*
“We’re going to be late for work,” I said to Eddie’s throat when we were done and I was lying in his arms. His arms got tighter indicating we weren’t going anywhere. “Indy doesn’t care when you show up and everyone knows my girlfriend got shot last night. I don’t think they’l be expecting us first thing.”
There it was again, the g-word.
“Everyone knows?” What I meant was, everyone knew I was his… g-word.
“Cops talk. You’ve been the main topic of conversation since I got pul ed in after the bachelor party brawl.” Oh… dear… Lord.
I went up on my elbow, he rol ed to his back and I looked down on him.
“What do you mean, pul ed in after the bachelor party brawl?”
He was wearing his satisfied look and my bel y curled.
He tucked my hair behind my ear and then cupped my jaw, running his thumb across my bottom lip.
My bel y curl turned into a twist.
“They’re not exactly gonna give me a commendation for starting a fight and breakin’ some guy’s nose a few days before his wedding.”
I blinked, then I stared.
“You got in trouble?”
“Relax Chiquita,” he grinned and pul ed me down to him, “nothing came of it. The groom wasn’t fired up to tel his bride he’d got his nose broke because he put his hand down the shirt of a cocktail waitress at a strip joint. And Smithie didn’t push it, likely because of you.” I thought about Bachelor Number One, or The Bachelor, getting married with a big old swol en nose. That would be a serious bummer for the wedding photos.
I had to admit, I liked the thought, mainly because he was a jerk, even if I felt sorry for his bride (for a variety of reasons).
I couldn’t help it, a wedding photo appeared in my head and it made me smile. As my face was against Eddie’s chest, he felt it and kissed the top of my head.
Then I lost my smile as my thoughts drifted.
Eddie got into trouble at work for me. Eddie also paid for my car, which had to cost at least a thousand bucks, not to mention the coffee maker. Eddie was a cop. I figured cops probably did al right, money-wise, say, in comparison to bums like my Dad. They weren’t known to be bazil ionaires. And, last night, Eddie was supposed to be somewhere where something was “going down” but instead he was at the hospital with me.
Seriously, this could not go on.
I figured it was time to have a Jet Chat.
“Eddie?” I started.
“Shit, I thought I had your ‘Eddies’ down but that sounds like a new one,” he teased.
I ignored him.
I ignored him.
“I thought you had something going on last night.”
“I did.”
“Did it ‘go down’?” I asked.
His hand slid up my back and started to play with my hair.
“Heard the cal go over the radio, Indy’s got her own code, which shouldn’t surprise you. I knew you were with her so I blew out.”
I closed my eyes.
“I am a pain in the ass,” I whispered.
He pul ed gently on my hair and I looked up at him. He had his chin dipped, looking down at me. His face was mel ow yet serious. It was a new look and, just like any of his looks, I liked it.
“I was on a stake out, nothin’ was happening, it was becoming clear nothin’ was gonna happen and it was boring as hel . Although I would rather have come home to you jazzed like you were the other night, you didn’t interrupt anything.”
Wel , that was a relief.
I decided to hit on topic number two. I didn’t know how to broach it so I decided just to be direct. “You have to quit spending money on me.”
He rol ed me over to my back, his body mostly on me.
“Chiquita…”
“No, real y. I know you want me indebted to you but it’s getting ridiculous. The car was too much, the coffee maker…”
He started laughing. Not out and out but his body was moving with it.
I wasn’t sure what was so damn hilarious. According to Daisy, coffee makers were pretty serious and Daisy knew just about everything.
“What’s funny?” I asked, “No, wait. I’l tel you what’s not funny and this is not funny. I’m being serious.”
“You real y have a problem with that coffee maker, don’t you?” Eddie asked.
“Eddie—”
“Cállate, mi amor.” he said and there it was again. I could hear affection in his voice. I wasn’t ready for amused affection, not when we were discussing something as important as coffee makers.
“Don’t tel me to shut up,” I said to him.
His knuckles ran down my jaw and he looked into my eyes; his were stil ful of laughter. “I know you work hard for your money. But you should know that it means more to you than it probably means to me.”
“Money means a lot to everyone and I know you aren’t rol ing in it so you have to stop blowing it on me.” The laughter died out of his eyes.