Page 12 of Pose for Me
Brock pats me on the back, knocking me forward into the bar. “Thirty days will be over before you know it. Hopefully, there won’t be more bodies in that time. If there are, I’m sure Fisher will bring you back.”
I grunt, not believing him but not really caring.
My head is all fucked up, and it’s not just because of the calling card at the crime scene today. Someone was in my apartment this week. I’m not sure who or why, but someone was there.
I can’t tell anyone, least of all Brock, because I’ll get called insane. Especially because the only thing done was my bed sheets were loosened. Knowing Brock and Fisher, they’ll say I forgot to make my bed properly. I’m already not the most trusted person after what happened today. If I were to tell them my fucking bedsheets were untucked, Fisher would send me straight to psych.
After downing both drinks and my beer, Brock and I play a few drunken games of pool. That, coupled with the alcohol, helps take my mind off my shit day. It won’t last, but right now, it’s enough.
Six
Lane
I sit aloneat the bar, nursing another beer. While we were playing pool, one of the women that Brock occasionally hooks up with came over to chat him up, and they left together. I should have taken that as my sign to go home, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not only because the case is still on my mind, but because I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to see if someone else was in my apartment, moving my shit around. After what happened today, I don’t think I can handle that.
I should have told Brock about the thing with my sheets. He might have given me a weird look, but he’s my partner. I trust him with my life. So why didn’t I trust him with my suspicions that someone was in my bedroom?
Scoffing, I take a few sips of my beer, then grab a handful of peanuts in the bowl in front of me.
As I’m tossing them into my mouth, a man sits down beside me, letting out a long, exhausted breath.
I glance over at him and almost do a double take. He’s fucking hot. Probably the same height as me, with olive skin, gray eyes, and brown hair. He has one of those jawlines that heartthrobs in movies and on magazine covers and shit have.
Before he catches me staring, I look away. I don’t want to make someone uncomfortable when they’ve obviously had a long day. And who knows if this guy is into men? I don’t want any trouble because I appreciate a pretty face.
Emmy comes over to take his order and he says, “Double vodka, straight up.”
I chuckle, and I feel his eyes land on me. I ask, “Long day?” repeating Emmy’s usual question to me.
He grunts, but a small smile tips up his lips. “You could say that. Didn’t land the contract I bid on, beat out by a competitor that seems to have a knack for taking what I want.”
I nod in understanding, though I can’t relate. He and I had a long day for entirely different reasons.
“What’s the next step?” I ask.
He glances over at me, his eyes bouncing around my face. Christ, he’s handsome. His gaze lands on my lips before he meets my eyes, his smile spreading more. He has a chip in one of his front teeth, an imperfection that I find endearing. There’s something…strange about his eyes, but I can’t place it. Probably the way he’s looking at me, like he can see through me. It’s disconcerting.
With effort, I pull my gaze from his, not wanting to assume this guy desires more than conversation. We just met, for fucks sake.
I lift my beer to my lips to calm my nerves, though I still feel his eyes on the side of my face, almost searing through me. I don’t even know this guy, but his whole vibe radiates intensity.
After a brief chuckle, he looks away and says, “I’ll have to find another contract. There’s not much I can do other than that.” He sips from his drink slowly. “What about you? You look like you had a long day yourself.” His eyes roam my face again. “Or do you always frown?”
“I’m not frowning,” I say defensively and automatically smile, then chuckle at how he baited me into it. “I had a long day, but it’s not something I can get into.”
He hums, his eyes not leaving my face. I give him awhat?look, and he grins and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you just look familiar. Are you an actor? I feel like I’ve seen you in a movie or on TV or something.”
My stomach plummets to my feet, and my smile drops quickly. “No.” I don’t elaborate, just turn toward the flatscreen above the bar showing a basketball game.
Snapping his fingers and getting my attention, I swing my eyes to him as he says, “Oh yeah, I remember, you’re that FBI agent from…” His words trail off, and his eyes widen. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t…you shouldn’t be reminded of work while you’re trying to unwind.”
I turn away and tip my beer back up to my lips.
“I didn’t mean to bring it up. I heard about that case and what happened to that woman. And you were at the crime scene? Had to be terrible.”
I still don’t say anything.
He takes the hint, grabbing his drink and leaving the bar area. I curse to myself for my reaction, but I couldn’t help it. Any reminder of why I was on TV fucking sucks. I got a man killed today. I don’t want to remember the message left to me or how it feels to be sidelined. I came here so I could forget that.
