Death Before Decaf (19 page)

“Ryder,” I admitted quietly.

He threw the wrapper back on the floor and got up again, this time pacing angrily around my room. “The one time I ask you to steer clear of someone—the
one time
, Juliet. How can you be so blind to how dangerous he is?”

Pete never used my complete first name. That is, unless he was so pissed at me that he couldn't see straight. It was like your mother using your middle name. I could count on one hand the number of times it had happened during our more-than-a-decade-long friendship.

“I am an adult, Pete. I get to decide who I see and who I don't. Not you.”

“Somebody needs to watch out for you! You're acting like a stupid teenager!”

“And you're acting like my father, not my friend! Besides, you're just…you're just jealous!”

His eyes looked hurt, but he otherwise ignored me. “Can't you see he's using you?”

Throwing my hands in the air, I said, “So what? I'm not going to marry the guy! He's not even my type!”

“Then why in the hell are you sleeping with him?”

“Because it's fun!”

“Oh, it's fun, huh? So does his name do him justice? Did he ride you like a pony?”

“Pete…” I warned. He did not want to go down that road with me.

He stopped pacing. “Wait a minute. So let me get something straight. You sleep with this asshole, and then he drags you out to the ghetto to get shot at, only to take off without a word? Sounds like a real prince. You sure do know how to pick 'em, don't you?”

“Me? I know how to…” I sputtered. “
You
were dating Cecilia Hollingsworth, the Wicked Witch of the South! You have no room to talk!”

“Don't turn this around on me. I told you there was something shady about him, and now he's proven it. He deserted you. Real men don't do that.”

“You don't know him!”

“You don't, either!” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could practically see the wheels turning inside his head. “You know, you never mentioned his last name all the times we've talked about him. You don't even know his last name, do you? That's epically slutty, Juliet. I thought I knew you.”

I got very still. Pete had to have felt the rage radiating off me, because his gaze faltered. Angry tears were threatening to spill down my cheeks at any moment. I said softly, with extreme restraint, “Get out.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Now.”

Pete stormed out, slamming my front door. I collapsed on my bed and bawled my eyes out. We had never fought like this. Our friendship was strong, but I didn't know if things between us could ever be the same again.

After I did my best to put myself together, I trudged back to work. Even counting all of the craziness I'd been through this morning, I was still back midway through the lunch rush at Java Jive. It felt like I was going through the motions. I helped in the kitchen, giving Brandon a rest from training Wayne, who was doing surprisingly well, given that it was his first day. When the evening shift workers came in, I needed a change, so I let the guys in the back train Wayne, and I took care of the counter out front.

During our afternoon lull, I took the opportunity to take Jamie back to the office to speak to her about Brianna's claim that she was stealing money. I wanted to make sure to be very sensitive, considering I knew exactly how it felt to be wrongfully accused.

“Sit down, Jamie,” I began. “Are things going all right for you here? Any problems or issues you'd like to discuss?”

She shrugged. “Not really. All of us are stressed about the extra work and everything, but you already knew that.”

“Right. Do you feel that your salary is fair?”

“It's food service. Everyone's salary sucks.”

Nodding, I said, “I can't disagree with you there.” I cleared my throat. “Jamie, I want to talk to you about the process you use when working the cash register. When you receive cash, do you put it directly into the till, or—”

“Have you been talking to Brianna?” she snipped.

Smart girl. “I just want to make sure that everyone is using the same system to ring in and accept payment for orders,” I replied casually.

“I can't believe that she went to you.” Jamie shook her head. “She must be off her meds again. Did you know she's bipolar?”

“No, that's really none of my business.”

Color rose on her cheeks, and she raised her voice. “Well, here's something that
is
your business. I'm not stealing money from this place. I tutor other college students in what little spare time I have. Sometimes they don't have their money when we meet for tutoring, and since I'm such a nice person, I let them bring it to me here at work once they scrape it together. So, yes, I'm accepting cash from customers and pocketing it.
My
cash that I earned working a second job. Is that a problem?” That would definitely account for the fact that no money ever turned up missing in our end-of-day reports. Mystery solved.

Sighing, I said, “No, Jamie. It's not a problem. Thanks for clearing that up. Sorry I had to—”

She interrupted me. “Are we done?”

“Yes.”

Getting up abruptly, she left without saying another word. Damn it. I had pissed off yet another employee. This wasn't my day. I wanted to crawl back into my bed and have another good cry. However, I didn't have time for that, because now I needed to speak to Brianna about the misunderstanding about Jamie. I hoped that discussion would go better than the one I just had.

