Page 29 of How May I Please You

I’d give anything to have you here right now. With you around, Evan, no one would touch me. Even though you gave Chad a pass because he’s young, I know you’d lose it over Summers making contact with my body. Your body. It belongs to you. An accidental brush against my skin is the same as having a death wish when you're around.

Barbie and Ken lead us into the house where we round a corner and step into a tidy study. The place is decked out in mahogany furniture and decorated with sculptures of animals on pedestals. An eagle flies in the far corner while a tiger roars in another. A statue of a brown bear that’s nearly as tall as me intimidates the room from his spot next to the couch. I eye his teeth as I sit down and Summers squats next to me. Barbie and Ken sit across from us on a leather couch of their own, their expressions stone cold.

“Chad is on his way down,” Bartholomew says first, a furrow in his brow. “I’m Stanley, by the way. Stanley Swanson, and this is my wife Annette.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Summers says cheerfully.

“I wish I could say the same,” Stanley—the father formerly known as Bartholomew—replies. “What exactly is going on and how does it involve our son?”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Swanson,” Summers says quickly, working hard to stay ahead of me. “We were called in to investigate a fire that burned down Andrea’s Diner last night. As it turns out, my partner here was at the diner with a companion when they encountered your son. He works there, correct?”

Why is he asking when we already know the answer? Ugh.

“Yes, he does. Well, he did,” Stanley replies.

“Right. Well, Detective Monroe says she was witness to an incident that took place—one where your son dropped a plate after clearly having a bad day, and stormed out of the diner after being fired.”

“Fired?” Annette jumps in with a puzzled look on her face. “Chad told us he quit.”

“I did,” a young voice cuts in from behind us.

Summers and I turn around to find Chad Swanson standing in the doorway, an oversized vintage Sublime T-shirt draped over his shoulders with baggy pants that look like they were pulled straight from the nineties. The adoring son doesn't look anything like the product of the country club mother and father seated across from us. He’s clearly a problem child, which is perfect for me. I guarantee he has never heard a single song by Sublime, and I hate him even more for it.

Chad strides into the room with his eyes fixated on mine. From the moment he enters to the second he sits down, no one else is in the room but me. His glare isn't much different from the one he wielded at the diner the last time I saw him. He has the same narrow eyes, tight jaw, and evil glare as before, and I wish more than anything that he was in the diner when I struck the match.

Better yet, I wish you and I could get our hands on him together. What a mess we could make with this little brat. What a lesson we could teach before we snuff out his life.

“Chad,” Annette says, guiding her son to the spot next to her on the couch as she looks at him lovingly. “These detectives are here to speak with you. They say there has been a fire at Andrea’s, and that there was an issue yesterday while you were at work. Detective Monroe here claims that you stormed out of the restaurant after being fired. Is that true?”

Chad keeps his eyes on me like he’s trying to make me spontaneously combust with his gaze. Little fucker.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says, finally forcing his eyes over to his worried mother. “I mean, part of it is true. I did see her there, and maybe I was having a bad day, but she was the one who made it worse. She knocked a plate full of food out of my hands, which caused Mr. Clark to come in. I knew he would charge me for it, so I was upset.”

“What did you say to get yourself fired?” Stanley cuts in. I can tell from the look on his face that he has dealt with one too many issues with Chad and he’s tired of it.

“I wasn’t fired,” Chad barks back. “Mr. Clark was going to charge me for the plate I dropped. He has done it in the past, and not just with me. So I quit before he could even go there. I can find a better job. One that doesn't force me to deal with people like her.”

“People like me?” I snip with a raised eyebrow when I see Chad gesture toward me.

He scoffs. “Yeah, cops who come into the place treating workers like crap, sitting at the table talking about sex loudly in front of the other customers. It was disgusting. I’m only seventeen, you know? I shouldn't have to stand there and listen to that when I’m just trying to do my job.”

All eyes in the room slice over to me just as my jaw drops to the floor. Chad isn't just a young piece of shit. He’s a smart, manipulative, young piece of shit.

What I wouldn't give to bury him next to Sierra Cross.

The look in Summers’ eyes tells me that he’s questioning me. Combine that with the fiery gaze of Chad’s parents and I feel like I’m on the stand at my own trial, the judge and jury glaring at me with newfound hatred.

I wish you were here to defend me. You’d know what to say in the blink of an eye. You're so quick witted that an accusation like that wouldn't stand a chance. Nevertheless, I have to handle this without you, as much as it pains me.

“First of all,” I begin with a pointed finger. “Whatever private conversation I may or may not have been having with my partner is none of your business. Secondly, you were clearly eavesdropping. You could have announced your presence as soon as you arrived at the table instead of standing there listening to what was being said. We would have stopped talking immediately if you would have just given us that respect. Lastly, you didn't know I was a detective until you became belligerent and I felt the need to show you and the manager my badge. If I didn't announce that I was law enforcement, who knows how much worse you would've gotten. Your attitude is the reason you were fired.”

“I wasn't fucking fired!” Chad bellows. “Why are you lying about that? Mr. Clark didn't fire me. I quit.”

“From where I was sitting, you were fired,” I shoot back.

“Liar. You're trying to make it look like I went back to get revenge by setting the place on fire, aren't you? You're trying to set me up.”

“Now why would I do that?” I ask with a scoff.

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