Authors: Casey Griffin
“I was showing Piper around the house,” Aiden told Tamara. “She’ll be walking Sophie while I’m at work.”
“Oh, good,” Tamara said. “Aiden works long hours. Too long,” she chastised him teasingly.
“Well, at least Sophie will be taken care of.”
“Yes. But who is going to take care of you?”
“Oh, you do a fine job of that.” He smiled in an all too familiar way that made Piper take a mental note to pick up some antacids from the store.
She wanted to dislike the girl, not that she was jealous or anything. Samosas shamosas. But as Tamara squeezed his shoulder fondly Piper got a sincere vibe off the PA. She wasn’t acting all beautiful and charming to rub it in Piper’s face—it simply happened to be a side effect of absolute perfection. Self-consciously, Piper put one foot on top of the other, like that would help hide the grass stains.
An awkward silence settled over them—at least it felt awkward for her. Wanting nothing more than to get out of there, she said, “Well, I’d better go. It was nice to meet you, Tamara.”
“You too.” She flashed Piper a set of brilliant white teeth, but her left eye flickered like she had an involuntary twitch. The friendly curve to her mouth turned plastic, like it was melting off her face.
Piper pretended not to notice. Maybe it was a tic that Tamara was self-conscious about. Piper turned and headed for the entrance where she found Colin and Sophie curled up on the cool marble tiles together. She patted her leg and Colin trotted over.
Aiden picked up a sealed envelope from the table next to the door and handed it to her. “Here is the key.”
She wanted to brush off the sudden seriousness that had settled over them like a warm-weather San Francisco fog, stifling and oppressive, to get back the Aiden from five minutes ago.
“The key to your place?” She took the envelope and fanned herself with it, gasping like she couldn’t catch her breath. “This is all moving so fast.”
He’d been flirting with her at the park and ever since they got back to his place, so she expected an equally playful answer in return, but instead he said, “Well, Miss Summers. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. If there are any problems, you have my cell phone number, or you can call my office. You may come over at any time you like Monday to Friday, but inform me of the approximate time. I will pay you every Friday unless you wish otherwise, and you can find the check on this table.”
The abrupt change in his persona was so jarring that when he stuck his hand out to her she stared at it like he’d thrust a hedgehog at her. Finally, she reached out and shook it.
“Umm, thank you,” she said.
He gave her hand a good, firm shake. And that was that.
Reaching around her, he opened the front door. In a daze, she stepped out onto the front porch, Colin following behind. Back in her sweltering car, sitting on molten lava, she turned to him. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to be as mystified as she was.
“Well, that was certainly
something
.”
Aiden Caldwell had to be the most confusing, stupefying man that Piper had ever met. There was something between them. She was sure of it. It felt almost tangible. But then like a guillotine dropping, he would cut the emotion off like an unwanted head. And not just in front of Tamara, but in front of the cops after the taxi incident and when he left the center with Sophie.
Did she imagine it? Was she crazy? She didn’t think so, but the only other witness she could consult with was Colin. At the next stoplight, she peered over at him in the passenger seat. He gazed back earnestly and gave a quiet whine—a sure sign of support if she ever saw one. Either that or he had to pee.
Since the moment she’d met the prosperous CEO the day before, her head had been so full of him and his wiener—and not the four-legged kind—that she hadn’t been able to concentrate. But Piper had more important things to worry about than Mr. Handshake. Like her future. And at that exact moment, her work phone rang, reminding her of just that.
She pulled over to answer it. It was an emergency call. A Lab retriever had an epileptic seizure while at home and the owners were bringing it in. Piper hung up and pulled back into traffic, heading straight for the hospital.
By the time she finished treating the tired pup and was on her way out the door again, there were two messages on her phone from the receptionist at Sam’s Old World Singing Telegrams. She had a few last-minute bookings for telegram gigs.
Eager for the money and the distraction from Aideny thoughts, Piper dropped Colin off at home and picked up her costumes. Two of the events were parties downtown, and the last was a regular customer of hers. Telegram singers didn’t usually have regulars, but Barney Miller wasn’t what you would call regular.
