Page 26 of Tropical Heat

“Probably for the best,” he said. “My roommate will be home soon.”

“Come on, boy. Let’s go outside.” Oliver shot out of the bedroom to where his leash hung and skidded into the console table, sending my keys and yesterday’s mail to the floor. I laughed, envying his energy.

Once he had done his business and we came back in, I gathered up the mail and put it back on the table. But as I hung up the leash, something nagged at the back of my brain. Grabbing the ads and bills, I thumbed through them until finding the one from Florida Power. In disbelief, I read the name three times. Each time it was the same—Zak Weston.

Fuck. Frantic, I looked for my keys and found them in the corner. My watch read 6:25.Shit, shit, shit.

I do not like to lie; it makes me uncomfortable. But awkward situations make me even more uncomfortable. And if I did not get out of that house right away, I would be face to face with the mother of all awkward situations. “Dante, I just got a page. They need me at the hospital. I’ll call you later.”

Fifteen

Zak

For the last twelve hours, I had gone from one call to the next with no letup. It started with a five-car pileup in Layton and ended sixty miles south and half a day later, with a broken nose.

Clive and I arrived at the home on Stock Island to find Mr. Hugo Tauberman, a 37-year-old male, suffering from a gunshot wound to his left shoulder. Also present at the scene were his wife, Verna, a sturdily built woman in her early forties; and his sister-in-law, Laurette Chomsky, a buxom blonde of indeterminate age.

As I worked to patch Mr. Tauberman up, his only concern was if I thought his injury was serious enough that he could collect disability. I allowed, with little conviction, “Anything is possible,”

“You hear that Verna. Doc says I’m disabled. Looks like you did me a favor, shooting me. I can collect government money and never have to work again.”

Verna, who had not been feeling well, and left work at Pearl’s Bar several hours earlier than scheduled, did not seem impressed. When she arrived home, she found Hugo in bed with her sister Laurette.

According to Mrs. Tauberman, her sister had always been‘a piece of no good white trash’and she should have never invited her to live with them after Laurette’s boyfriend went back to jail for a third time.

At that point, Ms. Chomsky stated that if Vernatook the stick out of her ass, Hugo wouldn’t have to come to Laurette for butt stuff. At which point, Verna landed the punch that broke her sister’s nose.

When the police arrived to arrest Verna on two counts of assault, Clive and I gave them our statements before carting Ms. Chomsky and Mr. Tauberman to Key West Medical Center. Now all I wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the next ten hours.

But when I opened my front door, Morgan was standing in the living room, looking terrified. She was always in control of her emotions, so the look of panic in her eyes scared the heck out of me.

“What's wrong? Did something bad happen?” She shook her head and looked away. I did not remember telling her where I lived, so for her to track me down like this meant whatever was going on was serious.

“I couldn't hear what you said with the damn dog barking,” said Dante, stepping from his bedroom wrapped in a sheet. “Oh, you're home. Dr. Morgan Lewis, this is my roommate, Zak Weston.”

I already had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and did not hide my anger. “Technically, I'm his landlord.”

“I swear to god, I didn’t know you guys lived together.” Morgan bit her lower lip, holding back tears. “It’s probably best I leave.”

Dante seemed to be a step behind. “What’s going on? Do you guys know each other?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “intimately.”

“Oh, shit, I don’t believe it.” He looked from me to her. “She’s nothing like the woman you described. You’re always going on about how intelligent she is and how much she liked that stupid boat ride you took her on.”

Morgan gave him a withering look. It was her turn to be angry. “So what, you don’t think I’m smart?”

Before I could enjoy seeing Dante squirm, he pivoted. “Of course you're smart, but Zak makes you sound like some kind of scared nerd. The Morgan I know has an adventurous spirit. You’re willing to take chances no matter how much they scare the hell out of you. There’s a passion that burns deep within your soul. He mentioned none of those things.”

“Maybe because I didn’t think it was any of your business.” I stared at him defiantly. Then I saw the bruised lump on his forehead and stepped close enough I could smell his strong spicy scent. I brushed his hair back and softly asked, “What happened?”

“I was embracing myadventurous spirit.” Morgan spit out the words like they were a curse, “and almost killed him. God, I’ve made such a mess of things.”

Dante appeared fine. I decided it was a story that could wait for later and reached for Morgan’s hand. She pulled it back, her body contracting in on itself. “I’ve got to go.”

If she walked out that door, I knew neither of us would ever see her again. “You’re upset right now. I get it. But nothing has to change.”

“How the fuck do you figure that?” Dante snarled. “I would say this changes everything.”

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