Lies(37)

“Okay.”

“For you, however,” says Thom, “there is staying here, putting your feet up, relaxing, and eating.”

“There’s nothing I can do to help?”

“The best thing you can do is stay here and stay safe so I don’t have to worry about you,” he says, his expression serious. “Can you do that for me, babe?”

“Sure,” I say. And I mean it at the time. I really do.





CHAPTER SEVEN


The hours pass slowly after Bear and Thom leave. I didn’t feel particularly safe sitting on the sofa all alone in the loft apartment. Security might be tight here, but the few bites of pizza I managed to eat still churn in my stomach. Every muffled noise from other apartments, the hallway, the street beyond, makes me jump. It’s nothing; everything is fine.

So fine that I get my gun out and make sure the ammunition magazine is full, even though I checked it just under an hour ago. I’m pretty sure I haven’t shot at anyone in the meantime. It seems like the sort of thing I would remember.

Thom gave me a quick lesson on cleaning the gun earlier today, and my fingers itch to go through the process again. Just to be doing something. But the piece is brand-new and gleaming. If I try cleaning it, I’d probably just make it grimy. Dammit.

For a while, I debate where to put the weapon. Cradling it in my lap isn’t a viable alternative. My nerves are so fried that a knock on the door would have me firing a bullet through the TV. Leaving the gun on the coffee table just seems too out of place. Like I’d need a nice little pile of white powder and a stack of money beside it to pull off the gangster look properly. Perhaps I could put on my shoulder holster.

In the end, I tuck it into the couch cushions beside me. Ready for action, but out of sight.

On the TV, Wonder Woman kicks the bad guy’s ass and then some. I try to feel the empowerment, but it’s just not working for me.

It’s not that I’m terrified of Thom not being here to protect me. Though, come to think of it, I am a little. But it’s the fact he’s out there with an unknown quantity wanting him dead that has me on edge. Bear is with him, sure. And yet…this must be what it’s like for people with family in the service. All of the not knowing and waiting to hear. As if a part of your life is permanently on pause and all of the fear and love forms a tight ball of unease deep inside you, which never quite goes away. I guess you learn to ignore the thing. Cover it up with everyday life and wait for them to come home one way or another. Talk about bravery and sacrifice.

Not that I love Thom. Whoa there. Let’s not go throwing the L word around all crazy-like. So we had good (great) sex for once. He’s being honest with me and showing some emotions. These are all nice things. But it’s still early days. Any attempt at dissecting our relationship is bound to just leave me more confused and it’s definitely too early to get carried away, envisioning shiny happy futures.

The sad truth is, no matter how much I dig Wonder Woman, this movie is not holding my interest. And flicking between the news channels isn’t getting me anywhere either. Since it’ll be a while before I hear from the menfolk, I need to be doing something more useful than just staring at a screen.

Or maybe not.

In movies and TV shows with detectives and stuff, they’re always using CCTV and such to track people down. To figure out their movements. Of course, I don’t have access to that sort of thing. But the internet is everywhere. People are constantly attached to their cell phones. Sure, it’s a little farfetched. I’m probably clutching at straws. Though it’s not like I have anything more pressing to do with my time.

I switch over to the cell Thom left me in case of an emergency. Easy enough to search #thornbrook and let social media give me an update on Thom and Bear’s whereabouts. Instagram seems the easiest to access without actually logging into an account. Or at least it comes up first. Helpful that the place Thom and Bear are checking out is so popular. There’s a PR pic of a bellboy wearing a black uniform with shiny gold buttons, busy at work with a broad smile. Another of the hotel florist grinning maniacally as she places an arrangement on the front desk. It’s tagged #MollysFlowers and #lovemyjob. Her enthusiasm seems a little hard to take. Floristry’s not a bad job; don’t get me wrong. About the worst part of it is washing buckets and dealing with difficult customers. But no florist I’ve ever met has ever been quite this ecstatic. Maybe she’s on drugs.

Next is two women taking a selfie in a cool-looking bathroom with a Jacuzzi. A nighttime view from a window with the lights of New York. So pretty. Two men beaming at the camera dressed in tuxedos. I tap on this one. It says “Holy matrimony, guys!” and is also tagged #SteveandDae. Here we go. Plenty of pictures of the two grooms with and without assorted family and friends, all looking delighted. Except for the woman caught shoving a giant shrimp into her mouth. Awkward timing. Don’t get me wrong; seafood is great. But I wouldn’t be down with this particular shot being spread about the interwebs. A three-tier wedding cake, plain red-rose boutonnieres, and elegant table centerpieces in autumn colors. I approve. Lots and lots of delighted guests.

I study each of the pictures, yet nothing stands out. It was an interesting idea, but this isn’t going to work. Insert heavy sigh here. There’s no sign of Thom or Bear since the bulk of the shots are taken inside a ballroom. Everything else recent and tagged with #thornbrook is either older than tonight or about an organic farm in New Zealand or a men’s shoe designer.