Page 44 of How May I Please You

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“What was that?” I ask with raised brows. “Say it louder so I can hear you, Little One.”

“Okay,” she repeats.

“Okay what?”

“I’ll let it go. I apologize for being disrespectful.”

“Say that part again, too.”

“Sir,” she says, finally looking up at me. “I apologize for being disrespectful. I’ll let it go.”

I stare down at her, my anger not dissipating in the least. “Good.”

After a sigh, I turn around and walk into the kitchen, leaving Journey silent on the couch while I go to the fridge and grab a bottle of wine and a glass for myself. This was supposed to be a fun night with Trey. I never thought it was going to come to this, but now that it has, I could really use a glass of wine. But as I fill the crystal with the dark red liquid, Journey’s cell phone rings.

“Fuck. It’s Summers,” she gripes before answering the call and placing the phone on her ear.

As she begins talking, Journey gets up from the couch and walks into the hall just as I return to the living room. As I place my wine glass on the coffee table, I hear Journey speaking.

“And it has to be now? Fine. I’ll meet you there.”

When she comes back to the living room, a fresh layer of annoyance coats her face.

“I have to go,” she announces.

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

She lets out a long, tired sigh. “Summers says he got permission to speak to Chad Swanson. He wants to go over the timeline of his alibi one last time before we remove him as a suspect.”

“And that has to happen at nine o’clock in the evening?”

“Yeah, I guess so. He says the captain wants us to do it now so we can start fresh on the case in the morning. I’m sorry. I’ll do everything I can to try and hurry it along, but I have to go.”

My brows furrow, a strong sensation stinging in my stomach without a single sip of the wine on the table. I bite my bottom lip as a million questions fire up in my head, but I don't stop her. In fact, I’m mad enough at her that I almost want her to go.

“Alright then,” I say, then I sit down and grab the glass and bring it to my lips.

Yes, give me space before I do something I regret.

As Journey grabs her keys, she stops at the door and turns to face me.

“Sir,” she says, all the aggression in her voice now abandoned. “Never forget that I love you.”

Then she's gone.

Hey, I just wanted to reach out and make sure everything was cool. I think we all let the wine get to us a little bit. We were all doing too much. Are we good?

After half an hour goes by, I realize that I’m not going to get a response from Trey. Understandably, he’s probably pissed. I am, too. But like I told Journey, friends can have disagreements and still be friends afterward. I’ve known Trey for a while now, and it would annoy the shit out of me for our friendship to end over a night we were supposed to be having a good time. Journey and I were supposed to show him what a happy couple looks like. Instead, we gave him a sneak peek at a side of us he wasn't supposed to see.

After another five minutes goes by without hearing from neither Trey nor Journey, I decide to force the issue. If he won't answer my texts, I’ll do this the old fashioned way.

I get up from the couch and go into the kitchen, where I open the fridge and pull out a six-pack of canned beer. Trey is more of a liquor guy, but alcohol is alcohol, and I know he won’t turn it down once he realizes it is my peace offering.

With my olive branch in hand, I hop in my truck and head to Trey’s house.

I’ve been to Trey’s place three other times. In the past, he would invite the crew over after we’d finish a project, and we would all celebrate our accomplishment here. Trey, always the gracious host, would be sure to have a keg on-hand to go along with some perfectly seasoned barbeque and tons of alcohol. The last one we had was right after Cain was killed, so it took on a more somber tone, but Trey still pulled it off. His personality was infectious as usual, and by the time the party was done, it almost felt like we were celebrating Cain’s life. Only Trey could do that.

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