Page 18 of Penny For Your Thoughts
“Things aren’t going so well, huh?”
“Would I be here if things were peachy?”
“Don’t bite the head off the guy willing to help you, Krause.”
He was right, and I muttered an apology, still unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.
“Are you serious about getting sober?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. I was always serious, not that it had gotten me far.
He studied me for a long time before indicating a plastic chair wedged into the corner of the room. “Pull up a seat. I need to makea phone call. Before I refer you to someone, I need to be sure he’s on board too.”
I shifted the chair next to the door and sat. The office wasn’t small, but it was congested with all the machinery and boxes, and I was a man who needed more personal space than most. Echo placed herself between my thighs, leaning heavily against my leg. Her weight helped keep me grounded.
While Ruiz made a call on his cell, Echo nudged my hand with her wet nose. I stroked her fur and tried not to think about what I was giving up by doing this and instead tried to focus on what I might gain.
“Hey. It’s me.” The heat of Ruiz’s gaze seared my face as he talked jovially to whoever was on the other end of the line. “No, asshole. I calledyoubecause I wanted to talk toyou. If I wanted to talk to my boy,” he paused a long time, rolling a hand, before adding, “friend, I’d have called him.”
“Whatever. There was a pause, dumbass. You’re just jealous.” Ruiz chuckled and listened to the other person for a time before sobering and saying. “Yeah. So, here’s the thing. I have a friend who needs a friend. He’s a struggling addict, and he wants to get sober.”
My skin burned with shame at the wordstruggling, and I wanted to bark,I’m not struggling, asshole, but who was I kidding? I’d basically admitted it to myself, but hearing someone else advertise my failures so bluntly hurt more than I expected. Was that how I would be defined from now on?The struggling addict.
Such a winner.
“It’s Krause. Yes, Diem Krause.” A long pause ensued, and where the pause from earlier had been intentional and done comedically, this one was serious. Extensive. Ruiz remained silent, listening to the other person talk. Did they know me? Were they judging me?
Was it too late to change my mind and back out?
Ruiz finally spoke. “So you’re cool if I give him your number?” He nodded a few times as he rocked side to side in his desk chair, fiddling with the pen he’d been chewing on upon my arrival. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”
They talked a minute longer before saying goodbye.
Ruiz tossed the phone on the desk and dug around until he located a dwindling stack of Post-its. Using his desecrated pen, he jotted a name and number on the yellow pad before tearing off the top sheet and offering it out.
I hesitated before taking the paper, but when I reached for it, Ruiz held it back.
Before I could snarl and ask what the fuck, he said, “He’s a decent guy and willing to help, but I can promise you, Krause, if you’re an asshole with him, you’ll be on your own. He’s not going to put up with your shit.”
My reputation at the department preceded me. I clenched my jaw and nodded, resisting the urge to snap something ugly.
Ruiz relinquished the paper, and I glanced at the name he’d written.
My entire body sagged.Fuck my life.I should have known it would be the cocky homicide detective I’d never gotten along with. Of all fucking people, it had to be Aslan fucking Doyle.
4
Tallus
“Do not eat the cake. Donoteat the cake. Don’t eat the fucking cake!”
Chanting the mantra did me no good. I wanted the cake. In my belly. Now. I wanted to devour it. I wanted to suck every crumb from the plastic container and lick every morsel of icing from the lid. It had been taunting me since Kitty dropped it off that morning. My piece had vanished in ten seconds, and my crafty co-worker had warned me more than once not to touch Diem’s piece because she would know.
That wily woman and her witchiness frightened me, so I had resisted. All. Freaking. Day. But now…nowI wanted it. I was hungry, suffering a late-afternoon crash, and in desperate need of sugar.
Besides, Diem was late. He didn’t deserve a reward. I was organizing Nana’s party. Not him. The cake was my idea. Plus, no one would know if I ate it. I would call Kitty tomorrow and tell her how my lovely boyfriend had fawned over it and gave it two lip-licking thumbs-up.
She would be thrilled.
