In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (42 page)

“Luke, stop by the house for a beer while you’re in town. I’ve also made some wild rice bratwurst that will knock your socks off. You won’t find brats like these back in that pussy city you call home.
”

Luke
smiled at my rolling eyes while answering, “Will do, Chief.”

“Junior, that matter we discussed has been taken care of, so g
o back to sleep.” He said this as if I’d been up pacing the floors. Then he admonished, “You need all your strength to keep up with Drake.”

“Thanks, Jack, and ha ha
ha.”

Ending the call,
Jack was delighted with himself and making that grunting sound again.

Into the silence, I
rolled away from Luke and snapped off the light. It was still dark out and I was exhausted. I hadn’t been sleeping when Jack called, but in a coma caused by my excruciatingly intense orgasm. That post-coming narcolepsy was starting to become a disturbing pattern, but I figured it was one condition that didn’t need curing.

As I lay on my side,
Luke pulled me into his arms. “What matter did Jack take care of for you?”

Grateful
for any reason to put off thinking about Dickie’s murder and the blood Jack mentioned so casually, I yawned widely before answering, “My new protégé’s being stalked by a dirty Faribault cop.”

“Ah, yes. I
’ve been meaning to ask you about the girl that I found reading in bed next to you while you were sleeping. Do I know her,” Luke added dryly, “or the five other females in my spare bedrooms?”

“
No, I just met them all tonight,” I murmured groggily, giggling a little at his tone. I amended, “Well, I actually met Mia in the afternoon.”

Solemnly, Luke replied,
“With that long term claim on your relationship, I’m sure that explains why she’s your protégé over the other five.”

I meant to laugh because I love
d how funny he was, but instead I dropped back off to sleep again. Welcoming the darkness, I didn’t fight it because thinking was the last thing I wanted to do. Luke squeezed me awake, still wanting to talk.

“
Luke, I’m so tired and sad. Can’t we go to sleep and talk about all of this in a few hours? Dickie, the illegal Mexicans, Mia, and your trickiness--I promise we’ll talk. Wait a minute!” I fumbled to roll in his arms and faced him. “You didn’t have anything to do with killing Dickie tonight, did you?”

I c
ouldn’t see his face clearly, and maybe some boyfriends might be offended by such a question, but Luke’s voice was calmly reassuring, “No, don’t stress. I had nothing to do with Webster’s murder, Anabel, but you must really be exhausted.” He pulled me closer until my head was in the crook of his neck and my leg was up over his thighs. He drew up the covers. “I expected that to be the first question out of your mouth after we hung up with Jack.” Luke patted my ass gently. “Now go to sleep, Princess, and let me worry about the farm being raided by dirty cops and INS agents.”

Luke shifted his arms and I felt
him stiffen when he bumped into Rita under the pillow. The last thing I heard was the heavy plunk on the bedside table and Luke’s amused muttering, “Christ, illegal Mexicans and protégés…”

“
Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink ft. Nate Ruess

Saturday 12/08/12

9:25 AM

My brother has a
charming colloquialism that I don’t often have occasion to use, but it fit the bill this morning. I looked worse than a bucket of dead fish heads. You could also feel worse and smell worse than a bucket of dead fish heads, so I was trying to eliminate two out of the three conditions.

Turning away from the
mirror in Luke’s bathroom, I stepped under the hot spray of the shower. When I felt tears leaking from my eyes and blending with the water pounding on my upturned face, I was hopeful this shower would alleviate all three conditions.

I
couldn’t believe Dickie was dead—murdered. He was stabbed with a knife into a gory, bloody mess. It must hurt so bad to be stabbed to death and my mind skittered away from the image of Dickie crying out in helpless agony.

Rubbing angrily at my eyes, I
couldn’t stop crying. I felt ridiculous because I only knew Dickie for a few hours and he was willing to leave me for dead. But by the end of the night, he was also willing to help find my killer and now he’s dead.  I’ll never stop wondering if it would have made a difference if I had been able to pick up Dickie’s missed call. Did he have information for me? Or, since he didn’t call Luke, was he just ‘ringing Bel’ to say hello in his cheeky way? I hated this thought, but did he get prevented from leaving a message by his murderer?

I’ll never know th
e answer, but I do know my enemy was threatened enough by whatever poking around Dickie was doing to kill him. There’s no way I believed Dickie’s murder was a lover’s quarrel gone wrong like Jack claimed. By now, local or nonlocal, I have to assume the person that hired Dickie knew I was alive and that I was hunting them in return.

Covering my face with my hands, I turn
ed my back to the stream of hot water and took a deep breath.

“
Okay, man up, Anabel and get your shit together,” I stated, and just saying the words out loud was affirming.

T
he voices were sad, too, but quietly cheered me on.

I drop
ped my hands. Lathering up the loofah with my soap, I scrubbed myself vigorously and the lemony scent was clean and fresh. As the suds went swirling down the drain, I felt my spirits lifting, and while I wasn’t quite my usual sunny self, I was determined to be the last person standing after this battle was over.

The voices brighten
ed up, too, and cheered a little louder.

Turning off the
water, I no longer pushed away the images in my head of Dickie’s pain, but embraced the suck. I mouthed a little prayer for Dickie’s soul and sent it out into the Universe with the promise to avenge him.

‘Amen, sister!’
The mean mommy voice rang with approval and the rest joined in with,
‘Hear! Hear!’

I raise
d a fist, and mangling another favorite quote, vowed,
‘Bring your knife to this gunfight, asshole, and I’ll be point shooting your head right off!’

‘You get ‘em, girl!’
screamed the accountant voice, a little hysterically. At the same time, the detective voice whistled and applauded, but reminded
, ‘Once you open up, don’t stop shooting until you fire your whole clip at them!’

