“Are you seriously going to eat that?”
Kenji Kitsune looked down from his latest romance novel and at his heart attack waiting to happen — a greasy burger with extra cheese and an extra side of mayonnaise gushing from the other end of it so it plopped onto the wrapper with a thud. I swore I could hear the grease splatter on his messy desk.
His half-lidded eyes shifted over to me. The dark charcoal had a curious glint to it, but I had been working for Kitsune the last month, and I knew he would say exactly what was on his mind.
“Is there a problem?”
I could feel the beginning of a headache start.
“We already talked about this.” I made my way over his desk, my own takeout in hand. It was a salad, and even though I looked at the burger with slight envy knowing he’d consume that without putting on one fraction of fat, I couldn't give into temptation no matter how much I wanted to. “You are getting older —“
“Hey.”
“And you need to eat food that’s actually good for your body. Your metabolism isn’t going to keep burning off this fat, Kitsune. And let’s be honest, this burger has enough fat and sodium for the next three days. Do you really want to treat your body that way?”
“Is this where you tell me my body is a temple?” he muttered.
I dropped my bag on his desk. “Go on,” I said, waving to it. I settled my hands on my hips and gave him a smirk. I could always go back to Blossom Brews and grab another order if I needed to. If he would actually eat it, then I was all for it. “You know you want to.”
He placed a bookmark in his book and set it down on his messy desk—I made a mental note that I needed to tackle his desk after I finished vacuuming today—before tentatively moving the plastic with two fingers so he could peek into it and look at what I offered him. When he saw what it was, he looked back up at me, his gaze turning flat.
“You’re fired.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on.” I grabbed the styrofoam Coke and replaced it with a water bottle from the mini fridge. “You can’t keep firing me because I actually want you to be healthy.”
“You think I can’t tell when you give me sugar free coffee creamer?” he asked. “And let’s not talk about sneaking eggplant into my miso soup.”
“It’s the only healthy thing I know you’ll eat,” I said. “And anyway, I don’t know why you’re complaining so much about this. Your future wife will thank me. She gets to spend so many extra years with you and you get to be an old man with a six-pack and the stamina of a twenty-year-old.”
“I’ve never had any complaints about my stamina, thank you very much,” he said.
I nearly fell down. Instead, I brushed my pink hair behind my ears more quickly than I expected and accidentally scratched my cheek with a chipped nail. I added another note to get my nails done soon.
“That’s not…I don’t need…”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He smirked, leaning forward on his desk and crinkling what were probably important papers. “Want to know how I can tell? Your face gets all pink. Like your hair. That’s called detective work.”
“You’re getting fat, Kitsune, okay? I didn’t want to be the one to break it to you, but it’s the truth.”
Lie.
This was a lie.
He was surprisingly fit, packed with muscle on his lean frame. Probably in better shape than some guys I went to school with.
“When you lie, you get this wrinkle over your nose.” He tapped his own nose to make a point.
“Stop paying so much attention to me, would you?” I turned from his desk but not before I snatched my perfectly delicious salad away from him. “You’re missing out, you know. This is absolutely decadent. Unlike that burger made of-of grease.”
“You already said that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
He glared. “I’m going to ask Agatha to take you back,” he said. “I survived four weeks with you. I think I’ve reached my limit.”
“So dramatic,” I said. I took a sip of the Coke and gagged. I hated carbonation; it always bubbled into my nose and made me want to burp.
“Have you seen your face?”
“I’m sure Agatha will be pleased to have you back on the force,” I said, ignoring him again.
“I’m not going back to the force.” He shut that line of conversation down by leaning back in his chair and flipping open his book once again.
As much as I wanted to ask him why, to pepper him with questions, I didn’t want to push him. We were finally at a place where we could have actual conversations with just a few words. It had taken most of the last month but it was worth it. I knew he had a lot of things in his past that he hadn’t come to terms with, and I was still new in his life. I didn’t want to ruin that in any way, because I also knew that he wasn’t the type of person to let anyone in. I knew I wasn’t a friend, not yet, but I liked to think he trusted me at least.
I sighed, throwing away his soda before grabbing the bag of trash from his bin and tying it at the ends. I headed to the back, hips swaying slightly as I ensured I didn’t spill any juices from whatever was in here onto me or my blue sun dress.
When I stepped outside, I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of the dumpster nearby before tossing in the bag. At least the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and took away some of the rank smells.
I returned to the small office, wiping my hands and letting out a sigh. I rolled my shoulders back and headed to the supply closet to grab a bag to replace the one I just threw away.
“There you are, Pinkie,” a familiar voice said. “And here I thought you finally got tired of the old man and decided to get ready for summer vibes and good times.”
