ON AIR (13 page)

16

“
I
f you’re in the mood for something savory but want low-key, Holden’s Steakhouse is absolutely the best. My food was excellent, and had there been room for more, I would have eaten more. I took a few desserts to-go, and good lord, let me tell you…that night was the best Netflix binge I’ve ever had!”

My commute to work ended up making me want to return home and watch TV all day with a steak and chocolate lava cake and it was only eight a.m. I’m telling you…it wasn’t really the words she spoke, but how she spoke them. Whoever hired Sinclair for this job was a fucking genius because half the males in the city had probably doubled the economy for businesses in Portland.

And she was a Netflix binger. I’m not sure if I liked or hated that fact. It made me picture myself bingeing next to her with pie and ice cream. And by “her” I mean some phantom image of a beautiful woman who was obviously stunning even though I couldn’t see any of her features. That didn’t matter, right?

I also wondered if she was single, married, or divorced. “We” was never her choice of pronoun when recapping her adventures. She always said “I”, and I usually assumed she went to these places by herself. Or maybe I pictured it that way because I wanted to.

And the way she described a juicy steak…

I wondered if I could get Natalie to call me up and describe how she wanted her meat served. Just the thought of that gave me a stupid smile as I entered my building that morning. I walked straight to my office and shut my door; today was going to be a nose-to-the-computer sort of day and I didn’t need any distractions. Including my own thoughts and this ridiculous curiosity with a woman I’d never met. I felt like I seriously needed to get it out of my system, kind of like a really productive jerk-off session to chill the restless hormones.

It was just a stupid mystery that I wanted to solve.

An hour into my day, a knock sounded at my door. I didn’t care who it was but called for them to enter. I entered the last bit of my south wall measurements on my design and spun in my chair to face Davey. I was a bit surprised to see him so early. Normally he arrived late afternoon after his other part time job.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

He seemed uncomfortable but ultimately shrugged and said, “Clive told me it was all right to change my hours to morning time. Julie has more for me to do.”

I slowly nodded my indifference and replied, “Okay. Well, you’ve had a week here and know what’s what, so go to town, man.”

He only returned the nod and went straight to work. Somewhere outside of my office, but I had no idea where he headed.

I personally didn’t have too much for an assistant to help me with. Clive had tried to get one for me a year ago but it was just a waste of the guy’s time. I’m way too anal to let someone take care of certain things for me, and I’m also a perfectionist.

Most of my work was a solo job, too. It’s not like I could have Davey discuss design and shit with me. And he also barely said anything and didn’t seem too eager to be doing what he was doing, but how could I blame him? I’d be bored, too.

A part of me worried that I’d offered him a job where there wasn’t a job. The purpose was to keep him away from lowlifes on the street, but maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Most of the time he ended up playing go-fer between departments. Twice he’d even gone across the street and brought back lunch for a few of us. He never complained or copped any attitude, but I wondered if he was secretly cursing me under his breath.

“You want me to run some lunch to you before I leave?”

Sometime later, Davey had entered my office again. I glanced at the clock, a bit surprised that it was almost one already. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

I gave him some cash, told him what I wanted, and like usual, let him know he could get something too. But he never did. Maybe after more time at Becker & Lewis he’d feel more comfortable with the offer. He got paid an hourly wage, but a lunch perk here or there wasn’t a big deal. Even Clive bought some of us lunch on occasion.

When Davey returned, he set a Styrofoam container on my desk and a bag with napkins, condiments, and plastic utensils. I could smell the bacon burger instantly and my mouth watered.

“Alright, I’m out,” he said, setting a few bills and change on the desk.

“Keep the change, Davey.”

“Nah, man.”

He left without another word and I watched him until the door shut behind him. I hated the awkwardness between us, but maybe that was my own fault. And I knew I hadn’t even checked up on Davey’s other activities. I mean he was here at Becker & Lewis like I’d requested, but I didn’t even know if he’d truly gotten himself out of trouble.

And I didn’t want to ask Natalie. Maybe I didn’t want her to worry, or maybe I didn’t want her involved more than necessary, but I felt if I brought it up, she’d only think there was something to stress about. There’d only been one time she mentioned Davey and it was to thank me for giving him the job.

He hadn’t been here long, but maybe I needed to do some investigating.

***

“Your fucknut neighbor has done a slow drive-by past your house twice that I know of,” Natalie said as I entered my home that evening from the garage. She popped her head out of the kitchen and folded her arms against her chest.

“You sure it was him?” I asked, setting my bag on a dining room chair. It was sad that I was so tired I couldn’t walk it another fifteen feet to my office.

