Land of Entrapment (19 page)

‘open, sesame’ for him, ’cause he looked so lame standing there like the door was just going to fling open.”

I struggled not to laugh. “What was he wearing?”

“Jeans and a black T-shirt. I thought that was stupid. I hope he fucking sweats to death. Anyway, he stood there for about ten years like he was conjuring secret powers. And the longer he stood there, the more pissed he got. He totally tried to smack the door.”

“He hit the door?”

“Yeah. Took his fist and pow! ” She mimicked him throwing a punch. She was laughing. “This part’s funny,” she explained though I was pretty sure it was going to be. “So he punches the door and then he starts shaking his hand because it hurt so bad. He looked at it, to see if there were bone fragments flying out of it or something, and he shook it some more.

Then he kicked the door. He was wearing work boots so I guess he thought those steel toes could take down a New Mexico security door. Nope. And the whole time he’s shaking his hand because it hurt so bad to punch the door. What a fucking moron.”

“He kicked the door,” I repeated, envisioning the scene. It gave me pleasure to do so. “What’d he do then?”

“He stood around looking really pissed off and then he left. I decided since I was being all secret, I wouldn’t tell him to get the fuck off the property and I watched him through the windows as he left.”

“Was he driving?”

“No. I thought that was weird. I mean, Megan’s car is gone and since he’s such a prick, you’d think he would’ve taken it.”

“Unless he didn’t want, say, you to see her car and think she was back.”

Sage hesitated. “Huh. Good point. Anyway, he went toward Central and I checked on Megan’s. The windows are fine and that door doesn’t even have paint chipped from him.” She sat back, satisfied.

“Sage, thank you so much for coming home at two.”

She looked at me, trying to decide whether I was teasing her or not.

“And thank you for not yelling at him. He’s a loose cannon and I know you could kick his ass into next year, but he might carry weapons and that would really suck if I came back and found you all messed up in your kitchen.”

Her brow furrowed. “That would really suck.”

Then she flashed her devilish grin. “If you saw me like that, would you give me mouth-to-mouth?” Her tone was teasing.

My voice caught in my throat. Okay, she is definitely flirting with me. “Um.”

She was enjoying my discomfiture. “Would you?”

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I managed, scrambling to find words for this most uncomfortable situation.

Her smile broadened. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Shit. She had me backed into a corner here and she knew it. I reached down and grabbed my bag and stood. “Look, Sage...”

She stood as well, no longer smiling. Her whole demeanor shifted. “Too forward?” She asked quietly.

“Look,” I said, backing slowly to the door, “I’m really flattered. Believe me. But...”

“It’s because of Megan, isn’t it?”

I stopped. “Sort of. Megan is like a little sister to me and it’s just kind of weird to, well, to consider dating her friends.” I was totally tongue-tied.

“You think I’m too young.”

“It’s the context. Megan’s way younger than I am and dating her friends would be—I’m sorry,” I finished lamely. I continued backing toward the door.

“How old do you think I am?” She wasn’t following me, thank God.

“I’m not going to answer that. I’ll fuck up no matter what I say.”

“Your honesty is refreshing.” She said it without a trace of sarcasm.

“And besides, what about Jeff?”

“What about him?” She looked at me, visibly perplexed.

“Aren’t you and him —” My hand was on the door handle.

She stared at me, realization dawning. “Oh, hell no. Jeff’s, like, been my best friend since I moved here. He’s like a brother. Oh, my God. He will so die laughing when I tell him you thought we were together.”

I opened my mouth to say something, thought better of it. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” This is so nuts.

“K.C., hold on. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” She moved closer.

I waited, holding the door partially open.

“It’s just that—” She stopped and regarded me, a little smile on her lips. “I am really attracted to you.”

I swallowed. “You don’t even know me.” Oh, my God. This can’t get any worse.

She shook her head slowly. “I think I do.”

I couldn’t look away from her gaze. I had nowhere to hide. “Through Megan? That’s—I mean, everybody has blinders on when they talk about somebody they like. You’ve only got a tiny bit of the picture through her. I’m not what she thinks and I’m certainly not what you think.”

