“I don’t need a babysitter,” Celia argued.
“I’m not a babysitter. I’m the muscle.” Keith flexed. “Think of me as the bodyguard.”
“Oh god,” Celia laughed. “Well, if you think I’m gonna sing to you like Whitney Houston, you’re wrong.”
“You’re too young to know that movie.”
“I have cable, and I don’t sleep much,” Celia laughed. “It’s not gonna be comfortable. My office couch is a pullout, and it’s lumpy.”
“I’ll survive.” Keith tossed his bag through the door of her office and then rubbed his hands together. “So what’s for dinner?”
“I’m not about to cook. So I guess we get to choose from the stack of delivery menus in my top drawer over there.”
Keith opened the drawer and looked through the stack. “Pizza, pizza, Mexican, Italian, Chinese, oh look, more pizza. Hey, this sounds interesting. Barbecue?”
“Oh, that one I’ve never tried. It was in my mailbox one day.” She walked into the kitchen and looked over his shoulder.
“My dad had this big smoker when I was growing up. A couple of times a year he’d stay up all night sitting next to it, making the whole neighborhood hungry. I wonder if this place is any good.”
“Go ahead and call if you want. Do they have chicken? I’m not a big pork fan.”
“Yeah, they do. This actually looks good.” Keith punched the number into his phone and waved away Celia when she tried to hand him her credit card. He ordered pork for himself, chicken for her, and several sides. He topped it off with dessert.
“You a little hungry?” Celia teased.
“Hey, I gotta keep my strength up. I have to protect a damsel.”
“Oh good grief,” Celia rolled her eyes. “Should I faint now?”
“It would help set the whole mood, yeah.”
Celia punched him and grabbed each of them a beer from the fridge. They sat on the sofa to wait for their dinner, and Celia grabbed the remote. Keith took it from her. “How are you really?” He asked.
“I’m angry. I’m frustrated that this whole thing is still going on. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I guess I am in a way. I just don’t know what he’ll do next, ya know? I have no say, and that drives me crazy.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed you like to be in control of a situation.”
“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, I hate the idea of life happening to me. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work.”
“And yet sometimes it does,” Keith adjusted so he was facing her. “I get it. We all like to know what’s coming next. But a lot of times we just don’t. Sometimes you just have to wait and see.”
“It just feels like I’m waiting for Bart’s next stunt. And what if he gets tired of leaving things on the doorstep or slashing tires? You can’t be around every minute, and it’s not your job to take care of me.”
“Maybe it’s not my job, but it’s what a friend does, isn’t it? You’d do the same for me.”
Celia laughed. “I don’t think you’d need my help against a stalker.”
“Maybe not, but there have been times in my life it sure would have been nice to have a scheming mind like yours.”
“Scheming mind? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
Keith laughed. “You know what I mean. You read people. You plan and figure things out. Look at how you immediately jumped into your new role at work. You’ve got a quick mind.”
“I wasn’t very good at reading Bart,” Celia muttered.
“Yeah, that’s because your libido got in the way.”
“Don’t remind me,” Celia groaned. “I may never have sex again.”
“Now, that would be a tragedy,” Keith laughed.
“Shut up, perv,” Celia chuckled. “Give me the remote. I need some trash TV.”
After their supper arrived, they decided to move to the kitchen to eat. Celia was amazed at how much food Keith could put away. Obviously, he worked out enough to compensate for the calories. He offered her some dessert, but she declined. Once the dishes were done and the leftovers wrapped up, Celia decided to do some writing while Keith watched a game. He complained that he should have brought his 72-inch television with him. What was it about guys and televisions, Celia thought. Then again, she had enjoyed watching a couple of movies on his giant screen. She shook her head as Keith shouted at a referee and then turned her attention to Natasha’s article.
It was a little surreal to be writing an article about someone who was going to be executed in a matter of days. It was even more surreal that Celia was actually feeling down about the whole thing. After all, the actress had killed five people. And Celia had never felt strongly about the death penalty either way. It didn’t affect her. Besides, if someone was dumb enough to get caught, there were consequences, right? Now, though, Celia felt a little strange about how flip she’d always been.
And then there was Natasha as a person. Celia knew that Natasha considered her a friend, and Celia could admit to herself that she felt the same way. Sure, Celia had other friends, like Marlene or Julia. But honestly, those friendships had always felt lopsided. Marlene almost saw Celia as a sister, which was sweet, but Celia had never felt the same closeness. Not just with Marlene, either. She never shared much of herself with others. Luckily most people didn’t notice. Celia noticed that most people spent more time talking about themselves than probing others. That was fine with her.
But Natasha was different. Nothing about Celia shocked Tasha, and the actress seemed to know more about Celia than she said. Even though they had grown up in different families, their childhoods had been remarkably similar. And their young adult years were the same as well. They were driven, single-minded, focused on doing what needed to be done to take control of their lives. Celia never would have told Marlene about the way she got inside Paul’s head, for example. And she certainly wouldn’t tell
