When Daria opened her eyes, everything hurt. A tiny slice of sunlight had squeaked through the blinds and landed precisely on the nightstand clock that she stared at, blurring the red numbers beyond distinction. Next to it was a bottle of Tylenol, a half-filled bottle of Patron, her bra, and a paper cup with the Days Inn logo printed on it.
Then she remembered what had happened.
She turned and saw Manny was next to her in bed, sleeping. Presumably naked under the white sheets he was tangled up in.
Oh dear God. What have I done? She sat up much too quickly and put her throbbing head in her hands. Should she get up and leave? Take a taxi to the closest Enterprise Rent-a-Car and go home? Maybe leave a note on the pillow?
Damn. This was like being back in college. She was such an easy drunk. Why didn’t she just stop at two? How many more past two had she had? She looked over at the bottle of Patron. Tequila? Really, Daria? What the hell were you thinking?
How was she going to be able to drive home five hours in a car with him? What was she going to say? What was he going to say? What would he think of her now? Her eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal who realizes the cage door is slightly ajar. She should go before he woke up. Get a rental car and deal with it tomorrow, over the phone. She could put off actually seeing him on the Lunders case. There was no reason for them to physically get together until the next hearing. That could be weeks, months even. She could let him handle Bantling from here on, which is what she remembered him saying to her last night. Telling her to back off and let him handle it.
Okay, okay, okay. Don’t panic. It might not be so hard to ignore him once she got out of this cheap motel room …
She dry-swallowed two Tylenol and rubbed her aching head, trying to collect herself. Her panties were across the room on a chair, as was her blouse, and her skirt was nowhere to be seen. Manny Alvarez was so not her type. Big. Burly. Hairy. Bald. She’d never had a thing for cops, like other prosecutors did. The man-in-uniform-on-a-perpetual-power-trip crap was never her weakness. And he was so much older — she was guessing he had to be in his mid-forties at least. Maybe older.
She looked at him, sleeping on his side, facing where she’d been sleeping, eyes closed, his mouth lost somewhere under that oversized mustache. At least he wasn’t snoring. And he hadn’t given her his back, which she hated. It was a sign of disrespect when men slept on their side with their backs to you. Fuck the, ‘But I was sleeping!’ argument her past exes had tried. Her thought process was, if you do it when you’re unconscious, it’s only a matter of time before you turn your back in the daylight, too. Manny the Bear. There was a reason for that nickname. He was big, burly, hairy. Menacingly bald. But he was sweet, too. Like a ginormous teddy bear, with an oversized smile and even bigger laugh. And she felt safe around him. That was what it was. That was her problem, she rationalized. It was being in the prison. He had protected her and she felt safe around him. It was the same thing as had happened with Matt Terrance, the soft-spoken guy in eleventh grade who’d actually punched out a football player on her behalf because he’d called her a bitch. Matt wasn’t hot or anything, but she’d dated him anyway. Lost her virginity to him, too. After a couple shots of Jose Cuervo, come to think of it.
Somewhere in the room, a cell phone began to ring. It was the theme music to Psycho. It was hers and it was the office.
Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.
She scrambled out of bed and found her purse, under his pants in a corner. Damn. What time was it? She checked her watch as she answered the phone. Nine thirty. Jesus Christ! She was supposed to be in court at nine …
Thanks to her hangover, she answered the phone in a voice that matched how she felt. ‘Hello, Gretch.’
‘You sound like shit,’ said her secretary. ‘What is it?’
‘The flu. I was up all night and I … I overslept. I’m really sorry.’
‘I’ll have Artigas cover and reset everything. You don’t have anything big on today anyway. No worries.’
‘I should talk to him about—’
‘Go back to bed. You have sick days for a reason. I’ll call later to see if you’re coming in tomorrow, which I’m telling you right now, I hope you don’t, ’cause I’m having my daughter’s birthday party on Saturday and I don’t need the damn flu.’
‘That was convincing,’ a gruff voice said behind her when she’d hung up. She cringed. So much for a sneaky exit and dealing with the fallout in six months or so …
‘Good morning,’ Manny said with a yawn. ‘What time is it anyway?’