She’d first met Barney at the post office. It was a long-term employee’s retirement party and someone had ordered a singing telegram. It was fun, as telegrams go, but nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary.
She hadn’t noticed Barney then, but the next week Sam sent her back to the same post office. Lindsey said someone had specifically requested Piper. It was for a Mr. Barney Miller.
The telegram was for his birthday. However, no one at the post office could remember it being his birthday, and they could have sworn it was six months earlier, and who had ordered the telegram, anyway? But Barney acted surprised and Piper didn’t think anything of it. Until she was called back for a third time. This time it was for someone else’s birthday. But there was Barney, standing in the corner clapping along to her song.
The next week, she was sent to his house for a “Get well” telegram. He greeted her from his antique floral sofa, a pile of tissues scrunched up next to him. Piper couldn’t help but notice he didn’t sound sick and he didn’t cough or sneeze once during her performance. She didn’t want to dwell on what the tissues were for.
Each week she was hired to go to his place. Lindsey said the requests always came by e-mail, so there was no way to know if he sent them himself, which undoubtedly he had. But week after week Piper returned to sing “just thinking of you,” “congratulations on your promotion,” “good luck on your motorcycle exam”—but she doubted he could even ride a scooter—and “my deepest condolences.” She was certain his grandmother had died three times already.
That evening, as she sang a farewell song for him in his Mission bungalow home, Barney’s glassy eyes followed her movements with rapt attention. Piper held the sword high above her head, screaming Barney’s Miller’s name at the top of her lungs. Her pleated skirt sashayed around her thighs as she swung it around like a true highland warrior.
“Bravo! Bravo!” Barney called, and she dropped into a bow. “Can you sing it again?”
Piper pressed
stop
on her phone’s music player, interrupting the haunting bagpipe that had wailed for background music. “You know I’m not supposed to. One performance. That’s the rule.”
Well, not really. That was
her
rule. Otherwise, Barney would keep her serenading him all evening.
“Please. One more time? I’m going to be gone for two weeks. I won’t get to see you next week.”
Piper sighed. She knew it wasn’t a waste of time, because Barney always tipped better if she went two rounds. “All right. Just once more.”
Picking up her broadsword, she cued up the Gaelic-themed music and pressed
play
. She returned to the middle of Barney’s living room where he’d pushed the wingback chairs and antique coffee table aside for her visit. Clearing her throat, she joined the bagpipes.
“Oh, where has my Barney gone?
I been missing you, dear.
’Tis too long since I seen ye;
I’m wishing you were ’ere.
O’er yon hills I did seek ye,
Through brook and through field.
I looked up high and down low,
But not a thing did my search yield.
Oh, I fear you been slain.
Won’t ye come back to me?
Lord deliver him safely,
My brave and gallant Barney.”
He clapped and hooted from his usual spot on his French Provincial sofa. She gave another gracious bow. This time, when she bent over, she noticed a new addition to his décor. A large decorative mirror propped curiously against the wall behind her, at just the right angle to reflect her backside when she bent forward to bow—which he encouraged her to do every time she came over.
Shooting upright, she patted her short plaid skirt down, clenching her teeth against the swears and insults that rushed to her lips. At first she thought it strange how Barney requested that she perform in tartan, considering his trip wasn’t to Scotland but to Pittsburgh. But now it made sense. Her plaid skirt was the shortest one she owned. He’d seen her wear it before.
Barney had always creeped her out in general, nothing specific, just a prickling along her skin like a spider crawling down her back. But the mirror crossed the line. He might have been steady income, but her self-respect was worth more than that.
She imagined him sending an e-mail to Lindsey earlier that day, requesting the Scottish theme after Googling some photos. The thought sent shivers down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she caught Barney staring at her bare thighs. Obviously he noticed too.
“What the hell is that?” She pointed at the mirror.
