"If you'd rather I didn't stay--" I began. "I invited you." "After sustaining a head injury. Which means you aren't responsible for anything you said last night . . . except for the part where you forgave me for wrecking your car." "You were run off the road." "I still feel bad. It was a nice car." I paused. "I'm also sorry about almost getting you killed." "She says, as an afterthought." "It was a really nice car."
"Yes, you're sleeping in my apartment," I said. "On my sofa. It was an exciting night, but not that exciting. I'd really hope you'd remember if it had been."
". When the plague struck Chicago, the townspeople here erected the gargoyles, and nary a soul was lost to the Black Death." "The bubonic plague predates Chicago by about five hundred years." He lowered himself to the bench. "I know. I was very disappointed when I found out. Almost as bad as when I learned there were no fairies. The world is much more interesting with goblins and plagues." "Unless you catch the plague."
I'd say I needed to find myself, if that didn't sound like I was heading into the Himalayas, taking only a backpack stuffed with angst and clean underwear.
"Don't give me that look," I told the cat. "You've caught one mouse since you've been here. And what do you get in return? Food, shelter, and a human servant to clean up your shit. You didn't even warn me when someone was at the door." "Because his sixth sense tells him I can be trusted." "Then his sixth sense is broken."
Demon possession strains the boundaries of credulity, given the sheer number of times it seems to happen. One would really hope demons had better things to do with their time.
"I wouldn't call Gabriel Walsh if I was on fire." She pursed her lips. "No, I might. To sue everyone responsible--from the person who lit the match to those who made my clothes. But I'd wait until the fire was out. Otherwise, he'd just stand there until I was burned enough for a sizable settlement."
"I'll keep it in my bedside drawer, in case I'm woken in the middle of the night and mistake the cat for an intruder. An honest accident." "You're not shooting the cat. It would leave a mess."
A suitably sultry voice answered his office phone. I gave my name, and she checked to see if Mr. Walsh was in. Given that Grace said he was the only lawyer at his firm, one wouldn't think she'd need to check
"Cars like that shouldn't be left in storage. It causes mechanical issues. With brakes and tires and engines and such." My smile returned. "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?" "Not a word."
"As he talked, I thought, "Maybe I'm wrong about the guy." Put him with someone like Anna Gunderson, a nice woman who has suffered a great tragedy, and his empathetic side came out. And then I realized he was faking it."
My foggy brain slid away and-- And I was still dressed in only my bra and panties. Well, at least it's a nice set of bra and panties. Yep, these were the thoughts going through my brain as I looked at a photo of a decapitated head on my bed.
I even pulled out the can of cat treats. Yes, I'd bought him treats. Give it another month and I'd be collecting his shed whiskers and claws like a proud momma preserving her baby's first haircut and lost teeth.
Yours is more than business. Your opinion of him - and your continuing relationship with him - matters. My nephew is not accustomed to that, and he's struggling with it.