Iced Tea (12 page)

My big balls neighbor said, “Cara, like I said, I’m keeping my window open just a little, I wasn’t trying to get into your business, but that guy sounded like a real creep, and I just wanted him to know that he isn’t goin’ to bully a lady when I’m around.
 
You need anything, you holler.”

“I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want to get you in any kind of trouble.
 
Everyone knows, you make an enemy out of a cop, your ticket average could go way up.”

“I’m not worried about that little prick.
 
I know his boss.”

“How do you know his boss?
 
How do you even know who his boss is?”

“I bowl every Thursday night with the chief.
 
Believe me, he don’t want to push me too far.”

“Good to know.
 
And, thanks.”

With all my neighbors tucked neatly back in their apartments, I looked around to make sure that Joe was really gone.
 
I didn’t want him to suddenly sprint at me and shove the door open once I unlocked it.
 
Once inside the door, I threw the bolt and engaged the maid lock with impressive speed, while my foot was jammed up against the door like I could stop someone if they actually tried to force their way in.
 

Guess I was on high alert.

Once I was comfortable that the door was locked, I checked the windows and made sure that Teagan’s baseball bat was strategically placed.
 
I might not grab it in an emergency, but I didn’t want to trip over it either.

Since the movie
Psycho
, which I have never seen, there is just something fundamentally wrong with jumping in the shower immediately after such a harrowing experience, so I decided to do something a little more calming.
 
Scrub.

I wandered into the kitchen, checked the freezer, pulled out some rainbow trout and set it to thaw.
 
I rearranged all my little silver bricks; I have a gift for wrapping food into neat little packages that stack well in a freezer.
 
I was pleased with the result.
 

Decided to clean the fridge, but unfortunately, it was already clean.

I wiped down the counters, stove, microwave, zapped my sponge in the microwave between each surface, and wandered through the apartment looking for something constructive to do.

I logged onto the Internet and looked around for new information about Mrs. Ivy-Rosenbloom, all I could find was that her husband had been released on bail.
 
I didn’t know they would do that in a murder case.
 
I figured once you were accused of with murder, you were sitting it out until trial, but I guess that isn’t really fair either.
 
I know about the whole innocent until proven guilty thing, but we all have our little prejudices.

I checked in with my mom.
 
No new gossip.
 
Only exciting thing that happened was her neighbor Mrs. Ladner had fallen on the front driveway and broken her leg.
 
Thank goodness Mr. Sampson was home, he heard her go down, and called an ambulance.

Some time had passed, and I was feeling a little more secure.
 
I’d had time to convince myself that worrying about a rogue cop was just stupid.
 
What are the chances that I would encounter such things in my boring little life?

I started the bathtub, with medium warm water; I’m not a hot bath kind of person.
 
I added some citrus smelly good stuff and decided I’d even add bubbles.
 
I waited for the tub to fill, wove my hair up on top of my head, and had stripped down to just my underwear when the fire alarm went off.
 
Not the alarm that goes off to tell you that you burned your toast, the big one, the whole building.

I jumped into my clothes, remembered to put shoes on, grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
 
Just about the time my hand went for the knob, my brain kicked in.
 

What if it was Joe that pulled the alarm?

Maybe he was just trying to get me outside.

What good would it do to get me outside if he also got every other neighbor outside?

The alarm cycled off.
 
I could almost hear myself think.
 
No doubt that I’d never sleep though a fire in this building.

The alarm cycled back on.
 

What if it wasn’t Joe?
 
What if it was one of his cop buddies?
 
Of course, if it were a cop buddy, why wouldn’t he just knock on the door?
 
It’s not like I know every cop on the force.

I ran to the window.
 
No smoke.
 
No Joe.
 
Apartment dwellers were starting to mill around in the parking lot.

I ran back to the door and looked out the peephole.
 
Only thing I could see was the strobe from the alarm directly across from my door.

Still no smoke.
 
Still no sirens.

The alarm cycled off.

“Why?”
 
I heard a mother screech at her son.
 
I could now see them walking through my breezeway, “Why would you do that?
 
Do you know that if the fire department comes, they’ll probably put you in jail?
 
What if somebody got hurt?
 
Wait till your father gets home.
 
I wonder how much they’re gonna charge us for this.
 
It’s coming out of your Christmas money.
 
I just can’t believe you would do something like this.”

The alarm cycled back on.

Even though the noise was painfully loud, and I was comfortable that it was a stupid kid trick, not an attempt on my life, I stayed in the apartment and waited for the property manager or the fire department or the alarm company to turn the stupid thing off.

40 minutes later, the alarm was off, my fellow apartment dwellers were back in their apartments, my bathwater was cold, my blissful mood had deflated, and AJ damn near killed himself trying to get in the door.
 
The bad side of a maid lock is that you can open the door just far enough that you really jar yourself when it hits resistance, or in the case of AJ, slams shut in his face.

I ran for the door apologizing all the way.

“What scared you?
 
You only put that stupid thing on when you’re paranoid.”