‘Nine thirty.’
‘Whoops.’
‘Do you have to work?’ she asked.
‘Nah, I’m okay. I’ll make a couple of phone calls.’
She gathered her purse and blouse and turned to face him. ‘Well, I have to get back, so I thought that maybe—’ She sighed. ‘I was gonna rent a car.’
He sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard, a crooked smile on his face. ‘Rent a car? What? Why?’
‘Because of this.’
‘This?’
‘Yeah, what happened. What shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says me. It was the alcohol, Manny.’
He rubbed his head and smiled full-on. ‘I don’t know about that. You seemed pretty happy. I never heard a scream like that before.’
She turned bright red, picked up her panties and headed toward the bathroom. ‘It was a mistake.’
He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. ‘Damn. Seven new texts. Hasn’t everyone figured out I don’t do texts? Shit … and this looks important, too.’
She walked over to his side and picked the cell out of his hands. ‘It’s simple. Hit this button and read them. Don’t be so damn old. When you want to reply, hit the reply button, type a message and hit send. It’s not rocket science.’
‘Thanks,’ he said when she headed back to the bathroom. ‘I just wanted to watch you walk over to me wearing nothing but my shirt. I know how to text. I don’t do it, is all. My fingers are too big and those damn buttons are too small.’
She stared at him.
‘Listen, I think mistakes happen for a reason, Counselor. I like you. I think you like me. Why don’t we just see where this goes? Stop trying to control everything, including what you should or shouldn’t be feeling, and relax.’
‘Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t try to control,’ she snapped in a hoarse voice. ‘You don’t know what I’m thinking here.’
‘I can see the wheels spinning in your pretty, red head. “He’s not my type. He’s my lead on this. He’s older than me. I’m so short and he’s so handsome. We argue a lot.” Driving next to me for three hundred miles in your own rental car seems a little extreme, though. I don’t bite.’
He was right. Now that he was awake and talking to her, running away in front of him sounded stupid.
‘You do, though,’ he continued with a sly smile. His hand touched his throat. ‘I think I have a hickey.’
Her face lit up once again and she turned away. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’
‘I’ve seen your body. There is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. If I had a body like yours, I’d walk around naked all the time.’
‘Now I’m even more embarrassed. This is not me, Manny. I would never do something like this.’
‘Okay. It’s not you. You’re a good girl, if it makes you feel any better to hear that. You were a virgin until a couple of hours ago, if that’s what you’re saying. Whatever. But you have today off and I have today off and we’re both sober now. Hungover, maybe, but sober. And I still like you. A lot. A real lot. I have since I met you. Even when you’re mean and grumpy, I still like you. And we’re in a hotel room, coincidentally. And you’re practically naked …’
She looked around the room. ‘Absolutely not. This isn’t going to work between us, Manny. Jesus, I have to get back. I have to. I have court to prepare for, cases that need my attention. Attorneys I’m supposed to be supervising. I can’t be having sex in a cheap motel room with my lead detective! What the hell is fucking wrong with me?’ she yelled.
He held his hands up. ‘Okay, okay. Don’t flip out on me, Counselor. I’ll drive you home and that’ll be that. I won’t see you different and we’ll pretend this didn’t happen and you don’t have to worry about how to ditch me in the courthouse when you see me coming. Is that what you want?’
She said nothing and stared at a spot on the floor.
‘Let me get dressed. We’ll hit a Mickey D’s for coffee and be on our merry, or not-so-merry, way.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I guess I’ll be needing my shirt back. That just sucks.’
She closed her eyes. What was happening to her? Who was this girl? She slipped the shirt off her shoulders and stood before him.
‘That’s mean … doing that to me,’ he said softly.
She dropped the shirt on the floor and opened her eyes. He was staring at her. She grabbed the Days Inn cup off the nightstand and took a swig of tequila.
‘I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it,’ she said. ‘I don’t know anything this morning. But, well, if you want your shirt back, you’re going to have to come here and get it, Detective. And you better hurry up before I change my mind …’