“I don’t believe that.” Her tone was intractable. I knew I couldn’t argue with it.

“I’m sorry. It’s just not a good idea.” I slipped out onto the porch, feeling really shitty, slightly rattled, but also extremely flattered. And as much as it pained me, I had done a mature thing and said “no.” I shut the door quietly and went around to Megan’s. I checked my watch. Four-fifteen. I had to meet Melissa soon. God, this day is starting to really suck. I went inside, leaving the interior door open, and turned on some music as I organized. I knew this wasn’t a date with Melissa but it seemed sort of disrespectful to wear rumpled shorts and a tee to a dinner that would most likely involve flaying open my soul. And then there was Sage. Why did she have to be so... Damn.

Smart. Funny. Attractive. Young.

I put on a pair of lightweight khakis and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. This color always brought out the flecks of green in my eyes and for some reason, I really wanted Melissa to see that. Maybe that was petty. I wasn’t entirely sure about my motives. I worked on my hair a little bit and put on some cologne with a nice citrus undertone. As I finished I heard a soft knock at the front door. I left the bathroom and walked through the bedroom.

“Door’s open,” I called, knowing it was probably Sage.

“Hey,” she said as she came in.

I stopped near the kitchen doorway, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was wrong of me to push you like that. I sometimes don’t really think about stuff before I say it.”

“I noticed that.” Why can’t I be ten years younger?

“Jeff’s leaving tomorrow for Las Cruces. Will you come over for dinner?”

“Sage—” I felt my guts clench.

“Please? Just to hang out. And talk. And eat. Just dinner.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You know how I am about food and bachelors.”

I laughed, a little nervous. “Just to hang out?”

“And talk.”

“I can do that.” I don’t know where the words came from. But as soon as I said them, I knew I might as well have thrown myself into a den of ravenous lions.

She grinned. “Anything you can’t or won’t eat?”

“Nope. Well, wait. I don’t like—”

“Liver. Bleu cheese. Anchovies or escargot. Or fruitcake. Oh, and gorgonzola.”

“How—”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug.

“Never mind,” I said, flustered. “Do you drink wine?”

She brightened. “Definitely. And don’t worry about matching it to the food. All wine is good.”

“All right. When?”

“I don’t get home until six. So how about seven-thirty?”

“Sounds good. Just dinner. And talking.” I looked at her for confirmation.

She smiled angelically. “Yep.” She appraised me then. “Hmm. Do I have competition?”

“Sage—”

“Kidding.” She put her hands up.

“I’m having dinner with my past tonight. Honest opinion. How do I look? Wait—before you say anything. You’re the old lady at Dillard’s and I’m just asking you how I look.”

She laughed. “Honestly, that’s a great color on you.” She paused, then continued. “So you’re meeting Melissa. I think that’s a really good thing.”

“You should hang out a sign and read people’s tarot.”

“I already do.” She flashed that damn grin. “Have a nice time. If you want to talk when it’s done, stop by.” She waved and left. I stood at the door, watching her cross the twenty paces or so between Megan’s and the main house and climb the back steps. I really needed to move because if she turned and saw me watching her, she’d know that under different circumstances, I’d be all over her like a rez dog on a fresh bone. Move away, I repeated to myself. I couldn’t. I didn’t. I stared. Sage pulled the security door on her house open and, yep, she turned and caught me watching her. She stood for a few seconds, eyes locked on mine. I swore I saw a trace of that grin on her lips. And then she went inside.

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered under my breath. Dinner tomorrow is going to suck, too.

I PARKED IN the structure north of Old Town on Mountain Street. It was free after five and I didn’t mind walking the block or two extra. I locked up and crossed Mountain, which brought me right to the edge of the Plaza. I walked down San Felipe past the various galleries and “Indian Trading Companies.”

Roughly two blocks from the corner of San Felipe and Mountain sat La Hacienda, a sprawling restaurant complex in a one-story adobe, vigas jutting from the front, following the line of the roof. The restaurant’s entrance faced the small square in the center of the plaza that served as a park. A gazebo stood in the square’s center and people occupied most of the square’s wrought iron benches.

