Authors: Eryn Scott
13
It's crazy how intensely happy it makes me that I don't have to worry about mobsters anymore. I mean, it's not surprising life without them is better, that's just like, of course. It's the extent of how happy I am that I wasn't expecting. I find myself skipping from time to time, smiling for no good reason, and even going back to leaving my car and house unlocked sometimes (mostly still because I don't remember, but the thing is I'm not feeling paranoid anymore, not watching over my shoulder).
Kaylee seems to be feeling the freedom, too. Her singing reaches a joyful intensity that I think might fry Em's brains right out of her head, but I'm happy she's feeling safe again.
Without movie-like dramatic threats around every corner, the rest of Tuesday and Wednesday fly by in a lovely working blur. The practice is picking up speed and patients. Besides a few getting-things-going glitches, the opening week has been smoother than my new patient Mr. Hendrick's shiny-bald head.
Thursday morning while I sit at my desk and get ready for my day, excited bubbles float up from my stomach into my lungs as I think of Andrew. Now that I know about his job, the closed-off feeling I got from him when it came to pretty much anything makes more sense. And it makes me even more certain that Andrew really needs a friend.
My cell phone rings from where it’s sitting out on my desk and forces me to stop thinking about him. I don't recognize the number, but answer it anyway
"Hello."
The connection is scratchy, but I can definitely hear the words, "You are in danger." Then there's a bunch of crackly static before I hear, "You must – chhhh -- us – chhhh -- you – chhhh -- vulnerable."
I roll my eyes and end the call. Stupid telemarketers. The least they could do is get phones that work. I've gotten calls like that before. They try to convince you that your credit card information has been stolen, blah, blah, blah. I don't have time for any of that. I'm about to block the number when Sarah pops her head into my office and lets me know my first patient is ready for her exam.
It's a busy day and I'm moving fast most of it. When I grab my phone at the end of the day and check my messages, I regret not blocking that damn number. The bastards have called three more times and left a message. I walk up to the front of the office as I roll my eyes and listen to what they left (mostly 'cause I'm interested to hear what they're peddling).
"Miss Maddox," the message begins, still cutting out and crackly as crap. "We are coming – chhhh --identity – chhhh -- FBI." The message cuts out again and then ends.
I delete it and make a sour face as I reach the front desk.
"What's wrong?" Kaylee moves to the edge of her seat and leans toward me. She notices the phone in my hand, looks up at my upset face, and before I have a chance to tell her about the stupid telemarketers, she blurts out, "I'm so sorry! I'll never do it again. I just thought if I called from your phone, it wouldn't be a big deal since they don't know your number. You always just leave it lying out on your desk and I didn't think you'd notice." She scrunches down in her seat.
Her words settle on my mind like a slow frost.
"You used my phone? Who did you call?" I say it slowly, mostly trying to make sure the anger doesn't come through in my words, but also because I need this girl to understand what I'm asking.
She tucks her chin and looks down at the counter, playing with a paperclip as she says, "My mom."
I can feel my heart beating in the back of my neck and then in my ears.
“Kaylee!” I hiss. “You broke a rule? We just got our lives back and then you go and break the biggest rule of them all?”
Kaylee groans. "I'm sorry. Talking to you about how much I've missed her made me realize how much I've missed her and I --" She doesn't finish, though. Tears cloud her eyes as she looks up at me.
I close my eyes. "Kaylee it's..." I want to say it's okay, was about to. But then I remember the calls that I brushed off as telemarketers. "Wait. When did you make the call?" Please say after I got the first call this morning, please say after, so I know they're not connected. I wait, crossing my fingers in my mind.
"Yesterday." She flinches as she says it. Not that she should know why yesterday would be worse than today, but to her I guess it's all worse.
The room spins a little. I place my hand on the counter and become very deliberate about breathing. The crackly messages come back to me. Gosh, I can't remember exactly what they said, but I remember the first one was about danger and the message said -- shit, I wish I hadn't deleted it -- but it was about someone coming and I definitely heard FBI. Oh my god! They weren't telemarketers at all! The mob got a hold of my phone number once Kaylee called her mom and now they're calling, telling me they're coming to get her and I'm in danger.
