Wrong Way Renee (2 page)

“
The robber was
pretty
muscular, you know? Very well built.
Looked like he works out.”
She trailed her gaze over him.
“Do you? Work out?”

Officer Joe returned with a trembling woman in tow.
“This is Ellen White,
Tyson
. She's the te
ller who packed the cash. S
he put
a dye pack in with the money.”
He gave the woman a reassuring
smile.
“
She'd like to go home. She's not feeling well. I got her statemen
t already. That okay with you?”

“Actually, I'd like to speak to her w
hen I'm through with this one.”
The detective motioned toward Renee with his pen.

“You can talk to her first,”
Renee told him.
“I'll wait. She looks a little green a
round the edges. Are you okay?”
she asked the teller.

The woman started to shake her head, then suddenly grabbed her stomach and upchucked all over the floor. Officer Joe jumped back, escaping the flood by a split second.

Renee ran to the waiting area, grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table
then hurried back to the woman's side.
“Here you go.
Want some water or something?”

She took a few tissues from the box, shook her head.
“Sorr
y about that. Nerves, I guess.”

Renee rubbed the lady's back and
frown
ed at the detective.
“
She said she didn't feel well.”

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
“Get her number,
Joe. I'll
speak
with her later.”
The detective turned his attention back to Renee.
“Can we finish this ple
ase? We have a lot to do here.”

“We need a mop
or something to clean this up,”
Renee called to no one in particular.
“Can someone get this nice lady
a glass of water?”

“
I'll take care of her, thanks.”
Officer Joe
smile
d
at Renee
. H
e had dimples. Absolutely adorable dimples.
Something warm
and wonderful
flooded through her.

She faced the detective, whom she no longer found hot
, Terrance Howard look-alike or not
.
“Description, right? Okay. His hair was light brown or dark blonde. Hard to tell under the pantyhose. They hide a lot. Sometimes I can get away with not shaving my legs for a few da
ys if I wear dark enough hose.”

“Ma'am?”
He looked at her as if she were from Mars.
“
Joe,”
he called over
her
head.
“Can you
get a description from this
…
woman? I don
't have an hour to waste here.”
He stepped around her like she was yesterday's newspaper and headed toward the crowd of patrons and tellers. She set her hands on her hips. How dare he brush her aside?

Joe
left the teller with two other bank employees then made his way back to Renee. Yes, he was definitely way better looking than the rude detective. How could she have gotten that so wrong?
But she’d never seriously thought about a white guy in terms of dating
material
.

Until this moment.

She scrutinized the officer. His uniform was kind of wrinkled, and his hair looked a few weeks past needing a cut, but it did set off his eyes nicely.
And those
sable
eyes, damn. Yeah, he was fine.

“You want to sit dow
n?”
He pointed to a desk behind her.

She noticed he wore no ring and another flutter tickled her insides.
“Yes, I'd like that.”
She smiled and followed him to a desk.

Joe pushed a
stack of papers out of the way and
took out a pen and notebook.
“Can I get your phone number?”

Was he asking her out? That made her ordeal totally worth it.
Yeah, she could definitely see herself going with him.
“I
don't give out my home number.
But I'll give you my cell. It's 389-4447. I'm rarely home. No one's ever there but my kitty
. And she's a lousy secretary.”

“You a cat person too? I ha
ve two of them. Law and Order.”

“Oh, that's cute.”
She glanced past the fake potted palm, across the lobby at the detective who was speaking to a pretty
white lady
with
a tiny waist and huge breasts. Screw him.

“They're great company when yo
u live alone, don't you think?”

What would her folks say if she brought this man home?
Hell, she wasn’t even sure if her friends would be accepting.

“Miss Wright?”

“What?”
She rubbed at her temples, warding off a pounding ache.
“Oh, yes,
great company. Mine is Apple.”

His crooked smile melted away her residual nervousness. Absolutely adorable. And she was acting like a total
fool
.

“Description?”
he prompted.

She gave her best estimation of the robber’s appearance as she
studied the officer. He had a boyish look. She wondered how old he was. Probably close to her age. Not quite as handsome as Dan, her former live-in boyfriend, whom she now called Spawn of the Devil or Damien for short. But the cop certainly seemed a lot nicer.

She smoothed her pants, shifting in her seat. Glancing toward the crowd across the bank, she saw the detective and the
white
bombshell smiling at each other. She could tell from the body language there was some serious flirting going on.
If the brother could hit on the white
chick
, why couldn’t she
go out with the white
dude
?

“Are you sure you don't want
to go to the hospital, Miss
…
”

“Wright. No, no, I'm fine. I hope the tell
er's okay, though.”

“She called her husband. He'll be here in
a few minutes to collect her.”

