“Now, I know he’s all up your ass—and by the way, I know it’s a juicy one to have,” he says lecherously. It’s most incestuous. “He’s never home. Every time I drive by, his car is never there. I’m sure he spends romantic nights at your place on Redondo Beach.” I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know where you live. You’re just a block away from the water.” A devious smile crests upon his face. “You must think you’re living the California dream. From the dirty East Coast projects to the Pacific beach. I get reports of his car being there nearly every night, which surprises me because he’s a workaholic. But I get the new * syndrome. It’ll pass.” Grease is dripping from his tone.
Detective Harrison stands and gathers his jacket as he’s prepared to leave.
My turn.
I bring my hand to my nose and snicker.
“You find something funny, young lady?” Harrison’s tone was extremely intimidating, but I wouldn’t give in.
“Yes. You’re far less impressive than Azmir describes you.”
He jolts his head back as to demand an explanation.
“Well, you’re very melodramatic. What man your age comes into a woman’s—virtually your daughter’s age—place of business, interfering in their daughter’s love life? Then you flash my receptionist you’re title to get back here. That must be misuse of your limited authority.” Now it’s Harrison’s turn to raise a brow. “Yes, limited. I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re investigating me, and quite inconclusively might I add. You have some nerve,” I end as he casually brushes past me towards the door.
With a grimacing expression he vows, “They’ll be married within a year. A year! And you...you’ll be left with the designer shoes he bought you and fucked you in your appreciation of.” He gives me that slick and wicked grin again, attempting to call my bluff. He goes for the door handle and retorts, “Sweetheart, you have seventy-two hours to take me up on my offer.” Another dramatic pause. “If you should choose not to, thinking I’m a fucking joke, tell Divine about our little chat today and get his take on my detailed investigation,” he murmurs too close to my ear before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.
I stood suspended in the same position for nearly ten minutes until I was paged over the inter-office P.A. system. I was trying to make sense of Detective Harrison’s surprise visit. I still felt the lingering his disgusting gritty presence in the air. That man was cunning, but I had a strong suspicion that he was also desperate.
Once the sessions with my afternoon clients were complete, I sat in my office finishing up charts, but struggled with keeping my focus from running over to the various things that Harrison said.
They’ll be married within a year...a year! I heard the echoes of his sentimentalities loud in my head.
Is that true? Azmir never gave me the impression that he had flights of fantasies to marry Tara. He told me she wasn’t suited for that level of commitment. Well, those were things he told me. How true it was, only he knew. But why would he lie?
Then he begged me to move in with him. To my knowledge and by way of his own admittance, they never lived together. And speaking of which, Harrison said that he had reports of Azmir’s car being parked at my place nights at a time. When he’s not being chauffeured by Ray, Azmir drives his Jeep Wrangler or his Range Rover. Rarely does he drives his cars. Which car is Harrison referring to?
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Harrison is not very much in touch with Azmir! First of all, he’s never spent nights at a time at my place. Secondly, I’ve been living with Azmir for nearly two months now and sleeping next to him every night unless he’s out of town on business. Yazmine is staying at my place and doesn’t have a car similar to any of Azmir’s. Harrison lied by manipulation.
My thoughts were interrupted by the office phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“That’s what I thought I’d hear say to you at least two hours ago. Where are you, little girl?” Azmir’s silky voice flowed through the phone, stammering my heart.
“Eh...hey, you,” I mustered as I looked for the time. It was nearly eight p.m. Geesh! Did I really let the time get that ahead of me?