CHAPTER TWO

 

 

“It’s a very fast-paced job, being the lead investigative reporter. I’m responsible for bringing the latest breaking news to our readers, and I take my position very seriously,” says a low, sexy voice from the booth I’m approaching.

A stupid-sounding woman’s voice purrs, “Oh, wow. That is so fascinating.”

When I unwillingly glance up, I find Blake with some pretty brunette nearly on his lap, and they’re canoodling as well! He’s playing with her hair while she nuzzles his neck. Puke! I knew Blake was a total man-whore before we were together, but I never had to actually witness it.

I feel like this whole scene has screeched into slow motion—you know, so I can enjoy it longer. Kara, who is behind me, spots me staring at Blake and freezes. She lets out a loud gasp, causing Blake to notice us. To my chagrin, Melinda stops in front of me when Kara gasps. Stuck between them and the table behind me, I have nowhere to flee. Who knows what horrified expression is on my face right now, and even Blake seems taken aback for a moment.

Recovering quickly, he drawls, “Good evening, ladies.”

My friends are the best. They collectively glare at him, even Melody, who is the nicest person on earth. Melinda mutters, “Asshole,” under her breath. I can’t say a word.

Kara nods curtly. “Hello, Blake. Sorry we can’t stop to talk. Come on, girls.” She swiftly ushers us toward the empty booth.

I slide into the booth and collapse onto the table, my head thunking loudly against the tabletop. Instantly, I feel a few hands gently rubbing my back, and my friends begin telling me in soothing tones what a jackass Blake is. I’m a little catatonic at this point, but I feel the girls haul me up into a sitting position and shove a drink in my hand. I dutifully take a gulp, the cocktail searing my throat all the way down. Yikes. They must have ordered me a double.

Finally gathering myself enough to speak, I croak, “That was horrifying.”

“I know, you poor thing,” Kara says, patting my hand.

“We could go back downstairs,” says Melody.

I exclaim, “No! I don’t want to have to walk back past…that.”

Melinda shrugs. “I say you go find some hot guy and dry hump him right on top of Blake’s table.”

We all gape at her in shock, then collectively burst out laughing. There’s nothing like a little support from your girlfriends to make you feel better.

Wiping my eyes (laughing tears, not crying tears), I say, “I’m going to the restroom to fix my face. Thanks, girls.”

As I hop up from the table, my ankle makes its displeasure known by sending a shooting pain nearly up to my knee. I hobble into the restroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m a little disheveled from dancing and wallowing in my self-pity, but other than that I look decent. I splash some cold water on my face and get out my makeup bag to do a little touch-up work. I drop my lipstick, and upon bending down to pick it up, another wave of pain engulfs my ankle, this time very intense.

“Ow! Son of a bitch!”

As I’m rubbing my aching ankle, a woman exits her stall. It’s my chiropractor, of all people, Dr. Lydia Thomas. I’ve only been to her twice, but I absolutely love her. She’s new in town and trying to build her business. I’m sure it won’t take her long once word gets around how caring and attentive she is to her patients. Through her easy demeanor, she got me to talk about my work and my personal life at my last appointment, which is something I normally wouldn’t do with a stranger.

I smile. “Hey, Dr. Thomas!”

Dr. Thomas’s brow furrows for a moment, then she breaks into a smile. “Lizzie Hart, right?”

“Yes. I’m impressed you remember.”

“How is the ankle? I saw you holding it just now.”

I shrug. “I think I’m not taking care of it as well as I should.”

She nicely admonishes, “Maybe it’s the heels.”

“They certainly aren’t helping.”

“Why don’t you come by my office tomorrow and we’ll see what we can do for you?”

How nice is that? “That would be great. Thanks.”

She quickly finishes washing her hands and heads toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Lizzie.”

See? That’s what I love about living in a small town. People take the time to get to know each other. And there aren’t many doctors around who would be kind enough to schedule appointments in the ladies’ room! I swipe some powder on my face and re-apply my lipstick. There. Not totally tragic.

On my way back to the table, I notice Dr. Thomas doing a little canoodling of her own with a nice-looking guy. Good for her. As I get closer, I get a better look at her guy and realize I know him. That’s Jason Harris. I went to high school with him…and his wife! Oh, snap. This is not good.

