Page 79 of Lawton

Holy hell. How had I forgotten?

But I knew how. That same girl had landed in my backyard, nearly naked. At first, my only thoughts were to keep her warm and safe. And then, with what she was wearing, and how she'd acted on my couch, it wasn't the head on my shoulders that had done most of the thinking.

I recalled her tight curves and willing body. It was enough to distract anyone, even now. I felt myself frown. But not someone who really cared about her. Someone who really cared would've at least asked about the work thing. I made a sound of disgust. They would've at least remembered.

Was I reallythatbig of a dick?

I shoved a hand through my hair. Maybe Brittney's story had been a load of bull. Determined to find out, I pulled out my cell phone and found the listing for the restaurant where Chloe worked. I called the number and waited.

Some guy answered with a half-hearted, "Can I help you?"

I sure as hell hoped so. "Yeah," I said. "I was there the other night, and someone, I think her name was Chloe, waited on me. Is she working tonight?"

He hesitated. "Why do you want to know?"

I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the guy that I didn't like. "Because," I said, "I'm a customer."

"Yeah, well, we get a lot of those."

I smiled. "What'd you say your name was?"

"Uh, Keith. Why?" His tone grew sarcastic. "You gonna file a complaint?"

"Nah," I said, keeping it friendly. "I'm gonna come down there in person. Fifteen minutes work for you?"

"What?"

"Yeah, Keith," I ditched the friendly tone. "Let's talk face-to-face."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Hey, you said you've eaten here, right? I mean, we'resupposedto be funny."

"Yeah? Well, you're not."

"Fine," he said. "Your loss. And, to answer the question, no. She's not working tonight. Okay?"

"And?"

He paused. "And what?"

"Tomorrow. Is she working then?"

He gave a sigh. "What, you want me to pull out the schedule?"

"You can. Or I will."

He was quiet a long moment. "Who is this?"

It suddenly hit me that I could be anyone, an ex-boyfriend, a stalker, a random creep. If he were smart, he wouldn't tell me squat. But Ihadto know, so I kept my mouth shut and waited to see if he'd answer.

Finally, on the other end of the phone, I heard fumbling, followed by the sounds of paper rustling. When he spoke, he sounded almost amused. "The schedule says Sunday."

Whatever the joke was, I didn't get it. "So Sunday, she'll be there?" I said.

"Hey," he said. "I'm the manager. Isaidshe was on the schedule. But I can't guarantee she'll be here. I mean, you know how it is."

No. I didn't. But I'd gotten the information I wanted, so I disconnected the call and walked to the nearest front window. Outside, there it was, the sidewalk. All morning, I'd avoided looking at it, because let's face it, what I'd really been avoiding was Chloe.

What a joke. Here, I'd called her job looking for answers when I should've gone straight to the source. It was still daylight. And for better or worse, Ihadto know what was going on.