Page 10 of Back in the Saddle

So I kinda figured it was all just a lark.

I mean, your average, everyday server at a funky coffee/cocktail bar (that also served great food, and fabulous drinks (if I did say so myself)) didn’t go around cracking cases the cops couldn’t figure out.

But here was Clarice, and I couldn’t deny the quiver of excitement I felt at finally getting to meet her and what that might mean.

Even if she did break into my pad and scare the crap out of me.

“Not smart,” she said before she pushed to her high-heeled, champagne sandaled feet.

I had a feeling she knew where I was that night, but I didn’t ask. According to Raye and Luna, this Arthur person knew all, so it stood to reason Clarice would too.

“I take it you’re Clarice,” I noted as she walked to me.

She then walked right by me, to the door.

She put her hand on the handle and turned back to me.

“It’s after two in the morning on Turkey Day,” she bitched.

Seriously?

“Sorry, I must have extended your invitation in a fugue state,” I retorted. “Hang tight while I pull together a cheese platter.”

Slowly, she smiled. “I think I like you.”

“I’ll notify the papers,” I stated. “Why are you here?”

Her smile died and she ordered, “Activate the Angels, Jess.” She opened the door and made a move out of it, but looked over her shoulder at me before she was fully out, and she lowered the boom. “Or I will.”

The door closed on her, and I heard her heels clicking along the walkway outside.

I stood immobile long after the sound of them faded to nothing.

Only then did the entirety of my night settle on me.

So of course, I muttered to myself, “Well…shit.”

TWO

NO-FUCKS-TO-GIVING

Iwas on my gray sectional with my laptop, looking up how to roast a turkey breast (and mash potatoes and make green bean casserole (what could I say? I didn’t cook, so I’d forgotten how to do all this since last year). At least the stuffing box had instructions on it.

I was doing this so I wouldn’t do what I’d been doing most of the morning: understanding that Eric, and therefore all the Hottie Squad as well as the Hot Bunch, knew about my brother.

Consequently, I was struggling with the many emotions that wrought. From shame that my family was such we didn’t look after him. To fear, because the days were ticking by, and no Jeff. To sadness, because it was Thanksgiving, and the only good ones I’d ever had was when Jeff was looking after himself and we shared them together.

I was also enumerating (not for the first time) all the reasons why Eric Turner did it for me.

Of course, there was his extreme good looks. Also, the way he exuded confidence and the manner in which he did, made it clear he knew who he was, and he was down with being that man (seriously, that was all kinds ofhot). Further, his aforementioned ability to take care of himself and any situation that might befall him, and what that might mean to the people he cared about in his life.

The way he dressed.

The way he walked.

The way he smiled.

The respect the HB and HS showed him, those being men who didn’t give that kind of respect unless it was earned.

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