Page 33 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Good God, are you all right?”
A complex question that demanded an even more complex answer. But she doubted G.B. had that kind of time. “I’m fine if the bar is set at ‘Were you murdered?’ but much less fine if the bar is set at ‘Did something weird and terrible happen last night?’”
“I saw it on the news.” Doubtless while eating fistfuls of kettle corn, going by the chewing in Ava’s ear. G.B. and kettle corn had a long and complex history. “Some loser actually vandalized the funeral home?”
“Yes. And the ME thinks it might have triggered Danielle’s killer. Or been done by her—wait, it made the news in Vegas?”
“Yeah, tenth anniversary of Danielle’s death and all that. I don’t think it would have gone national if not for the whole trashing-the-place thing. And why are you talking to medical examiners?”
“It’s a long story. Well, it isn’t, but I don’t want to go into it right now because I just got some bad news from Jan.” She shared the gory details and heard G.B. nearly choke on his popcorn.
“Jesus Christ!”
“That’sexactlywhat I said.”
“That sucks! That is epically sucky to the nth degree!”
“Well put.”
“So you’re grounded. Right? Seventy-two hours?” Munch. “Which is a goddamned shame because you’re one of our best—never mind.” Crunch. “Look, deadhead home and we’ll hang out.” Munch-munch. “Don’t be alone.”
“Too late.” She was touched by his offer, and she knew he’d overnight a canister of kettle corn to her if she asked, but he couldn’t help her with anything nonpopcorn- or nonflying-related just now.
The person whocould, though? Was right here in the Twin Cities. So for now she wasn’t budging. Well, she was budging, but she wouldn’t cross state lines. Yet. “But I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, that’s your code for ‘I’m putting the emotional wall right back up and will retreat rather than engage.’”
“Huh. Pretty succinct of me.”
“C’mon, you’ve gotta bedyingto get out of there. Oh, shit, poor choice of words…” More stress munching. “Listen, it’s not like you want to stay in the Twin Cities, right? You’ve probably spent the last couple days feeling like you had the DTs. So come here instead.”
“I’m not sure Vegas is much better,” she teased. “Besides, they didn’t clip my wings for long; I could be back in the air by Tuesday.”
“Jan setting up a new drop for you? Good.”
“Yeah, and she doesn’t believe the test, which was a huge relief.”
“I fucking love our union, man.”
They all did. (Well. Maybe not management.) As much as the Northeastern Southwest jingle grated on her, workingfor them was swell. Five weeks’ vacation, unlimited brownies at HQ, dental (thank goodness—see: brownie policy), scads of family leave, and every lounge was stuffed with (more) brownies, milk, and cold cereal. (The negotiations over Raisin Bran, Frosted Flakes, granola, and Cocoa Puffs had taken weeks and had nearly resulted in a walkout.)
“Listen, Ava, you just say the word and I’ll be there with my pee. I’m clean as a whistle! My only vice is hard cider.”
“That’s not your only vice. And you’re sweet, G.B., but I don’t think fraud is the way to go here.”
“Oh, you always say that.” Now he was munchingandpouting, which was off-putting and hilarious.
“And I always will.” Her phone twitched, and when Ava pulled it away from her ear, she saw “Yummy” pop up on her caller ID. “Gotta go.”
“Okay, but remember: FedEx will ship my urine to you anywhere in the—”
She cut him off, and not a second too soon. “Hi, Blake. Did you finally find my bra?”
“That bra is gone into the ether, and you well know it.”
“I like how you talk like it’s 1535.”
“I’m not, actually. Listen, I had a few minutes and saw the news. I know you didn’t like to discuss it, but thatwasyour friend’s memorial that was vandalized, yes?”
