Deadly Dancing Page 22
I pressed “answer” and said a dreary hello.
“I can see I caught you in a mood,” Kym said with her perky after-honeymoon voice.
“I’m just standing in front of my mailbox.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to open it.”
“Why?”
“I can’t afford a hospital bill.”
“Mars, you’re not making any sense. Do you need me to stop over with a bottle of wine?”
“A bottle of Jim’s wine?” I asked. His wine was smooth and expensive.
“Of course. Should I bring anything else?”
“Bring food if you’re hungry. I only have ramen noodles. No, wait. I ate those last night.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Just another bump in the road.”
“I’ll be over soon with food and wine, and we can talk.”
“Sounds perfect.”
After Kym’s phone call, the mailbox was still waiting to be opened. Another day of waiting wouldn’t matter. I left the mail where it was and walked the few steps to my front door.
The last of the Wisconsin summer heat hung heavy with humidity. My skin was already sticky with sweat. Inside the house wasn’t any better. In fact, some days it was better melting outside in a pool of sweat than sitting in the stifling living room. It was all in the name of energy savings.
I stepped inside the front door and hung my purse on the hook. I slid in front of my laptop at the kitchen table. Logging into my email account, I crossed my fingers for a job response. Something had to come in soon. I had emailed my resume to all the catering and event companies in Madison and surrounding areas. No responses so far. Maybe there’s something wrong with my resume.
Clicking on the file, I opened my resume and scanned it. My name and contact information was at the top. The work history section was dull. I could spruce it up in the morning and send it to a few more places.
I meandered to the couch and plopped down. My limbs stretched as far away from my body as possible. It was too hot to have limb-to-body contact, which made me think of Brett and the lack of his presence.
I had been following the news on the capture of the Sledgehammer serial killer. It remained in the news for a couple of weeks. The segments dwindled as time passed. It was my only connection to Brett. Once the media coverage cooled, my access to his world was gone.
His phone number is programmed into my phone . . . so I could call him. When he left for Texas with his prisoner, I had a feeling he wouldn’t come back. Why would he? He was only in Wisconsin to track the serial killer who killed his sister. His family lives in Texas, and now they can begin to heal and be a family again. Since he hasn’t called me, why should I call him? My throat constricted, and warm tears welled behind my eyes.
I should delete his phone number. There’s no reason to hold onto it. It’s just a reminder of a time I can’t have back. Not that I’d want the serial killer back. I still have nightmares about her. But the passionate and steamy times with Brett, those were the times I want back.
A knock on the door brought me from the depths of self-pity. Before I could summon enough energy to tear myself from the couch, the door flung open with Kym’s smiling face bursting through and bounding into the living room. Her face dropped as she hit the thick wall of heavy, saturated air.
“What’s wrong with your air-conditioning?” she asked, fanning her shirt collar.
“Nothing.”
“Then why isn’t it on?”
“It keeps unwanted people away.”
Kym gave an exaggerated eye roll. “It also keeps wanted people away,” she argued.
“Think of it as a free sauna.”
“Oh, all right. Give me a towel. I don’t want to sweat all over my silk shirt.”
I trudged upstairs and brought back two towels. I handed Kym a Beauty and the Beast beach towel and kept Brainy Smurf for myself.
“What’s with the beach towels?” she asked as she undressed.
“They’re cute. Grandma bought me a beach towel every year for Christmas, so I have a closet full.”
“Ever thought about shopping for new towels?”
“What would I do with my beach towels?”
“Uh, use them for the beach.”
“I’m not a fan of lake beaches. They smell like fish, my feet sink ankle-deep into muck, and seaweed freaks me out.”
Kym wrapped the towel around her svelte frame twice. I was able to wrap mine around one and a half times . . . if I sucked in and yanked tightly.
“Shall I open the wine?” she asked. “I also brought Chinese.”
“Smells divine! I’ll grab a corkscrew and glasses. Did I tell you I joined Predator Patrol?” I asked as I foraged through the kitchen drawer for a corkscrew.
“Mrs. J.’s new club?”
“I ran out of excuses,” I said.
“It could be worse. You could still work for Jocelyn.”
“At least Jocelyn gave me a paycheck.” I handed Kym the corkscrew and glasses and slumped into the couch.
“A paycheck from the devil. She paid you a lousy salary with no benefits.”
“She’s fighting my unemployment claim since, technically, she fired me.”
“That’s not right. She fired you because she had a thing for Brett, but he wanted you. It had nothing to do with job performance.”
I shrugged. “That’s Jocelyn. Now neither of us has Brett, and I’m jobless.”
“Somehow this doesn’t seem fair.”
“Life never is.”
“Have you heard from Brett?”
“I followed the news and saw him on camera a few times, but now there’s no coverage since it’s old news. Maybe once the trial starts there’ll be a media surge. But I don’t think I can watch it.”
“You still have nightmares, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“What about Evan? Where is he?”
“As far as I know he’s working extra shifts. It could be a lie so he doesn’t have to talk to me.”
“Always the optimist, aren’t you?”
“Sorry. I’m not feeling optimistic about anything right now.”
“Did you sleep with Evan?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“No worries, then. History tells us he’ll be back. He’s probably working extra shifts like he said.”
I shrugged. “Yeah.” Or he could’ve found someone pretty who has a job. “Let’s talk about you. I’d rather be cheerful with my wine. Are you still in honeymoon mode?”
Kym grinned, flushing with a becoming pink.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I couldn’t help but smile at her. Who’d have thought outspoken Kym could turn into a blushing bride?
“It’s been wonderful. Tahiti was romantic and magical. He’s taken off extra days from work to be with me. Of course, it means more time for his friends to bother us too.”
“Not Eddie?” I shuddered.
She nodded and sipped her wine. “He’s coming over more often now that we’re settled in.”
“I don’t understand the connection between those two. Jim is handsome and successful. Eddie is dirty and broke. If you could think of the worst redneck joke possible, he’d fit it to a T.”
Kym snickered. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about Eddie? It’s not bad. They go downstairs to the sports room and watch games.”
The sports room is no meager basement dwelling. It’s a complete man zone that’d make any guy drool with envy. Leather theater-style seating with cup holders and footrests surround an enormous ninety-two-inch television with surround sound. The remaining space is a total guy fest with a full bar, pool table, dartboard, and air hockey table. Walls are covered with sports memorabilia and neon beer signs.
“Still, I don’t think I’d want him at my house.” I grimaced.
“Jim says he has to deal with my friends, so I have to deal with his.”
My mouth swung open. I snapped it back shut
, but it swung open again. I couldn’t possibly fit into the same classification of annoying friends as Eddie.
Kym’s eyes widened when she realized what she had said. “He doesn’t mean you!” She covered up quickly. “He’s mostly annoyed with my cousin. You remember Fran? Since I’m married she thinks I’ll find her a husband amongst Jim’s friends and family. It’s like living in nineteenth-century England and trying to marry her to the first eligible suitor. I almost hooked her up with Ed . . . but she’s family,” Kym said with a sigh.
I bit back a laugh.
Books by Nicolette Pierce
Mars Cannon Novels
Deadly Dancing
Predator Patrol
Security Squad
Biker Brigade
Nadia Wolf Novels
The Big Blind
High Stakes
Cashing Out
Squeeze Play
Nadia Wolf Character Novels
The Last Tailored Suit
My Traitor
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nicolettepierce.com
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