THIS TIME I was the one waiting on Chris first thing in the morning with a coffee in my hand. Well, two, actually—one for each of us. It was a joke—I’d thrown away every coffee he’d ever tried to give me—but it was also a guilt offering. I figured I owed him.
I parked my car next to his and waited, hoping today wasn’t the day he planned to stay home and clean the apartment or watch a movie marathon or do an all-day physical therapy blitz. Nah. I knew him too well. He was a restless type. Always sniffing out a case or punching a heavy bag . . . or following me around. Well. In the old days, following me around. Not so much anymore.
I sipped my coffee until it was gone, ignoring the unending stream of overplayed pop songs on the radio and anxiously bouncing my knee against the center console of my car. I was eager to get going; I couldn’t wait on him forever. The old Nikki wouldn’t have waited on him at all. The old Nikki wouldn’t have even considered letting him in on her plans.
The old Nikki didn’t watch him bounce off the hood of a Monte Carlo.
Albany. Why did the Monte Carlo make me think of Albany?
Just as I was deciding I’d been patient enough, and was about to go lean on his apartment buzzer until he got his limpy ass up off the couch, the front door opened and he came out. Limping, yes, but only slightly. And completely without his cane. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that advertised his gym. I had been so worried about his legs, I hadn’t noticed how muscular his arms had gotten during physical therapy. The T-shirt sleeves strained against his biceps.
He was almost all the way to his car before he noticed me. He faltered a step, and then went back to his stride, maybe even looking a little more purposeful than before. I got out of my car and held up the full coffee.
“It’s a little cold. I’ve been waiting for a while,” I said. “But I didn’t drink it. So there’s a plus.”
He looked at the coffee, and then I saw the corners of his mouth twitch up a little. “It’s about time you did the buying,” he said.
“You remember.”
He nodded, took the coffee, tipped it up, made a face. “A little cold? It’s like ice.”
I shrugged. “It’s warm outside anyway. Beggars can’t be choosers, you know.”
“I wasn’t begging.”
“Then stop being so choosy.”
I let the car door shut and leaned against it. He was right, though. In all our time together, Chris had never asked anything of me other than to be honest, and to let him protect me. So far I’d done a shit job of both. Which was why I was here in the first place. I wasn’t quite sure what had shifted between us, but I knew I had to do a better job of letting him in. Not so he could save me; so I could save myself.
He turned so he was leaning against the car next to me, his elbow lightly brushing my arm as he lifted his cup for a sip. “This is the second time you’ve just shown up. You trying to make some kind of statement, or are you just checking up on me?”
“I’m not checking up on you,” I snapped, but actually, I hadn’t realized it until just that moment, maybe I kind of was. I adopted an aloof tone, to try to play it off. “Besides, if I was, it would be fair payback, don’t you think? You’ve checked on me until I wanted to jump off a bridge just to get rid of you, if I wasn’t afraid you’d follow me down.”
He winced. “Ouch.”
“Just a joke,” I mumbled, still feeling awkward. I hated having to explain my feelings. Gross. “Actually, it is kind of a new thing. I know you don’t remember much, but we were kind of working as a team. I’m used to you, is all. You’re like a . . . purse. Or a pair of shoes that I’ve broken in.”
“I’m remembering more every day, just like they said I would,” he said, ignoring the last. He set the coffee on the hood of my car and crossed his arms, staring intensely at the asphalt while he talked. “This morning, out of nowhere, I remembered doing some kind of photo shoot with you. And I remember being in a warehouse with you, and a safe full of cash.” His brow furrowed. “And I remember you wearing a sexy black formal, but I don’t know why.”
I felt my face blush at the word sexy, the gravel around our feet rippling with violet. “Estate auction,” I said. “Same one where I bought the painting. We were looking for the cane that killed Peyton.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. I think I remember that, too. You dropped the painting in the parking lot.”
“Sort of.” I hesitated, but then decided to go on. “I dropped it when Jones tried to run us over.”
“And he’s the one who owned the truck Luna got away in.”
“Right. But he definitely wasn’t the one driving. She was using him,” I said. “Which is why it’s so important to me to find her now. If she’s using my own people against me, who knows what she’s capable of?” I thought of poor Jones, crumpling to the floor in Tesori Antico. “And she needs to pay for what she’s done. I want this to be over. She should be in prison.”
He nodded again, turning back to the asphalt, deep in thought. “So why are you here this morning, then?”
Albany.
What was it about Albany?
I took a breath. “So listen, the notepad I found in the truck.”
He shook his head, stopping me. “You don’t even know if it belonged to her.”
“But I don’t know that it didn’t.”
“There was nothing on it.”
I pushed away from the car and faced him. “Just hear me out, okay? You told me to never give up on evidence. You said sometimes you have to ask the same questions over and over again until you have answers. So I’m looking for answers. It’s the only thing I could find, Chris. I have to start somewhere.”
He sighed, picked up his coffee again. “So tell me about it.”
I started to pace in front of him. “There were indentations from things that were written on the notepad before. Most of it was a jumble of nothing that I could make sense of. But there was one thing that I could read. Celeste Day.”
“What is that?”
“Not a what. A who. She’s an actress. She’s from New York. . . .” Albany. Eggplant. Familiar eggplant. “But she lives here in L.A. She’s shooting a horror movie over at Pear Magic Studio right now.”
He looked lost. “Connect the dots here, Nikki.”
“I don’t know how they connect. I don’t even know if they connect at all. But I’m thinking if I can find Celeste Day, maybe I can find Luna.”
“Seems like a long shot.”
I stopped, let my shoulders sag. “It’s the only shot I have.”
“Okay,” he said, switching his coffee to the other hand so he could dig in his pocket for car keys. “So what’s the plan? I know you have one. You always have one.”
Relief flooded me. It felt like the old Chris was coming through. I could even see sparks of yellow fizz off him when I stared hard enough. “I’m going to Pear Magic.”
“And you’ll get in, how?”
“I’ll figure that out when I get there. It’s not difficult.”
“For you, I believe that. So what’s my part in this?”
“Go with me,” I said, sheepish, and pissed off because I sounded sheepish. I squared my jaw. “I might have to move quickly, and four hands are better than two.” He rolled his eyes and started to talk. I knew he was about to protest, so I interrupted him, placing my hand on his arm.
Ignore the rainbow. Ignore the violet stripe. Ignore the colors.
“You don’t have to do anything until it’s safe. I won’t jeopardize your job, I promise. Everything will be on the up-and-up. And if it’s not, I’ll take the heat.”
“I don’t know. I’m just getting back into—”
“Please? Chris? I need you.” My whole body burned with furious humiliation. I didn’t need anyone. I prided myself on that. So why was I being such a needy sap now?
Because you do need him, Nikki. Because you’ve always needed him, even when you weren’t willing to admit it. And because he was always there when he was needed.
Albany. Something about Albany.
What the hell?
He stared into my eyes for a long time, and I could see him soften. The old Chris, the one who wasn’t angry about what had happened to him. He was still in there. The relief nearly buckled me.