“He drives a white Prius, right?” She pointed straight ahead to the front window. “I saw him go by a half an hour ago and I swear to God he was staring at the house. Then he drove by ten minutes ago and did the same thing, pausing by my car for a few seconds.”

I shook my head with irritation, not quite sure what the hell his problem was. But my head and neck hurt and my thoughts were more on the hot shower I wanted to take. I kissed Natalie hello and headed for the hall.

“Are you hungry?” she called after me.

I stopped. Shit. She was in my kitchen, and I was suddenly aware of the smell of food… “Yeah, for sure,” I replied, forcing myself to smile as I turned around. My headache was so bad it seriously killed me to do that. “I just need a quick shower. Give me a few minutes.”

She answered that was fine. I could feel a bit of tension ripple through me, and it wasn’t because of the soreness from hunching over designs all day this time. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was seriously annoyed that I hadn’t come home to an empty house. I just wanted to shower, drink some beer, order a pizza, and veg on the couch for a while.

By myself.

I’m sure I was being an ungrateful asshole. Natalie had put in the effort to cook for me again, so I should have been a bit more appreciative. My mind was seriously fried sometimes after a long day at work. People who work labor jobs think they’ve got it rough—which I totally understood—but most people didn’t realize how much you drain of yourself when your brain has to work one hundred percent for ten hours straight. Mental exhaustion was just as tiresome as physical exhaustion. I didn’t have to deal with particular safety issues or certain injuries from a laborious job, but there were some side effects from the one I had. Including, but not limited to: irritability, headaches, stress, and sometimes being short tempered with people because my mind was too tired to be patient. Other times I found myself zoning out while people were talking to me.

I hadn’t realized how long I’d actually been in the shower until I came out to the kitchen. Natalie was nowhere to be found, but I saw a note on the counter that said dinner was in the fridge. I found it in a baking dish and lifted the plastic wrap. It looked like mushroom chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes.

“Nat?” I called as I wandered into the front room. I peeked out the window and noticed her car was gone. Maybe the note on the counter didn’t get it through my thick head that she’d actually left.

I stuck the food in the microwave and found my phone to text her. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was after eight already. Damn, my shower must’ve been over twenty minutes long.

I needed something for my headache, which was still killing me. After taking some ibuprofen, I sat on the couch to think of what to text Nat. I drew a blank. Was she mad at me? Why’d she leave? I was only in the fucking shower; it’s not like I blew her off completely.

Finally I sent a text asking where she went. When the microwave beeped, I grabbed the dish and sat down with it just as she texted back.

Home

That’s all she replied. And to be honest, it bothered me. Maybe I didn’t have a right to be annoyed, but I was. I felt like she was snubbing me for something she shouldn’t be holding against me.

I didn’t text back. Sorry, but not really sorry. I just don’t play those kinds of games with chicks. I was automatically wary that she was trying to work her way into my life permanently, and frankly, I just wasn’t ready to be cornered like that. I’d warned her, and I wasn’t going to apologize for my lack of conversation or attentiveness upon returning home from a long day. It made me think of a girl I dated for less than two weeks. Leslie. She acted like the world revolved around her and she eventually drove me nuts. I felt like nothing I did was good enough, and it wore me the fuck out.

I wasn’t going to make that same mistake twice.

However, after an hour passed and I’d had my ass parked on the couch for a bit, I at least had the conscience to text Natalie a thank you for dinner and that it was really good. Maybe I was expecting more of a conversation from her instead of what she actually replied with, but then again, maybe I deserved it.

She sent me a goddamn
thumb’s up
.

17

“
T
he waitress I had was just a doll, and the entire theatre was clean and comfortable. I can’t wait until I can return for another movie. I had so much fun!”

I listened to Sinclair recap an experience at a posh movie theatre that served dinner while you lounged on a couch. I’d heard of the place but had never been. Of course my thoughts went straight to what I might be doing on a couch with a date and it didn’t include watching the movie.

As I pulled into the parking lot at my firm, I shut off my phone that had been playing the recorded segment. It was almost nine-thirty on a Monday morning; I was more than a half an hour later than normal. I’d not only slept through my alarm, but it took me longer than usual to get my ass out of bed. I’d felt like a zombie all weekend.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Madden jested as I passed his office. I heard him get up from his desk and he was right behind me as I entered my own office. “You kind of look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.” I dumped my bag on the worktable like I didn’t even care. My neat-freakiness and routine would have to take a back seat today. “I think I’m getting sick.”

“Noooo,” he groaned dramatically, dropping into a chair. He twisted in it as he flicked a pen in his hand. “We’ve got preseason basketball tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m probably not going to make it. I think I’m only going to be in here for a few hours and then I’m heading home to bed.”

