“I’l give you five hundred dol ars to get back into bed.” My mouth dropped open and I didn’t say a word. There were no words to say.
“I’m absolutely serious. You get in bed and I’l give you five hundred dol ars. I’l go back to work. You rest, eat whatever’s in my fridge, watch TV, I don’t give a fuck. But you’re not going to work today. You’re not doing anything today.”
I could not believe my ears, mainly because it was unbelievable.
“I’m not taking your money and I’m not resting, I have things to do.”
“What things?”
“Things! Al right? Now back off.”
I put my hands to his chest and gave a shove.
He didn’t move.
Wonderful.
Wonderful.
I put my hands to my hips and glared at him.
“I have to go home.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t anything, just stared down at me with a set look.
I closed my eyes and took a mental breath.
“Do you know what I do for a living?” he asked.
I opened my eyes again so I could blink in confusion.
“Yeah. You’re a cop,” I answered.
“I’m a detective.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Jet, my job is to put two and two together and make four.”
“And?” I asked, not knowing what he was on about and thinking this was a strange turn in the conversation.
His eyes got warm, his hand came up and he tucked some hair behind my ear. When he was done doing that, his hand curled around the side of my neck.
“I just made four,” he said quietly.
I couldn’t get caught up in Eddie, his warm, dark eyes, his quiet voice or the fact that he’d just figured me out. I’d think about it later. My life was in turmoil, I needed to focus and I couldn’t focus around Eddie. It was impossible.
“Eddie, I need to get home,” I told him in a voice that said I meant it.
He looked at me for a beat. Then his thumb came away from my neck and stroked my cheek and he said, “I’l take you home.”
He walked across the room, grabbed my shoes and brought them to me. I sat back down on the bed and silently brought them to me. I sat back down on the bed and silently put them on. I snagged my purse from the floor. Eddie walked me out the backdoor, helped me into his truck and took me home.
Chapter Five
I Couldn’t Buy a Break
(Even if I had the money)
I saw the wrecker hooking up to my car when Eddie drove into the parking lot at my apartment building. Eddie saw it too.
I jumped down from the truck, wincing as my stil angry feet protested and looked at the wrecker. Eddie walked around to my side of the truck, his eyes on the wrecker.
Smithie’s friend was doing the tow, looking like he was wearing the same pair of filthy blue coveral s as yesterday.
He saw me and gave a smal wave. I waved back.
“You know him?” Eddie asked.
“That’s my car. I’m having slight car problems.” Eddie’s eyes moved to me. “Slight car problems require a jump. Serious car problems require a tow,” he said.
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to argue about it. I’d probably lose mainly because he was right and I was trying not to think about what serious car problems would mean.
I walked to the building and turned to stop at the front door. “Thanks for bringing me home,” I said to Eddie, making it clear that the front door was as far as he was going to go.
He looked at the doors, then at me, then his mouth turned up a little at the corners and he shook his head.
“Just Jet, my ass,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothin’.”
I heard him. I wasn’t going to argue about that either. It wasn’t as if I got held at knifepoint and was in bar brawls every day but I wasn’t going to point that out. Not a lot of girls would go out of their way to defend how boring they real y were, especial y not to guys like Eddie. Anyway, I’d gone that route and I didn’t win that battle either.
He took his wal et out of his back pocket and held a card out to me, putting the wal et back in his pocket.
“You need a lift, you cal me,” he said.
I didn’t take the card.
“I’l be okay.”
“Jet.”
“Seriously. I’l be okay.”
Al of a sudden, he took three steps forward, backing me into the corner of the overhang that shielded the front doors.
My back hit the wal , I stopped and Eddie came in close.
I looked up at him to protest and kept my silence when I saw his eyes al pissed off glittery.
“Someone offers to do something nice for you, you take
‘em up on it.”
“I’l be okay,” I repeated, kinda angry myself then too.
“I think it’s pretty clear you won’t be okay. You’re workin’
two jobs; one of them isn’t safe. You don’t have time to sleep. You don’t have a car. You’re taking care of your Mom who isn’t wel . Your Dad blows into town, cleans out your bank account and makes you the target of a thug. That’s not okay.”
“It’l get better,” I told him.
“When?”
“I don’t know but I have to believe that because if I don’t…”