“What’s wrong, don’t like someone venturing into your territory?”
“I’m a team player, Jax. All the way.”
“As long as it’s your way.”
That hurt. “Thanks, Jax. Appreciate the love.”
Her friend didn’t allow herself to get pulled into her ‘poor me’ party. “You’re saying he’s not a team player?”
“That’s what I’m saying. You know how important trust is between partners. I’ve got to know he’ll back me up. I can’t trust that he will.”
“Trust’s a two-way street.”
“I’ve given him plenty of reasons to trust me. It’s his fault the Nova’s near death. I had to sacrifice the car to save him after he made a bone-headed, cowboy move.”
“And you’ve never screwed up?”
“Again, that’s not what I’m saying.” Frustrated, she snatched up her glass and carried it to the counter. “I thought you’d at least try to understand.”
“I am. But I also seem to remember you complaining about Carmine at first.”
“I did not.”
Jacqui laughed softly. “He’s like a bull in a china shop,” she mimicked. “The man moves at a turtle’s pace. I have to keep circling back. It’s so annoying!”
Micki grimaced, remembering those complaints—and more. “Thanks for taking my side.”
“I didn’t know we were taking sides.” Jacqui searched her gaze. “What aren’t you telling me, Micki?”
“Nothing, I—” She looked away, then back at her friend. “Do you think I’m too rigid?”
“In what way?”
“My thinking. About the world. How it’s supposed to work.”
“You’re strong in your beliefs. What you expect from others. And yourself. In what’s right and what’s—”
“Wrong,” Micki finished for her again, thinking of Zach’s shades of gray. “I’m a black and white girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jacqui frowned. “Why? Does this have something to do with the new partner?”
“Nah, just hormones.”
They turned at the sound of small footsteps. Little Alexander, face creased from sleep, hair a mass of wild, light brown curls.
He caught sight of her and squealed in delight. “Auntie Mouse!”
He came running and she scooped him up in her arms. Before Alexander, she hadn’t gotten the whole kid thing. How seemingly grounded adults could be so gaga over them.
She got it now.
Micki stayed another hour, until he’d been fed. She and Jacqui didn’t talk about Micki’s partner issues again, instead focusing their attention on Alexander.
Her friend walked her to the door. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll figure it out. No worries.”
“Trust’s a two-way street, Micki. Don’t forget that.”
She nodded, stepped out of the apartment, then turned back. “Jax?”
“What?”
She opened her mouth to tell her she loved her, that she and Alexander were the most important people in her life. That she didn’t know what she would do without them. Instead she said, “Thanks, I needed this.”
“I know.” Jacqui smiled. “Love you, too.”
Micki walked away. Reached the sedan, climbed in. And sat. Lost in thought. Ending this visit the way she had begun it.
Black and white. Black plus white.
Shades of gray.
They existed. It was all possible. She started the engine, thinking suddenly of Alexander. Black and white. And the beautiful shade that had been created by mixing them.
She shook her head, shifted into drive. Face the truth, she thought. As scary-crazy as it seemed to be.
Starting now.
Chapter Thirty-four
Tuesday, July 16
5:55 P.M.
Micki turned onto her Riverbend neighborhood block. Despite the heat, several of her neighbors lounged on their front porches or steps. They smiled and waved, grateful to have a cop living on their street. More than one, actually. Her friend and fellow detective Stacy Killian lived a block over. She’d known Micki was house shopping and had called her the moment the sign had gone up.
The Riverbend area nestled in the Uptown bend of the Mississippi River, on one of the city’s ridges. Natural high ground, it hadn’t flooded in Katrina, which had begun a neighborhood transformation. Pockets of ramshackle rentals had been snapped up by young professionals, then renovated. She had been damn lucky to snag it.
Hers was a century-old, shotgun-style, in-the-process-of-being-restored money pit. But like the Nova, Micki loved it.
Zach, she knew, was waiting for her there. No special powers needed; he had texted her.
At your place. We need to talk.
Yes, she supposed they did.
His P.O.S. was parked in front; she pulled her nearly identical P.O.S. into her narrow gravel drive. He sat on her small front porch, on the top step, shaded by the crepe myrtle tree. The neighborhood stray tiger cat sat beside him, like an orange and white sphinx.
She climbed out the car and crossed to the steps. “How’d you get my address?”
“Sue.”
“Figures. She has the hots for you.”
“I know.”