And Now She's Gone(22)

Zadie swirled the ice in her glass. “Jankowski was looking for you. Something about your W-2 form, now that you’re full-time.”

Gray tried to stir the margarita back to life. “I haven’t filled one out.”

Jankowski wouldn’t pay her directly anyway. Instead, Rader Consulting paid Renata Dawn LLC, Gray’s DBA. She’d asked Nick to explain the setup to Jankowski and guessed he hadn’t. Paperwork. Nick hated paperwork.

“So, your first case, right?” Clarissa said. “Somebody, like, lost their keys?”

“Did you read the text I sent you about two hours ago?” Gray asked.

“You sent me a text?” Clarissa swiped around her phone. “Didn’t know that I should be paying attention. You’re actually on a case case.”

Gray squinted at her. “I am.”

“I’ll take care of it tonight. Oh. Good news: he’s safe.”

“Who’s safe?”

“Hank the bartender,” Clarissa said. “I literally ran a background check on him. He bought this place four years ago. Honorable discharge from the Marines ten years ago, after a couple of tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. No kids. Had a wife but they got divorced a year later. He owns a cabin up in Big Bear and a duplex not far from here. He gives money to vets, animals, and cancer research. Two credit cards, a car note, no priors, no college degree, a new refrigerator, and a Husky named Sir. He’s, like, literally the perfect man.” She sat back in the booth and grinned. “I say go for it. Netflix and chill.”

Gray cocked her head. “You did all of this and yet you didn’t see my text message?”

Jennifer looked over her shoulder at the proprietor of the best cantina in Culver City. “And if you won’t get with him, I will.”

Clarissa gasped. “You’re married.”

“You’ll understand one day,” Jennifer said. “Marriage is hard. Right, Zadie?”

The old woman snorted. “You know what my husband did.”

Jennifer sipped from her glass. “Neither you nor Gray understand just how much compromise is needed in a marriage.”

“You’ve been married three times,” Gray pointed out, eyebrow cocked.

“That’s three more times than you,” Jennifer said. “That’s because I go for it. What’s the saying? Don’t talk about it, be about it.”

Gray chuckled. “You learned a lot of black shit from husband number two, didn’t you? And anyway, I plan to ‘be about it’ with Mr. Wexler over there.”

“When?” the trio asked.

Gray blushed. “Tonight. Maybe.”

Jennifer and Clarissa high-fived.

“So, what’s your case about?” Clarissa asked.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Jennifer flapped her hands. “No shop talk. It’s time for tacos and sex talk and margaritas.”

The four women said nothing for a moment.

Finally, Gray said, “A guy lost his girlfriend, who stole his dog.”

Clarissa asked, “Was he cheating?”

“Not sure yet, but I suspect so. I told the girlfriend’s pal to meet me here tonight.” Gray’s eyes skipped around the cantina, looking for anyone resembling a “Tea.”

There was a guy with bad facial hair, studying the menu as though it were the Torah.

There were four Golden Girls types nursing glasses of white wine.

Other customers watched the Dodgers game on the television over at the bar.

“You told her to come here?” Zadie asked.

“That”—Jennifer raised a finger—“is a big no-no. Don’t ever mix business with pleasure. This place? This place is your safe place. Where you can be all that you can be. Cuz what if this Tea likes it and comes back and you can’t chill here anymore? So: bad girl.” She tapped Gray’s hand. “Bad.”

“You’re right,” Gray said. “Stupid idea. Too late now.”

“Anyway,” Jennifer said, “your client hit her and then she left.”

“He hit her,” Zadie said, “cheated on her, hit her again, and then she left.”

“Dude killed her,” Clarissa said. “They always do, you know. Like the nut who totally showed up at that lady’s school and literally shot up her classroom.”

“Or the nut who showed up to the house wearing a Santa suit,” Zadie added.

Jennifer squinted. “The one with the flamethrower?”

Zadie frowned. “Where the hell do you buy a flamethrower?”

“Amazon,” Gray said. “And this woman’s alive. She asked that I stop looking for her.”

Clarissa canted her head. “You sure that was her?”

Gray’s face burned. “I … just assumed … Shit.”

Zadie said, “Don’t ever assume anyone is telling you the truth. No need to stress about it now—you’re gonna make mistakes.”

Clarissa eased an ice cube from her glass, into her mouth. “If that was her, and she is alive, then she’s, like, totally stupid.”

Gray clenched the thick stem of the margarita glass. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe her—if it is her.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clarissa said, chomping ice. “She’s literally stupid, cuz, like, why is she texting the fucking hunter? We, like, literally use all kinds of voodoo shit to, like, find people.”