I open the door to the mall and the scent of a hundred stores and food court smells hit me all at once. “See you tonight then.”
“Thank you for being there for me. The police are still investigating and haven’t come up with any leads. Looks like whoever did it didn’t leave any usable fingerprints. They think Shadow might have been chasing the person out there when we first got home. Ugh,” she says. “Thanks for being there for me when you didn’t have to be is all I want to say. It was a weird situation to land on for a first date. I know we’re doing this casual thing, and that’s a lot of crap to deal with when it’s not your… job.”
“Stop, Maeve. You don’t know me very well and I can’t blame you for that because uh, there wasn’t much talking Friday night. I’m a loyal dude, even in casual things. Whatever that really means. We can talk about that later on, too.”
“I know what kind of guy you are, Lincoln.”
Her last sentence seems sad. “Alright, I have to, uh, get this thing done that I’m doing right now. You have my address. See you at eight.”
“I do have your address.” Her reply is soft—meek, and I grin because she knows I know she’s investigated my life. “See you later.”
I hang up first and check my text messages for Isaac’s list. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” My exclamation is loud because the woman next to me holding a baby gives me a disgusted glare. “Sorry.” I hold out a palm. “I’m upset because I have to buy lingerie,” I try to explain to the stranger who now looks petrified—pulling her infant closer. “For my friend. I mean, not my friend, for my friend’s wife. It’s for her.”
I shake my head when I hear myself. “Sorry ma’am.” Walking off, I examine the text and try to figure out creative ways to kill Isaac in his sleep. I fire off an angry text to my best friend and he sends me back a smiley face as a reply. “Fucker.”
The store is filled with women and it smells like cheap perfume and dead dreams. The salesgirl with a huge rack approaches me the second I cross the red-carpeted threshold.
“Welcome, sir. Can I help you find something?” The twinkle in her eye is a little too helpful, and in any other circumstance I would take advantage of this scenario and flirt my ass off for a discount, but not today, Satan. I extend my phone to show her the lacy scrap of ass floss and say, “Size small. Post haste, please.”
“Oh, you have fine tastes. Right this way.”
I follow the tiny brunette to the back of the store that houses the scandalous selections. I’m comfortable in almost any environment and situation, but this softly lit room gives me pause.
“That’s a new line and she will surely love it,” the woman exclaims as she picks up a hanger and thrusts it into my hand.
I hold it up. “Tasha is going to fucking hate this. Do women actually enjoy wearing this stuff?”
“Well, it’s more of a gift to you if you know what I mean.” She adjusts her low-cut top and her cleavage shakes like a bowl of Jell-O. “She’ll like it because you like it. It makes women feel sexy.”
I squint, trying to imagine Maeve wearing something like this and fail to conjure the image. Seeing her completely naked for the first time will solve the riddle, I bet. “What the hell, go ahead and give me one more of these in black, same size.”
“Options. A good man you are. Can I interest you in any crotchless panties?”
“What the what?” Being out of the game for a long time has really put me at a disadvantage. “Now that is something that is surely not comfortable.”
“Comfort won’t be on her mind. You will.”
I lick my lips. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a good salesperson?”
Her returning smile is carnal. “They have. Many times. Over and over.”
“Okay, welp, that’s where I draw the line. I’ll take these holey knickers and be on my way thanks.”
I awkwardly shuffle out of the store into the bright lights of the mall and feel as if I visited another planet. Just for good measure, I take a photo of the pink bag and send it to Isaac. I also threatened his life, but he doesn’t respond this time. The next thing on his list of tortures is the jewelry store. This is a standard request for the yearly anniversary gift. He usually buys her a charm for her bracelet. This year he has some bauble diamond necklace listed instead.
I’m browsing the glowing cabinets when another salesperson approaches. I show him the necklace on my phone like some Neanderthal incapable of using the English language and he directs me to the case that houses it.
“Last one,” he says, laying it on the glass so I can examine it.
I wave him off and tell him to wrap it for me. It’s already predetermined I will purchase it. Something catches my eye directly next to the empty space where the necklace just was.
A lump forms in my throat as I immediately think of Maeve. I tell him to wrap it up and pay the ungodly sum using my bank card—untraceable by Isaac’s sleuth wife. The jewelry I bought Maeve is almost one-hundred percent a mistake. I decide before I start my truck that I won’t give it to her for a while. If ever. Maybe it’s more for me. I stop by the grocery store adjacent to my house to pick up stuff for a chicken stir fry. It’s Turner’s favorite. It’s more complicated than most things I cook and I need the fucking distraction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MAEVE
Dressed in a black trench coat and a black beanie with a huge fuzzy pom on top, I stroll up Lincoln’s walk. If I live in the wilderness, his house is the picture