“Maybe you should go to the doctor. Get some drugs in you and you’ll be good as new.”

I shook my head. The northwest had been in switch-mode the past week, moving from summer into fall. “I already know what’s wrong. Allergies are kicking my ass.”

“Take some Benadryl.”

“I will when I get home. It knocks me the fuck out, though. No point taking it now.”

“Try some of that twenty-four hour stuff. The non-drowsy one.”

I waved it off. I really didn’t feel like talking about stupid allergies right now. I rarely ever got sick. Only when spring hit, and then fall. That was it.

“Hey, you hear where Sinclair is headed next?” Madden asked with a goofy smile. It was obvious he was eager to tell me.

My head was so cloudy, I wasn’t even sure if I remembered from five minutes ago. But then I said, “Oh, uh, the local breweries, right?”

“Fuck yeah!” He giggled like a little girl. A
girl
. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give to be her date. Seriously.”

He stared off into space a bit, like he was fantasizing about her. It made me wonder if he had some kind of real interest for this mystery chick, more than just a hard-on for her voice.

“Why don’t you do some digging and find out.” I moved my laptop to my desk and sat down, but flipped on my main drafting computer instead. I’d been up late studying notes for a particular home design and I wanted to get them started before the inspiration left.

“Find what out?” Madden inquired. He was now leaning forward on his knees, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know, find out who she is.”

He snorted. “Right.”

I looked up from my computer and stared at him. “Go talk to Emmet.”

“Whaaaat?” he asked in a high-pitched squeak. “You want me to, like, open an investigation?”

I chuckled as I stood to retrieve my notes from my bag. When I had them in hand, I dropped back into my desk chair. “Emmet would do what he could if you asked. You know that.”

“He’d do what he could if
you
asked,” Madden corrected. “You’re his favorite. He loves you like a son because of your Pops.”

It was true. Emmet Greene had been my father’s partner at the Portland Police Bureau for almost fourteen years, pretty much since we’d moved to Oregon. He didn’t have any kids and had never married; he cared about Chloe and I enough to check on us now and then.

“I have something else I need to ask him, so I guess I could slip that in there too.”

Madden laughed, but his eyes became animated. “My God, it never even crossed my mind to ask Emmet. Are we seriously gonna find out who this Sinclair lady is? I’m fucking
dying
to know.”

I was too, but I didn’t dare admit it. It wasn’t like I wanted some relationship with this stranger, but I truly did want to know who she was. I hated surprises, and I hated mysteries. I hated not knowing something about a person.

I had trust issues, and it even came down to this enigmatic character on a radio station.

“Yeah, I can do that for you,” I answered. For Madden. I would do it for my buddy.

“I fucking love you, Dane. I swear, I will owe you beer for the rest of your life.”

“You can owe Emmet the beer because I’ll feel a bit indebted to him myself.”

Madden stood from the chair. “What do you mean? What do you already need from him?”

I paused and turned in my seat to face him. I took a few seconds to debate how much I wanted to share with Madden, but basically told him everything about Natalie’s brother. He’d pulled the chair over and sat across from me. I sat there at my desk, fingers steepled off and on—I was a steepler—and filled him in on Davey.

Finally Madden nodded, seeming to think. “Well, I see where you’re worried. The kid could easily go down a shitty path even with a good one right in front of him. You think about asking Emmet for some help on that if you do find out Davey’s still dealing?”

Yes, I’d thought about it. But the question was, how much of it was my problem? I didn’t want to be in business that wasn’t mine, but at the same time, a young person’s life was at risk. And Natalie’s. I didn’t want her having to struggle with this kind of situation in her life. Again.

“I guess I’ll consult with Nat first. It’s her brother. I don’t want to do something that will piss her off or make things worse.”

“Like what? If he’s doing illegal shit, that’s on him.”

“Yeah, but where do I take that? He could go to jail if he’s caught. That could go either way for him.”

He paused. “You’re right. Some guys have a huge wakeup call, others use it as an excuse to hate the world and implement ‘payback.’”

That was exactly it, and just as Madden was finishing up his point, Davey entered my office with a box of donuts. He set them on the worktable after I declined, but Madden helped himself. Davey was just about to leave the office when I said, “Hey, Dave, you got a minute?”

Madden left with a donut in each hand, shutting the door with his foot on the way out.

Davey cautiously made his way back across the room. I could tell he was wary of what I might say.

