Page 5 of Gypsy's Lady
Chicago
Jesus.
Nauseous, Doug swallowed, his throat clicking dryly. He pushed to sit upright on the side of the mattress, wincing at how the edge dug into the backs of his bare thighs. Head swimming with what he recognized as a raging hangover, he sat elbows to knees and dropped his forehead into his palms, massaging his temples with cautious fingers. He found atender spot on his skin and explored it, tracking it down across his cheekbone to the hinge of his jaw.Huh. No memory of a fight, but there were no coherent memories beyond the first two hours at the bar last night, so that wasn’t a big surprise.
Lifting his head, he opened his eyes and glanced around the room, every muscle locking in place when he saw the pile of clothesalongthe wall nearthe built-in dresser. From where he sat, he could see the bathroom and knew it was empty. He also knew the clothing wasn’t his, because that particular shade of pastel pink did not complement his coloring. There was nowhere else in the room for anyone to hide.
Only one side of the bed was mussed, and a quick scan found his shirt and jeans folded on top of the bathroom counter. Whoever had beenhere hadn’t shared the bed with him.
Cautiously shaking his head, he winced at the renewed headache and was pushing to his feet when the bundle of clothing moved, shifting. Doug stared, seeing a pair of delicate-looking hands appear, unwinding fabric from around a head featuring a riotous mane of unkempt hair. It was all surrounding an elfin-featured face.
She stared at Dougandhe waited, hopingshe would give him some clue as to why she was there. Nothing about his body told him he’d had sex last night; all his aches were of the barroom brawl variety. She sighed and pushed to sit up all the way, leaning back against the wall. “How’s your head, hero man?”Hero man?
“Head’s fine.” He stretched the truth because his head was pounding both from the booze and the bruising, then decided tofollow it with a tiny question. “Who are you?” Okay, maybe not tiny, but not as big as the one he wanted to ask which was “why the fuck are you here?”
“You remember anything?” He nodded a second lie in response to her return inquiry and caught the corners of her mouth curling up. “Need me to fill in a few of the gaps?” She shifted around, dug a bottle of water from under the clothing she’d usedas a blanket and played with the lid until she got it off, upending the bottle for a long drink. Without pressing him for an answer, she talked, feeding him enough details to mesh with what he thought was probably the real story. “Lots of nights I sleep behind a dumpster in back of a little community bar. It’s bad news, but there’s an exhaust ventsoit’s not so cold.Bonusis it keeps me outof the main jog of people.” She shrugged. “You came out the back door of the bar at the right time for me. Wrong time for the guy who thought he could talk me into adate.” The way she said the word made it more distasteful than he expected. “You took care of him. Then you wouldn’t shut up until I came back here with you. I knew you were too drunk to get it up, so I figured I was safer here thanout there.” She shrugged, gesturing towards the door.
“Are you a hooker?” If she was, she probably hadn’t been for long, an air of innocence still clung to her, but that could be the frailty of the features that gave her face a gamine cast. He slid a hand under the pillow on the bedandhis fingers encountered cold metal and smooth leather. His piece and wallet, safe under his head all night.
“No. I mean, I’ve tricked when there’s…but, it’s not how I get by. Not normally. The guy…he wasn’t anyone I recognized, so no way he’d know anything specific about me. He just assumed.” Her lips curledandDoug nodded.
“Asshole.”
She jerked her head in agreement, lifting the bottle again for another deep drink. “You’re a decent guy, aren’t you?”
Dougleanedto grab his clothing so he could dress.“I don’t like to see people taken advantage of.”
Lips pursed, she dipped her head once. “Decent guy. You sleep okay?”
He shrugged. “Well enough. You got a name?”
“Claudia.” She stood, fabric falling away. Bending at the waist, she gathered up the pieces of clothing, folding them in half and half again before shoving them into one of several plastic bags that had been underneath her. “You’reDoug.” She laughed as she wrapped a piece of tape around the top of a bag. “Doug the decent dude.”
Fingers working to fasten his belt paused for a moment as he laughed. “Yeah, I’m so decent I took the bed and made you sleep on the floor.”
“Honey, that was my choice. You were all kinds of charming trying to get me to climb up there. I figured once you passed out, I’d rather be a little distanceaway, just in case you were a puker.” Bags stacked to the side in a tidy pile, she turned to look at him again. “He clocked you a good one.”
Doug’s fingers drifted back to what he knew had to be a bruise. “Yeah. I’m kinda glad I don’t remember that part.”
“Didn’t matter. You had him down in like a half a second. He only got one lucky hit.” She glanced at the bathroomandhe waved her forwards,settling his ass on the edge of the bed again.
He dug his phone out and stared at it. No notifications. No missed calls. He hadn’t reconnected with anyone since coming back home.
“Want breakfast, Claudia?” Socks and boots, gun tucked into the waistband holster he preferred, he flipped the covers back into place. If he took the time to smooth the fabric, no one would ever know he was here.Exceptthe not-hooker in the bathroom, who he’d apparently saved from being raped last night. One who thought he was a decent man.That’s a connection. He grinned. “I’m hungry.”
***
Jesus.
Doug grinned, watching Claudia sashay from the bathroom towards the tiny dining area. His new apartment wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but she moved like she had all the room in the world. Stepand glide, followed by a tiny shimmy as she settled her skirt into place.
It had been six months since he woke in the cheap motel room with a quirky homeless chick sleeping on the floor.We haven’t made much headway in any of those departments, he reminded himself. It had taken a full three months to convinceClaudiato come to his place ifshecouldn’t get a shelter bed. Then another month towear her down with arguments the couch was more comfortable than the floor. These days she left the best of her belongings stored in his hallway closet and while she wouldn’t accept a key to his place, he’d left one with the office and Claudia knew to ask for it if she cameandDoug wasn’t home.
His final assignment transfer was still pending, but he was slowly settling into his temporary rolein the new precinct. It was a whole new ballgame with a near-complete change out of the higher-ups, and a new captain to learn. After being paired with another detective, they’d made strides in clearing a backlog of cold cases. Sometimes bringing in fresh perspectives made the difference. Brass was pleased, and Doug had all the free time he could want, which left him ample time to keep looking intoThornton’s death and Norwood’s disappearance.
“Red meat’s bad for you.” Claudia settled cross-legged on the chair opposite him, fork in hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it, too. But it’ll clog your arteries and blow your heart up eventually.”
He grinned. “I eat chicken and fish most of the time.” He shoved a dish in her direction and didn’t wait for her to serve herself before he picked uphis burger and took a huge bite. “God, so good.” He opened his eyes to see her grinning at him, lips parted in silent laughter. “What?”
