Page 19

19

PATRICK

T he following day, I plan to meet Tina at the shooting range. We’re both a little freaked out about the recent murders and my apartment break-in. As I walk toward the shooting range, I can hear the thump, thump, thump of arrows hitting their targets and people hollering in excitement.

The late morning air is warm but dry. Thankfully, I won’t work up too much of a sweat, if I can help it. Where the hell is Tina? I stop and look around. She isn’t at our usual lane, nor is she at the concession stand. Reaching for my phone, I check the messages. Nothing from her saying she changed plans. I send a text asking where she is, but I don’t get the usual immediate response.

Hoping for the best, I go to our lane and begin setting up. Placing my bag on the chair next to me, I take out my target practice shoes, glove, wrist guard, and polarized sunglasses. Once everything is in place, I spray on some sunblock and check my phone. Still nothing from Tina.

My heart pitter-patters with nervous energy, or maybe it’s the quad shot of espresso I downed in the car on the way to the archery shooting lanes. Either way, I’m feeling nervous as hell and start contemplating calling her—something we usually don’t do before noon.

Continuing to scan my surroundings, something catches my attention in the tree-line behind the concession stand. Is that Tina? Squinting, I crane my neck trying to get a better look. Someone in a bright pink shirt and white shorts is leaning against a tree. What are they doing?

I stand and march in their direction. The figure comes into perfect view, and I gasp, slapping my hand over my mouth and clutching my imaginary pearls. There she stands, leaning against a tree, Jake Bloom pressing up against her. Their faces are smashed into one mess of lips and slobber. Jake’s hand is down the front of her shorts. I could turn away. I could pretend I haven’t witnessed my friend winning our little bet—the one I’d pretty much given up on once I met Michael. But that isn’t my, or Tina’s, style.

“Tina Marie Conchita Brokaw, you slut!”

Jake’s hand pulls out of her shorts so fast I’m concerned he’s given her vagina a rub burn. He steps back from her, his expression one of shock and embarrassment.

Tina turns toward me and wipes her chin dry. The smirk on her face says it all; I win. I can’t help but smile. The look we exchange is our own private message. I’m happy for her, and she’s proud of herself. Definitely a win-win.

“Oh, my,” Tina says, buttoning her shorts and feigning embarrassment. “I’m so… sorry you had to see that, Patrick.”

“Um, hey Patrick,” Jake says as he steps out of the trees.

I can see I’ve interrupted more than a make-out session. His pants are tight in the crotch, the outline of his thick cock visible even through his jeans.

“Am I interrupting something?” I ask, my voice purposely dripping with sarcasm.

Jake shakes his head. “Not at all, man.” He turns back to Tina and then looks away quickly. “I’d better get going.” He rushes past me, and I watch him for a few seconds, his bubble butt looking so good in those jeans.

“Damn, Tina. I’m so sorry I fucked that up.”

She saunters toward me with a smile on her face. “Don’t be. He’s one hell of a kisser, but I’m not sure I would have gone all the way with him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Something about him seems off. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been laid in a really long time, but I didn’t want it to be him.”

“Fair,” I say. “But for the record… you won the bet.”

She pumps her fist. “Damn straight I did, bestie.”

We hug, and I kiss her on the cheek.

“Grab my bag for me?” she asks, pointing toward the trees.

I catch sight of the red pack that holds her equipment and hurry over to get it for her. We then walk together arm-in-arm back toward the shooting lane where my bags hold our spot.

Time flies by as we each shoot our quiver full of arrows. Tina, hands down, outshoots me. At least two-thirds of her attempts are in or just outside the bullseye. Quite amazing, if you ask me.

We walk together down the lane once the whistle is blown, indicating it’s safe to retrieve all the arrows. I yank each of mine free of the target, some of the hay bale poking through the holes I’ve made in the paper target.

“Bestie,” Tina says. “You’re really getting better at this. I’m so proud of you.”

I shove the last of my arrows into my quiver and say, “Thanks. All this practice has really paid off, but the one who should be proud of them self is you.”

“Me?” she asks, pretending to be embarrassed by the compliment. “Why me?”

“You kick ass,” I say. “Honestly, the next tournament, you should totally sign up for it. I’d come cheer you on… maybe Jake would too.”

“Really?” This time her voice betrays her. She’s truly shocked that I feel that way. Her surprise kind of makes me feel bad. Have I not been complimentary enough to my best friend in the whole wide world?

“Speaking of Jake,” I say, taking her by the arm and leading her back to the safety of our seats. “Tell me all about what I walked into… what, where, when, and how did this exactly happen? Don’t leave out a single detail or I’ll scream.”

Tina glances over her shoulder. I follow her gaze but don’t see anyone within earshot. Apparently, she still doesn’t feel secure speaking openly because she grabs my hand and whisks me away to the parking area.

“Get inside, and I’ll tell you everything,” she says as she unlocks her car doors with a click of the remote.

I do as commanded and wait while she starts the air conditioning and turns down the eighties music she always listens to on loop. Tina slowly turns in my direction and closes her eyes. I’m about to tap her on the shoulder, but something deep inside says to let this play out.

Her eyes flicker open. Ah, it’s monologue time.

“There I was,” she says, “waiting in line at the concession stand, minding my own business. And who should I see?” Her eyes grow wide, and she clasps her hands over her mouth as she pretends to fight back tears. She shakes her head and swallows. “Jake. That’s right. Jake Bloom walked right up to me and smiled. Well, you can only imagine the rest.”

I’m about to ask for more details when she puts up her hand to stop me.

