“Except for the last time you needed to pee two hours ago when you said the same exact thing,” Ally replied, as I glanced in the rearview mirror. Vanessa whipped off her mask and chucked it at Ally, hitting her on the shoulder.
“Okay, guys,” I interrupted. “Get ready. Traffic is moving again, so we’ll be there soon. And these guys are douche bags.”
“Do they know you’re coming?” Vanessa asked.
“Unless Mr. Mateo told them, no.”
“Well,” Ally sighed. “This should be interesting.”
It’s two weeks after Clara’s first interview, on a Wednesday evening, and I’m sitting in front of the pimple committee, about to recount my past. “You seem nervous,” Ashley notes as Mills slips the tiny mic on the collar of my shirt.
“Do I?” I snort. “Done a lot of interviewing in your vast career of journalism? Who’s the last person you interviewed? The lunch lady? Covering the hot story of high calories in school lunches?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s not my interviewing experience that leads me to believe you’re nervous.”
“Oh, no? Then what makes you think I’m nervous?”
Raising one cocked brow, she sasses, “The sheen of sweat across your forehead. The way the light is hitting it, it’s almost blinding me.” The guys snicker.
I can’t help smiling slightly. For such a young girl, she sure is a smart-ass. “So . . . how does this work?”
“I ask a question, and you answer.”
“How’d Clara do?”
Ashley smiles sadly. “She did well. We covered a lot of hard . . . topics.”
“Oh, yeah?” I raise my brows, wondering what hard topics she spoke of.
I saw Clara just before I came in here for my part, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. She’d walked out mentioning she had some errands to run, which I knew was bullshit, and that she’d meet me later on at her house. Since I moved in, things have been a little . . . off. I thought maybe she was still feeling awkward about us falling asleep on the couch together. That would be my only guess as to why she’s been avoiding me. Neena had insisted on staying here with me but after a few minutes she got tired so Marcus took her back to Clara’s office so she could nap.
“Well, where do you want me to start?”
“How about . . .” Ashley taps a pencil against her chin as she answers, “The day she came back to Virginia and you discovered she was your new partner.”
I lean back in my chair, releasing a long breath. What a day that was.
“So, just start telling it?”
“Yep. I’ll stop you if I have any questions.”
We’d just gotten in from our last dive of the day. Marcus was waiting in the front with everyone’s checks. Bowman rushed in, grabbed his, and split with a wave to us all. He had a date that night and was in a rush. Sap moseyed in behind me, taking a long swig from his flask as he did. Without a word, he walked up to Marcus and offered it to him. Marcus took the flask and Sap took his check. Sap had worked here since my uncle began and ran the joint, and I imagined the old goat would never retire. He liked this shit too much. Marcus threw his head back and barely managed to choke down his sip before he began coughing and hacking.
“What the hell is it?” I asked.
“That’s some shine my cousin made,” Sap laughed as he slapped Marcus on the back a few times. His face had turned fire engine red.
“Maybe a little warning next time, you old bastard,” Marcus managed. “I thought it was bourbon.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to me. “Found this today. Looks like you have a new partner.”
I hadn’t heard from Richard in weeks, and last we’d spoke, he’d said he believed my potential co-owner of Sky High Skydiving was going to sell. “They decided not to sell?”
“The envelope was postmarked two weeks ago. Might have known if you’d open the damned mail once in a while.”
“I do the labor here,” I argued. “Not the paperwork. Besides, I thought you would do it once Dennis passed.”
“I’m an accountant/business advisor. Not a secretary.” Marcus had worked for my uncle for years before I did. He was a foster kid that had been bounced around from home to home. Supposedly, Marcus was an emotional kid. Growing up with his condition earned him a lot of unwanted attention and undeserved bullying. He’d come into my uncle’s office, begging for a free dive. When my uncle said no, Marcus returned that night and broke every window in the front office. This was Marcus’s second arrest and by all means, my uncle should have pressed charges. Instead, he adopted him. Dennis Falco was a man I respected on so many levels. He’d always treated me like his own son and helped my mother—his sister—when my father bailed. When my career ended as a stunt man, he’d welcomed me here with opened arms. Skydiving was an amazing rush; something I’d needed badly at the time. This was the perfect fit for me.
“Pretty sure the will stated you became secretary when he died,” I jested.
“Maybe we need to hire someone,” Marcus ignored my joke and continued yapping.