“Joe-the-cop showed up.
 
He tried to charm me.
 
Last time he tried to bully me.
 
I just get the feeling that something is really not right there.”

“Maybe we need to do something.
 
Maybe we should have done something about him a while ago.
 
Have you talked to your brother?”

“No.
 
I don’t want to get him in the middle of this.
 
He’s a cop.
 
Cops don’t dance on the thin blue line.”

“We need to do something.
 
He’s starting to get more than creepy.”

“I may have a fix.
 
I talked to our across the hall neighbor.
 
He bowls with the chief.
 
If things don’t get better soon, I’m going to ask him to talk to the chief and frame it as if he is doing it friend to friend, but without my knowledge, so that my brother can’t be associated with it.”

“I get it.
 
I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“I really don’t think he’s trying to do anything to hurt me, I think he’s just trying to manipulate me, into doing what, isn’t clear.”

“I agree, but if the manipulation doesn’t work, it could escalate to hurt, and if that happens, well, I don’t want to think about what would happen, but your brother the cop will have to go through me to get to that ass.”

“You both would have to go through Teagan first.
 
I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to come to that, so, instead of focusing on the negative, and bringing that down upon ourselves, I was kind of thinking we could either have trout for dinner and then watch a movie, or we could go out.
 
Which would you prefer?
 
Oh, and I saw Jovana today.
 
She showed us the ballroom.
 
I can’t believe the price she gave Morgan.
 
I’m so grateful to her.
 
I need to do something really nice for her, hope you can help me think of something.”

“I’m really not good at that stuff.”

“Well, I always thought it was important for Morgan and Liam to have a nice wedding, but then, today, I found out some things that make me want it all the more.”

“What?”

“Very long and totally disturbing story, but basically, when Morgan was a teen, she was working late at the college, in the library, and she was beaten badly and raped.
 
Jordan is the product of that rape.
 
Her parents were not amused that she decided to keep the baby, and add to that that she is marrying Liam, and they have pretty much abandoned her. Her family, I’m not sure how big or small it is, won’t be at the wedding.
 
It’s pretty much the O’Flynns and friends.
 
They’re on a pretty tight budget, and if Jovana and her husband hadn’t been so generous, they never would have been able to do anything so beautiful, and AJ, I think Morgan needs a little beautiful in her life.”

“I had no idea.”

“Me either.
 
How would anyone know?
 
You look at Morgan, and all you see is beautiful and serene and lovely.
 
That ugly part of her life didn’t destroy her.
 
I’m so proud of her I can’t stand it, and her own parents don’t want anything to do with her.
 
I just don’t understand.
 
I can’t think of a single thing I could do in life that my parents would abandon me, but I’m positive that being the victim of a violent crime, and then having the internal fortitude to rise above it, and continue my life with grace and passion, wouldn’t cause them to run the other way.
 
My parents would throw a parade.”

“I’m not sticking up for her family, because there’s no justification for what they’re doing, but remember Cara, we weren’t there, we don’t know all the facts, and people can only do the best they can do with the knowledge and life experience they have to work with.”

“Oh my God, you sounded just like my mother.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s a good thing.
 
I like my mother.
 
She’s a smart person.”

“I know your mom is a great person, but no guy wants to be told that he reminds the woman he loves of her mother.”

I stood very still.
 
Woman he loves?
 
Did I hear that right?
 
He kept on going as if he hadn’t said what I thought he said, so I decided not to say anything.

“I think I’d like to eat at home tonight, then maybe we can watch a movie, and then I have some pictures to sort.
 
I’d also like to make a couple of phone calls.
 
I want to see if I can pull something off, and if I can, it’s gonna be great.”

He kissed me, smiled, kissed me again, and then headed off for the shower.

I went into the kitchen, rinsed off the two trout, sprayed cooking spray on a nice baking sheet and placed the trout on it.
 
I sprinkled white pepper and finely ground salt on the inside and outside of each of the little swimmers, then some white Worcestershire inside and out and popped those puppies in the oven.
 
I put the kettle on, peeled some potatoes, and had them on to boil in record time.
 
I even steamed some veggies, not that I will eat them, but AJ will.
 
Some nice rolls I had in the house, really cold Pepsi, table set with the good Corelle.

My evening was taking a definite turn for the better.

AJ was ready about the time dinner was.

“AJ took one forkful of potatoes trying to decide something.
 
I waited.
 
Finally he said, “You’re not a professional model.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

He chuckled, “Listen to the whole thought first.
 
You’re not a professional model.
 
If I asked you to do a photo shoot for me, would you do it?”

“I’m not qualified.”

“That isn’t what I asked.
 
I asked if you’d do it.”

“You would be mightily disappointed.
 
There have to be a million more qualified girls out there.
 
Why don’t you have one of the regular girls you use do it?”

“Again, that wasn’t the question.
 
If I asked you to do a photo shoot, would you do it?”

“I guess.”

“Good.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When do I have to do this photo shoot?”

“Oh, there’s no photo shoot, I just wanted to know if you would do it.”