I lick my lips and look all around us then outside in the parking lot. Nothing unusual. Yet, that is. They said they're coming, not that they were here. My mind spends about one second wondering why the hell the mob would bother calling to warn me, but Kaylee starts bombarding me with questions.
"Why? Why does it matter when I called?"
I shake my head, not wanting to tell her.
She widens her eyes all crazy-like and says, "Tell me, Jules."
I wave a hand to brush it off, a gesture that turns out to be much harder than you'd think when inside you're completely freaking out. "Oh, I got a few creepy calls is all."
Kaylee leans forward. "Creepy?" Her voice is shaking now and she looks behind her back through the window and out to the parking lot.
I make an it's-not-a-big-deal face and tip my head from side to side. "Yeah. Um. Probably nothing, though. Telemarketers." In my head, I add that at least Andrew's due back tomorrow, so hopefully he can look into these guys.
Then it hits me. I have to tell him. Kaylee calling her family, breaking a rule, followed by the threatening calls, it all points to us being in danger again.
We leave for home and over dinner I find out Kaylee's never seen a Mel Brooks movie. I giddily rectify that with a showing of Young Frankenstein. But I can't even seem to enjoy one of my favorite movies because I keep thinking about how I have to tell Andrew to send this girl away.
14
Lips. I dream about lips that night. Lots of 'em.
First and foremost (and pleasant-most) there are Andrew's. I'm not some creep-o who's memorized his lips or anything, they're attached to his face in the dream. But just as he's about to kiss me, they rip off, grow legs, and become big red cartoon-like lips that chase me down a long never-ending hall. Along the way there are lips lining the hall. Smiling lips, frowning ones, talking lips, and tightly shut ones. I feel like I'm in some sort of Rocky Horror nightmare show.
I wake up fast. Sweat covers my body, making the t-shirt I sleep in cling to me uncomfortably, and causing shivers to run up and down my arms and legs. The clock says it's only 4:05 am, so I change my t-shirt, dumping the soaked one in my laundry basket, then I curl back into bed, hoping for a few hours of lip-less sleeping.
Although no more dreams follow, the fitful sleep I get past that leaves me slightly cranky as I enter work a few hours later. Plus, I'm not all too jazzed about having to fill Andrew in on everything that's gone down while he's been away.
I manage to steer clear of Kaylee as much as I can in the morning and at work. Luckily she's not the most observant person around, so she doesn't seem to get that I'm acting weird or avoiding her. She didn't mention anything else last night about the phone call, so either she understands that I have to tell Andrew now or she's completely oblivious.
I'm helping Neve clean up after an appointment and I hear a familiar "Hey" come from behind me. A melty, deep "Hey". The best and worst kind.
I smile and turn to see Andrew, suited up like the first time I met him, standing in the doorway to the exam room. Neve smiles, bites her lip, and ducks out into the hall with a little wink.
"How was your trip?" I ask. Now that I know what he really does, I wonder what his here-and-there things really turned out to be. Were they to do with Kaylee? Is he already aware of the fact that these mobsters may know where she is?
Andrew dips his head. "Oh, fine." He smiles in that wonderful squinty way and then shoves his hands in his pockets. "Kaylee tells me you usually take lunch about now. Care for some company? I have something to talk to you about."
My heart sighs and even an impending talk can't keep away the smile that pulls at the corners of my lips. "Sure. I have something important to tell you, too. Let me just grab my stuff." I point to my office and he waits in the hall while I get my purse.
We walk, since it's a nice summer day and I tell him I feel like a coffee and dessert for lunch. He laughs and leads the way. After a minute of walking, he sighs, pulls in a deep breath, and looks around.
"Good to be home?" I ask.
He nods. "Always. I love it here. Grew up here, did you know that?"
"I did not." I smile remembering my decision to wait for this closed book to open last time we were together, no matter how much time it might take.
"My parents moved to different states after they divorced, but my grandparents still live in a little white farmhouse over on 11
th
."
"That's great." It's not that I don't love that he's opening up, but his statement does have me wondering why he's telling me this, wondering what prompted this share.
"I didn't want you to think that I wasn't family-centered or anything like that." He shrugs and I can feel his eyes hold me.
"Oh. Sure. I didn't think that, though. Just so you know." My fingers fidget by my side and I lengthen my stride.
