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Marianne was intimately acquainted with my lifelong crush and had been recruited for some of my Lee Maneuvers in the past. She probably thought I was in seventh heaven and needed a friend to take me wedding dress shopping.
“We’re taking it slow,” I said.
“Have you…you know…done ityet?” Her eyes were beginning to glaze over at the very thought ofdoing itwith the legendary Liam Nightingale.
“Nope.”
“What are you waiting for?” she nearly shouted, and if she’d reached across the counter and grabbed me by my shirt and shook me, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
I took Marianne’s mind off Lee with a mocha, heavy on the chocolate syrup and whipped cream.
After Marianne left, making me promise to phone her the minute Idid itwith Lee and give her all the details (not gonna happen), I called Hank.
I did this because I thought maybe Rosie might do something stupid, like hock the diamonds and go to San Salvador. According to him, he was owed fifty dollars for some of the “primo” grass I never knew that he grew in his basement, and the guy gave him a gazillion dollars worth of diamonds.
That was seriously fishy, and Rosie was seriously stupid for taking the damn things.
Though, what did one do when presented with a fortune of diamonds? Say no?
I didn’t actually blame Rosie for wanting to cash in his windfall and skip town. Personally, I wouldn’t have picked San Salvador though.
If Rosie successfully skipped, and Lee was right in what he said last night, this meant that Rosie would be in San Salvador, and there was a good possibility that either Lee or I or both of us would be target practice. I really shouldn’t have mouthed off to those guys, and I was in wholehearted agreement with Lee. I’m sure he’d been shot at tons of times, and if he didn’t like it, I’dneverlike it.
This would also mean I owed Lee big time for putting his life in danger. Not to mentionmylife would be in danger and I’d have a hard time talking myself out of having sex with Lee (at least once) before I died.
Further, I’d never replace Rosie at the espresso machine. He had a God given talent, no joke. He was the Picasso of Coffee.
The first thing Hank said, “I hear you’ve finally hooked up with Lee.”
Shit.
Kitty Sue, the fastest dialing fingers in the West.
Something had to be done.
“Not exactly,” I responded.
“Yeah, takin’ it slow.”
“Something like that.” Really slow. Snail with a hernia slow. “Listen, can I talk to you about something?”
“Anything.”
“Can you step out of your cop shoes for five minutes?”
Silence.
Hank wasn’t very fond of me asking that question, which I did over the years a lot.
“Shit. You and Ally haven’t stolen candy from Walgreens again, have you?” he asked.
“We didn’t steal it! We were just buying a bunch and didn’t know what we could carry, so we started putting it in our pockets early to see how much we could pack in.”
“They have bags at Walgreens, you know,” Hank pointed out.
“Those plastic bags clog the landfills and choke the environment.”
Or something.
