Page 14 of Dirty Ex-Mas
Because as much as I hate to admit it, I need to know I can contact Mack and that he’ll be safe if I do so. And not even that I need to know if Icancontact him. I have tobe able tocontact him. To hear his voice when I need it, send him a message when I’m thinking it, keep a lifeline between us open. Since we can’t be together, it’s all I have left of him.
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you.
“Of course.”
He heads into the restroom and I make my way back to the bar, still feeling the kiss long after.
5
Reed
I had to have Jenny from research and records repeat what she’d said twice when she called to tell me the sketch had been matched to David Tremblay. She would have called to tell me anyway, since Mack and I are on the case, but since David also came up as a known acquaintance of mine, she was trying to keep the information on the down low for me until I figured out what to do. David and I have been friends since we were kids. So, I won’t rush out and bring him in for questioning unless I’ve got evidence that is solid as fuck, along with equally airtight backup evidence.
I know that facial recognition identification from a sketch isn’t always one hundred percent correct. That said, there’s a big part of me that thinks Paula Nelson must be incorrect with her recollection of what her abductor looks like and what she passed along to the sketch artist. But, according the Jenny, the sketch matched David’s face with most of the sixty-eight facial markers used in the identification process.
Meaning my best friend is trafficking humans in an illegal sex trade and hiding it from me. Which I’d like to believe is unlikely. Or he’s got a doppelgänger here in the city that’s out doing nefarious deeds. Which is possible. Or the FBI facial recognition software is faulty. Which is highly improbable. The more likely scenario being that Paula’s recollection of what this guy looks like is faulty.
I bow my head and send a silent prayer to the powers that be to make it that last option.
“Well, hey Reed, I didn’t know you were here!”
I look up and see Quinn Foster coming toward me behind the bar.
“Hey Quinn, how’s it going?”
Instead of answering, she looks at my beer and says, “Drinking on a work day? Naughty boy. Do I need to punish you?”
I laugh. My dick jumps a bit at her calling me a naughty boy and asking if she needs to punish me. Especially when she’s leaning over the bar in that tank top—her breasts all pushed up and begging for attention. I like Quinn. It’s obvious she likes me. But she dated David a while back.
I don’t know for certain that it would upset him or that he’d even care. If I remember correctly, they only dated for a few months. He brought her to a BBQ I was at and she and I hit it off. It wasn’t until later that I realized she was his date and I backed way the fuck off. I know that was one of their first dates. I just don’t remember how long they’d been seeing each other, or how much longer after that they continued to see one another.
All of which makes it way too complicated for me to date Quinn. I need things in my life to be orderly and that situation is anything but. Plus, she’s loud, whereas I’m quiet. And she’s a lot to handle, for lack of a better descriptor. I think I would bore her in a matter of weeks.
Plus, I don’t know if they ever slept together and I really don’t know how I feel about that. I’d ask David about it, but then he’ll know that I’m interested in Quinn and tell me that I can’t date her. Which will offset the power balance in our friendship. I hate when that happens and it’s not in my favor. And if I ask Quinn, she’ll know that I’m interested which would more than likely lead to us going out, in which case David would find out and get upset. Not that any of it matters if David is the guy in the sketch, because then I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. But I’m still leaning toward that not being the case, leaving Quinn off limits.
She reaches out and fingers my tie. “I like this tie. It’s a good color for you.”
My tie is beige. I doubt that beige is a good color for anyone. But I love the way her tits look when she leans over. And I like how it feels when her fingers brush across my chest as she reaches for my tie.
“We’re waiting for burgers,” I tell her boobs.
“Oh, yeah?” She leans back, and my eyes make their way back up to her face.
“Yeah, Mack’s in the restroom.”
“Mack is here,” he booms as he retakes his stool next to me, then takes over the conversation.
“Well, if it isn’t the big, bad Mack Murphy,” Quinn says, batting her eyes at him.
“If it isn’t the cute, little Quinn Foster,” Mack flirts back.
“You want a refill?” Quinn asks as Mack drains his beer.
“You read my mind, QT,” he says, passing his glass to her. Sometimes he refers to her as Q, and sometimes as cutie, which he says is QT, but that’s not her initials. They are QF, so I don’t understand the reference, but, I don’t correct him.
“Touch my tap and die,” Daria says to Quinn, appearing behind the bar.
“Aw come on. I’ve seen you do it, it’s just a lever you pull down.”