I stood watching pedestrians wander past the gazebo. To my right stood San Felipe de Neri, the double-steepled Spanish-style church that Chris’s Abuelita attended. She liked the early service, because it was conducted in Spanish. Stores, galleries, and shops selling little tourist doodads flanked the other two sides of the square and most were doing pretty good business, from the foot traffic entering and exiting.

I arrived about fifteen minutes early, but since it was Friday, I probably needed to get a table. I went inside the restaurant and waited in the dim lobby behind a group of tourists. The interior evoked heavy, dark Spanish colonial style. To my right a gift shop offered all kinds of things, from cheesy stereotypical rubber tomahawks to colorful jackets made out of Pendleton blankets.

The hostess, like other female servers here, was wearing a kitschy Mexican-style outfit that included a frilly red skirt and a low-cut white blouse with big puffy short sleeves. It evoked those 1940s movies that supposedly took place south of the border. She seated me at a four-top in a corner next to a window. The table, like the rest of the furniture here, was fashioned from heavy dark wood, as were the chairs.

A server came by within a couple of minutes. She asked if I wanted anything to drink. I ordered a margarita on the rocks, higher-grade tequila, no salt.

It’s almost mandatory to have a margarita with Mexican or New Mexican food. I looked over the menu, which hadn’t changed much since the last time I was here. I had my back to the entrance and I was looking out the window when I heard Melissa’s voice behind me.

“Hi.”

I stood and acknowledged her. She wore a black power suit, which looked really good on her, along with a cream-colored blouse. She slid out of her blazer and hung it on the chair to my right. She took the seat to my left, her back to the window, and she set a small notebook on the table next to me. “My phone log.”

“Thanks.” I moved it to my right, out of the way.

The server returned with my margarita and Melissa ordered a Diet Coke. She glanced at the menu.

She was generally pretty quick about what she wanted in a restaurant.

“Maybe the molé.” Melissa started.

“No, not that. Remember that one time...?”

She shot a glance at me. “Kase, that was about four years ago.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. How easily I fell into old habits. “Sorry,” I said, sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled.

The server returned with Melissa’s drink and took our orders. Melissa chose the blue corn chicken enchiladas and I went for chicken fajitas. When the server left, I filled Melissa in on what I had been doing all day. The only mention I made of Sage was that she told me that Cody had been sniffing around Megan’s that day.

“Cody? He was at Megan’s?”

“So Sage says.”

“She didn’t try to kick his ass or anything, did she?”

I laughed. “Oh, so you do know her.”

“She’s quite a—” She broke off.

“Pistol, I think, is the word you’re looking for.”

Melissa smiled. “I can only take her in small doses. She’d give you the shirt off her back but she’s extremely intense.” She paused. “Although I think she was good for Megan in a lot of ways.”

“I get that impression.” And I’d sure like to take the shirt off her back. I took a sip of my margarita, trying to get my brain back on track. Yum. The higher-grade tequila made a big difference.

“What do you think he was doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to access Megan’s computer. Maybe she’s got money stashed in there. Whatever it was, his key doesn’t work anymore and Sage said it seemed to really piss him off.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think they’re still in town. Or the East Mountains, but not much farther than that. And I’ve got his phone number now so I’m going to try to talk to him.”

She stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted antennae and extra arms.

“I’ll pretend I’m interested in the movement. I’ll set something up with him, see if he’ll meet me. And Sage will kick his ass when he shows up,” I finished with a feeble attempt at humor.

Melissa rolled her eyes, then got serious. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m going to talk to Chris about it. She might come. And the guy at the gang unit would love to nail him for something. So hopefully—well, anyway. I don’t even know if he’s answering his phone. I’ll call again tomorrow and see if I can get a response. If I can’t, I’ll get one of those temporary cell phones and leave him a message.”

“Let me know how much it costs. I’ll reimburse you.”

I didn’t argue with that. After interacting with her the past few days, I wasn’t as uncomfortable anymore with the idea of her picking up a few of my expenses.

I sat back when the server brought our food. My fajitas were snapping and popping on the skillet.