I contemplated hiding in the office for a while, but when I heard yelling, I rushed out to find out what was going on. Jamie and Brianna were behind the counter, having a screaming match. Cole was standing to the side, and oddly enough, he looked a little turned on.

“You are such a lying little bitch! Keep your nose where it belongs!”

“I saw what I saw, Jamie! You've been stealing money, and you can't lie your way out of it.”

“It's no secret that you're totally nuts—”

I stepped between the two of them. “That's enough, ladies. Jamie, take your break now, please. Go outside and cool off. Brianna, my office.”

Jamie stormed off, and Brianna dissolved into a puddle of tears. I couldn't take much more of these raging teenage hormones. I steered Brianna into my office and shut the door.

“Look, Brianna—”

“You said you'd leave my name out of it! You promised!” she wailed.

“I
did
leave your name out of it. Jamie was the one who mentioned you, and even then, I did not let on that it was you who had come to me.”

“I'm going to quit.”

“You're not going to quit. This will blow over. Jamie will calm down, and soon it will all be forgotten.”

“No,” she replied, her chin quivering. “This is the last straw. I quit.” Brianna got up and removed her apron, throwing it down onto her chair and storming out of my office.

Son of a bitch bastard. I put my head in my hands. Today was going from awful to off-the-charts horrific. I felt like I was in an out-of-control car headed off a cliff. The only thing I could think of to do was make myself a waffle taco. Then, if I was lucky, I'd get sick and I could go home. Stalking into the kitchen, I wordlessly started making the dreadful dish, four sets of eyes trained on me.

When I folded the waffle and started stuffing taco ingredients into it, Wayne asked tentatively, “Is that on the menu, Juliet?”

“No,” I replied, not elaborating.

No one said anything else, and when I was finished making my concoction, I stormed back out, locking myself in the office. I took a huge bite of waffle taco and was shocked at how good it tasted to me. I guessed shitty food really could make a person feel better. Before I could take my next bite, the phone rang. The caller ID was blocked. Probably another reporter trying to trick me into talking.

Irritated at being interrupted, I snapped, “Java Jive.”

“Is this Juliet Langley?” The voice on the other end was low and odd, almost electronic-sounding.

I had had enough of people harassing me this week, so Redheaded She-Devil decided it was time to take it out on this guy, whoever he was. “Yeah, but I'll be damned if I'm going to talk to one more sleazebag—”

He interrupted, “I won't miss next time.”

Instead of scaring me, those words ignited my rage. “What? Next time? Did you
shoot
at me today? Screw you, asshole! I've had a lot of shit rain down on me this week, and I'm done with it! Do you hear me? How about I come and kick your ass instead? How would you like that, you cowardly son of a bitch?”

He replied, “You're dead,” and hung up.

Those last two words washed over me, and I immediately began shaking. Why did I say those things? I obviously pissed him off, whoever he was, and now I was dead. Instantly sickened by the sight of my waffle taco, I pushed the plate away and put my head down on the desk. This was out of hand. Briefly considering calling the police, I ultimately decided not to bother, since I didn't know what they could do about one threatening phone call. I didn't have a recording of the conversation, the guy used a voice changer, and the caller ID was blocked. Someone who took the time to do those things wasn't about to call from his landline and leave a traceable number on Java Jive's phone records. I needed help. Where was damn Ryder when I needed him?

In an effort to calm myself down (which didn't work, by the way), I took some time to place an ad for Brianna's job. In reality, now that I had Wayne, who seemed to be doing just fine, I could take over Brianna's spot and we would still have the same amount of staff. That was, unless someone else quit. Which, given the way my day was going, wasn't out of the question.

Back in control for the most part, I went out to check on Jamie. She had returned from her break, and besides the surly expression on her face, she seemed to be doing fine. Approaching Jamie and Cole, I said quietly, “Brianna quit. But now that we have Wayne, I can take over her position until I hire a replacement. Are you guys okay with that?”

“Whatever,” was Jamie's response.

“Cool,” said Cole.

The dinner crowd was starting to trickle in, so I kept myself busy taking orders and keeping the front of the house clean. Pete came in and headed straight for the back, not saying a word to me or even glancing in my direction. That was fine with me. I didn't want to talk to him, either.

Unfortunately, a few minutes later he appeared next to me and said curtly, “Juliet, a word?” I reluctantly followed him back to the office. He closed the door. “What's this I hear about Brianna quitting?”

“You heard right. She quit.”

“Great managing. What did you do to piss off another of my staff?” he fumed.

I gave him a dirty look and responded by slamming the door on my way out of the office. I returned to my post out front. Pete would never make a scene in front of the staff or customers, so I felt pretty safe from any more drama once I was behind the counter.

