her a row of needle sharp fangs. “I’m afraid to get off the counter.’
“Don’t be. You might want to put on some clothes though, actually—we both might. Freddy bites.”
He went into the bathroom and when he came back out he tossed her a long towel. He used a second one, wrapping it neatly around his trim waist and grinning at her.”You might want to make Freddy a sandwich too, just so he likes you.”
“You want me to make the cat a sandwich?”
“No, I want you to make me a sandwich but since I would like to eat in peace I would like you to make him one too.”
She did make him a sandwich and one for herself and Freddy as well. They took the paper plates she served them on into his living room and Jenna looked around the place. Unlike her spacious and contemporary apartment his was smaller, about seven hundred square feet, and the décor could only be described as eclectic.
There were pictures on the walls; most of them faded photographs of people she did not know. There was a woman with a worn face and a beautiful smile holding onto a little boy who could only be Blake in front of a dusty little café in what looked like the desert and she asked, “You know where I am from. So where are you from?”
“Texas?” The rich molasses of his voice had given that away but still she wanted to know more. “A tiny little town on the edge of the driest lands on earth is what my mom called. It was all scrub brush and sage, highways that rolled off into the distance and heat that would make you half-crazy.”
“It sounds like you were happy to leave.”
“After my mother died I had no reason to stay.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
“You didn’t. It was a long time ago. She was killed in a robbery.”
“I see,” and she did. That explained part of his personality. “Well, my parents are both about as far from dead as you can get, but they are dead to me.”
“You don’t talk to them.” It was a statement.
“No. My dad fell into this meth cooking co-op. They moved a lot, changed houses or used motel rooms or what-have-you. After one time that they cooked meth in a motel and almost killed the family sleeping in the next room with the fumes they were all on the run.
“My mom was in jail then, being held for petty theft or something else equally stupid. My dad decided that the best thing to do was to cook a huge plank of meth to bankroll our escape and he went to every store in town to get the stuff to make it, not thinking maybe they would be looking for someone buying all that stuff, not to mention he used a stolen credit card to pay for it.
“Anyway, it was not the brightest thing he ever did. When the cops rolled up he went out the back door and left me holding the bag, or rather the pan, literally. I did not know there were cops outside but he saw them and he left me there with his dope bubbling on a stove. I spent almost four years in juvie and that was hard, but never talking to either of my parents ever again was shockingly easy.”
“Why don’t you talk to your mom? I mean she was not there.”
“Precisely.”
Silence fell between them. Jenna knew how ungrateful and angry she sounded so she decided to change the subject. “Who is that?”
The picture that she pointed was of a young man with dark skin and knowing eyes, a careless grin and a bandanna covering part of his thick black hair. Blake said, “That is a long story.”
One he would rather not tell, Jenna heard that loud and clear even though he didn’t say it, and she was distracted by something else anyway. Jenna peered at the photograph, her face puckered with concentration. “Blake, isn’t that the detective that was at the building this morning?”
“Yes, why?”
“You know him, don’t you?”
“Yes, he was my partner on the force. Before that we were in the same combat until in the Army.” His voice was emotionless but his body language betrayed him, he was angry and it
“Don’t be. You might want to put on some clothes though, actually—we both might. Freddy bites.”
He went into the bathroom and when he came back out he tossed her a long towel. He used a second one, wrapping it neatly around his trim waist and grinning at her.”You might want to make Freddy a sandwich too, just so he likes you.”
“You want me to make the cat a sandwich?”
“No, I want you to make me a sandwich but since I would like to eat in peace I would like you to make him one too.”
She did make him a sandwich and one for herself and Freddy as well. They took the paper plates she served them on into his living room and Jenna looked around the place. Unlike her spacious and contemporary apartment his was smaller, about seven hundred square feet, and the décor could only be described as eclectic.
There were pictures on the walls; most of them faded photographs of people she did not know. There was a woman with a worn face and a beautiful smile holding onto a little boy who could only be Blake in front of a dusty little café in what looked like the desert and she asked, “You know where I am from. So where are you from?”
“Texas?” The rich molasses of his voice had given that away but still she wanted to know more. “A tiny little town on the edge of the driest lands on earth is what my mom called. It was all scrub brush and sage, highways that rolled off into the distance and heat that would make you half-crazy.”
“It sounds like you were happy to leave.”
“After my mother died I had no reason to stay.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
“You didn’t. It was a long time ago. She was killed in a robbery.”
“I see,” and she did. That explained part of his personality. “Well, my parents are both about as far from dead as you can get, but they are dead to me.”
“You don’t talk to them.” It was a statement.
“No. My dad fell into this meth cooking co-op. They moved a lot, changed houses or used motel rooms or what-have-you. After one time that they cooked meth in a motel and almost killed the family sleeping in the next room with the fumes they were all on the run.
“My mom was in jail then, being held for petty theft or something else equally stupid. My dad decided that the best thing to do was to cook a huge plank of meth to bankroll our escape and he went to every store in town to get the stuff to make it, not thinking maybe they would be looking for someone buying all that stuff, not to mention he used a stolen credit card to pay for it.
“Anyway, it was not the brightest thing he ever did. When the cops rolled up he went out the back door and left me holding the bag, or rather the pan, literally. I did not know there were cops outside but he saw them and he left me there with his dope bubbling on a stove. I spent almost four years in juvie and that was hard, but never talking to either of my parents ever again was shockingly easy.”
“Why don’t you talk to your mom? I mean she was not there.”
“Precisely.”
Silence fell between them. Jenna knew how ungrateful and angry she sounded so she decided to change the subject. “Who is that?”
The picture that she pointed was of a young man with dark skin and knowing eyes, a careless grin and a bandanna covering part of his thick black hair. Blake said, “That is a long story.”
One he would rather not tell, Jenna heard that loud and clear even though he didn’t say it, and she was distracted by something else anyway. Jenna peered at the photograph, her face puckered with concentration. “Blake, isn’t that the detective that was at the building this morning?”
“Yes, why?”
“You know him, don’t you?”
“Yes, he was my partner on the force. Before that we were in the same combat until in the Army.” His voice was emotionless but his body language betrayed him, he was angry and it
Similar Books