I glanced cooly at Detective George Richmond.
“Hey,” Kitsune repeated. “I have good times during the summer.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what your definition of good times is,” George said, eyeing the romance book with obvious distaste. “A bunch of us are going to The Pour House and you should come. Both of you.”
“Actually, I’ll be doing laundry and I don’t think I’m going to have time,” Kitsune said. “I have to take my dog on a walk.”
“You don’t even have a dog,” George pointed out.
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“I think I would know if I had a dog.”
“What about you, Pinkie?” George flashed me a grin that was supposed to be some kind of mixture between alluring and charming. “Can I finally buy you a drink?”
I pursed my lips, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t drink.”
“What?” George’s voice was flat.
“I don’t drink,” I said. I looked at Kitsune. “I’m being clear, aren’t I?”
“Crystal,” he agreed.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys are impossible,” he muttered. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m going to go. I’m going to have a good time. I deserve this.”
“Agatha riding you at the station?” Kitsune asked before flipping a page.
“Now that you mention it, I think if I got enough sake in her –”
“Ew,” I said. “That’s my aunt you’re talking about.”
“Not to mention the chief,” Kitsune added.
“You think I care?” George asked. “When she looks like that –”
“Can you please sick your imaginary dog on him?” I asked, turning my attention to Kitsune.
“You’re no fun,” George growled. He reached in his slack pocket and pulled out a toothpick before sticking it between his teeth. “And here I thought it’d be good for you to get away from this office and actually doing something productive, Pinkie.”
“Hey,” Kitsune said.
“We do do productive things,” I said, sticking up a finger. “We just solved the murder of the mayor –”
“That was, like, four weeks ago,” George said. “Do you know how many petty crimes we’ve had to deal with since then?”
“Has Agatha gotten so bored without me she’s considering jaywalking as petty crime now?” Kitsune’s lips curved up, but he still wasn’t smiling. His dark grey eyes crinkled with amusement.
“Don’t get cocky, Kitsune,” he sniped. “The paperwork is bad no matter what kind of crime it is and you know it. The fact that we have to rewrite everything if our grammar isn’t up to snuff –”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. I finally managed to walk the rest of the way to put in the new trash bag inside the can and headed to the restroom to wash my hands. Despite my annoyance with the detective, his presence allowed me to watch Kitsune interact more with other people which meant I could peek into who he was.
By the time I finished, George was talking to Kitsune who would grant a cursory nod without tearing his eyes away from the page.
“Ah, Pinkie, think about it, would you?” he asked.
“Who’s going?” Kitsune asked, though his eyes remained on the book.
“Why do you care?”
“Just want to make sure my terribly young and naïve assistant doesn’t fall into one of your traps.” He flipped the page. “It’s easy for you to say people are going only for her to turn up and discover that that isn’t actually the case, and she’s been duped into some awkward date.”
“You complicate things, you know that?” George said, wrinkling his nose. How he managed to speak without dropping the toothpick had to be some kind of talent. “If I want to ask her on a date, I’d just ask her on a date. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”
“It bothers me you haven’t answered the question,” I put in.
George heaved a sigh. “Well, since this old man has a curfew, it’d be me, a couple of my patrol officers, possibly Agatha herself. And you know if word gets out that Agatha is going, then I’m sure Jeremiah will be there, and, you know, the ball just starts rolling. I think Woodley’s going.”
“Woodley?” Kitsune perked his brow.
“Rick and Roxy,” George continued. “Poor bastard needs a break. People are hounding him to take part in that emergency re-election in June, but Rick’s never been into politics.” He glanced over at me. “So? What do you say? Your aunt might be there. You know no one can out-drink her, right? Every man who’s tried has passed out before her voice slurs. Rumor has it, the only person who ever came close was Jeremiah, but he finally waved his white flag too.”
“I think he let her win,” Kitsune said, flipping another page.
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
Kitsune gave me a long look but said nothing.
“Well?” George asked. “Just think about it, would you? At least drive your poor aunt. She might win drinking contests but she’s going to need some help getting home.”
“Oh, okay.”
He smirked before offering a blase wave and taking his leave.
I waited for the door to close and ring the telling bell before turning to Kitsune.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“About what?”
I swear.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to go?” I asked. “I’m not a bar kind of person, but I think I would like to meet friends that aren’t just poster children for adult-onset diabetes.”
“It’s cute you think I’m your friend.” Flip.
Jerk.
“I think I’m going to go,” I said.
I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. And judging by Kitsune’s stilted silence, he clearly didn’t think it was, but I didn’t care. It was about time I got to know my new home and make some friends.