This
advice seemed a bit like overkill if I’ve already blown their head off, but I appreciated the sentiment and started toweling off.

Twenty minutes and
nine short phone conversations later, it was 10:00 AM. I had managed dressing in leggings and a T-shirt for my next session of self defense training while speaking to Mac, Jazzy, Anna, Reg, Stella, Crookie, Tre J, Pam, and Damaris.

This has got to be some kind of record for me. I
was amazed that not only has my brain not exploded, it wasn’t that bad communicating with so many people. It helped once I pretended my life could be likened to an emergency hospital where all the calls were the incoming wounded that need triaging and I was the admitting nurse working unpaid overtime. The faster I could efficiently take care of them, the sooner I could go off duty.

Mac was easy because Diego
took the day off. She stopped her whispered questions about the details from last night when Diego came into the room to convince her of his undying devotion.

Jazy and Reg
gie each just wanted to touch base. Jaz to verify I hadn’t been murdered in my sleep and Reg to tell me that I was crazy. Then we were done being affectionate and we agreed we’ll see each other tomorrow.

Anna took the longest, but I
somehow convinced her that I really do believe Veronica was a transvestite, without also revealing Luke’s penchant for big games. She’s still disgruntled with Luke for making her worry, and fretting that he’s into cross-dressing. I felt relief when my brother came into the room and convinced Anna to end the call. I don’t know how I’m going to take six more full months of an Anxious Anna without point shooting my own head off.

Stella and Crookie were easy calls, too. Stella
reported the sales numbers from yesterday, proudly announced everything was running smoothly at Bel’s, and chatted a couple minutes about the fun she had with Eric George and Blanca last night while making decorations for Anna’s shower tomorrow. A customer then needed help and we hung up. I barely needed to say a word.

Crookie’s call was actually pretty cute.
I’ll be seeing him tomorrow after the party, but he’d asked Tre J on a date for tonight. He wanted reassurance it wasn’t too soon after Cheryl’s funeral or inappropriate. I assured him that it was wonderful, but did ask him to promise to track me down if he ever decided to go on a weekend trip. I still have the number to that beautiful prostitute with the heart of gold, should he ever have the insane urge to elope again.

Crook’s
only laughed and said, “Oh, Bel, what went wrong to make you such a terrible girl?”

Tre’s call was endearing. She’
was very excited about their date tonight and that Crookie was staying overnight at the ranch. She wanted my opinion if she should have Crook’s sleep on an inflatable mattress in the living room or invite him to sleep in her California king bed. Of course, Tre does mean sleep when she says sleep, but she’s still concerned it may be too soon after Cheryl’s funeral or inappropriate. I assured her that inviting him to share her bed was the kind thing to do. An inflatable mattress would be sheer torture for a man Crookie’s size. I also assured her that if she happened to find it in her heart to give Crookie a nice cuddle to help ease his loneliness, the poor guy, she’d be showing even more kindness.

I gave Pam one minute
to exultantly gush on her night with her George of the Jungle, but when she started getting too technical on the ins and outs, I cut her off cleanly. We agreed to meet at the Porterhouse at seven sharp tonight for the cocktail hour of the banquet.

Damaris’ call
was to let me know the Drake’s were taking me up on the invitation to stay at the apartment for their two night visit. We arranged that Luke and I will meet them at the apartment at one tomorrow, since Anna’s party began at two o’clock. Damaris was running out the door for the appointment with Svettie and the realtor, so that call was short and sweet.

I
was now feeling quite chipper, considering how I felt thirty minutes ago upon waking up late, alone, and groggy with depressing exhaustion. I have my purse on my shoulder, my hoodie over my arm, and I was ready to take on the world, or at least one knife-wielding bastard of a murderer.

As I
went to open the bedroom door, there was a knock first. Mia stuck her head in and greeted me with an infectious grin. She was dressed in her laundered work clothes from yesterday and had her dark curls pulled back into a high pony tail.

“Good morning
!” She sang out, opening the door wider and taking my arm. “See, I followed the first rule and did not disturb you before ten o’clock!” Like a little mother, she scolded me, “Come, we have made a big breakfast for Luke and its almost ready. We’re all waiting for you.”

“Good morning to you, too, Mia. Are you positive
you can spare a crumb of toast and maybe some coffee for me? I don’t want Luke deprived,” I teased, flipping my long braid behind my shoulder.

She wave
d a hand, and replied airily, “Oh, we made plenty, so maybe there’s a half a piece of toast for you.”

Smiling,
I followed Mia and my nose to the kitchen while listening to her praising Luke for being kind and spending time paying attention to the little girls who miss their fathers. They’ve all been up since nine, and Luke gave them permission to raid his kitchen and cook whatever they wanted before they leave. My stomach was rumbling at the appetizing aromas of frying butter and onions, one of the best combo smells in the world.

I heard the female voices chattering excitedly in Spanish, punctuated less frequently by the deep tones of Luke’s voice in answer,
long before reaching the cheery kitchen.

I
couldn’t understand a word anybody was saying, but I noticed Luke’s responses always resulted in a flurry of girlish laughter. That has nothing to do with the girls speaking Spanish and everything to do with the way women always react to Luke, no matter what their ages.

Entering
the kitchen, Luke was sitting at the table and facing me. Our eyes met instantly, and I grinned at seeing he was surrounded by all the women, but Mia and Rosita. They’ve been too busy at the stove cooking up a big breakfast for my boyfriend, or I was sure they’d be at the table hanging on his every word, too.

Mia
moved to the stove and caught my attention by waving a spatula. “Breakfast will be ready in five minutes, Anabel, so sit down and I will bring you some coffee.”