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Misha
Tom–our client–lives in a suburb somewhere outside the city. The houses around the area all look exactly the same as each other, two-stories with large driveways and expensive cars parked outside.
A cluster of plastic pink flamingos on the end of the driveway leads up to the door and a sprinkler goes off every few minutes. Things are tense in the car, and something about the perfect suburban neighborhood in the bright sunny morning makes things seem even worse. I’ve always hated places like this–most people in these houses don’t live the happy lives they pretend to, and everyone feels worse and isolated for it.
I’ve dealt with enough cases in neighborhoods like this to permanently associate them with sadness. I grew up in a house in a suburb like this, and I have no idea how anyone could think of them as happy places.
I double-check the address on my phone and turn to open the door, but Salinas’ hand is on my shoulder before I manage to climb out. "Wait," he says.
"What?" I ask. "Do you need another brief?"
"No, I think we’ve all got this pretty well memorized at this point, considering it’s all you’ve been able to talk about since we’ve gotten in this car," he says. "But I think it might be best for us to clear the air before we go in there, considering that we’re about to go see a client."
I look at Woods’ reflection in the rearview mirror. His jaw is set and he’s staying quiet, and I can tell he’s growing angrier by the minute. I thought giving him some time would help him calm down, but if anything, it’s gotten worse.
Salinas is right. I don’t want him to be, but he is. I shouldn’t have said anything to Trine. I could’ve waited until Woods was ready to speak to her. It really isnoneof my business.
I don’t know why I’m so protective of her. I hardly know her, and more than that, I don’t think she likes me that much. I can’t say I blame her, considering how she must’ve felt when she woke up after the exorcism. And she really doesn’t seem to remember much, so…fuck. I don’t know. I could’ve handled that better.
I turn around to look at Woods. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose when I meet his gaze.
"I’m sorry," I say. "I shouldn’t have done that."
He glares at me, his eyes darkening behind his glasses. "She won’t answer my calls," he says. "I think she might’ve blocked me."
"Were you planning on getting in touch with her again, anyway?" I ask. "Because…"
Salinas holds his hand up to stop me from talking. "Don’t ruin your apology."
I sigh. "Look," I say. "I hate to say it, but the priest is right. We need to go in there and behave professionally, and I didn’t mean to ruin things between the two of you. She seems…"
"What?"
"Nice," I say, mostly because I have no idea what else I’m supposed to say about her. "I’m sure she’s great in bed."
"Really?" he scoffs, kicking the back of my seat. "Very mature, Misha."
"Oh, okay," I reply, looking down at his leg. "You’re going to come at me with that, huh?"
"Both of you shut up," Salinas says. "You both fucked up, alright? You should’ve at least told her that going to her show was an excuse, Rei, and you shouldn’t have fucked things up with a girl he clearly liked. Now stop acting like children, please, so we can do our jobs? You know, the thing we all use to pay rent?"
"Thanks for the wisdom, father," Woods says, heavy irony in his voice. "Now how do you suggest we fix it?"
"I don’t know if you can fix things with her," Salinas says. He obviously got the sarcasm in Woods’ voice and he’s choosing to ignore it. "But I know that it isn’t Misha’s fault that you weren’t completely forthcoming with her. He was a dick, absolutely, but…"
Woods groans, throwing his head back. "Fine," he says, kicking into the back of the seat again. "I guess that’s true. To be clear, this doesn’t get you off the hook."
"You know I’m your boss, right?" I ask, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
Woods doesn’t say anything, but something in the air changes. The environment feels a bit less charged and there’s a part of me that’s glad Salinas forced us to do this.
"About the case," Woods says after a minute. "You’ve spoken a lot about the kid, but you haven’t said much about his family. What do you know about them?"
"Not much," I reply. "The mother was the one who called, and she seemed very concerned. I think there’s a father in the household, but he’s away most of the year. He’s a truck driver or something. All she said was that he was in transportation."
"Siblings?"
"None in the home," I say. "One sister; she’s away studying in Europe somewhere."