I wonder if Dr. Thomas knows Jason’s married. Not only that, he and his wife, Kim, have a new baby. I know this because Julia dragged me over to their house a couple of weeks ago to visit Kim and the baby. Julia has babies on the brain and has been reconnecting lately with old friends who have new babies. I found it excruciating to talk about diapers, breastfeeding, and whatever the hell “onesies” are, but Julia was happy, so I kept my mouth shut.

I also wonder if Kim knows Jason is stepping out on her. She didn’t say anything that would make me think so when we visited her. Realizing I’m still staring at Jason and Dr. Thomas, I quickly hide my face behind my purse and make a beeline for my friends. I’m not getting myself messed up in anyone else’s dating drama, that’s for sure.

Melody smiles at me. “You look refreshed.”

“I’m much better, thanks. I found a little something to take my mind off my problems.”

“What’s that?” Kara asks.

“Do you guys know Jason Harris?”

They all shake their heads.

“Anyway, he’s married, and he’s here.”

“So?” Melinda shrugs, unimpressed.

“But he’s not here with his wife!” Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to get myself messed up in someone else’s drama, but I didn’t say I wasn’t going to gossip about it.

Melody says, “Not the best idea to cheat on your wife at a packed club. He probably thought he was safe by going this far away from home, but half of Liberty is here tonight.”

“No kidding,” I agree, getting out my phone to text Julia the juicy gossip. She’s probably fast asleep by now, but I have to tell someone who knows the players in this little game.

“So are we done here?” Melinda asks. “This place is way too trendy for me.”

Kara giggles. “Yeah, me too. Lizzie, I assume you’ve had enough of this place.”

I nod my head. “Put me out of my misery. Only let’s go around the long way so we do NOT go back past a certain booth.”

***

The next morning at work, Julia comes straight for my desk when she arrives. She exclaims, “Holy shit! Jason is cheating on Kim? That’s horrible! I would kill him if I were in her shoes.”

“Whoa, there, mama. No murder talk, remember?”

“I feel so bad for Kim. We’ve gotten really close lately,” she says, hormonal tears springing to her eyes. “Can you imagine having a new baby and having to deal with a cheating husband?”

Shrugging, I say, “Maybe she doesn’t know.”

“We have to tell her!”

I hold up my hands. “Oh, no. You leave me out of this. I’m not really even friends with her. This is so not my problem.”

“Who was he with?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to run the new chiropractor’s name through the mud around here before she has a chance to establish her own reputation. Maybe Dr. Thomas has no idea he’s married. Who knows? Guys will say practically anything to get into a girl’s pants.

Deciding to protect the possibly innocent, I reply, “Some redhead.” There. Totally true, just not totally specific.

“Homewrecking bitch,” Julia mutters. She asks, “You’d want to know if your guy were cheating, right?”

I take a moment to consider it. Hmm. I would really like to be able to un-see Blake and his slutty date from last night, and we’ve been broken up for six months. If I were with someone, I honestly don’t know if I’d want to know.

I reply uncertainly, “Ignorance is bliss, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be married. It changes everything.”

Her comment rubs the single girl in me the wrong way. “I was just sharing a tidbit of gossip with you, and now it’s a huge deal. Do what you think you have to do and leave me the hell out of it.”

Julia huffs, “Fine,” and stomps away from my desk. Ugh. That was excruciating. Her hormones are getting a little out of control lately.

Speaking of excruciating, Blake steps in the door, late as usual. He smirks at me as he passes, and I respond by flipping my hair and turning my head away from him. He can be such a smug asshole sometimes.

No sooner than my back is turned, I feel a rush of icy, wet liquid hit my upper back and slide all the way down, getting stuck in the seat of my chair and forming a giant puddle directly under my ass. I am soaked from the shoulders down.

“AAAUUUGH!” I scream, in shock and mad as hell.

I wheel around to face my assailant, stringing together a series of nonsensical expletives as I go. As expected, I find Bethany, doing her bug-eyed stare at me and grinning from ear to ear, empty thirty-two ounce cup in hand. The room becomes deadly silent.

“I must have tripped…again.” She smirks evilly at me.

I’ve had enough. I lunge at her, but two strong hands clamp onto my arms from behind, and I can’t get free to claw Bethany’s eyes out.

