Page 73 of Havoc

Misty quickly lost some of her shyness in the face of talking about her favorite subject.

“What kind of OCD does your mom have?”

“The regular kind, I think,” Jamie responded.

“Is she a hand washer or germophobe? Those are the two big ones.”

“She’s a neat freak. She doesn’t like a messy house, and we have to wash all our fruits and vegetables three times to make sure they’re clean. She soaks her spinach in vodka for a few minutes. Claims it kills any bacteria that’s lingering on the surface.”

Misty’s eyes lit up. “She’s a germophobe like me.” The excitement in her voice was noticeable.

When the server took our drink order, Jamie ordered a coffee and a cup of hot water for tea. Then he proceeded to dump his flatware into the cup with the handles up. I decided to just ride this one out. Either Jamie was going to help Misty feel normalized or breed a bunch of new phobias for her.

Misty leaned over to peer into his cup.

Jamie grinned. “I bet you want to know why I did that. Am I right?”

Misty looked up at him, clearly awestruck. “I know why you did that. It’s to make sure your flatware is germ free.”

“Bingo. You’re a real smart lady.” The way he gazed at her was admiring and respectful. Misty noticed it too. She got shy again and admitted, “It never even occurred to me to scald my eating utensils.” She pulled her flatware utensil kit off her purse and opened it up to show Jamie her pretty pink flatware. “I usually carry my own. That way I can make sure it’s extra clean.”

His eyes rose from her little kit to her, and he smiled indulgently. “Your kit is pink. It suits you perfectly because it’s cute, like you.”

She blushed furiously. Then before any of us could say anything, she grabbed her metal flatware from the restaurant table and dumped it into Jamie’s steaming cup.

“Maybe, just this once, I could use the restaurant flatware,” she told him. And just like that, her daily goal was met.

“This is great. You wanted to be able to eat at restaurants without pulling out your kit. This is an easy hack to make that happen.”

Misty nodded. “Yeah, this idea really makes sense to me. I’m definitely going to be using this technique moving forward.”

I excused myself to go to the restroom, taking the burner phone Havoc gave me. I could hear Misty and Jamie laughing over how germ ridden most toothbrushes are and how they keep theirs germ-free.

I didn’t really have to use the restroom. I just needed to take a minute after seeing Jamie wreck the session I had planned with my client. I decided to call Havoc. Not to tattle on Jamie but just to hear his voice, hoping it would calm me down. He must have been in a meeting because my call rolled right to voicemail.

I tried calling my friends one by one but only one answered. Maritza picked up but then the call dropped. Something about that call dropping worried me. So, I texted her.

Me: Maritza, is everything okay?

When she texted me back, my worry only grew.

Maritza: Yes, girlfriend. I am fine. Where are you right now? Want to get a drink?

I’d texted with Maritza hundreds of times. Her grammar was normally atrocious, she never used periods and used a lot of emojis and text slang. This read like a robot wrote the text, something wasn’t right.

Me: Ritz what’s wrong? Girl, have you had a head injury?

Maritza: Go somewhere where others can’t hear and call me. I am in trouble and I need your help.

That text sent a chill right up my spine. She clearly had some kind of problem if she needed a private conversation.

I slipped out the back door onto the restaurant’s dock and dialed her number again. It rang three times before she picked it up. The connection was bad, but it sounded like she said hello, so I started a conversation.

“Ritz! Long time no see, girl. What have you been doing with yourself?”

My question was met with a stony silence and then a deep, dark voice I recognized came onto the line. “Your friend can’t talk right now. So, you’ll have to settle for talking to me, Riley.”

My stomach did a sick little flip-flop when I realized who I was talking to. “Slater, what are you doing? Where’s Maritza?”

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