In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

I got the ball rolling and texted the number of Ruben Suárez’s contact and asked what time we were meeting. I got a reply moments later that said they would be in touch the following day. Since pushing was dangerous, and because drug dealers weren’t in the habit of leaving cell phone records of conversations for law enforcement to trace, I put the op out of my mind and got up to take a shower.

Once I was out and changed into a pair of jeans, and had borrowed one of Dallas’s T-shirts and a button-up cardigan, I went to the kitchen to see what he had on hand to cook. The muffins we’d had earlier that morning weren’t cutting it, but I ended up with nothing but disappointment as I explored my options. I had not seen an emptier refrigerator since my college days. It was astounding. I had no idea that grown men lived like this once they were supposed to be fully functioning adults.

Since Dallas and I had each other’s phone numbers, I figured if he woke up and found me gone, he’d call me, and so I took his car and went back to the plaza we’d passed the night before, where I’d noticed a Whole Foods Market. I ended up going a bit overboard, but Jesus, the man had no staples. Beer he had. There was good vodka in his freezer, but actual food…not so much.

When I returned, I was surprised to find a car sitting outside by the curb in front of his house, and the driver got out as I parked and shut off the engine. It hit me then that I didn’t have my gun on me, that in a matter of hours I had gone from vigilant and strapped to acting like I was on vacation.

I opened my door and exited cautiously, to find a young woman standing frozen near the back of Dallas’s car. She had clearly not been expecting me.

“Hi,” I greeted her, pretty certain that I was looking at his younger sister. Between the hair and her eye color, no one could deny their connection.

She struggled to smile but didn’t quite get there.

“I’m Croy,” I said, moving forward to offer her my hand.

She grabbed it, holding tight, and there were tears suddenly welling up in her eyes.

“Would you like to help me with the groceries and come in and talk about whatever it is that’s wrong?”

Quick head nodding.

“I’m good at solving problems,” I informed her with absolute certainty. “You’ll see.”

I got a wan smile over that boast.

It took us several trips in and out of the house, and she was not surprised that I’d bought out the store, because she’d never been over and had her brother offer her anything but water, beer, or vodka, and the occasional Hot Pocket, frozen burrito, or Pop-Tart. She was, however, stunned that he was asleep. She even checked on him and came back into the kitchen as I was putting groceries away, looking utterly gobsmacked.

“He doesn’t sleep. He never sleeps.”

I shrugged. “Today he does.”

She sat down on one of the four barstools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. His stove had been placed there, I was guessing, so that after you cooked, you could just plate the food and pass it over. I was a fan of the stainless-steel appliances, the granite counters, and all the storage space. The window above the kitchen sink was perfect, so that was where I placed the herbs I bought, all the little plants that would need care once I was gone.

She held out her hand, and I smiled as I took it in mine.

“I’m Cate,” she told me, “with a C, like Cate Blanchett.”

“Croy, not Troy, with a C as well.”

I saw it then, the same smile as her brother, the one that made her eyes shine.

“So, Cate, may I offer you an omelet?”

She made a face. “I don’t like the yolks or meat and––”

“How about an egg white omelet with spinach and avocado?”

There was a pause as she studied me.

“Well?”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Then yes, please,” she almost whimpered.

She watched me as I began the prep work, but then leaned down to dig in the rucksack masquerading as a purse to find her phone. She took a deep breath before answering. “What?” She listened for a moment. “No, I totally disagree. I don’t think calling it the Women’s Wellness Center is a good idea. That’s going to appeal only to older women, not the demographic we’re actually after.”

I caught bits and pieces as I made coffee, using a blend I had come up with for the guys at the office and making myself some tea. Waving at Cate, I pointed at the coffeepot and the teapot, and she pointed at the tea, and therefore made a place for herself in my heart forever. We tea people had to stick together.