“Let go,” I complain, unable to see who is holding me back.

Blake’s voice whispers in my ear, “Cool it. Sloane’s coming.”

Are you freaking kidding me? Blake is the one who’s keeping me from popping Bethany in her ugly face? I think I hate him more than ever.

Blake releases me and steps back as Sloane marches over to us. Sloan shouts, “I should have known! You two again! What do I have to do to get it through your thick heads that this is unacceptable office behavior?”

Trying to pull a sad face, Bethany says, “It was an accident.”

I say, “Oh, bullsh—”

Blake interrupts me. “Wait, Sloane, I saw the whole thing. Hart was just sitting at her desk. McCool came by and purposely dumped a drink all over her.”

Bethany’s eyes bug out more. “He’s lying. I didn’t—”

Regarding her warily, Sloane barks, “You were getting back at her for the donut yesterday.” Which was not my fault. Damn Hank. He is so lucky he’s mega-late this morning, or else I might be inclined to throw him under the bus. I’m staying out of this one, though. Sloane’s got it covered. He turns to me. “You, go home and get changed. Bethany, clean up this mess. I better not hear a peep out of either of you the rest of the day!”

I have to tiptoe through squishy carpet to get to my purse. Bethany is going to have a hell of a time getting thirty-two ounces of wet, sticky soft drink out of my chair and the carpet. When I head for the door, I find Blake still standing there looking at me. Unnerved by his gaze, I stop dead in my tracks.

I really don’t want to have to thank him for sticking up for me, but I probably should. As much as I hate to admit it, it was kind of nice, like the old days when he would swoop in and rescue me whenever my temper was about to get me into trouble. I get an odd little warm feeling inside, thinking about those happier times, but I quickly squash it. After what’s happened between us, I don’t think our relationship can be mended. More than anything, I miss his friendship, but I’ll be damned if I’ll ever tell him that.

“Thanks,” I say rigidly, stepping around him.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

That was awkward. I wonder why he stood up for me. Did he feel sorry for me after last night? Did he do it out of habit? Surely not—it’s been so long. Who the hell knows? I’m just going to chalk it up to me not being able to understand men. Ever.

I head for my car, grabbing an old towel out of my trunk so my soaking wet clothes don’t get my seats wet. I finally got around to replacing my car after it was bombed a while back, and I certainly don’t want to ruin the new interior. I get in and head for home, squirming as my wet underwear squishes under my ass. I’m still lost in thought about Blake and realize too late that I’ve blown through a stop sign. Oops. Oh, well, there was no one coming. No harm, I guess.

Guess again. I hear the unmistakable chirp of a police siren and glance in my rearview mirror to find an unmarked Crown Victoria behind me with a flashing gumball light. Fan-freaking-tastic. Now I’ll have to sit here longer in my cold, wet panties. Grrr.

A fine-looking plainclothes cop taps on my window with his badge. I quickly compose myself and put on a sweet smile before rolling down my window. This guy is one adorable man. He seems imposing with his manly beard and the muscles I can see under his clothing, but his face has a boyish charm. Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind him cuffing me.

“Good morning, officer.”

“Good morning, ma’am.” Ooh. He has a sexy voice. “Detective Brody Callahan.” Ooh. He has a sexy name, too. “Did you see that stop sign back there?”

“Back there?” I ask, widening my eyes. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I guess I must have missed it.” I lean closer, looking up at him through my eyelashes. The sooner I can get out of this ticket, the sooner I can change clothes. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

His piercing blue eyes unwavering, he says, “I’ve heard that one before. License and registration, please.”

Damn it.

I hand over my license and registration and wait impatiently while Detective Callahan takes his dear sweet time going back to his car to write my ticket. If he’s a “detective”, shouldn’t he be out detecting, and not playing traffic cop? I shudder as a cold droplet of soda slides down my back. If I don’t get out of these wet clothes soon, my skin is going to get all pruney.

After a few minutes, Detective Callahan walks slowly back to my car and hands me my identification, along with a big fat ticket. His mouth twitching, he says, “I didn’t realize I’d have the honor of giving the infamous Lizzie Hart a ticket today.”