“Have a seat.” I motioned to the chair Madden had left empty, and Davey sat. “Hey, uh, I just wanted to ask you…”

I really didn’t know what I wanted to ask him. I’m not sure why I felt stoic enough to even have a little sit-down with this guy. I wasn’t afraid of him at all, but I was afraid of what the wrong questioning might do. I didn’t want to spook him or make him feel threatened. I didn’t want my genuine concern to backfire on me.

He seemed impatient, so I shrugged and said, “Uh, I can’t make it to the Blazers’ preseason game tonight. You want my ticket? Clive reserved a suite upstairs for the company. Only a few of us are basketball fans, though, so it’s a few of us and friends we invite.” I pulled out my wallet to remove the ticket, and then slid it across the desk. “Madden and Natalie will be there. You’ll have fun.”

He didn’t respond right away and just eyed the ticket. Finally he slid it back and said, “Thanks, but I have to work. The real job.”

I ignored his dig. “What time you off?”

He shrugged. “Seven. Usually out of there by seven-thirty.”

“Ah, then that’s fine. It starts at seven-thirty, no big deal if you’re late. Those suites have people coming in at halftime.” I slid the ticket back across the desk. “Tons of free food and basketball. Jump on that, man.”

I seriously thought he’d decline again, but after a brief hesitation, he picked up the ticket. “Alright. Thanks, Dane.”

“No problem. Wish I could go, but this allergy shit is kicking my ass. Have fun. Call Nat for a ride.”

I hoped she didn’t mind, and I especially hoped she wouldn’t be mad I wasn’t going, but thankfully he nodded his head before leaving my office.

I refocused myself to get some work done, texting Natalie in between about the change of plans. She was thrilled Davey was going that night but bummed I wasn’t. Even when it hit one o’clock and she asked if she could bring me lunch, I was packing up my stuff to head home. I honestly felt like sleeping for the next twenty-four hours.

By the time I got home, she’d offered to cook for me or stop to get me something—whatever I needed. I was grateful, but I was beginning to withdraw from her attention a bit. Maybe I was just an independent guy who didn’t need a woman to take care of him, or maybe I just didn’t want to feel like I owed her anything. I honestly didn’t know which it was. Probably both. She’d never even mentioned anything about leaving my house the other night. I felt like she’d either let me off the hook, or hadn’t really cared in the first place. Maybe I was the one who had made it into something it wasn’t. I guess I was used to other females doing that and had unfairly lumped her into the ‘manipulative and controlling’ category.

After I’d parked my truck in the garage, I walked outside to coil the hose in my front yard. I’d watered my lawn a bit the day before, but the fact that I hadn’t put the hose away properly kind of irked me. Even with feeling like shit I couldn’t be sloppy for long. When it was neatly wound to my satisfaction, I stood upright to head inside.

Peter was standing right there on my walkway.

“Jesus Christ,” I growled out of sheer alarm (and dread).

I’ll admit his sudden appearance scared the shit out of me. He hadn’t said anything upon walking up to my house—and if he had, I must not have heard him—but there he was, with a stupid, condescending smile plastered to his face.

“Oh, Dane.” He
tsk
’d at me. “That is not a name you should be using so irresponsibly.”

My eyes wandered to the hose. I didn’t care if I unraveled it into a mess again if I could just wrap it around his fucking neck and be done with Ned Flanders.

“Well hi to you too, Peter. I guess I’m on my own turf and can speak whatever name I want.” I muttered, “I’m sure God would understand when it came to you,” under my breath.

I honestly didn’t care if I was being a dick. The guy could just not talk to me at all if he was so easily offended—

Shit. That was it, wasn’t it? Maybe if I offended him enough, he’d leave me the hell alone. I’d tried being polite and respectful, but I was at the end of my line at this point.

“I just think some people don’t understand what exactly they are doing when they use the Lord’s name in vain,” Peter answered, eyeing me with a level gaze but trying to speak kindly.

I slowly nodded, eyeing him right back. “Mmhmm. And perhaps some people don’t really give a flying fuck what you think, Pete.”

Yep. I stunned him. His eyes widened and then he blinked at me a couple of times.

“Hey Pete, you know that one thing in the bible about pointing out the splinter in someone’s eye when you’ve got a beam in your own? I’m good at interpreting stuff like that. Pretty sure it means don’t be a damn hypocrite, right? Don’t judge someone else’s life when you’ve got your own shit to improve on?”

If I’d felt one hundred percent, I might have laughed at the look on his face. Or maybe if I’d felt well, I might not have been such an asshole. Either way, he shut the hell up and turned away.

I entered my house without even checking to make sure he left. I just locked the door behind me and crashed on my bed for the rest of the day and through the night.

My neighbor could take his “holier than thou” act and shove it up his ass.