“Drink this.”
Nina handed me the cup and I stared down into it and then blinked up at Nina. Is it Nina? Even my own hand circling the cup looked foreign to me and I dropped it, feeling the water splash against my ankles as I sped for the elevator. I mashed the CLOSE DOOR button and hung my head as the concerned and confused eyes of the demon Underworld bore into me.
I tore out of the elevator and ran with my head down through the police station vestibule, not wanting to be stopped. When I pushed outside the damp air caught in my throat and dripped down my cheeks. It was then I realized that I was crying.
I’m going crazy.
I doubled over and stared at the blacktop while I took in huge gulps of air. I was hiccupping and shivering, and I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stumbled until Alex reached out and steadied me.
“Hey, Lawson, are you all right? You took off like a shot from the elevator. Didn’t even stop when I called. Hey, are you crying?”
I sniffled, feeling the itch of my runny nose, and then threw myself against Alex’s chest, letting out a day’s worth of heaving cries. I felt him stiffen and then soften, his arms encircling me, one hand gingerly holding the back of my head, the other patting my back softly.
“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this.”
I snorted. “I don’t even know what this is. First you show up, and then Ophelia shows up. And then there’s maggots and my door and the mugging and you get stabbed, but you still look like”—I gestured to Alex’s perfectly sculpted chest and broad shoulders—“that and I look like, like crap.” I sniffled and used the back of my hand to wipe at my eyes, then winced when a starburst of pain set off through the bruise. “Ow!”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I dragged you into this.”
“I just”—hiccup, sniff—“want to be”—sniff, sniff—“normal. Or not normal. But not this in-between, my-butt-gets-kicked-and-stays-kicked human. And I want her out of my head.”
Alex pulled me forward, his lips laying feathery kisses across my forehead. “I am so, so sorry, Lawson. I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you.”
I cried myself to exhaustion in Alex’s office while he dialed Nina at the UDA and asked her to bring up my things. She rushed in, my coat and purse clutched in her pale hands.
“What happened? Are you okay? Did she come after you again?”
“I’m fine,” I whimpered. “My life is just a toilet bowl of despair and I look like a battered wife, but I’m fine. I just want to go home and take a nap.”
Nina smiled sympathetically. “Can I drive you?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. But can you cover for me?”
Nina’s sweet smile turned salacious and she popped a button on her blouse. “You mean distract Dixon until closing? You bet.”
I squeezed her hand. “I can always depend on you to be slutty when it counts.”
Nina gave me a military salute and sped back downstairs.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
I nodded again and Alex walked me to the parking lot. “I’m just going to wrap up a few things and then I’ll come over. I’ll pick up dinner and we can figure this out. Don’t answer the door to anyone and don’t answer the phone unless it’s me or Nina.”
I nodded robotically and started to turn, my head a heavy, foggy mess.
“Hey.” Alex took my hand, and I turned to stare at him, my eyes feeling like blank saucers. He kissed my palm and looked at me with kind eyes. “Be safe.”
I had just finished watching my third hour of Discovery Health and had diagnosed myself with sarcoidosis, Morton’s neuroma, and a mild case of dwarfism when there was a quick rap on the door, followed by someone trying the knob. My heart dropped into my stomach and my blood felt warm as I crept—keeping low to the ground—to the door. “Who is it?” I hissed, keeping my distance.
“It’s Alex.”
I raised one eyebrow and my hand hovered over the knob. “Are you sure?”
“Look, Lawson, I’m glad you’re taking my advice with the whole don’t-open-the-door thing, but it’s late and the grease from this takeout bag is eating through my sleeve.
“You brought Bambino’s?”
“Open the door.”
I pushed the door open a few inches and poked my nose toward the opening, sniffing cautiously. The overwhelming scent of garlic and oregano floated up to greet me and my mouth watered. I reached out and snatched the bag, examining it from every angle and sniffing like a patrolling bloodhound.
“Are you satisfied?” Alex asked, coming in and shutting the door behind him. “It’s dinner.”
I examined the dinner-plate-sized grease stain on the side of the bag. “It certainly looks like Bambino’s.”
“Lawson ...”