Shit. Every cop in town knows me and my crazy story. I often wonder if I’m the precinct’s favorite topic of discussion over donuts every morning. I was knee-deep in their investigation of my old boss, Sarah, which they weren’t too happy about. A couple of months after that, I kind of stumbled into being the victim again, and this time the killer was one of their own—Detective Sanchez. I’m pretty sure the department associates me with the black eye they got for that. It totally wasn’t my fault, but still I think I’m a reminder of the whole debacle.

I tense, trying to plaster on a smile, but it’s not working. I just hope I’m not sneering at him. I really don’t like talking to cops, even cute ones.

He runs a hand through his sandy hair and says thoughtfully, “You aren’t the way I pictured you.”

I frown. Does he mean that in a good way or a bad way? I bite out, “And how did you picture me?”

“Crazier. Not as…pretty.” Was that a slam or a compliment? Or both? I don’t think I like this guy.

“So am I good to go?” I ask, now uncomfortable both physically and emotionally.

“Yep,” he says. “You have a nice day now, Ms. Hart.”

Fat chance of that happening, pal. I’ve already had about as much drama as I can stand today, and it’s not even ten AM. I mumble an unenthusiastic, “Thanks,” and head for home.

***

I arrive back at work, freshly showered and changed. Feeling much better, I compose myself and walk through the back entrance. I’m not about to come in through the front and have to pass by Bethany’s desk. It seems she’s finished cleaning the carpet, and there is a different chair sitting at my desk, likely because mine is still too damp to use. I cautiously test it before sitting down, just in case. I could just see Bethany loosening a couple of screws so the chair would fall apart when I put weight on it.

Fairly confident she hasn’t booby-trapped my chair, I sit down and get to work. My first order of business is to write a nasty email to Hank. It goes a little something like this: Dear Bastard, Did you hear about my morning? McUncool emptied an entire Big Gulp down my back, so I had to go home and change. Oh, and on my way I got a ticket for running a stop sign, because I was a little preoccupied by the fact that my butt cheeks were starting to stick together from their Dr. Pepper bath. This is on you, you big ass. Your Friend, Lizzie.

I hit the send button, and after a moment I see Hank snorting coffee out of his nose and cackling. He ends up coughing and his eyes start watering, but he’s still doubled over laughing.

Hank looks over at me and chortles, “I can’t believe I missed that shitstorm. Damn dentist appointment. You’re a hoot, Lizzie.”

“I’m happy to be here for your entertainment,” I retort sourly.

***

The rest of my morning is largely uneventful, until Julia comes over to my desk nervously and asks, “Will you do me a huge favor?”

“Maybe,” I reply warily, remembering our earlier conversation.

She begs, “Will you please come to Kim’s house with me?”

“No.” The last time I went over to Kim’s I nearly died of boredom.

“Come on, Lizzie! Please?”

“Are you going there to tell her that Jason cheated?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, my answer is hell no.”

“Why not?” she whines.

“Because Kim is kind of a bitch on a good day, and I don’t want to be there when you tell her the bad news.” I was always better friends with Jason than Kim, anyway.

“She’s not a bitch. She’s really nice, but I’m afraid she won’t believe me if she doesn’t hear it straight from you. Tell you what—just drive over there with me and wait in the car. If I need you, I’ll come and get you. If not, you’re off the hook. Please? Because you’re my best friend and I really need you?”

Always a sucker for the “best friend” card, I smile and shake my head. “Fine. But I’m not getting out of the car.”

***

When we get to Kim and Jason’s house, Kim is just heading in the front door, baby in tow.

As she pulls up in the driveway, Julia rolls down her window and shouts, “Hey, Kim!”

Kim turns and waves at her, unfortunately spotting me and waving at me as well. Damn. Now I can’t wait in the car. Julia gets out to follows Kim inside the house while I dawdle, pretending to look for something in my purse. I finally haul myself out of my car. Suddenly, I hear frantic screaming from inside Kim’s house. I race for the door, my heart pounding.

Upon bursting into the house, I find that Julia, Kim, and Kim’s baby are all in hysterics. It’s deafening in here. Grabbing Julia’s arm, I yell, “What’s going on?”

Tears streaming down her face, Julia gestures across the room to the couch. She chokes out, “Jason—”

I look to where Julia is pointing. In all the commotion I didn’t notice Jason sitting there. When I take a good look at him, my heart stops. He’s dead.