We were silent al the way to the station.
When he parked, I jumped down from the truck, wishing my slut shoes resided in perdition. He came around and grabbed my hand again and we walked into the station.
I’d never been to a police station in my life. It was cleaner than I expected it to be, it didn’t look like NYPD Blue at al .
He walked me through the hal s and took me to a room with lockers. He opened one, obviously his, pul ed out a flannel shirt and handed it to me. “Put that on.” It was a nice thing to do. It wasn’t only chil y but I didn’t wear my Smithie’s uniform anywhere but at Smithie’s and his shirt would cover me up.
I put his shirt on and it smel ed like him. It was then I thought the shirt wasn’t a good idea. Smel ing Eddie on Eddie was disturbing enough. Smel ing Eddie on me was too much of a good thing.
I didn’t have a chance to object. He took my hand again and walked me into another room, this one big, mostly dark and ful of desks. There was one guy working: typing on a computer. He looked up when we walked in and his eyes took in Eddie’s bloody t-shirt and knuckles.
“Tough night?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, not inviting further discourse.
The guy’s eyes moved to me.
“Looks like you won.”
Eddie didn’t reply and walked me over to a couch and turned to me.
“Wait here. I’l be five minutes.” Then he was gone.
I sat on the couch and the guy was watching me.
“There was a bit of a bar brawl,” I explained.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“It started for a good reason.” I don’t know why, but I decided to defend Eddie.
“Eddie start it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You the reason?”
I bit my lip then said, “Yes.”
“That’s a good enough reason.”
He turned back to work and I took the opportunity to fish the fifty from my cleavage. It was hard won. I should probably give it to Eddie for the trouble I caused him but I needed it too much. I put it in my wal et and then waited.
Then I waited some more.
Then I looked at the couch and decided it looked real y comfortable. So, for research purposes, I decided to check and see if it was comfortable. So, I stretched out on it and within minutes, I was dead asleep.
I woke up smel ing Eddie.
For a second I thought I was dreaming but I could feel the sunlight against my closed eyelids, so I opened them. I saw unfamiliar surroundings and shot bolt upright in bed.
I was in a queen-size bed that had plaid sheets and a denim covered comforter. There was a dresser with a mess of stuff on the top, hardwood floors with no rugs, mocha colored wal s with no pictures, one nightstand with an alarm clock, phone and some change on it. Then I saw, on the floor, my bright red mini-skirt, my purse and my slut shoes lying next to a pair of jeans, cowboy boots and a bloodstained white t-shirt.
“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and stared down at myself. I was wearing my black, cotton, bikini briefs, my Smithie’s camisole and Eddie’s flannel shirt.
I looked back at the alarm clock. It was 11:45.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I shouted and ran to my mini-skirt.
Not only was I super late for Fortnum’s, I hadn’t cal ed Mom. She would be worried sick. I’d left my cel phone in my apron (with my tips) and Smithie had taken them away.
I had to get to a phone immediately to let her know I was okay. Then I had to cal Indy. Then I had to cal a taxi. Then I had to get the hel out of there.
I pul ed on my mini-skirt trying not to think of how I got from the police station to Eddie’s house, to Eddie’s bed and out of some of my clothes. I looked back at the bed and saw that only one pil ow had a dent in it. I also saw that the other pil ow had a note on it. I ran to it, my skirt stil unzipped at the back, and snatched it off the pil ow.
Gone to work. When you get up, call me. And he left a phone number.
“Shit!”
I ran out of the room, my hands at my back to zip the skirt, I made it to the hal and crashed head-first into Eddie.
I flew backward a step, which would have been more if his hands hadn’t caught me.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I need to use your phone.” No greeting, no nothing. I was close to hysteria and Eddie must have sensed it because he made no comment, walked out of the hal and into the living room. I fol owed him, finishing the zip on my skirt. He grabbed a cordless phone and handed it to me.
I took it and bent my head over it immediately, wandering away from him and punching in the number to home.
Mom answered on the first ring.
“Mom?”
“Jet! My God, I’ve been worried sick.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No, I’m not, I’m worried sick. Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m safe. I’m sorry. I left my phone in my apron and things got a little strange at the club and I fel asleep at the police station.”
What was I saying? She didn’t need to know that, I’d give her another stroke.