Aftermath(34)

The man has his cell phone raised as he says, “You kids want me to call the cops?”

“No, sir,” Marco says. “We’re fine.”

I look at Jesse. “Uh, no, we’re not fine. These guys assaulted us. They cut me off in their truck, and then attacked. Yes, I would like you to call the police.”

The man looks from me and Jesse to the three others and mutters, “Whatever’s going on here, take it somewhere else.” Then he retreats as I yell, “Thank you for your help, sir! Much appreciated!”

Marco is getting Duke and Grant into the truck. He looks back at us and says, “You’re welcome.”

“For what? Not being as big a dick as your friends? They’re still your friends, and you still came here with them to harass me and antagonize Jesse into a fight. You let them spout their crap and go after Jesse with zero provocation. You want a display of gratitude?” I hold up my middle finger. “Take this.”

Jesse taps my arm. “Let’s just go.”

I turn and start walking. “Assholes.”

The truck door shuts and the engine starts, and I can feel Jesse watching me.

“Yeah, yeah, I had to get in the last word,” I say. “But I’m not the caveman who came roaring in with ‘don’t hurt her or you’ll be sorry.’ Did it look like I was in trouble?”

“No, but —”

“No. End of conversation. I was fine. You made things worse. What the hell was that about anyway, charging in there?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

I shake my head and keep walking as he trudges along at my side, one hand pinching his bloodied nose.

Skye

We’re in the condo. I didn’t think before bringing Jesse here. I just walked back, forgetting everything I suspect him of. Jesse is hurt and bleeding. That’s all I think about until I see my muddied boots in the hall. And then it’s too late for second thoughts. If he did do this, it’d be more dangerous to let him know I suspect him, now that we’re alone in the condo.

I bring him into the bathroom and make him sit on the closed toilet seat. Then I clean his face. The bleeding has stopped, and there’s no sign that his nose is broken.

Once I finish, I say, “You’re fine,” and start rinsing blood from the washcloth.

He just sits there. I finish and hang the cloth to dry and walk out, and he follows.

No “thank you.” No “I gotta run,” either. He just trails along after me.

“You want a cold drink?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“I’m getting one,” I say, and I’m heading toward the kitchen when I wave to the living room. “You can wait in there. I’ll bring you a Coke.”

He nods and goes into the living room. I grab two Cokes and return to see him staring at the brown smear on the sofa.

“That’s not what it looks like,” I say.

He makes a noise that might be a chuckle, but it’s a very low one, and his expression doesn’t change.

“It’s chocolate,” I say. “Don’t ask me how —” I inhale as the memory comes back, and I mumble, “I must have sat on it.”

He gives me a weird frown, like I said aliens left the stain.

“Yes, I know,” I say, trying for levity. “Clearly I should not have gotten within twenty yards of a white couch with chocolate, and I don’t remember —” I inhale. “Obviously I sat on some.”

He walks over and looks down at the smear. Then he looks at me. Back at the smear.

“Okay, enough already,” I say. “I screwed up. It happens. Sit and drink your Coke. Or don’t.”

“You’re shaking,” he says as I open my soda. “Is your aunt going to be that mad about the sofa?”

“She won’t be happy. Just drop it, okay? I made a mistake.”

“Did you change your jeans?”

“What?”

He sits on the clean end of the couch. “If you sat on chocolate, it’d be on your jeans. It’s not.”

“Thanks, Sherlock.”

He keeps eyeing me, and then says, “The obvious alternate explanation is that your aunt sat on chocolate. But you’re not even considering that. You’re questioning whether you might have. You’re getting defensive, and you’re shaking. What’s going on?”

“Maybe you know how that got there.”

His face screws up in a confusion he couldn’t fake. It takes him a moment before he says, “Are you suggesting I —?”

“Of course not. I’m being a smartass. So, since you seem in no hurry to leave, how about explaining what you were doing across the road from Mae’s building? Don’t say you just happened to walk by. I watched you standing there.”

“I was waiting to talk to you.”

“You want to talk? Great.”

His gaze goes to the stain. “You think someone broke in and —”

“That’d be crazy.”

He stares at the smear. Then he looks at me. “What else was wrong when you got back from my place?”

“Who says I got back? You were waiting for me, remember?”

He shifts his weight. “I knew you’d already be here. I was just… figuring out what to say. I sat in the car for a while. Then I walked over, but I still wasn’t sure how to do this so…” He straightens. “Forget about that. When you did get here, there was more than a chocolate stain, right? Something that made you think someone broke in.”