whatever’s in my fridge, watch TV, I don’t give a fuck. But you’re not going to work today. You’re not doing anything today.”
I could not believe my ears, mainly because it was unbelievable.
“I’m not taking your money and I’m not resting, I have things to do.”
“What things?”
“Things! All right? Now back off.”
I put my hands to his chest and gave a shove.
He didn’t move.
Wonderful.
I put my hands to my hips and glared at him.
“I have to go home.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t anything, just stared down at me with a set look.
I closed my eyes and took a mental breath.
“Do you know what I do for a living?” he asked.
I opened my eyes again so I could blink in confusion.
“Yeah. You’re a cop,” I answered.
“I’m a detective.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Jet, my job is to put two and two together and make four.”
“And?” I asked, not knowing what he was on about and thinking this was a strange turn in the conversation.
His eyes got warm, his hand came up and he tucked some hair behind my ear. When he was done doing that, his hand curled around the side of my neck.
“I just made four,” he said quietly.
I couldn’t get caught up in Eddie, his warm, dark eyes, his quiet voice or the fact that he’d just figured me out. I’d think about it later. My life was in turmoil, I needed to focus and I couldn’t focus around Eddie. It was impossible.
“Eddie, I need to get home,” I told him in a voice that said I meant it.
He looked at me for a beat. Then his thumb came away from my neck and stroked my cheek and he said, “I’ll tak
e you home.”
He walked across the room, grabbed my shoes and brought them to me. I sat back down on the bed and silently put them on. I snagged my purse from the floor. Eddie walked me out the backdoor, helped me into his truck and took me home.
Chapter Five
I Couldn’t Buy a Break
(Even if I had the money)
I saw the wrecker hooking up to my car when Eddie drove into the parking lot at my apartment building. Eddie saw it too.
I jumped down from the truck, wincing as my still angry feet protested and looked at the wrecker. Eddie walked around to my side of the truck, his eyes on the wrecker.
Smithie’s friend was doing the tow, looking like he was wearing the same pair of filthy blue coveralls as yesterday. He saw me and gave a small wave. I waved back.
“You know him?” Eddie asked.
“That’s my car. I’m having slight car problems.”
Eddie’s eyes moved to me. “Slight car problems require a jump. Serious car problems require a tow,” he said.
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to argue about it. I’d probably lose mainly because he was right and I was trying not to think about what serious car problems would mean.
I walked to the building and turned to stop at the front door. “Thanks for bringing me home,” I said to Eddie, making it clear that the front door was as far as he was going to go.
He looked at the doors, then at me, then his mouth turned up a little at the corners and he shook his head.
“Just Jet, my ass,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothin’.”
I heard him. I wasn’t going to argue about that either. It wasn’t as if I got held at knifepoint and was in bar brawls every day but I wasn’t going to point that out. Not a lot of girls would go out of their way to defend how boring they really were, especially not to guys like Eddie. Anyway, I’d gone that route and I didn’t win that battle either.
He took his wallet out of his back pocket and held a card out to me, putting the wallet back in his pocket.
“You need a lift, you call me,” he said.
I didn’t take the card.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Jet.”
“Seriously. I’ll be okay.”
All of a sudden, he took three steps forward, backing me into the corner of the overhang that shielded the front doors. My back hit the wall, I stopped and Eddie came in close.
Rock Chick Rescue Page 7