Home Free (36 page)

Jake shook her hand and gave her a warm
smile. “Jake. It’s nice to meet you.”

He looked back at me, and I didn’t feel
invisible after all. Probably it was some hormonal thing having to
do with turning thirty, but I had to restrain myself from jumping
him there in the lobby of the convention center with a bazillion
cops and my little sister watching.

“Well, uh, see ya,” I stammered, backing away
before I did something that would make attacking him with tampons
seem like small potatoes in the quest to embarrass myself to
death.

“Wait a sec,” Jake said, “I got you
something.” He made it back to the registration table in two long
strides, returning with a little brown bag. “Happy birthday.”

I peeked in the bag. Half a cranberry muffin.
Avie was doing the tennis match thing, looking from Jake to me and
back to Jake. She had one eyebrow raised in a question mark. “You
know each other?”

Jake nodded. “We go way back.” Then to me, he
said, “There was one left in the hotel coffee shop at lunch time. I
saved you half.”

“Thank – ” I began.

As if I couldn’t humiliate myself enough
without her help, Avie interrupted with, “Hypothetically speaking,
if a woman suspected her husband might be planning to kill her,
what should she do?” I thought maybe the hypothetical woman should
smack her sister upside the head. Might not help with the husband
situation, but I was pretty sure it would improve her mood.

“Does this hypothetical woman have any
evidence?”

“Maybe I was adopted,” I muttered to
myself.

Avie ignored me. “Say she overhead the
husband telling his mistress he was going to get rid of her.”

“Unfortunately, men tell their mistresses
that all the time. It doesn’t usually mean anything. Unless the
guy’s actually done something, or at least made some overt threat,
there’s really nothing the police can do.” He softened his voice.
“But there are other places you can go for help.”

“Jeez, I’m not the hypothetical woman,” Avie
exclaimed, insulted. “I was just curious.” Then she flounced
away.

I gave him a palms-up gesture. “She was a
crack baby.” He smiled, and I went on, “So, why’d you save me half
a muffin?”

“I’m a nice guy.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He grinned the cocky grin. “I knew you’d be
back. I told you, I have that effect on women.”

I was overcome by opposing urges, one to rip
his uniform off and act out the pornographic fantasy, the other to
knee him in the groin for being so damn arrogant. I took the muffin
and turned to leave before I succumbed to either urge.

“Don’t let the name fool you. I don’t believe
in fate,” I said over my shoulder, stepping out into the
deluge.

“Me, neither,” I heard him say just before
the door slammed shut.