The Killing Game(68)

She pulled into her assigned spot at the apartment complex, then hauled out the bags and carried them up the flight of stairs to her door. She had to crush the bags against the wall to free up one hand and thread the key in the lock. She thought of Bobby making love to her. It had been nearly a week and it was too long. Last time had been a wild ride on her bed that had her screaming so much he’d slapped a hand over her mouth. Jesus. Just thinking about him made her wet. Lord, she had it bad!

She’d decided to make dinner for him, so last night she’d gone to the little market down the way and checked on their poultry products. Nothing had grabbed her, so she’d put off buying what she needed till today, stopping at a supermarket instead. She’d decided on a vegan meal and hoped Bobby would like it as well. She wasn’t completely that way, but she definitely leaned away from meat. Last night, as she was about to leave the little market empty-handed, one of the owners had tried to talk her into the prawns, singing their praises. He’d swept a hand toward the seafood case and there they were, displayed in a pretty row, all plump and pink and lying innocently on a bed of ice, the little killers.

“No, thanks,” Trini had told him. She’d debated on going into her allergies, and Bobby’s, but she hadn’t really had the time, and anyway, would he really care? The man was just trying to make some conversation, hoping for a sale, doing his job. He didn’t really want her whole story, and really, did anyone?

So today she’d purchased flour tortillas, planning to make cheddar and cotija cheese enchiladas with verde salsa and pico de gallo. She didn’t think Bobby would squawk too hard about the vegan angle. She’d throw a salad together and make her own dressing with a south of the border flair. He really preferred eating in to going out to restaurants anyway, and though Trini didn’t think of herself as much of a cook, she was certainly learning.

It took her a while to set up and get the meal rolling, and then the oven didn’t seem to want to come up to temperature. When it finally did, she shoved the pan of enchiladas inside and slammed the door, then cleaned up the mess of bowls and pans, although she kind of did a half-assed job. She was hot and sweating when she was finished. Glancing at the oven clock, she saw it was closing in on six. Where the hell was Bobby?

An hour and a half later, when he still hadn’t shown, she was full-blown pissed. How dare he stand her up? And how dare she care? He wasn’t even her type, she reminded herself as she slammed her way out of the apartment and walked in a huff to the nearest neighborhood restaurant, a tiny place with a U-shaped bar adorned with twinkling white lights. As she entered, a bell tinkled overhead, announcing her arrival. There was a smattering of customers. Though the ambience was nice, the food pedestrian, and most people came for a drink and then moved on.

She took a place at the bar, a black cloud of anger hanging over her. To hell with it. She was over abstaining from alcohol. “A mojito,” she said. “Not one of the fancy ones with added mango or pomegranate or any of that shit. Just the usual lime and mint.”

“You got it,” the bartender said. He slid her a look while she tried to remember his name. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

“Been busy.” Actually, after that debacle at Lacey’s, she’d stayed away from alcohol entirely. It wasn’t good for your body anyway. After a night drinking, she could smell the alcohol-laced sweat when she worked out, and it only added to her embarrassment. What had she been thinking that night? She’d just been so low, and she’d had a momentary blip of really, really bad judgment.

The front bell tinkled, announcing a newcomer. Trini looked over as a matter of course and then froze as she recognized Jarrett Sellers.

He looked around, spotted her, and eased over to the bar, leaning his elbows on the polished surface. “Hey there,” he said.

“I’m not going to believe you just happened to walk in here.”

He hung his head like a bad boy. “Okay, I followed you.”

“Why?”

He lifted his head and said to the bartender, “Jack and Coke.” Then he turned back to Trini and said, “I was driving by your place and saw you walking down the street. When I saw you turn into the bar, I decided to join you.”

“Why were you driving by my place?”

“I kind of thought we left on bad terms at Lacey’s.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t respond, he said, “Okay, you’re going to make me say it? I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you.”

Trini relaxed a little. “No, you don’t. We’re no good for each other, Jarrett. We can’t even be friends.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“This is what I like about you, Trini. You always keep everything hidden. Always play coy. Never speak your mind.”

She smiled in spite of herself. At least he was pulling her out of her bad mood. “Okay, maybe we can be very distant friends, but that’s as far as it goes.”

Jarrett’s drink came and Trini sucked down her mojito and ordered another. He had a second as well, but when the bartender offered her a third, she declined.

“I’ve got dinner made at home,” she said, getting to her feet. She tried to pay, but Jarrett wouldn’t let her.

“Is that an invitation?”

“No. God, you’re pushy.” She squinted at him. Jarrett had a nice smile. She’d forgotten that. Why, she wondered, had it not worked with him? Apart from the fact that they really couldn’t get along.