Page 44 of Head Over Feels
SoItook them through the saga of the bad dates andMarcieusing them as fodder for her show.Andthat those guys were my only suspects for the glitter bombs.
NextAmyasked the questionI’dbeen dreading. “Pleasetell us the names of the men you told your sister about, and if you have contact information for them, we need that as well.”
Irubbed my eyes. “Well,Imet all of them through an app.”Ishowed the detectives the app on my phone, which had thankfully been deemed free of tracking devices. “Sincewe never got through more than one date,Idon’t have any other way of contacting them, butI’mhappy to give you their usernames.”
Amyappeared to be calculating the amount of time she was going to spend to identify the guys and wasn’t happy about it.
Tryingto go in mostly chronological order,Ilisted each of them and whyIhadn’t wanted a second date.Bythe timeI’dgotten to the sixth one,Amyhad given up all pretense of taking notes and had begun commiserating with me.
Fostersaid, “Um, how many more are there?”Hisentire body drooped.Ifelt his pain.
“Sixmore.Well, seven if you countWillGraham.”Igave the detectives a wry smile. “Ourdate definitely didn’t go well, butIdon’t think he’s upset with me.”
Marciehad used my date withWillfor one of her episodes without my permission.I’dtold her the story becauseI’dbeen freaked out from being shot at, not becauseIwanted to provide her more script fodder.Itwas the precipitating incident that made me stop speaking to her.
“Whydon’t you give us the rundown on the other six.”Fostersighed heavily, butAmyleaned over the table in eagerness.
Itook them through the rest of my ex-dates.Fosterwas particularly interested inJames, who was a full-on conspiracy theorist dedicated to telling me about the shadow government with their black helicopters.Itmade sense a guy like that might know how to build a bomb, butIcouldn’t see him using glitter.Ever.
NextFosterandAmyhad me go through the timeline of the glitter bombs and my efforts to reach out to the guys to apologize.Igave themSteveandCal’scontact info, since they’d picked up several of the packages waiting outside the door of my apartment.
Itwas full dark by the time we were done, andIwas wiped out.Malcolmhadn’t left, though.Hewas sitting at what must beFoster’sdesk, chatting with the other detectives.
Whenwe got near,Malcolmstood up.Hewinced a little, but he was still moving better than he had before we’d used the hot tub.Imade a mental note to getMalcolmin the hot tub again tomorrow.Maybeby ourselves this time.
“Mal, we’ve finished gathering evidence at your house, so you can go home if you want to,”Fostersaid.Hejerked his chin at me. “Westill need to hang on to your car.Youcan go to your apartment to pick up clothes or what have you, but you’re safer staying at the ranch right now.”
“Yeah, okay.”They’dgiven me my apartment key back with my phone.
“Mystuff is at the ranch, soI’llstay withFelix,”Malcolmgrumbled as he fiddled with his crutches. “ButIdo want to get my car.Foster, can you drop us at my house?”Heturned to me. “Thatokay with you?”
Inodded, too tired to talk.I’dlet them figure out where we were going next.
AfterFosterdrove us toMalcolm'shouse, we went inside to getMalcolmmore clothes andMariposamore food.Iwasn't sure exactly whyMalcolmwas set on staying with me instead of returning home, butIcouldn't denyIwas glad for it.
DaredIhope there was more than a sense of obligation involved?
WhileMalcolmandIwere inside,Fosterwalked around the perimeter of the house with a flashlight.Whenwe came outside we found him on his back looking underMalcolm'scar.
"Youneed some help?"Malcolmasked.
Fosterwiggled out from under the rear of theBuick, hopefully not damaging his clothes too badly.Heclicked off the flashlight and shook his head atMalcolm.
"Ilove how you ask ifIneed help when you know damn well you’re in no shape to get under this car."Fosterstood and started dusting himself off.
Malcolmshrugged. “Itwas the polite thing to do.I’mguessing there weren’t any tracking devices?”
Fostershook his head. “You’regood.Itwasn’t likely, but better safe than sorry.”Hewalked up to me and offered me his hand. “Bye,Felix.Don'tlet this guy drive you too crazy."
Iproduced a smile. “Thanksso much for everything you've done today."
Hegave me a chin jerk, then embracedMalcolmloosely, clapped him on the shoulder and jogged back to his pickup truck.
"Hopin,"Malcolmsaid, gesturing at the convertible.Hepopped the trunk and stuck his bag inside before heading to the driver’s door.Icouldn't wait to ride in this monstrosity.MaybeIwas a little too desperate to be distracted from the crapfest of my life, butIwas going to take my fun whereIcould get it.
Thedoor itself weighed a ton.I’dnever been in a large two-door car before.Theleather seats were dark brown and the dashboard was faced with burled wood of some kind.Malcolmtossed his crutches onto the rear seat and slid behind the wheel.Therewas a small gap between his seat and mine, but no console or anything.Mostimportantly, the front footwell was completely open across the width of the car, givingMalcolmthe room to stretch his right leg out toward me and use his left foot to manipulate the brake and accelerator.
"Howmuch gas does this thing drink?"Iasked as we oozed down the driveway.
