Yeah, that was Tabby. Now, instead of the vivacious redhead, a raven haired woman with slightly drawn cheekbones looked up at me. Her normally creamy pale skin was bordering on sickly white, and she looked cadaverous. I realized I had gotten so busy over the past two weeks that even when she stopped by the office, I'd not looked at her as closely as I should have, and was put off by her bluff and bluster. The hair was new though, I was sure of that.
"Hey Sophie," Tabby said, trying to give me a smile. It didn't work, and looked more like a grimace of pain than a genuine smile. "What's up?"
"It doesn't matter," I said, coming over and closing her laptop. "You're coming with me, now."
"But I have a ton of work....." Tabby said before I cut her off. I seemed to be doing that a lot recently.
"Nothing that won't keep for a day, since I control eighty percent of your workload anyway," I said, taking her by the hand. "You're sitting here looking more like the Bride of Dracula than the woman who means most to my life, so we're getting out of here. If you insist, I'll bring your laptop with me, but you're not opening it until tomorrow morning, and then only at my house. You can send your bosses a note saying that Marcus and I got you up at six in the morning for a business meeting or some other sort of lie. I'll back you up on it."
Tabby looked like she was about to protest again, when I played my best weapon. Taking her other hand, I looked her in the eyes and smiled. "Come on, it'll be fun. Just the two of us."
It was obvious that she needed me. For all of Tabby’s playful flirting, and underneath that sex kitten exterior that she likes to put on, she has a deep romantic streak. She wanted more than anything to find someone that she could give her heart to, to share her soul with. And yes, someone who could keep up in bed with her. You think someone who studied for her freshman psychology final by listening to Bryan Adams ballads doesn't have a romantic streak?
"I guess I have been a bit too focused on work," she said, resting her head on my shoulder. She felt feather light, and I wondered if the ten pounds of weight loss was more. "I just haven't been able to sleep well."
"Even in your new place?" I asked. After Scott Pressman had broken her heart, she hadn't felt safe in her old apartment, so Mark and I had helped her move into a better place, one with security and no criminal control. Mark had also surreptitiously placed extra security measures that only the three of us knew about and made her apartment just about one of the most secure places in the entire city.
"Yes," Tabby said, lifting her head. "I just... I can't fall asleep without thinking he's going to be there. I know Mark took care of him, but still, it's hard."
"Then tonight you come home with me," I said. "We're watching The Crow, and if you haven't gotten sleepy after that, I'm soaking you in my bathtub until you feel like nothing but silly putty. Oh, that and we're both stuffing our faces and having a girl's night. If Mark comes home in the middle of it, well, he can be our man servant and paint our toenails or something."
For the first time, I saw Tabby smile, even if faintly. "You boss him around like that, huh?"
I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Not quite, but I can get away with it sometimes. When it's important. He's a pretty good sport like that."
"Deal," Tabby said, letting go of me to pack her bag. "So what's got you two out so late anyway?"
"Big plans," I said. "I'll tell you about them at home."
I led Tabby down to the parking lot where she saw as I put my hand inside my purse as I walked. It was one of the little tricks Mark had taught me. "What's in there, anyway?" Tabby asked after she had gotten into the passenger seat of my Jaguar. "Don't tell me you're carrying."
I sat down in the driver's seat and started the engine, which growled with muted power. "Not unless I plan on using it," I said, "but it sometimes pays to look like I am, even if I’m not. Here, take a look."
I handed over my bag and backed out while Tabby rooted through my little purse, which contained nothing more than my Sophie Warbird driver's license, a box of Tic-Tacs, my phone, and seventy three dollars in bills. "No credit card even?" Tabby asked.
"The phone's got a chip built into it, I can use it as a credit card or even access a Paypal account if I want to," I said. "But as you can clearly see, no 007 Walter PPK or even a knife in there."
Tabby relaxed and chuckled, closing my purse and setting it on the floor between her legs. "You know, I should get you to give me a ride in this thing more often. You know I took the light rail to work today?"
"No, but I'm not surprised," I said. "Your place is less than two blocks from a station, and there's a station a block from here. It's gotta be cheaper than a car."
"It is, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the luxury of Italian leather seats," Tabby replied, leaning back and closing her eyes.