Read Online Crazy in the Blood (Latter-Day Olympians) by Lucienne Diver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucienne Diver
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is a smoking gun.”
—Christos Karacis
Armani was waiting for me when I got home. I’d seen earlier that I’d missed three calls from him, but… I could lie to myself and say I hadn’t called earlier because I hadn’t wanted to implicate him in any way in my violation of the Mount Lee crime scene. Or that I knew he’d be busy at work or…
But that Queen of Denial thing—it’s not just an honorary title. I take my duties very seriously.
I opened my—Lau’s—apartment door, walked into the living room and boom , there was Armani, sitting on Lau’s stiff-backed chair, incongruously flipping through a fashion magazine Christie must have left behind, no doubt hoping she’d influence me through osmosis.
He put the magazine down, fixed me with a cop stare and said, “You didn’t return my calls.”
“I see you let yourself in.” Never get defensive.
“You gave me a key.”
“Actually, Lau gave you a key. I let you keep it.”
He shrugged. “Same difference. Where’ve you been?”
“Nick, you’re my boyfriend, not my keeper.”
His eyes narrowed. “ Really? Because yesterday you seemed to need a keeper. Besides, if I were your boyfriend and I’d called three times to make sure you were okay after you practically collapsed in my arms, I’d think you’d care enough to call and let me know you were fine.”
And just like that I felt like an ass.
I moved into the room and perched on Lau’s coffee table to go eye to eye with Armani. “I’m sorry.” All that sincerity I’d saved up not wasting a drop on Apollo? I used it here. “I guess I was just so embarrassed about my weakness…”
I left it there. It was probably as far as I could go without lying to him, and I’d avoid that if I could. “Let me make it up to you,” I said instead. “Have you had lunch? Let me buy us some pizza.”
Maybe on a full stomach the news would go down better that I was leaving town, at least for a few days, to hopefully not identify the body Rosen had shown me as that of my uncle, but to find out what really had happened to him. I couldn’t do that from here.
“You think I can be bought off with pizza?” he asked incredulously.
“Can you?”
He smiled, and at least part of my world righted itself. Gah, had I really just thought that? Romantic drivel. “It’s a start,” he said.
“Good. The works?” I had to ask, because while most people were predictable, Nick liked to mix things up.
“Except for pineapple. Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza.”
“Tomato is a fruit.”
“Don’t go getting all smart ass. You’re supposed to be making things up to me.”
“Right. Have I told you how incredible you look today? Almost good enough to eat.”
“Oh no you don’t, woman. No getting distracted. I was promised pizza.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned for the kitchen to call up the pizza place. He followed me in to raid the fridge for drinks.
I was mid-dial when Armani said, “Hey, you made dessert.”
I dropped the phone. “Don’t touch that!” I said, suddenly panicked.
Armani straightened and fixed me with a look . “Why not?”
Thinking fast, I answered, “It’s Christie’s. She made it for a party tonight, but her fridge is on the fritz. This stupid heat and the brown outs have taken a toll.”
“Christie cooked?” he asked—not like he believed me, but like he was confirming that that was the story I was going with.
“Don’t be silly. Christie stirred ingredients together. No cooking involved. It’s ambrosia—” literally, but he didn’t have to know that, “—marshmallows, whipped cream, pineapple and, um, whatever.”
Damn Apollo’s sense of humor, that’s really how it looked in its inoffensive little Tupperware container.
Armani continued to stare at me over my refrigerator door, but I picked the phone back up and redialed, pretending not to notice. “I’ll order us a dessert pizza while I’m at it,” I told him, “so you can stop
—Christos Karacis
Armani was waiting for me when I got home. I’d seen earlier that I’d missed three calls from him, but… I could lie to myself and say I hadn’t called earlier because I hadn’t wanted to implicate him in any way in my violation of the Mount Lee crime scene. Or that I knew he’d be busy at work or…
But that Queen of Denial thing—it’s not just an honorary title. I take my duties very seriously.
I opened my—Lau’s—apartment door, walked into the living room and boom , there was Armani, sitting on Lau’s stiff-backed chair, incongruously flipping through a fashion magazine Christie must have left behind, no doubt hoping she’d influence me through osmosis.
He put the magazine down, fixed me with a cop stare and said, “You didn’t return my calls.”
“I see you let yourself in.” Never get defensive.
“You gave me a key.”
“Actually, Lau gave you a key. I let you keep it.”
He shrugged. “Same difference. Where’ve you been?”
“Nick, you’re my boyfriend, not my keeper.”
His eyes narrowed. “ Really? Because yesterday you seemed to need a keeper. Besides, if I were your boyfriend and I’d called three times to make sure you were okay after you practically collapsed in my arms, I’d think you’d care enough to call and let me know you were fine.”
And just like that I felt like an ass.
I moved into the room and perched on Lau’s coffee table to go eye to eye with Armani. “I’m sorry.” All that sincerity I’d saved up not wasting a drop on Apollo? I used it here. “I guess I was just so embarrassed about my weakness…”
I left it there. It was probably as far as I could go without lying to him, and I’d avoid that if I could. “Let me make it up to you,” I said instead. “Have you had lunch? Let me buy us some pizza.”
Maybe on a full stomach the news would go down better that I was leaving town, at least for a few days, to hopefully not identify the body Rosen had shown me as that of my uncle, but to find out what really had happened to him. I couldn’t do that from here.
“You think I can be bought off with pizza?” he asked incredulously.
“Can you?”
He smiled, and at least part of my world righted itself. Gah, had I really just thought that? Romantic drivel. “It’s a start,” he said.
“Good. The works?” I had to ask, because while most people were predictable, Nick liked to mix things up.
“Except for pineapple. Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza.”
“Tomato is a fruit.”
“Don’t go getting all smart ass. You’re supposed to be making things up to me.”
“Right. Have I told you how incredible you look today? Almost good enough to eat.”
“Oh no you don’t, woman. No getting distracted. I was promised pizza.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned for the kitchen to call up the pizza place. He followed me in to raid the fridge for drinks.
I was mid-dial when Armani said, “Hey, you made dessert.”
I dropped the phone. “Don’t touch that!” I said, suddenly panicked.
Armani straightened and fixed me with a look . “Why not?”
Thinking fast, I answered, “It’s Christie’s. She made it for a party tonight, but her fridge is on the fritz. This stupid heat and the brown outs have taken a toll.”
“Christie cooked?” he asked—not like he believed me, but like he was confirming that that was the story I was going with.
“Don’t be silly. Christie stirred ingredients together. No cooking involved. It’s ambrosia—” literally, but he didn’t have to know that, “—marshmallows, whipped cream, pineapple and, um, whatever.”
Damn Apollo’s sense of humor, that’s really how it looked in its inoffensive little Tupperware container.
Armani continued to stare at me over my refrigerator door, but I picked the phone back up and redialed, pretending not to notice. “I’ll order us a dessert pizza while I’m at it,” I told him, “so you can stop
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