My mouth probably dropped open as I tried to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Though normally pretty apt when it came to reading people’s body language, the combination of the claustrophobia and Bridgett’s sudden change in behavior completely took me aback.
Not a feeling I liked.
Not at all.
“Damn, you bitches make no sense!” I snapped at her.
Odin was suddenly at my side, snuffling at my hand. I grabbed it away from him and pointed a finger at Bridgett.
“I told you what this was,” I snarled at her, “and you know full well what I am. I give you money, and you let me use your body for whatever the fuck I want. That’s what this is, and that’s how this works.”
“You are so full of shit,” she snapped back. “Who sends for their favorite whore when they have a tummy ache?”
Irrespective of the point made, I refused to back down. In fact, knowing she had such a good point made me have to take it that much further.
“And what kind of whore falls for her hit man john? Didn’t it occur to you that the only way this ends is you with a bullet in your brain?”
I stood there glowering at her as Odin whined by my side, and Bridgett stared at me for a long moment. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the park and up the stairs towards Columbia Drive. About half way up, she stopped, cursed loud enough for me to hear from where I was, reached down, and took off her shoes. A moment later, she was completely out of my sight, and I was left alone with the dog.
My heart was still pounding in my chest.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
I took Odin back up to the apartment, ditched the tie, and then went back outside.
There was no way I was going to admit to myself or anyone else that I was looking for her. I wasn’t. I was only going for a nice walk in the evening.
Well, nearly midnight.
I walked between the buildings and past various sculptures on which the good people of Chicago spent a lot of money just so I could have the privilege of walking past them in the middle of the night. They were mostly modern art – swirly shapes and strange, metal animals. Modern art didn’t really make any sense to me, though some of it definitely caught my eye.
No Bridgett.
Not that I was looking for her.
A homeless guy wandered out from between the metal animals and tried to talk to me. He didn’t have
any teeth, and I couldn’t figure out if the napkin-wrapped beer bottle he was holding out was an offering or a request. I finally shoved past him and made my way back out to Michigan Avenue and the nearest bar.
Unfortunately, that was Sweetwater and the place was a zoo. Without Jon’s mad skills and phone apps, I was going to have to wait forever for a table, which just wasn’t going to happen. My least favorite dude was tending bar, and though the drink he made was fine, I wasn’t comfortable just standing around staring at the television screens showing games I didn’t give a shit about. I stood by the bar for all of five minutes before I gave up on my vodka, threw ten bucks on the counter, and walked out.
My mind was still spinning, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt completely lost and out of control, and I was fighting the urge to pull out a gun and start shooting.
Without any better ideas in my head, I wandered back to The Bean and stared at the skyline reflected in the shiny surface. The chilled wind from the lake picked up and blew my clothing around as the tourists took pictures of themselves.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but I couldn’t quite manage it. I’d wanted her to have a good time. I’d wanted her to feel like it was more than it was. I just didn’t want her to notice it felt like more than it was because that would screw it all up.
There was just no way this was happening.
Chapter 10 – Abrupt Change
“You’re on edge today.”
“Not sleeping.”
My hands were jittery due to the lack of sleep, and there was absolutely nothing that pissed me off more than something that could affect my aim. Caffeine made it even worse. I was also ticked off at the dirt on my jeans, which I got courtesy of my shrink’s car. As I walked past it, I managed to bump the fender, which was covered in mud – just like the rest of the Land Rover. I’d seen the vehicle before but never all muddy and figured the driver usually got their car washed during their lunch hour; my appointment had been moved up from the afternoon when I usually saw Mark.
I considered putting a bullet in the tires until I looked at the license plate that read “ID V EGO” and realized it had to be Mark’s. There was also a toolbox on the passenger seat containing a bunch of those Habitat for Humanity fliers.