“And then?” Patrick asked.
“Then,” I said, “we have to figure out what he meant by that gibberish about the truth. And that crack about me looking good in neon.”
“It was just bullshit,” Granger said. “He was flirting with you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”
“Then what?” O’Bannon asked.
Good question. I fell back against my sofa and thought a good long while before answering. “It was a clue. To whatever he wants us to find next.”
This was a new experience for me. Being at a bar-The White Feather-but not ordering a drink. It was almost as seedy as Gordy’s, but it was near my apartment, and they served sandwiches as well as libations.
The three of us found a table-Darcy tagged along-and I ordered a club soda. Patrick relaxed as soon as I placed my nonalcoholic drink order. Maybe Darcy did, too. I felt proud of myself. I’d passed the test.
And periodically, as needed, I excused myself to powder my nose. And safe within the confines of a stall with the door closed, I took a deep swig from the flask tucked inside my jacket. Crunched a few Altoids and I was back in action.
As I passed by the bar on my way back to our table, this guy leaned backward from his bar stool and blocked my path. He was big and black and had a shaved head. He couldn’t have exuded more testosterone if he’d poured a bottle of it over his head.
“What you doin’ in a dive like this, Susan?”
I gave him a look. I knew him from somewhere… the courtroom, that was it. He was a bail bondsman. He’d made a few passes at me through the years; I’d never given him the time of day. I thought his name was Jake, but I wasn’t sure enough to give it a try. “Just drinking in the atmosphere.”
“I think you came lookin’ for me.”
“Do you now?”
“Yeah. Me, or somebody like me.” He had a laconic, deliberate way of speaking that set my teeth on edge.
“Well, you’re wrong. I’m with someone. Two someones, actually.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, positive.”
He gave me a look I didn’t like at all. “You change your mind, you come back and see me, okay? I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make you feel alive.”
Jesus Christ, some guys. I pushed past him and returned to my seat.
“You’ve changed your perfume,” Darcy said upon my return.
Was he talking about Chanel No. 5 again? Or did he know what I’d been doing in the ladies’ room? The kid was a damn bloodhound. “Yeah. I prefer something smokier when I’m out at night.”
“What do you think he meant?” Patrick asked. He was nursing black coffee, but oddly enough Darcy hadn’t given him the lecture on the evils of caffeine. “That crack about neon.”
I waved my hand, smiling, my eyebrows arched provocatively, leaning forward. I didn’t want to be obvious, but I was feeling pretty bold. Maybe it was the Jack Daniel’s coursing through my system. “I don’t want to talk about business tonight.”
“Neon is an inert gas,” Darcy informed us. “It’s odorless, colorless, tasteless, nontoxic, and monatomic. In a vacuum tube, neon glows reddish orange. Its chemical symbol is Ne. Its atomic number is ten.”
“Fascinating,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes, still gazing at Patrick. “But like I said, I don’t want to talk about work.”
Darcy grew quieter. “I was trying to be useful. It’s the most important thing in life. To be useful.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment.”
“John Adams, the second president of the United States, said that in 1814 to his-”
“Darcy…” I sighed. “It’s late. I appreciate you seeing me here, but this might be a good time for you to head home.”
“Are you also going home? I’m sure the police officers have left.”
I ignored him. “I’ll be along. But you should go now. I’ll pick you up early tomorrow morning. We’ll see what we can get out of that phone call. Till then-get some rest.”
“I never sleep more than four hours a night. Some nights my dad turns out all the lights and I just stare at the clock for hours.”
“Darcy-” I tried to smile. “There’s a bus stop at the corner. Just turn left outside the door. You can ride it all the way home without changing.”
He stood, looking uneasy, fidgeting with his hands. “Do you think that you will be all right?”
Adorable. I was amazed at how much affection I felt for him, after knowing him only a short while. But I wasn’t going to get laid with him around. “I can take care of myself, Darcy. Good night.”
“ ’Night.” He stumbled out of the bar, glancing back at me over his shoulder.
“Cute kid, huh?” Patrick said, sipping his coffee. “And what a memory.”
“Yeah. Incredible.” I leaned forward. Had I remembered to unbutton the top button of my shirt? “I don’t want to talk about him, either.”
“Indeed. What do you want to talk about?”
I leaned in even closer. “Come to think of it, I don’t really want to talk at all.”
“I’m astonished.” My God, but he was sexy up close. Or far away. Or with a paper bag over his head. “I was told you were very aggressive.”
“Me? I’m a pushover. Try me.” Just another inch, and my lips were planted firmly on his. They tasted sweet. I’d almost forgotten. He put his hand at the base of my neck and sent tingles radiating up and down my spine. This was going to be good. I knew this was going to be good.
“What do you want?” he whispered to me.
“I want to feel… something different,” I said, peering into his beautiful blues. “I want to feel like I’m really alive. Not just going through the motions.” Enough with the damn talking. I pressed my lips against his and we didn’t come up for air for a good long while. I didn’t care who saw or what they thought. I needed this. I needed this.
“Come home with me,” I said finally. “Or I’ll go with you. Whatever’s closer. What’d’ya say?”
He looked at me a long moment. His expression alone was sufficient to convey everything I needed to know. Everything I didn’t want to hear. “No, I can’t.”
“But-I thought you felt like-”
“I do.”
“Then come on.” I snaked my hand between his legs and gave him a squeeze in a strategically chosen area. “I’ll make it worth your while. It’ll be great. Promise.”
“I know it would,” he said, pushing my hand away. “But you’d hate me in the morning.”