Page 32 of Hiss and Make Up
“Oh, yeah. That fun-o-rama.” She grabbed the stack of emails and followed him to the stairs.
“You might like it. Besides, I promised you nachos.”
As much as he liked her company and the idea of sitting beside her through an entire game, he had a much bigger reason for taking her. He couldn’t risk her going off on her own and getting into danger, which meant he needed to keep Sierra close for as long as he could.
There was no way he was letting her out of his sight yet.
7
Sierra tapped her nubby fingernails on the armrest and stared at the press box ceiling. Going to the game with Marc gave them the perfect opportunity to hash out their plan.
Or so she'd assumed.
Sure Marc had to pay attention to the game, but she’d figured they could talk between plays, since they had a lot to discuss.
First they needed to figure out how to trace the author of that email. Then they could call the police to see if they had any leads on the equipment theft. The big task would be tracking down where this person got a young water moccasin. It's not like you can pick one up in a pet store. And if someone did find one in the woods, they'd have to know how to safely capture and transport it. Not exactly an easy task.
Well, at least she got her nachos, because they sure as hell didn’t get a chance to talk about anything during the whole first half of the game.
He’d had to type between plays. He’d had toconcentrate. And to top it all off, the home team was losing, so all the reporters in the room were shouty and crotchety. So much for objectivity in journalism.
That left her to spend the last hour reading through his hate mail by herself. As the clock wound down to halftime, Sierra breathed a sigh of relief.
“Okay, my turn.” She ignored the reporters grumbling and shuffling around the press box as they stretched and left to pee or grab another drink. “I didn’t find anything else in these emails. Actually, I found a lot of interesting things. Man, you inspire alotof rage. But nothing else that seems to tie in to our problem.”
“Myproblem. You keep forgetting that detail.” He shook his head and grinned at her.
“What?”
He wiped at the side of her mouth with his thumb, cupping her face with the rest of his hand. Her whole body tensed, and she was afraid her eyes might supernova out of her head.
“Cheese,” he said, letting his hand linger a little longer.
“Thanks.” She had a million things she wanted to say and ask about snakes and enemies and thieves. But all she could do was stare into his eyes and examine the outline of his face, so familiar and so foreign at the same time.
He broke eye contact. “I’ve got something to keep you busy during the second half.”
“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed.
He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket.
“What’s that?”
She studied the list he handed her. Field Assistant. Editorial Assistant. Obituary Clerk. Customer Care Representative. “What is this?”
“The job list.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “From the paper. I told you I’d get it for you.”
She cocked her head to the side and considered if he was some kind of alien. A dense, half-witted alien.
“Requires ‘excellent customer service & communication skills.’”
“Maybe not that one,” he said. “But there are a bunch of others. There’s gotta be something in there for you.”
Doubtful. She grunted and glanced at the listings again.
Marc stood. “I’m gonna make a call.”
“Trying Denise again?”
