It’s enough to depress even me, and I used to never get depressed. That was something I was always proud of. I wore it like the Congressional Medal of Honor. But lately—I don’t know—it’s weird—sometimes there’s this black crack running down through my stomach, the same one as that time when Cassidy told me what she wanted me to do for her, and I didn’t pay attention. Only now, it’s more like I was daydreaming when the Supreme Being told me what I should do with my life, and it’s too late to ask what it was.
Occasionally, the bell over the front door jangles, and I can’t help but whip my head around to see if it’s doom walking in. After about the third time, Bob asks me if I’m expecting someone, so I come clean and explain the situation.
“So am I a bad guy for wanting to hang with my ex-girlfriend?” I ask him. “Is that something I should get a fist in the eye for?”
Bob ponders that for a second. You have to love him. He treats you like your life means something, like you’re worth straining the vein in his forehead over.
“No,” he says. “You’re not a bad guy, Sutter. You’re a good guy. You just don’t have a real firm grasp on the concept of consequences.”
I have to admit he’s right. But I’ve always worn that like the Congressional Medal of Honor too.
After seven-thirty, the bell over the front door pretty much stops jangling—it’s another slow night—but a little before closing time, a car pulls into the parking lot. The headlights shut off, but no one gets out. If it’s Marcus’s Taurus, I can’t tell from here.
At eight we lock the doors and shut off most of the lights. The car’s still out there. Usually, I go ahead and leave while Bob stays behind to do the paperwork, but tonight I’m in no hurry.
Bob’s like, “I’ll walk out there with you if you want,” but that seems way too grade school. It wouldn’t be so bad, though, if maybe he’d just watch from the window so he could break things up before Marcus starts swinging those long arms around.
“All right,” he says. “Give me a low wave if you want me out there. Flash me a high one if everything’s all right.”
Chapter 43
Nothing happens till I’m almost to my car, and then there he is—Marcus unfolding himself from the Taurus. “Hey, Sutter, man, I need to have a word with you.”
“Uh, sure, if it doesn’t take too long. I’m supposed to be at a big police banquet in about thirty seconds. They’ll probably send a car by for me if I’m late.”
No smile.
I lean casually against the side of my car, trying to ease some relaxation into the moment. He doesn’t follow my example and instead stops right in front of me, an uncomfortable couple of inches inside my personal space.
“What’s going on with you and Cassidy?” No beating around the bush for Marcus.
“What do you mean?” I’m thinking, Damn, Cassidy and I didn’t even wind up having sex and I’m still in trouble.
“I heard you been seeing her on Thursday afternoons behind my back.”
Questioning his source doesn’t seem like such a good tactic at the moment, so I’m like, “Yeah, we hang out some. We’re friendly, you know?”
“I know. I’m just wondering how friendly.”
Bob’s still standing in the window, but I haven’t read the situation well enough yet to give him a wave, high or low.
I look Marcus in the eyes. “She and I, we’re good friends, dude. Tight. Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t change that.”
He breaks eye contact, and that’s when I see it. He’s not here to murder me at all. He’s here because he’s wounded. Self-doubt has cut the mighty Marcus West to the core. Suddenly, any jealousy I might have left over evaporates, and I realize I’m the one with the power in this situation. Either I can twist the knife deeper into his heart or I can pull it out. Me being me, I go for the second choice.
“Hey, Marcus, buddy, Cassidy and I are always going to be friends. But here’s the deal—we may be friends, but I’m dating someone else now.”
“Yeah, but everyone knows you’d drop Aimee Finecky in a second if you could get back with Cassidy.”
“Maybe people think that,” I say, more than a little annoyed. “But that’s just because they don’t know Aimee. She’s my girlfriend now and Cassidy’s yours. Case closed.”
“I don’t know about that.” His baritone cracks in mid-sentence. I can’t believe it—he’s actually bordering on tears.
“That’s the way it is,” I assure him. How could I stay annoyed with that pitiful expression staring me in the face? “Look, nothing’s going on between me and Cassidy except we have some fun, blow off some steam.” Obviously, I don’t mention anything about the lingering feelings from our dating days.
Marcus looks down at his hands. He’s twisting his key chain nervously. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem. She shouldn’t have to go looking for another guy to have fun with. I want to be that guy. I want to be the one who makes her laugh.”
I glance Bob’s way and give him the high wave.
“Look, Marcus, You can be that guy. I mean, there’s no reason she can’t have fun with me and you both, just in different ways.”
He shakes his head. “Naw, man, I know myself and I’m not that fun. And she needs fun, I can tell by the way she talks about you. But I don’t know how to make her laugh or anything like that. I can’t come with the funny like you.”