though I had a test coming up, Axton beat spreadsheets, hands down.
My phone vibrated. I glanced at the number then used the phone next to the kitchen door.
“Hey, Jacks, what’s up?”
“Hey there, favorite sister, how would you like to babysit tomorrow night? Our sitter just canceled.”
There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend time with Scotty. But I had this Axton situation on my hands and a list of businesses to check out. “Sorry, Jacks, I’m busy.”
“I already told him you would. He’s going to be just heartbroken if Aunt Rose doesn’t come over.”
Jacks didn’t play fair. “What time?”
“Be here at six and we’ll probably be home before ten.”
“Fine.” I glanced over at Roxy. She had another doughnut — chocolate with sprinkles this time — halfway to her mouth. “I’ll probably bring Roxy. She seems to be in the middle a carb crisis right now.” Plus, I figured we could check out some more NorthStar places on the way home.
“Is her hair still blue?” Jacks whispered, as if Roxy had radar hearing.
“Yeah. And you’re starting to sound like Mom.”
“That’s a low blow, Rosalyn.”
I grinned as I hung up. “Hey Rox, I have to babysit Scotty tomorrow night. You want to come with?”
“They’ll leave you pizza money, right?”
“You’re going to gain four hundred pounds if you keep at it.”
She waved the doughnut at me. “It’s either this or smoke. Pick one,” she said. And by ‘said,’ I mean she growled and her head rotated like that girl in the Exorcist movie.
“Do we have anymore doughnuts in the back, Ma?” Roxie asked.
Behind her back I shook my head at Ma and made the throat cutting gesture with one hand.
Ma looked at me, then Roxy. “Sorry, hon. I think you ate the last of them.”
“Okay, I’m off to the grocery store.”
“No, Rox, you’re coming with me. I’ll even buy you a meatball sub.” I had to keep her away from the baked goods.
She stuck out her lip. “Fine. But I have to go home and get some more gum.”
“We’ll take my car, okay?” I used the same placating tone of voice when Scotty got cranky. “You’re doing great.”
After we cleaned the diner, we drove to Roxy’s apartment. She grabbed a pack of gum off the small dresser and tore into it. “I hate this gum,” she mumbled.
“Are you supposed to be chewing that when you wear a nicotine patch?”
“Are you going to bug me all day or what?”
Smoking Roxy was a lot nicer than nicotine patch Roxy.
We stopped by the sub shop and I picked up three meatball sandwiches. Eric was going to have to suck it on the ham because meatball was the special of the day. I didn’t buy one for myself, mainly because I wanted to keep a roof over my head and couldn’t afford to do both.
We drove to the college and Roxy kept pushing the buttons on the radio. “All this music is shit. And you should get a better stereo.”
“You’re right.”
“You’re just humoring me.”
I shifted my eyes from the road to her and back again, afraid to say much of anything at this point.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so bitchy. I just really, really, really, really want a cigarette.”
“I know.” I patted her knee.
I parked two blocks from campus. The day was cool and bright and a breeze teased my hair as we made our way to Blake Hall.
The guys stood up when we walked into the IT room. I introduced Roxy and handed out sandwiches.
Roxy and I each pulled a rolling chair up to one of the desks and the two men joined us. Steve sat so close his leg brushed mine. I subtly shifted away.
“Thanks, Rose,” he said. “This was really nice of you.”
“Sure. Please tell me you guys found something on Axton’s computer.”
“Not the computer,” Eric said around a meatball, “the internal hard drive. I’ll show you in a minute.”
Roxy pushed her sandwich toward me. “I’ve eaten enough today. Besides, every time I eat, I want a cigarette.”
“I’ll split it with you.” I tore the messy sandwich in half.
When we were done, Eric returned to his desk, wadding up his napkin and lobbing it in the trashcan. Then he tapped on the keyboard. “This is what I found. That hard drive came out of a laptop. Does Ax have a second one?”
“No.” I leaned over his shoulder. “This must be what BJ has been looking for.” I stared at the computer screen looking at…well, gibberish. “What is it?”
“It’s encrypted. I haven’t broken it yet.” He raised his brows. “Who’s BJ?”
“The Bossy Jackass who broke into Rose’s apartment,” Roxy said.
Eric stared at me for a second. “You didn’t tell me he broke in. You just said some guy was asking about Axton.”
“BJ wants this back and he’s willing to hurt Axton to get it,” I said.
He scratched his jaw. “I’ll keep working on it.”
“You should call the police if this guy shows up again,” Steve said.
“Tell them about NorthStar,” Roxy said.
“Right. I got something that may be nothing. Axton wrote down the name of this business that owns a bunch of other businesses. NorthStar Inc.” I pulled out the pages and unfolded them.
Eric stood and he and Steve read through the list.
“Sports clubs? Country bars?” Eric looked up at me. “What does this have to do with Axton or his disappearance?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s the only thing I have to go on at this point. Why did he write it down? Why did it matter to him? He sure didn’t mention anything about NorthStar Inc. to me.” Axton had been hiding quite a lot from me apparently, and if I wasn’t so worried about him, I’d be pretty pissed.
“We’re going to go check out some of those bars tonight,” Roxy said. “Maybe we’ll figure it out then.”
“Where are these bars?” asked Steve.
Roxy popped another piece of gum in her mouth. “Downtown, mostly.”
“Maybe you could use some backup.” Steve adjusted his frames. “You don’t know what you could be getting into.”
She raised a brow. “I know exactly what I’m getting into.”
“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” I said with a smile. If nothing else, it would keep Roxy’s wrath away from me. “How about you, Eric? You in?”
“Sure,” he said rubbing his eyes. “What the hell.”
Roxy and I spent the rest of the afternoon checking out a few of NorthStar businesses. One store sold comic books. I thought Axton would have been there for sure, but when I showed the pimply-faced kid behind the register a picture of Axton from my phone, he just shook his head and stared at Roxy’s boobs. And the antique store — and I use that term loosely, unless you consider a clock of Elvis and his swinging legs an antique — was likewise a waste of time.
We stopped by my place for a bite to eat, and it was seven when I parked in front of Eric’s two-bedroom stucco cottage. By the glow of the porch light, the exterior looked dark yellow. Eric opened the screen door for us.
“Hey, guys.” He stepped aside to let us in.
Most of the space in the tiny living room was taken up by a flat screen TV and two mossy green loveseats. The shiny hardwood floors stood out against unadorned white textured walls. And not a picture or knickknack in the place.
Steve smiled and stood when we entered. “Hi Rose, Roxy.”
