I stared.
“You think people wouldn’t pay good money to have a serial killer make them coffee?” he boomed.
He had a point. This was America, people would stand in line to touch the swastika on Charles Manson’s forehead.
I stomped to the back to get the mop to clean up the grounds. After I did that, I spelled Jane behind the counter. Tex cursed, banged, slammed and crashed through every cup of coffee he made, as if each creation had to be wrenched by force out of the seven thousand dollar machine. I tried to put this down to the fact that he was making coffee one-handed, due to the sling, but it took all my willpower not to put my hands to the sides of my head and scream bloody murder.
“What’d you…” Bang! “get up to last night?” Clank! Tex asked.
“Bar brawl…” Smash! “stunned-gunned a few people…” Kablam! “Lee caught some guy who jumped bond, then we came home.” Crash! I answered then asked, “You?”
“After doin’ the posters, the cats and me had a quiet night.” Bam!
The morning passed relatively normally, not counting Jane and I jumping every time Tex bashed the espresso machine or cursed (which was a lot). I spent the morning trying to decide where I should go to avoid Lee for the night, because, let’s face it, telling your girlfriend what to wear was bad enough, doing it in front of someone else was a serious transgression.
If he was anyone else, he’d have his walking orders. Since he was Lee, and he loved me, and he wanted (or, more to the point, was going) to marry me, I was willing to be pretty fucking angry for awhile and then carry a mean grudge.
I couldn’t stay with anyone I knew because Lee knew everyone I knew. This meant hotel, which was easy pickin’s. He’d probably get Brody to write some program to hack into the computer register of every hotel in Denver and find me in half an hour.
No, I needed to be clever. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that clever.
Around eleven thirty, Duke staggered in looking hungover because he was. Duke being hungover and Tex banging on the espresso machine was not a good combination, so, fifteen minutes later, Duke took off for some hair of the dog.
The coffee crowd was long gone and Tex snatched up the poster I’d pulled down and I watched him stalk outside with a staple gun to put it back on the pole. It was then I got a brilliant idea and followed him out.
“Hey Tex,” I said.
“What?” He stapled the semi-mutilated poster so many times it was going to have to wear off the pole.
“Would you mind if I crashed at your place tonight?” I asked.
“Don’t you have a place?”
“I can’t go to my place,” I told him.
“Doesn’t your boyfriend have a place?”
“His place isn’t an option.”
Tex stopped stapling and turned to me. He watched me for a couple of seconds, ciphering something in his head, came to a decision and then shrugged.
“You can share the couch with Tiddles, Winky and Flossy.”
“Thanks.”
I had to admit, I really liked sleeping with Lee. His body was comfy warm but strong and solid so I felt cozy and protected all at the same time. I didn’t think Tiddles, Winky and Flossy were going to have the same effect but it was just one night, I’d cope.
*
It was three o’clock and Duke hadn’t come back. Jane was off doing whatever Jane did when she wasn’t at Fortnum’s (I imagined her tapping away at an old electric typewriter like Angela Lansbury). I was sitting behind the book counter reading through a magazine someone had left behind and Tex was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, looking wild-eyed and frightening.
“This is boring,” Tex said.
I looked up from the extraordinary tale of the courage of a young man faced with a rare form of cancer and then looked back down without answering.
What could I say? It was boring.
“Do something,” Tex demanded.
I looked up again.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know, something. Isn’t it on someone’s schedule today to kidnap you and hold you hostage?”
Oh, dear Lord.
“All the bad guys are either dead or behind bars,” I told him.
“Bummer.”
Great.
The door opened and Mr. Kumar came in, behind him shuffled in scary, living-dead Mrs. Salim.
“We came to sell you back your book,” Mr. Kumar announced.
Double great. That triumph was short-lived.
“That’s cool, Mr. Kumar but I don’t buy them for as much as I sell them,” I told him.
Mr. Kumar nodded. “It’s like a rental.”
I looked at him.
I could live with that.
Mrs. Salim shuffled into the bowels of the bookstore.
“She wants another one,” Mr. Kumar said.
My day brightened.
“That’s cool too,” I told him.
“Hey, Kumar. You want coffee?” Tex called.
“Hello Tex! No, no coffee. I’ll take some tea, though.”
“No tea,” Tex said.
I turned my head and looked at the gazillion boxes of Celestial Seasonings lined up on shelves on the wall.