"He slides his arm around my shoulders and kisses me on the cheek," she whispers. "On the cheek." With a shaky hand, she reaches for the side of her face. "As if the universe opened up to me and revealed her masterplan, Jake thumbs toward the trees. Well, I know what that means, he wants to make mad passionate love to me. He needs to express all of his pent-up lust and desires for me."

I'm breathless and quiet for a moment. Is it my turn to talk? Ask questions? Again, I go to speak, but when her eyes meet mine, I know she isn't done.

"And that's exactly what we do. Me, pressed up against a tree. Him, sliding his delicate, smooth hand down the front of my shorts," she says. "He fingers me like no one has fingered me before. Now, knuckle deep in my love, he knows what he's doing. Sweet baby Jesus, my legs are trembling, and I swear I hear my uterus cry out. Put a baby in me, Jake." She swipes away the bangs from her forehead and sighs. "It's truly magical."

Torn between puking my guts out at her overly descriptive tale and giving her a standing ovation for a world-class monologue, I simply slow clap. "Well done. You officially won our little bet, but even more so, you have yourself a cutie pie."

She plays it coy for a few seconds, but then bursts out laughing and cheering for herself. "The weird part was I didn't have to really try. I've never had a guy just come up to me and point at a tree and get down with me."

"Do you feel alright about it?"

"Absolutely," she says. "But if I'm being honest. I don't think I really want to date him. His breath smelled funny, and the way he was digging around in there seemed like he was looking for his keys at the bottom of a purse."

"But you said it was magical."

"He took my breath away," she says. "But again, he could have used a mint."

I burst out laughing. "I swear to God our lives are like a sitcom."

"I know," she says. "Tell me about you, Mister. Didn't you get to see your hot detective, naked?"

Where to even begin with that? "There's a lot to unpack."

"Hey, I gave you the down and dirty. You owe me."

"I saw him in all his glory at work. He was taking a shower, and I saw him naked. It was huge. He was huge... and wet. Ugh, I could have gobbled him up right then and there."

"Why didn't you?"

"I tried, but then we decided to go back to my place and actually do the deed... proper-like."

"So, not in a public bathroom."

"Exactly," I say. "I think since he's a cop and all, he made me nervous and I came up with some ridiculous standards… which I'm totally fine with, but have never lived by. Not to mention, we still didn't get to have sex."

"Why the hell not?"

"He got an important call from work and had to go," I say with a sigh. "Tina?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kind of scared to get hurt. Michael is a super awesome man, and I really dig him, but what if I let myself truly and madly fall in love, and he breaks up with me?"

"Patrick," Tina says. "Snap out of it. The better question is what is he going to do if you were to break up with him? Stop thinking that everyone is going to leave you. You're the catch here."

At first, I dismiss her words. She's just saying that because we're best friends. But then, I start to let them sink in. Maybe she's right? I am a catch. I need to stop being so scared of being abandoned. It's preventing me from letting myself enjoy a good thing when it comes along.

Still, there's something nagging at the back of my brain. An annoying voice that sounds a lot like my mom. Be careful. Protect your feelings. Men are awful, and they don't care about those they hurt. Granted, she'd been married and divorced eight times by my high school graduation, but her words still plague me no matter how much I try to ignore them.

I check the time on my watch. "We'd better get going."

"Oh shit," she says. "I didn't realize it was so late. I still want to stop and get another coffee before we go to work."

Pulling my bag from the floor, I begin rummaging through the first and then second zippered pockets. Where are my keys? My heart races. How could I have lost my keys? And then I remember my badge was still missing. Something wasn’t adding up right here and my stomach tightens. “What the fuck?"

"Bestie? You okay?"

"No, my keys and work badge are missing." I pull open the large, zippered area and yank out everything and toss it on the floor. "Shit... they're gone."

We both stare at the bag in silence.

"Could you have left them in the car?" Tina asks.

I shake my head. "No, my car wouldn't lock and beep if I try and lock it without taking my keys out first." I start shoving all my belongings back into the pack. "I distinctly remember putting them in here."

"Is it possible they were stolen? Maybe when we both went down to collect our arrows at the end of the lane?"

"Maybe," I say. Then it dawns on me. "I left the bag unattended when I went to look for you by the concession stand. Someone must have gone through my stuff and stolen them."

"Why? Is your wallet gone? Your phone?"

I hold up my wallet. "Nope, I've got this right here, and my phone is in my pocket." I pat my leg just to be sure.

"I don't see what good keys are without knowing where they belong." She looks out the car window and points. "Your car is right over there. You'd think whoever took the keys would have stolen the car too."

Nodding, my head is spinning. None of this makes any sense. "Although, with my work badge, they have my name and where I work." I shiver. "This whole thing creeps me out."

"Not to mention your apartment was broken into just the other day."

"Fuck," I whisper. "I hadn't even thought of that."

"Better call your boyfriend and let him know. Maybe he can come stay with you? Keep you safe?"

"First of all, he's not my boyfriend... at least not yet. But I think it's wise to at least let him know." I cross my arms and sit back into the chair. "You don't happen to have copies of my keys on you... do you?"

"I sure do, bestie." She opens her purse and pulls out a full set of keys. "Front door, mailbox, and car."

Relief washes over me. Even though I'll have to change my locks and be scared every time I set foot in my apartment until I do, at least I can use my vehicle and get to and from work. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver."

We air-kiss before I get out of her car. "I'll see you at work."

"Be careful and don't forget to call Michael. He'll know what to do." She starts the car, waves goodbye, and pulls away.

Another happy fucking Monday to me.