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Moshe stiffened.
Then her eyes narrowed.
“I helped you close yesterday.”
“You did,” she agreed. “But you also were scheduled to leave at the end of the day anyway, because you asked for more hours. And you forgot to take out the trash, which was the only reason that I had to go out this morning. Oh, and I got strangled.”
Moshe’s eyes went to Dillan’s neck, which she’d covered up with some gauzy scarf that she’d had in her office.
“I was only late because I thought that you weren’t going to open,” she said stiffly. “I’m sorry.”
Dillan shifted. “You could’ve called. But, as I’ve said, this has been your third strike. I’m sorry, but you’re out. Have a good day.”
Moshe looked like she wanted to argue more, but I shifted where I was standing, momentarily drawing her attention toward me.
“You can leave,” I supplied.
Moshe gritted her teeth, turned on her heels, and all but stomped out the door.
“There’s no way that she gets up and listens to the police scanner to avoid being late,” Mirena said from the front counter. “There’s only one way here from where she lives, and if she has to leave her house in any way, that’s the way she has to go. Regardless of if it’s going to cause her to be late or not.”
“You know where she lives?” Dillan asked curiously. “I asked where she lived once, and she said she was moving. I asked how the moving was going, and she said that she wasn’t moving. I just thought she didn’t want me to know where she lived.”
Mirena shrugged. “She lives off of this old oil top road right outside of Kilgore. It’s a pretty nice house. It has these weeping willow trees that line the driveway, and a…”
“And a large white house with huge, hulking pillars. Looks like someone important should live there,” Dillan finished for her.
My eyebrows rose.
“Yeah, how did you know?” Mirena asked curiously.
“Because that used to be Kerrie’s place before he got a newer, bigger one,” Dillan answered, looking like she’d swallowed something bitter. “He rents it out to people now.”
My eyes lit on hers. “That’s quite a coincidence.”
“It sure is.” She sighed and focused in on me. “What’s going on? Are you heading home?”
She looked at Asa, who was now passed out on my shoulder.
“He has a doctor appointment that has to do with his throwing up,” I told her. “It’s getting a little worrisome.”
She nodded.
“I’m going with you,” she said firmly.
“Babe,” I said. “You don’t have to go with me. You really shouldn’t have even opened today.”
Reminding her of her earlier battle with Kerrie obviously wasn’t a good thing for her temper.
“I’m. Going,” she said as she tossed her utensils in the sink behind her. “Mirena, you can handle this?”
At Mirena’s nod of surprise, she nodded her head once. “Good.”
Her anger was palpable, but she was still very apparently going with me.
I kept my smile to myself and nodded once. “We better go then if we’re going to be on time.”
She looked back at Laric who was standing on the side of the road with the dog.
The dog that now had a muzzle on and was growling at anyone that came close to him.
“Why is he still here?” I asked curiously.
“Apparently, he’s meeting someone.” She shrugged. “I don’t really know him all that well to ask.”
I didn’t, either.
The big biker looked even more intimidating in the daylight than he did in the dark.
The next hour didn’t go at all how I was expecting it.
I thought the doctor was just going to give us some random ass explanation as to my kid’s immune system. I didn’t think that we would be referred to a specialist that dealt with children’s migraines.
“As of right now,” the pediatrician said, “I’m not one hundred percent sure if it’s the migraines causing him to vomit, or the vomiting causing the headaches.” She paused as she looked at the two adults. Asa had gone back to sleep. “I would investigate how he’s feeling before he starts these vomiting episodes. In the meantime, I think it would be best for you to see Dr. Montgomery and figure out if these headaches are something that can be handled.”
I winced.
“He’s never complained of a headache before today,” I admitted. “Hell, it’s hard enough to even get him to say his tummy hurts. If he hadn’t thrown up, I’m fairly sure he wouldn’t have said anything.”
The doctor nodded her head. “That’s usually a very common thing among kids. Not wanting to admit that there’s something wrong. The girls grow out of it. The boys, not so much.”
I chuckled at that.
“So his bloodwork was fine. Everything is fine. But if he does end up having cyclic vomiting syndrome, what does that mean for him? Is it something that he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life?” Dillan asked.