His opening up reminds me what I have to tell him. I'm not wondering if I'm doing the right thing or any of that, but I start to cringe at the thought of the repercussions me telling him might have, the ones I haven't thought about yet. Yes, it will mean Kaylee is relocated, but what will it mean for Andrew? What will it mean for how he sees me, if he can even see me anymore?
Thinking like this has me walking like something out of the Olympics and I hear footsteps jog next to me before a hand closes over mine. I stop and look right into Andrew's gray-blue eyes. His brow furrows, but a smile plays at his lips.
"Everything okay there, Speedy?"
I laugh way too loud. "Ha! Totally. I haven't gotten to stretch my legs in a little bit, is all." My smile is entirely too big, like my laugh, but it's all I can pull together at the moment with my thoughts ninety-five percent focusing on what the hell I'm going to tell him once we reach the coffee shop.
Plus there's also the fact that he still hasn't let go of my hand. When I notice this, my cheeks turn pink and apparently I'm back in junior high because all I want to do is run away. I don't. I stand and face him, watch him as he looks at me. There's an interesting happiness to his face, a lightness, an extra crinkle here or a squint there, maybe.
"So what did you need to talk to me about?" I ask.
The small happinesses on his face disappear right away and cloud over. "Kaylee." He says her name like a swear word and pulls in a long, deep breath that makes his chest expand and my heart ache.
My chest pulls tight for a second, thinking about her being in danger, before I remember he doesn't know that I know what he does, why Kaylee's here. This must be just a general Kaylee annoyance. Hopefully.
He runs his fingers through his blond hair and loosens some pieces from the gelled swoop of business-y perfection.
"Her new look is ridiculous! I'm so sorry. I can't believe she’d do this. I mean think of all the attention she's bringing to herself." Andrew stops and his eyes cut to my face. Then he adds, "Taking it off your business. Plus, it's not very professional. I'll get her to change it tonight, right after work."
"Oh! That?" A laugh bubbles in my throat, but I hold it in, wrap my arm through his, and pull him the rest of the way toward the coffee shop. "The thing is," I say as we keep walking. "I like it."
Even though my first instinct was to laugh, his comment pulls tight at something Kaylee and I missed completely on Saturday night. We were so focused on her looking different we hadn't even thought about her looking loud and look-at-me, which now that I'm thinking about it, is probably the last thing one would want if they were in hiding. Crap. Well, I guess it's a good thing he's back and that I'm going to tell him everything once we get inside.
"You like it?" Andrew's eyebrows tip up and he blinks at me. He almost looks like he's not going to let me open the door to the coffee shop when we stop in front of it.
I simply nod. "Yeah. Um, I'll tell you the rest when I have some pastry in my hands and more importantly, you have a coffee in yours." I pat him on the chest. "I think that trip of yours made you slightly grumpy, sir."
His mouth opens, but no retort comes out. After a second, his eyes and mouth pull up into a little smile and he gets the door.
I stop worrying whether I've upset him when he places a hand on my waist as I order. I bite my lip and begin a pretty hefty session of repeating the phrase "just friends" in my head. Soon Kaylee will be out of my life and the potential trouble employing a mob witness presents to my business will be gone, too. If this whole thing has shown me anything, it's that I need still need to keep my distance from Andrew.
So I do. I step to the side, keeping my safety-radius intact once again. If he notices, he doesn't let on, but simply orders and we find a table while we wait for our drinks.
"So?" he asks. "The new look?"
"Oh, yeah. We like it, actually. Both Em and I. The customers, too. And I was with her -- when she did it." I stop myself before I tell the rest of that story, the why part. Because he doesn't have that all-important coffee yet.
Andrew looks surprised. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize..."
"You told me to look out for her." I hold my hand out. "And so I invited her over on Saturday. One thing led to another and we got into makeover mode." I leave it at that, for now.
He crinkles his nose as if he's unaware of the magic that is makeover mode.
I wave my hand at him. "It's a girl thing. Happens all the time."
"Well, if you're okay with it." He rubs his palm across the stubble on his chin.