The radio on the officer's shoulder made crackling noises. He pushed a button on it as he nudged it closer to his ear.
“Excuse
me for a moment, Miss Wright.”
He pushed away from the desk then crossed the lobby to the detective, whom he had to pry away from the
woman
. The two men conversed with their heads nearly touching.
Comparing their rear views, Joe’s won hands down.
After giving the detective a nod,
h
e
returned and took his seat.
“Now, where were we?”

“Everything okay?”
Sh
e folded her hands in her lap, hoping he'd share any news. She hated to be left out of a good secret.

“Fine, fine. You can rest easy tonight. Orlando's finest just cau
ght up with your bank robbers.”

She
set a hand over her heart
.
“T
hey're not my bank robbers, they're First Orlando Savings and Loan's robbers. I mean, just because a guy manhandles me doesn't make him mine. Although, I guess I'd have to pick him out of
a lineup or something, right?”
That sounded like fun. And a great opportunity to meet more men in uniform.

“No, m
a'am. That won't be necessary.”

She slumped.
“Damn. “

“Excuse me?”

“Damn
…
criminals
. They rob you, grope you and you don't even get to see what they look like without pantyhose ov
er their face.”
She wrung her hands. Had an idiot taken over her mouth?

He narrowed his eyes
at her.
“
Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine. Fine.”

I'm a fool, that's all.
A silly blabbermouth with a tendency to prattle on about the stupidest stuff in the world.

“Okay. Can yo
u give me a blow by blow, er
…
a pl
ay by play of the events here?”

After she'd recounted the robbery, he told her she was free to go.

Wait a second. Didn't he want to ask
her
out?

Apparently not. Damn. All the other patrons had left by then, except the
white lady who
Detective
Thomas
must have decided was some sort of special witness. She got to stay. Bitch.

Renee shuffled to her
Jeep
.
She
should have gotten a date out of that. Between the detective and the handsome officer, someone should have asked
her
out. Why
did she
always meet the cutest ones at the most inopportune times?

She studied her reflection in the visor mirror, making her most adorable face. Was her smile better with her lips parted, she wondered? As she widened her mouth, showing her
very white
teeth, she saw it— a big piece of spinach wedged into the top of
a front too
th. Could that have been there all this time? She'd had spinach quiche for lunch.

Oh, God, it was true. The whole time
…
Clutching the steering wheel with both hands, she bumped her head on the wheel, over and over.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.
The
white
bombshell didn't have any food particles in her teeth, she'd bet.

T
he
woman
emerge
d
from the bank with the detective hot on her trail. He took her keys to open her car, a silver Mercedes, of course.
Thomas
hung his arm casually over the car door and shifted from foot to foot. He pulled out his
iPhone and started tapping something onto the screen
. Probably
her
phone number.

Renee's hands were sore from how hard she squeezed the steering wheel. She started her car and backed out of the space.

She drove home, collapsed onto the couch and opened her mail. The two overdue notices from credit card companies were too much to handle after all she'd been through, so she tossed them aside and turned on the TV.

“
…
It all happened so quickly,
”
the
white
bombshell said in her perky way.
“This man used one of the tellers as a shield and had another fill a bag with money.
”

“Teller?
”
Renee shouted at her television.
“I'm not a teller. I'm a nail tech. You didn't even see what happened, you stupid bimbo.
”

She clicked off the TV, afraid she'd vomit if she heard any more. Teller. How dare she say she knew what had happened?

When the phone rang, she
let
the answering machine
get it
. She had no energy to speak to anyone.

“Renee, honey, it's M
ama
. I'm reminding you we're having a family dinner tomorrow night. Your father will be very upset if you don't come. Your nail clients will understand if every now and then you don't stay until nine o'clock. So
, be sure you make it. Love you.”

The machine clicked off.
“Yes, M
ama
.
”
She rolled her eyes.

Stomach growling, she went to the fridge and searched for something good. One lonely low fat frozen dinner begged her to free it from its icy dungeon. She pulled the black tray from the box, and shoved it into the microwave. Turkey Tetrazzini gracefully spun and defrosted while she dragged into the bedroom.

Her big empty bed sat unmade, accusing her. She vowed to turn over a new leaf by making it every day. After all, she could have died today at the bank. When her
Mama
would have come to her apartment to clean out her things, she'd have seen the unmade bed. And the nightshirt on the bathroom floor. And the breakfast dishes in the sink. Elizabeth
Jackson
Wright would have shaken her head, wondering where she'd gone wrong with her youngest.

She crumpled onto her vanity stool and removed her jewelry. Leaning toward the mirror she noticed
a couple dark spots
visible through her foundation. Time for a makeover. She made a mental note to call
Toy
, her oldest, dearest friend to join her.