Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 111768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
I don't even know what to say. I'm happy for her, of course, but it worries me at the same time. Paul was the first guy she'd ever kept around for a while, and well, we all know how that turned out.
Well, I know how that turned out.
To most, he's just missing, vanished into thin air. They still hope he might someday come back.
I know better.
Another one of those bite-me-in-the-ass questions I asked Naz.
"That's great," I tell her, meaning it for the most part. I'm glad she's finally moving on with her life. "When do I get to meet the lucky guy?"
"Uh, I don't know," she says. "Maybe we could double sometime."
"Double? Like in a double date?" I ask. "I think me and Naz might be kind of beyond the whole double date thing."
Or rather, Naz is beyond dating.
"Yeah, you're right." She laughs. "Besides, I should probably get him to do more than take me for coffee before I start making plans."
"Probably," I agree, smiling as I watch her pack up her things. "I've got my fingers crossed."
"Me, too, girl… me, too."
"Leo," I muse over the name. "He's not like a, uh, tubby mountain man looking motherfucker, is he?"
"DiCaprio? Nah, he's not that bad."
"No," I laugh. "Your Leo."
"Oh, no way." Standing up, she slings her backpack on her back. "He's gorgeous, way out of my league."
"Nobody's out of your league, Melody."
She smiles, giving me an awkward one-armed hug, before planting a sloppy kiss right on my cheek. "And that's why you're my best friend, Kissimmee… you truly believe that. I'll see you later, okay?"
She's gone before I can even respond, jetting out the door to class so she isn't late for her Philosophy test. I sit there for a moment, sipping my tea, before getting up and heading outside with it. I'm done for the day and consider just grabbing a cab, as one is just sitting there, begging to be grabbed, but at the last second, I think better of it.
Pulling out my phone, I request a car instead.
They're there within a few minutes, a man I vaguely recognize. I've ridden with him before, but I don't know his name. He opens the back of the car for me and I climb in, settling into the seat for the trip back to Brooklyn.
When I arrive, I let him open the door for me again, because these guys get kind of angry when I do it myself. I don't know if it's policy or if they're just afraid of what Naz will do if they don't, so I oblige it, annoyingly, for the sake of keeping peace.
I watch as the car pulls away and turn to head for the house when I catch sight of another car parked in front of the place. The four-door unmarked black Ford sticks out like a sore thumb, with its darkly tinted windows and half a dozen antennas.
Detective Jameson is leaning against the bumper, his arms crossed over his chest. The moment I look his way, he pushes away from the thing, heading right for me.
Awesome.
"Miss Ree—uh, Vitale," he says as he stops in front of me. "Mrs. Vitale."
"Detective," I say. "What are you doing here?"
"We didn't get a chance to really talk yesterday, so I thought I'd stop by."
"And what, interrogate me?"
"Hardly," he says, feigning offense. "I simply wanted to take a moment to offer my congratulations."
"For what?"
He nods his head toward my hand. "Your marriage."
"Oh." Absently, I tinker with the ring on my finger. "Yeah. Thanks, I guess."
"I would've said it yesterday, but you disappeared before I could. Your husband did, too, for that matter. He was gone before I even arrived. He was there with you, wasn't he?"
"You tell me," I say. "You'd know."
Turning, I start to leave when his voice stops me again. "Curious, though, how it all happened so fast."
I should keep walking. I know I should. But I want to know what he means by that. "What?"
"It's just that, well, the two of you rushed into marriage," he says. "So it's just a bit curious to me, you know… makes me wonder if it has anything to do with marital privilege, if maybe he made it so you'd never have to testify against him about anything."
I recoil when he says that, almost like he slapped me right in the face. How dare he belittle what we have? "Are you accusing him of something?"
"Should I be?"
"Naz didn't do anything," I say. "He was eating lunch like the rest of us. Just another innocent bystander."
The detective shakes his head. "If that's the case—"
"If you'll excuse me, I'm done with this conversation," I say, moving to leave, not turning back around this time. "Goodbye, Detective. You can see yourself off our street."
I don't give the man a chance to try to goad me into more conversation. When I reach the front door of the house, I chance a peek back, seeing he's gaping at me. Guess he didn't like what I had to say. Going inside, I make sure to lock the door behind me, dropping my things right in the living room as I stomp through the house.
Jackass.
The moment I step into the kitchen, my footsteps falter. Naz is leaning back against the counter by the sink, exactly where he had been when I left hours ago. It's as if he hasn't moved an inch all day.
"So what did Jameson want today?" he asks right away.
"You knew he was out there?"
"Of course."
Of course he did.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, cracking it open to take a sip. "He wanted to know if we got married so I'd have some kind of immunity from testifying."
Naz seems genuinely surprised by that. "Oh really? What did you say?"
"I said I didn't need immunity because you weren't guilty of anything."
Immediately, Naz laughs, the kind of loud laughter that can't be contained.
"This time," I elaborate, narrowing my eyes at him. I'm glad he finds this funny. "Regardless of what you think, you did nothing wrong yesterday."