Page 18 of Right Number, Wrong Man
I veil myself in stubborn silence, but that’s never a valid defense against Andrea. If I won’t talk,shewill.
“I’ve said it before but I’ll repeat it as often as you need me to: Mike’s death wasn’t your fault. Cheating was the last straw, Hails! You gave him a million chances and he blew them all. It’s a coincidence he got murdered the same night you broke up. Just pretend The Eyesnatcher got him.”
“The Eyesnatcher doesn’t kill men,” I protest and shudder, remembering the headlines.
Five women were found dead in the last month, discarded like trash along the roadside near the Oregon state line. Their eyes were missing and their lids were sewn shut with black thread. The police still don’t have a suspect.
“Then pretend he made an exception for Mike!” Andrea slaps the counter. “You know, I’m going to say it and I don’t care if it’s mean.”
She knows what a hot mess my marriage was and she’s amazing at smacking me with harsh truths when I need to hear them. I love that about her, but I brace myself for what is sure to be a brutal comment.
“Fate gave you a second chance when Mike died,” Andrea says and my heart skips a beat.
There it is. The words I’m afraid to say out loud despite them spinning in my head for months.
“You took a wrong turn when you married Mike, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep walking along that wrong road out of misplaced guilt.”
She sees right through me. Even if it’s not the current reason for my foul mood, the topic has been on my mind.
I take a sip of coffee, hiding behind the rim of the mug. “That’s not it.”
“Then talk to me! Is Colt giving you a hard time at work again? Did he refuse to give you time off for the wedding?”
I bristle. “Don’t remind me of that ass! I’ll see him later during my shift and until then, I won’t spoil my day with thoughts about his stupid face. But don’t worry, I got the wedding weekend off. Colt could suck a donkey dick if he tried to stop me!”
Andrea laughs. “I didn’t want to mention it when Mike was alive… but the way you and Colt are always at each other’s throats, one might think you have some sexual tension to work off.”
I flinch, almost spilling coffee all over my lap. “You didnotjust say that! Did the wedding planning drive you crazy? Have you forgotten all he’s done to me?” I point at the pale scar through my left brow. “This ishisfault and he never even apologized!”
“Sure, it was a dumb prank gone wrong, but what else has heactuallydone to you? Do you knowwhyyou keep arguing with him or is that just a habit? Shouldn’t you try to put the past behind you and?—”
“No!” I cut in.
“Then why do you keep working with him at theRetro Reel?”
“The commute isliterallythirty seconds, plus I get towatch free movies on slow nights, drink free soda, and eat free popcorn. Running the concession stand is an easy job. I get to take home cool posters and play free games on the pinball machines, too. And Ilovethat we haven’t gone digital! That aesthetic of proper film rolls is just so nostalgic. And Colt promised me the manager position when he re-enlists. In a matter of weeks, I’ll be rid of him and bossing around the part-timers. Really, I?—”
“Okay, I get it! Thejob benefitsare too tempting.” Andrea interrupts, giving me a pointed look. “I’m just saying you two have chemistry.Explosivechemistry.”
“That’s because we’re polar opposites. I’m a delight to be around, and he’s a grumpy prick.”
“Buthe’s also tall and handsome. Muscular. The little bump on his nose and that short-boxed beard give him a rugged charm. Isn’t he former special forces?”
I roll my eyes. Why is that always so impressive to people? Because he can aim a rifle and pull a trigger doesn’t mean he’s some sort of sexy superman. To me, he seems more like the kind of weirdo who’d give his gun a woman’s name.
“I think he was a sniper,” I say, annoyance edging into my tone.
“What I’m hearing is that he’s patient enough to set up the perfect shot. And don’t snipers hold their breath when they pull the trigger? Both skills are very useful when a man eats puss?—”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Andrea!”
“And he’s the kind of guy who’d know how to protect you.”
“Protect me? That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I regularly have nightmares of being assassinated by him from across the street. Why else would he have boughtthat building? A little red laser dot on my forehead—BANG!”
I let my head flop onto the backrest of the sofa and Andrea giggles.
“I don’t think snipers use laser dots, Hails. That wouldn’t be very stealthy.”