“What?” He licked his lips. “The mirror? Oh, I-I just bought that. Do you like it? It’s rococo style. I saw it in the shop and adored the miniature carved scalloped shells on the outer trim. And the patina—”
“Why is it there?” she demanded.
He blanched at the fury in her voice. His cheeks that had been rosy during her performance drained of color. “You know how much I love antiques.”
“No. I mean, why is it in that spot specifically?”
“I haven’t decided where to put it,” he mumbled. “Did you want me to move it?” He shifted on the couch but seemed reluctant to move the pillow that she noticed was placed across his lap.
“Like hell you didn’t.” Piper grabbed her phone and shoved it into her sporran. Plucking her coat off the chair, she wrapped it around her body and tied the belt in a knot. Make that a double knot. “You’re a disgusting little weasel.”
“Wait! Don’t go. I haven’t tipped you yet.” Barney dug into his pants pocket, taking a moment too long to dig out a twenty-dollar bill. From the center of the couch he held it up for her. “You’ll come back when I return from my vacation, right?”
“In your dreams, pal.” She cringed as the mental image of him actually dreaming about her that night popped uninvited into her brain. Shaking it off, she beelined it for the front door.
“Wait. Wait! Here!” He reached back into his pocket again, this time pulling out more money. “Take it. Please.”
She hesitated at the edge of the room, eyeing the wad of bills in his hand—they weren’t small ones. She imagined her landlord waiting outside her apartment for her to come home, to ambush her, demanding rent for that month. Could she go home empty-handed? Aiden wasn’t going to pay her until Friday. She could take the money from Barney and still storm out and never have to see the slimeball again.
Then the pillow slipped from his lap and fell to the floor, and she caught a glimpse of what hid beneath. She gagged. Forget that, she thought.
Choking on her own disgust, she whipped back around to the front door and “accidentally” knocked the rococo-style mirror with her sword as she passed it. A satisfying crack pierced the air as it hit the glass, then a musical chiming when the mirror shattered and the pieces fell to the hardwood floor.
“Whoops.” She gasped innocently. “Did I just wreck the patina?” She wrenched open the door. “Don’t call me again!” she yelled over her shoulder.
She slammed the door behind her and headed for her car. Reaching into her sporran, she pulled out her phone and texted Lindsey:
I’m finished at B.M.’s. Getting in my car now. You can call off the squad.
Piper had worked out a system with Lindsey. She always texted before she went into Barney’s and again after she escaped safely. That way, if Lindsey hadn’t heard from her she knew to tell the cops they could find Piper tied up and gagged in Barney Miller’s basement—she hoped not cut up into tiny pieces. She’d never thought he’d do it, of course, but for some reason the texts still made her feel better.
Barney had never laid a hand on her. His eyes, however, were another thing. The way they slithered up her body gave her the same gut reaction as if he’d reached out and grabbed a handful of boob. Over the last few years she’d dealt with all sorts of harassment. Catcalls, whistling, handsy drunks. But singing for Barney Miller was the only time she felt like she was doing something wrong. Something more obscene than singing telegrams.
The second she jumped in the Bug, she locked her car doors. While she fastened her seat belt, her phone dinged. It was Lindsey’s response.
Safe for another week.
Safe forever,
Piper replied.
I won’t be going back there again. Don’t book me with him. Will tell you about it on Monday.
The good thing about the gig at Barney’s was that it took her mind off Aiden for a few hours, but once she arrived back at home she was still wound up, now even more so. She decided to use it to her advantage, to get some study time in. However, between the colicky newborn in the unit below her and the horny newlyweds above her she knew there would be no concentrating.
Hoping for peace and quiet, she drove with Colin to the rescue center. She often studied there. Even the library could be noisy after school let out. And Starbucks was too expensive, considering her chai habit. She had just over three weeks left until her licensing exam. She’d worked too hard to let herself become distracted now. But even as she pulled into the center’s parking lot and dug out the spare key Marilyn gave her for the building, her mind was still running over the events of that afternoon, trying to figure out exactly what it all meant.