Page 79 of Your Every Wish
“Well, that was fun,” Emma says as we turn to leave.
I shoot her a look. “As soon as we get home, I’m going to strangle Misty.”
“Ah, leave the lady alone. For all we know those numbers hold the meaning to world peace.”
“More like some imbecilic betting strategy on a baseball game. ”
“Then why go to such great pains to hide it?” Emma says. “The more I think about it, the more I think Misty may be onto something. It’s important. We just don’t know why yet. ”
We find Liam at the van with his nose buried in his phone. “I’m trying to decode these numbers.”
“If nothing else we always have the Mossad guy. Maybe he’ll know.” I’m joking, of course, but as a last resort we could always hit him up. I get in the back seat, hoping to catch some sleep for a few hours, then maybe food. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
Somewhere around Sacramento I wake up with a crick in my neck. Emma and Liam are quietly talking in the front seat. It’s light outside, probably close to nine in the morning, or even ten.
“Can we hit a drive-through? I’m starved.” And thirsty. My throat is sore and I’m freezing. I better not be coming down with something.
Emma turns around. “We thought we’d try to make it all the way home. I don’t think my stomach can handle a greasy breakfast sandwich and I feel too grubby to go to a real restaurant. If you can go another hour, I’ll make us pancakes and bacon when we get home.”
That sounds so good my mouth waters. “Works for me. You two figure out the numbers while I was asleep?”
“Nope. But it’s got to be some kind of code,” Liam says. “I’ll do some research when we get home.”
Liam is a smart guy. Every morning when I pass his trailer during my runs, he’s outside, sitting in a folding chair with his nose in a book. And he can fix anything. Half the residents in the park send him their broken toaster ovens, microwaves, computers, anything electric for him to work his magic. As far as I can tell he does it free of charge.
He’s been cagey about what he actually does for a living. Emma and I have spent hours trying to guess. Maybe he’s the one who’s a secret agent for Mossad, or the CIA, or MI6, though he doesn’t have a British accent.
He’s certainly taken with Emma and looks for every excuse to be around her, even if it means committing a few felonies. Dex can’t even summon the energy to drive his lazy ass up here on the weekends. I suspect the only reason he visits her at all is because he’s horny. I don’t understand what she sees in the guy. Then again, I don’t see what Madge sees in Max. Or Lorelie in her stunted boy toy. As my former personal trainer used to say, “You can be unhappy all by yourself.” In Madge’s case, it would be a lot cheaper.
In any event, I’m rooting for Liam, even though he doesn’t stand a chance in hell.
* * *
It’s two days after we broke into Willy’s house and Misty’s been avoiding me. Twice, I’ve gone over to her trailer to have her do her woo-woo crap with the numbers we found. Twice, she shooed me away, saying she was too busy.
I have a good mind to put Cedar Pines Estates on the market just to spite her.
Tonight, I’m not going to be ignored, to quoteFatal Attraction. Emma’s with dickhead Dex, who—wait for it—drove up on a weekday because he missed her. Yeah, right. He drove up to get himself some.
To give the two lovebirds space, I grab a bottle of white out of the fridge and hoof it to Madam Misty’s for some quality time.
She’s thrilled that I’ve showed up uninvited, I can tell.
“I was just about to turn in for the night,” she says and starts to close the door.
Not so fast. I manage to wedge my foot in the way and let myself inside. “It’s not even eight. And I’ve brought wine.” I hold up the bottle.
She eyes the bottle. “Fine, but an hour max. Then I have to go to bed. It’s been a long day and I like to get up at dawn and watch the sun rise.”
“You have an opener for this?”
“Come into the kitchen. Where’s your better half?”
“What a sweet thing to say. Emma’s with Dickless Dex. I’m sure we have you to thank for that.”
“Ah, it’s working.” She rubs her hands together, ecstatic with herself.
“Did you mix him a love potion?” It’s all I can do not to barf.
