“See ya around Ford Aston,” Sasha calls out after me. “Tell your mom I said Merry Christmas too!”
Yeah, yeah… I walk out and stuff my packages into the glove box, then laugh at what just happened. I feel like I should be saying, bah humbug. But I don’t. Because I still got a pet date in about eight hours.
Chapter Five
I think about Sasha and what her life might be like all the way back down into Colorado. Daughter of a gun dealer. Sharpshooter at age twelve. 4H calf-raiser. Reader of Little House books.
That’s quite a combination.
I’m the son of a psychiatrist, socially unacceptable genius, con-man hacker, film producer.
That’s quite a combination too.
Why can’t I find a twenty-five-year-old Sasha? Now she… is a freak. But in the best kind of way. Why can’t I find a well-adjusted freak?
Signs for Fort Collins appear on the side of the road and I get off on Mulberry and head towards downtown. I might as well go empty out the few things I have up at Spencer’s house in Bellvue before I go home. Nothing better to do. I still have seven hours until my pet date tonight. I turn right at College and head north, glancing over at Anna Ameci’s when the smell of Italian food makes my stomach go ape-shit. And who do I see? Veronica Vaughn walking out of the restaurant, hanging on the arm of a well-dressed man.
Hmmm.
I know Spencer and Ronnie have had their difficulties, but I haven’t seen either of them since the Shrike Bikes show ended a few weeks ago, so I had no idea they broke up. I pull into one of the many empty parking spaces and get out to go butt into her business. Veronica is dressed like a runner, but I know better. Ronnie does not run. The man leans down and kisses her on the cheek and then walks off, leaving her standing in front of the restaurant. He gets into a new Buick Lacrosse, and drives away.
Being the good best friend that I am, I memorize the plate for future evaluation.
Veronica is daydreaming when I walk up and tap her on the shoulder.
She whirls around. “Holy f**k, Ford! What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!”
“It was intentional.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, what do you want?”
“That did not look like Spencer.”
“Wow, you really are a genius,” she snaps back at me. “That guy is the farthest thing from Spencer there is. He’s polite, attentive, and interested. Need I say more?”
“So you and Spencer broke up? Because I’m pretty sure he has no idea you’re seeing other men.”
“I don’t have time for this,” she says pushing past me. “Spencer can go f**k himself. I’m done waiting on him to grow up. He’s almost twenty-four years old and he still acts fourteen.” She walks down the sidewalk towards Laurel, then stops at the light and pushes the walk-button repeatedly.
I follow her.
“What are you doing? Go home, Ford.”
“I was on my way to Spencer’s actually. To clear out my shop apartment. Wanna come?”
“Spencer’s in Denver with his family and since I’m not part of his family, I’m gonna walk home and spend Christmas Eve with my brothers.”
“I have the codes, I can get in everywhere.”
She stops anxiously shuffling her feet and looks up at me. Spencer’s Veronica is tall and tough, has big blonde hair, perpetual red lips, suicidal high heels, and a never ending E-cig.
But this other man’s Veronica looks small and fragile, has no make-up on, her hair is straight and up in a ponytail, and she’s not puffing.
Something is definitely wrong.
“Come with me. I’ll let you snoop through all his stuff.”
The light turns and her walk signal flashes, but Ronnie stands still. “Yeah, right. You’ll probably record me and post it on YouTube so Spencer will break up with me.”
I point my finger at her. “So, you admit you’re still in a relationship with him!”
She shakes her head and then starts to walk across the street. I reach out and grab her arm before a car comes barreling around the corner. “Shit, Ronnie. Watch where you’re walking. You die on my watch and I get the blame.”
“Your watch?” she sneers.
I shrug. “I’m with you, I’m responsible for you. Which is why I’d like to know what’s going on with that man you just kissed.”
“I didn't kiss him, he kissed me. On the cheek.”
“Same thing.”
She plants her fists on her hips and taps her foot. “Ford, what the hell do you want?”
“Come with me to Spencer's. I’ll drop you off at home when we’re done.”
“Why? So you can pump me for information?”
I chuckle. But it’s my diabolical chuckle. The one that says Don’t f**k with me or your life might take unexpected and unwelcome wrong turns. “No, Ronnie. So you can talk me out of going to my FoCo apartment, looking up your man’s license plate using my DMV crawler, then calling Spencer and giving him that man’s address, so he can show up on his doorstep tonight and start asking questions. Because that’s pretty much where I’m at right now. I do not cover for anyone outside the Team.”
“Right,” she snaps back. “And since Spencer can’t commit, I’m not on the team. I’m nobody, I’m—”
I cup my hand over her mouth because her last few words came out rather shrill, and people are starting to stare. “Come with me or I do the crawl and make the call.” She huffs air into my palm and then mumbles something incoherent. “What was that? Was that a yes?” She nods her head and I remove my hand. “Great, I’m parked down here.”