Page 155 of Fixation
“Hello?” She waves at me through the frosted glass.
“Coming.”
I steady my breath, resolve settling over me. I won’t tell them a single thing about Anderson. Nothing.
“I’m here,” I announce, opening the door.
My eyes adjust to the bright light. Two people wait for me on the other side.
One of them is the woman who called out to me. She’s tall and slim, her hair as black as her pants and blouse, twisted into a tight bun at her nape.
The man at her side is about the same height as me. We even share the same eye color and hair, except his is curly and cropped close to his head.
“NYPD detectives, Englewood and Rockdale,” the woman with eyes as blue as the ocean states, flashing me her badge.Athena Rockdale.
The man at her side shows me his.Jerry Englewood.
I examine both. They’re legit.
“Hello.” I notice that the only ring Athena has on her hands looks very familiar. A smile curves my lips. I gesture to her hand, blushing. “One of my favorites.”
“Ha. It really is you.” Warmth seeps into her throaty voice. “I’m a huge fan. My husband got this for me last Christmas.”
“I…um. Thank you.” I tuck a loose strand behind my ear, patting the messy bun on top of my head. It’s another thing I’ll never get used to. Compliments. “Can I help you with anything?”
“We’re here about Werner Jade,” Jerry quips, stepping forward. His cologne isn’t pleasant. His sweat is equally unappealing. “We’d like to ask you a few questions if now’s a good time.”
Frankly, it’s the worst time. Inspiration had eluded me for what felt like forever. Now that I have it back, that I’m about to finish this piece I’ve been working on, I resent the interruption.
Unless it’s work-related or Anderson-related, I’d rather be left alone.
“Sure.” Because let’s face it, telling NYPD detectives they can’t come in could look incriminating. I step aside, letting them through, then follow them into my home. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, thank you.” Athena steals a glance at my feet, catching me trying to put as little pressure as possible on my bruised ankle.
Anderson was right about the injury. I hardly feel any pain. It can’t be broken or sprained. I admire and loathe him for being the best at…everything, basically.
“What happened to your leg?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.
My complicated emotions about Anderson get filed away into a secret drawer.
“It’s my ankle.” Smiling apologetically, I gesture toward my living room for them to continue. “I stumbled and fell this morning. I”—promised Anderson I’d be careful with it—“I’m fine.”
“This morning?” Jerry whips around at my explanation, squinting at me. Suspicion bleeds from him and my stomach twists. “Are you sure?”
I see where this is going: they suspect me, not Anderson.
“Of course I’m sure.” I let out my party laugh.
When I opened my business and gained fame, I was invited to numerous events. Mingling and meeting the right people is the push every young artist aspires to have.
And I grabbed it with both hands.
“You are?” His eyebrow quirks.
“I think I’d remember.” Doing my best to put the detectives at ease, I sit on the couch, holding back the grimace since my ass is still sore.
I beckon both of them to sit.
