Page 19 of Deja Who
EIGHT
Three days later, they were ready to knock on It’s door. Three days of Leah making several trips to the hospital to check on a private investigator who had the perfect name for a private investigator (or perhaps an action star): Archer Drake.
“Really?” she couldn’t help asking. “You didn’t make it up? Or legally change it?”
A shadow had crossed his face when she wondered aloud if he’d changed it and why, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if his wounds were bothering him and she had misinterpreted his expression.
“Go away, it’s my real name, stop coming around and challenging the reality of my name, you awful—Laffy Taffy! Mmm, bring banana-flavored next time.”
“I will not. There is no worse taste in the world than artificial banana. Well. Lava, perhaps.”
Two days of frustrating sessions with clients while all thetime wondering what nonsense patient Archer Drake, condition satisfactory, was getting up to. Two days of anticipating and dreading the confrontation with her mother. Ha! Confrontation... her mother would never stoop to acknowledging any of Leah’s righteous fury. What was the word to describe a confrontation of one?
And as if all that wasn’t nerve-racking enough, two days of repeatedly staring hard at Archer Drake and verifying that, yes, she could not see him.
Unprecedented.
All that to say, for three days she almost forgot to be resigned to her untimely murder.
Upon discharge, Archer had insisted on taking a taxi to his apartment, and they’d agreed to meet at her office later that day. “Are you sure?” she asked for the third time, walking him through the hospital lobby. He was wearing scrubs, a reluctant gift from the admitting physician (his clothes were, of course, ruined), and walking carefully but energetically. “Perhaps you should take the day to rest.”
“Cluck-cluck, Leah. No. I want to get this over with. Also, I have athousandquestions for your mom. Your mom! I still can’t get over that.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, well, it’s happening, honey.”
“Do not,” she warned, “call me honey.”
“Whatever you say, sugar bear.”
“Good God.”
“Hey. Thanks for taking care of me.” His odd eyes were sparkling at her—she was unaware that people’s eyes could actually sparkle in real life. He was like a live-action anime cartoon.“Which you should have anyway since you put me inthe hospitalwithmultiple stab woundsbut I’m beginning to see you had your reasons. Maybe. I dunno. You’re a weird chick, Nazir.”
“Call me a chick again, you will be right back in here.”
“I believe you, duckling. See you in a few hours.” He dropped a fast kiss to her right cheek and she was so surprised she played statue and watched him hurry out the door and back into the world.
Odd man. A very odd man.