About an hour later, Ryder came strolling through the door. When I saw him, my temper flared again. I was going to need anger management when this was all over. Stomping over to him, I grabbed him by the ear and yanked him back out the front door.

He whined, “Ow, ow, ow, ear, ear, ear!” until we were outside and I harshly let him go.

“You bastard! You deserted me, left me all alone in a dangerous neighborhood in a house that had been shot to shit, with a
half…dead
…PERSON!” I punctuated those last three words with three hard slaps on his arm. He didn't flinch. “How could you do that to me? I was scared to death! I didn't know where you went or if you were ever coming back! And then the police took me to the station, and I thought I was going to get arrested! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ryder said solemnly, “I'm sorry. I took off after the shooter. I never would have left you alone if I didn't think you were tough enough to handle it.” He tried to stroke my cheek, but I shoved his hand away.

“I needed you. And you left me.”

“I'm sorry. I know it wasn't something a good boyfriend should do, but—”

“Whoa, slow your roll there.” I let out a short bark of laughter. “You're not my boyfriend. Just because we slept together once—”

“Twice.”

“—doesn't mean we owe each other anything. I was talking about doing a person the common courtesy that when you drive her someplace, especially the freaking
ghetto,
you're obligated to drive her back!”

“What did you want me to do? Let the guy get away?”

I stopped and thought about it, realizing it probably was more useful to try to find who shot at us than to babysit me. “I suppose you have a point. But I'm still pissed at you. So did you catch him?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, no. It was a man in an old, beat-up sedan. He was wearing a ski mask, so I couldn't get a positive ID. I chased him several blocks, but I lost him when I nearly got T-boned at an intersection. After that, I had a contact of mine run the plate, but the car was reported stolen this morning. No surprise there.”

Crossing my arms, I said, “So you don't know who did it.”

“Well, I didn't say that. I followed up on Dave Hill's old cellmate and found out that he lives not too far from where the sedan was stolen.”

“You mean Rob Carmichael?”

“How did you find out his name?”

“Pete. Dave's old cellmate is our cook Logan's brother.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked sharply.

I raised one eyebrow and glared at him.

Giving me a half smile, he said, “Oh, right. Because I was gone. Never mind. As to who did the shooting, I doubt it was some random act of violence, even in that neighborhood. Since Ron had quit being a bookie and settled up with all of his customers a while ago, I also doubt that it was one of them. The only trouble Ron seems to have been in lately is his altercation with Johnny Brewer, so I'm assuming the shooter was either Brewer himself or Carmichael. And you're not going to like this next part, but I also don't think it was a coincidence that the drive-by happened when you were at Ron's house.”

I frowned. “You're right. I don't like that. Did you talk to the police?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell them everything you just told me?”

“Yes.”

“Has either of them been arrested?”

“No.”

“If it's so obvious, then why not?” I cried, frustrated.

“No proof. It turns out you can't arrest someone without some kind of proof. That, and they're both in the wind.”

“Great. Both of your shooter suspects, who are also possible murder suspects, are nowhere to be found. Wait, back up. I thought Johnny was already in jail, thanks to your bogus weapon plant.”

He hesitated, looking away. “He was…uh, let go this morning.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Are you freaking kidding me? The cops let him go, and the first thing he does is a drive-by? What were they thinking? This day has absolutely been from hell. I can't stand much more.”

He frowned. “Did something else happen?”

“Wow. Where do I start? Aside from getting shot at and covered in blood trying to keep Ron alive—”

“You did a great job, by the way. I stopped by the hospital, and he's out of surgery. They say he's going to make it.”

“That's one good thing. Anyway, Pete and I got into a huge fight and aren't speaking to each other, one of my employees quit, and I got a scary phone call from a guy using a voice changer.”

He looked worried. “Ron said he got death threats from a caller with a voice changer. What did the caller say?”

“He started our conversation with, ‘I won't miss next time.' I think I made him mad after that, though.”

“How?”

“I got angry and may have screamed a few expletives at him. Then he said, ‘You're dead.' ”

Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Why did you feel the need to provoke him? Any
normal
woman would have been scared out of her damn mind.”

“I'd had a bad day, okay?” I huffed.

Looking down at me, he smiled and drew me into a hug. Even though I wasn't over being deserted, I didn't push him away, mostly because I really needed a hug. Comfort was the last thing I thought I'd get from Ryder, and unfortunately, it started my tears flowing again. At least this time I wasn't sobbing uncontrollably, but I was dampening the front of his fitted black T-shirt.