I'm not ashamed to admit that a smile had been plastered on my face since I left Scott's office. And that I bounced my way into my car amidst a few weirded-out stares when I got off from work. Nothing like the best news ever to brighten up this sad, horrific day.
Besides, I know George (bless his soul) would be happy to know that his precious secretary didn't get lay off from his company. I bet he didn't mind that I immediately jumped from being traumatized and grieving to becoming perky and extremely thrilled.
Okay, maybe a little.
But it's not like I've already forgotten my mission to bust the killer. So cut me some slack here.
"Babe."
"Jesus Christ!" I yelped from the driver's seat of my Prius. I abruptly turned to look at the backseat and glared at the intruder. "Damn it, Tyler! What the hell are you doing inside my car?"
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, my ex-boyfriend tried to give me a heart attack. And boy was he close to succeeding. My heart was thumping like crazy, I felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
Did I unwittingly give him a duplicate key of my car too?
"I watched the news. I want to know how you're doing," he shrugged, as if creeping the hell out of his ex-girlfriend was the most natural thing in the world.
"What news?" I snapped.
He turned meek, knowing that I wasn't too happy to see him. "Your boss's death."
So George's murder was all over the news now. I wondered if my dad had heard about it too. Probably not. Because my phone wasn't ringing frantically. Atleast not yet, anyway.
"So are you--"
"I'm fine!" I barked, cutting Tyler off abruptly that he jolted on his seat. I was so not in the mood to appease an ex-boyfriend. Especially when that ex-boyfriend almost caused me a cardiac arrest. What was his deal, anyway? Didn't I make it clear last night that I want nothing to do with him anymore? "Now will you please tell me why the hell are you creeping up on me again?"
"I was just worried about you, Lace. When I saw that news, I thought something bad happened to you. Please don't take that right away from me too." He looked so crestfallen that I felt sorry for him. Well almost.
"I would. If you keep on doing this." I sighed and turned back on my seat. Our eyes met through the rear view mirror. "We're over, Tyler. Can't you see that?"
"But I'm still having a hard time processing that information," he complained.
For a man his age, Tyler sure is whiny. Whatever. It made me even more thankful that I no longer have to deal with his bullshit.
I rolled my eyes. "It's been weeks."
"It felt like days. And I missed you so bad. Your eyes, your smile, your --"
I snorted. "You seriously need to get over yourself."
"Easier said than done," he grumbled.
"Well, that's not my problem anymore, is it?" I could feel myself getting more and more irritated with him. I breathed deeply to calm my annoyed nerves. "Now will you please get out of my car so I could go?"
"Well could you drop me somewhere? I didn't bring my car with me," Tyler said sheepishly.
Ugh. Patience. I need patience.
"Fine. I'll drop you off at the next stop," I snapped, gnashing my teeth as I revved up the car's engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
God forbid, but I'm so close to throwing Tyler out of the car into oncoming traffic.
*****************************************************************************
"I'm fine, dad. For the millionth time, I'm not the one who ended up with a knife sticking out of his chest."
I barely had the time to close my apartment door when my phone started ringing nonstop. I didn't even have to check the screen to know that it was my dad. Sure enough, a second after I tapped the answer key, my dad began a series of thank-god-you're-alive rant, like his precious daughter was the one found dead.
Parents, right?
"Oh, you must be so traumatized," dad continued, ignoring what I told him. He'd said he was busy massaging Althea when the news about my boss's death came on. My dad, the over-sharer. "Want to spend the night here?"
And watch him and Althea grope each other? Uh, no thanks.
"Thanks, dad. But I can manage. Like I said, I'm fine. Besides, I already got home. I'm too tired to drive."
I walked over to my fridge and opened it, letting the coolness of the air hit my skin. I stared at the contents inside while my dad continued to rant on in the background.
A pitcher of water, four different soda cans, two Ramen noodles, a bottle of Chardonnay wine I nicked from dad's liquor cabinet, and a bowl of popcorn from last weekend's movie marathon. I clearly needed to buy groceries.
Maybe tomorrow. If I feel like it.
I grabbed the Sprite can, cracked it open, and took a long swig. Hmmm. Nice and cold.
"Lacey Mae? Are you still there?"
Right. My dad's still on the line.
I took another swig as I walked back to the living room. "I'm kinda hungry, dad. So I'm gonna go grab a bite. Call you tomorrow. Bye. Love you."
I ended the call before he even had the chance to protest. Sorry, old man. A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do. Whatever that means.
I tossed the phone on the couch and sat next to it. Then propped my feet up the coffee table, gulped down my Sprite, and flipped on the television, browsing through different channels. I wonder if there's a rerun of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. tonight.
The truth is I really didn't feel like watching. But it's the best distraction I know of. After I dropped Tyler off to a fastfood chain despite his protest - around the same time when my excitement about becoming Scott's new secretary had already died down - George's dead body had been stuck in my head like a clingy bitch.
I wouldn't be surprised if I'd start having nightmares again. I wonder if my dad would mind if I decided to knock on his door in the middle of the night. Why didn't I ever think of getting a roommate, anyway?
My buzzer suddenly sounded, jolting me from my seat. Everybody needs to stop trying to scare me to death today. Seriously.
I dragged my feet toward the door, wondering who on earth would visit me at this hour. Did my dad drive here to check up on me? I hoped not. Because I was really just joking about the whole knocking on his door thing.
I peered through the peephole, but could see no one. Uh oh. What if it was a rapist who knew I lived alone? Worse, what if it was George's killer who found out I was going to bust him?
God, I'm getting so paranoid. Taking a deep breath, I finally opened the door. Only to be surprised. Standing on my porch was the last person I expected to see.
"Jessica?"
"Hey." She smiled meekly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." I stepped back and let her pass, closing the door behind her. I ushered her to the couch.
"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" I asked when we're already seated.
Jessica had been in my apartment before. Once, when I didn't report for work and she needed to learn how to create multiple spreadsheets in her computer. Yes, I kid you not.
"I can't sleep. I feel like I'll have nightmares."
I nodded absently. I haven't seen Jessica look like this before. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Her hair was drawn up in a messy pony tail that I could see a few strands sticking out of it. And it was all I could do not to let the floodgates of the guilt party fly open.
I let out a half-smile. "Some day, huh?"
Jessica sighed deeply. "I still can't believe he's already dead, you know." Tell me about it. "One day he's here. Then the next he's gone." She trailed off and shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with firmness. "But you know what? I'm not buying that crap they say that he committed suicide. I know George. He wouldn't do that."
Okay, I took back what I said yesterday. She was definitely not half-witted. Still, I wasn't about to let my secret out just yet.
"What do you mean?"
She leaned forward. "I haven't told anyone. But I think he's murdered," she whispered, as if anybody was listening in to our conversation.
Crap! Did she receive a mysterious call too? I silently castigated myself almost immediately. That was a very stupid thought.
"And why would you think that?" I asked cautiously.
"Because he's not the type of person who'd commit suicide. He's cheerful and so full of life. He wasn't even depressed or anything." Then she looked at me condescendingly. "You should know, he's been your boss for years."
Of course I knew. That's why I strongly believed George was killed. And I must admit, Jessica was the last person I expected to share my sentiment. Clearly, I had been underestimating her.
"How about you? Do you really believe that he killed himself?"
I fidgeted on my seat. Should I tell her or not? But what if it turned out that she's the murderer? Highly unlikely but still possible.
Oh, what the heck.
I swallowed hard and looked straight into her eyes. "Jessica, I need to tell you something."