Despite his words, he doesn't seem okay with it. Probably because his being mad at her new attention-seeking look is more about the whole she's-trying-to-hide thing rather than the being-professional-at-my-office thing he made it about. And I don't know how to reassure him about that because what I'm about to tell him won't make any of this better.
Our coffees arrive and so does a huge lump in my throat. I told myself I would tell him once he had a drink. Here it goes...
My phone chooses that wonderful moment to ring, breaking my concentration and helping me dodge the topic for a few seconds longer.
I pull out the phone and my face freezes as I see the number flashing across the screen. It's THE number, the mobsters. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands automatically sweat enough that I have difficultly holding on.
"You gonna answer that?" Andrew asks.
Andrew! Andrew's right here next to me. A warm calm settles over me. These damn mobsters are gonna be in for it big time when they start threatening me and then I hand the phone over to a freaking Marshal.
"Haha!" I say out loud, regrettably because I've got Andrew completely befuddled now. "Er -- yes! I will answer this, is what I meant."
I swipe "answer" before I do anything else dumb.
"Hello, this is Miss Maddox." I use the name they left on the message yesterday.
The same crackly signal is all I hear right away and I almost snap my fingers in delight, but I hold it in. And I'm glad I do, because after a second, it clears up and a voice rings through the mess.
"Miss Maddox, this is Protection One calling in regards to the messages we've left about possibly starting an identity protection program with you. We're sorry, but we've been experiencing a few technical problems and we've gotten feedback that the calls that went out yesterday might have been difficult to understand."
Protection One? Identity protection? My face flashes hot and then cold. You're in danger. Ugh. In danger of having my identity stolen, most likely. And that's where the word "identity" I heard came from. Not in a "We know the real identity of your secretary."
Holy relief, Batman! This is great news! It wasn't mobsters after all, just crappy telemarketers, like I thought. Though, I can't figure out why they would tell me they're coming not to mention talking about the FBI.
"Oh, yes, I did get those yesterday." I nod and watch Andrew. I give him a circular hand motion to let him know I'm wrapping this up.
"We apologize. Did you want to hear about the new program we're coming out with? It boasts FBI level security for your personal information."
Ding ding ding. Ah, there it is! I almost laugh.
"Sorry, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." I hang up before the lady can pull me into another half hour of questions and offers.
A giddy smile spreads across my face because I realize that without those calls being from the Russian mob, I no longer have to tell the potentially difficult secret to this man in front of me. I don't have to stress him out more or make him even more worried. Because there isn't anyone after Kaylee. She's safe, I'm safe, Andrew's safe and we can eat our dessert-based lunch in peace.
I put my phone away, sigh, wrap my fingers around my warm coffee, and sit back to sip it happily.
"Telemarketers." I roll my eyes and beam across the table at him before I grab a good hunk of my scone and stuff it into my mouth.
Andrew shakes his head and says, "Oh, I forgot. Didn't you have something you needed to tell me?"
I stop mid-chew and a crumble or two from my pastry fall right out of my mouth before I can catch them. "Yeah..." I press my lips together and think. "I wanted to let you know that..." I pick at my scone. "That -- um... I will be gone this weekend."
"Oh? Where are you off to?"
An idea settles over me like a protective layer of enamel over a tooth. "My parent's house. I'm going to see my parents this weekend."
Andrew nods. "Great." But then a funny look settles over his features.
I realize that not only does my news not really pertain to Andrew, but it definitely doesn't warrant saying, "I have something important to tell you" as I did, so I make something else up.
"I just wanted you to know so you could keep an eye on Kaylee for me." I wink, turning it into a cute joke, you know, since he asked me to watch out for her when he was gone. It's a joke he seems to appreciate because I'm rewarded with a lovely one-eye-squintier smile that makes my fingers forget how to pick up scone for a good three seconds.
"Do you ever wish we'd met under different circumstances?" he asks, his voice almost flat, pushing the words out fast.
My face flushes and I blink probably way too many times. Then I nod, knowing exactly what he's talking about. And I finally have my confirmation. Andrew must feel about me the way I feel about him, but darn-it-all if we don't both also have ridiculous professional standards and feel dating when we're professionally linked and professionally swamped might not be too smart. Especially now that I know the kind of work he
really
does. The whole Marshal thing takes this from a bad idea, to dangerous and irresponsible.