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I didn’t have a chance to object. He took my hand again and walked me into another room, this one big, mostly dark and full of desks. There was one guy working, typing on a computer. He looked up when we walked in and his eyes took in Eddie’s bloody T-shirt and knuckles.
“Tough night?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, not inviting further discourse.
The guy’s eyes moved to me. “Looks like you won.”
Eddie didn’t reply, walked me over to a couch and turned to me.
“Wait here. I’ll be five minutes.” Then he was gone.
I sat on the couch and the guy was watching me.
“There was a bit of a bar brawl,” I explained.
“Yeah, I heard,” he replied.
“It started for a good reason.” I don’t know why, but I decided to defend Eddie.
“Eddie start it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You the reason?”
I bit my lip then said, “Yes.”
“That’s a good enough reason.”
He turned back to work and I took the opportunity to fish the fifty from my cleavage. It was hard won. I should probably give it to Eddie for the trouble I caused him, but I needed it too much. I put it in my wallet and then waited.
Then I waited some more.
Then I looked at the couch and decided it looked really comfortable.
So, for research purposes, I decided to check and see if it was comfortable. So, I stretched out on it and within minutes, I was dead asleep.
* * *
I woke up smelling Eddie.
For a second I thought I was dreaming, but I could feel the sunlight against my closed eyelids so I opened them. I saw unfamiliar surroundings and shot bolt upright in bed.
I was in a queen-size bed that had plaid sheets and a denim-covered comforter. There was a dresser with a mess of stuff on the top, hardwood floors with no rugs, mocha colored walls with no pictures, one nightstand with an alarm clock, phone and some change on it. Then I saw, on the floor, my bright red miniskirt, my purse and my slut shoes lying next to a pair of jeans, cowboy boots and a bloodstained white T-shirt.
“Shit!” I jumped out of bed and stared down at myself. I was wearing my black, cotton, bikini briefs, my Smithie’s camisole and Eddie’s flannel shirt.
I looked back at the alarm clock. It was eleven forty-five.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I shouted and ran to my miniskirt.
Not only was I super late for Fortnum’s, I hadn’t called Mom. She would be worried sick. I’d left my cell phone in my apron (with my tips) and Smithie had taken them away.
I had to get to a phone immediately to let her know I was okay. Then I had to call Indy. Then I had to call a taxi. Then I had to get the hell out of there.
I pulled on my miniskirt trying not to think of how I got from the police station to Eddie’s house, to Eddie’sbed, and out of some of my clothes. I looked back at the bed and saw that only one pillow had a dent in it. I also saw that the other pillow had a note on it.
I ran to it, my skirt still unzipped at the back, and snatched it off the pillow.
