I gave a short exhale, trying to be patient. Why was I the one always giving out relationship advice? “Tell me what you’re feeling exactly.”
“I’m feeling like my guts are slowly turning inside out,” Charlie spat, sitting up so fast that his chair screeched. “I feel like there’s a big hole in my lung. I feel like there are fire ants crawling up my throat.” His eyes were tinted red. Gritting his teeth, he looked away. “Want to live vicariously through me now?”
“Yes, I do,” I said calmly, wiping the anger from his face. “It’s what you’re feeling now that’ll keep you from making the same mistake again. This pain is necessary. It’s proof that you’re learning, living…loving.” I smiled a little at the surprise on his face. “If you didn’t love her, you wouldn’t be so devastated at the thought of losing her.”
“I’m not devastated,” he grumbled, rubbing his eye with a knuckle.
I mimicked his empty stare and gloomy voice when I said, “It’s over. We’re done.”
“Shut up,” he growled.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” I picked up the second, untouched piece of toast on his plate and took a bite. “So how’re you going to win her back?”
He glared at me for a few more heartbeats before snatching up his discarded piece of toast. Tearing off another bite, he stared into space with newfound determination. “I’ll make her something. How else?” When he swallowed, he lost some of his resolve. “What if…she doesn’t want to be won back?”
“Then she’ll tell you.” I pointed at the fridge with my toast. “Uncle Vic will stock the freezer with plenty of ice cream and I’ll rent a bunch of sad movies on demand so we can work through your breakup properly. But until then…” I nodded at his workstation. “Focus your energies on coming up with the sweetest, most unique, and romantic gift you could give her. Something that says you’re sorry, you love her, and you’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to her.”
My brother finished his toast with a nod. “Right. Thanks, Jazz.” He rose from the table, taking his plate with him. Before he could deposit it in the sink, he stopped and stared at the plain yellow ceramic plate as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. His whole face lit up. Forgetting all about his current task, my brother walked over to his crafting area. He set the plate down on his desk and got to work.
◆◆◆
After I’d gotten dressed for the day, I ventured upstairs to the break room, where Uncle Victor had probably spent the night sifting through all of the information Interpol and the FBI had sent over about the Salamander. The two new suspects Vanessa had found by going through all of Mr. Ward’s hate mail had turned out to be dead ends. My uncle was desperate to find a connection between the Salamander and the last immortal couple now that it was his only lead.
I waltzed around the corner and knocked on the door jamb.
Vanessa sat in the old leather loveseat in the corner, with a laptop lounging over her glorious thighs. Her head lolled back, her wild hair creating a bushy-looking halo. Her mouth was wide open as she snored. Uncle Victor sat on the floor beside her feet. There was an open file balanced precariously on his lap, the pages cascading over his leg. A stack of files towered beside him. He slept with his cheek flush against his partner’s knee.
I suppressed a squeal and danced in place. They were so cute! My meeting with Angela and Jerald could totally wait.
I was quietly retreating when Vanessa twitched in her sleep. It was enough to make Uncle Victor wake with a snort. He squinted around the room through eyes flecked with sleep dust.
“Jazz?”
I cringed, stopping in my tracks. “Hey, Uncle Vic. Sorry to bother you.”
“What time is it?” He twisted the watch around his wrist to see its face. “Is it…morning?” He glanced at the windows as if needing further proof. “Oh, geez. Nessie?” Looking up, he placed a hand on her knee. “Nessie, wake up. It’s morning.”
Vanessa’s head snapped up and jerked from side to side. “Hmm? What?”
“We spent the night in the break room.”
“Again?” Vanessa stretched her arms above her head, face warping with a yawn. “We have to stop doing this. My back is killing me.” When she relaxed again, she looked down at Uncle Victor’s hand. Which was still resting on her knee.
My uncle lurched to his feet, only to throw his file and its pages all over the floor. He ducked down to collect them, red faced. I rolled my eyes up at the ceiling before bending down to help him.
“We’re not in the eighteen hundreds, Uncle Vic. You’re allowed to touch her,” I murmured.
He gave me this baffled, deer in the headlights kind of look.
I handed him the pages I’d collected.
Blinking away his surprise, he took the bundle of paper I offered and stood. “Thanks for the wake-up call, Jazz.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you need something from me?”
“Yeah. I was going to ask if you could drive me over to the hotel where Angela and Jerald Smith are staying.” I patted my tote bag, which hung at my side. “Gotta return the journal.”
“Right, right. We can grab breakfast on the way.” Uncle Victor set the file aside and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, Nessie.”
Vanessa had pulled out a hair tie when we weren’t looking and had tamed her fluffy hair. She tucked her sleeping laptop under her arm and stood with a wink. “I’ll be here.”
She looked like a model striking a flirty pose in her wrinkled quarter-sleeved top, high rise jeans, and scuffed up boots. Hadn’t she been dead to the world a second ago, snoring and drooling like a normal person? How could she look this good without any preparation?
By the tortured expression
