The Porn Identity

Chapter 19

       "And you think that's why he killed Noah?"

       "Possibly." I felt a twinge of sympathy when she started tearing up but made no move to comfort her. "No, crying. Actions have consequences."

       "I know." She sniffed.

       I leaned back in my chair, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not here to judge—that's not my job. My job is to collect the relevant information you asked for. Which I did. But look, trying to force other people to do what you want is a fool's errand. Especially by underhanded means."

       "I just..." Tears slid down her cheeks. "I just wanted to believe he was the man I thought he was."

       "It wasn't just you. He had a lot of people fooled." I felt for her in spite of myself. "I only have one question. When you came to me did you know?"

       "...I wasn't sure." She looked down and started fidgeting with her fingers before looking back at me with that deer in headlights expression. "So, what happens next?"

       "I have one more lead to follow up on, then I'm going to send you a copy of the full file."

       "And then this is all over?"

       "And then it's over." My part of it anyway. She could do with the information what she wanted.

       She nodded and wiped away her tears. "That's a relief." She made a try of smiling but it didn't reach her eyes.

*****************************

       The rest of the day was a mixed bag. Most of it was typical retail mundanity. People came in, they ordered their food, they went—the usual. There were some mild complaints here and there about the lemonade, the Wi-Fi, and the heat like I could control the sun or some shit, but mostly it was a boring day. Around five I'd swept up, wiped everything down, and closed out the till. I was just about to lock up and leave when I remembered Johnny had booked the room upstairs.

       "Well, damn." And here I was envisioning my tired feet up on the couch while I munched on Takis, instead of a balanced dinner, and watched Law and Order: SVU reruns. At least Johnny was reliable. So, if push came to shove, he would lock up after himself without me having to ask.

       But I should check in with him at least before I go.

       I turned around and slogged my way up the stairs. On the second floor, music played softly. The bright overhead light from the conference room glowed dim from the hall. The scent of cigarettes drifted through the air. It gave me a headache.

       I sighed and pushed my way through the door. "Hey Johnny--wooow!" The mural of Conan the Pomeranian was remarkable. What started as nothing, but tubes of paint and stretched canvas had turned into an image so lifelike you'd think necromancy was involved. But there was no magic involved but the magic of someone deeply talented. Thich brushstrokes became tuffs of fur. A splash of yellow glowed and shined like the natural light of day. Even the couch he sat on looked soft enough to reach out and touch. I was in amazement at the skill level. I'd seen him paint before—people even—but this was different. This was passion.

       He smiled at me. "What do you think?"

       "I think you made that dog look like a goddess."

       He laughed. "I think Conan was a boy."

       "I said what I said."

       "It's not quite done yet."

       I turned to him in awe. "There's more?"

       "Yeah. It needs more texture on the fur, more highlights up top, and more shadows by the feet." He pointed out each area like a master architect giving a presentation.

       I snickered and shook my head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

       "That's okay. Just trust me, once it's done, it'll look way better." He sat down in the hard folding chair and grabbed a brown bottle from the table.

       "Are you staying longer then?"

       "No, I was just about to clean up." He took a drink.

       "Oh, well, I'll wait then—" I stared at the bottle at his lips, seeing it for the first time. "Are you drinking?"

       "Yeah!" he laughed and waved around. "I got my tunes, my smokes, and a little booze to loosen me up—"

       "You can't drink in here."

       "Why—"

       "Because I don't have a liquor license. If I get caught serving without a license, they'll fine the hell out of me."

       "Does the health inspector make a habit of stopping by after hours?"

       "I don't give a damn when he stops by. I don't allow drinking on the premises period."

        He banged the beer bottle down on the table and stood. "I don't understand why you're being so uptight about this."

       "Uptight? Am I being uptight?"

       "A little, yeah."

       I gestured around the room wildly. "Is it uptight that I let you rent this place for pennies or charge you nothing to store your supplies here?"

       "Evie, calm down. It's just a couple of beers."

       "No, I won't calm down!" I crossed my arms across my chest and kept my tone firm. "I'm sick of everyone taking advantage of my kindness just to walk all over me!"

       He frowned. "Who is everyone?"

       I ticked the offenders off on my fingers. "You, Manny, Jackson a little...look, I asked you not to drink here. That's no different than what I ask of everyone."

        His eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry, okay."

       I pointed at the ashtray he must have snuck up here in his old black backpack with the beer. "I asked you not to smoke in here either. The smell's gonna stink up the curtains!"

       "I said I was sorry!"

       "I don't care about your goddamn sorry's, just don't do it again!" I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth, but the damage was done.

       "Okay!"

       We stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. All my instincts screamed at me to apologize for my tone or to tell a joke to smooth things over, but I resisted. I wasn't the one who was wrong.

       Johnny was the first to break the silence. He looked down at me, his eyes as guarded as the day I'd met him in the back alley. "I just need to clean up then I'm done here."

       "Great. I'll be waiting downstairs." I turned and hurried out of the room without a backwards glance. I'd like to say I was the bigger person and thought of something to say to make things better, but I was just too tired and too stubborn for that.

       Once he put everything away and turned out the lights he stomped down the stairs and stared holes through me like he was waiting for an apology. For some reason that pissed me off even more. I was planning on offering him a ride but fuck it—he can catch the late afternoon bus like everyone else.

       We parted without another word to each other and that suited me just fine.