Chapter 10 Artie
TEN
ARTIE
Shanti and I were only a little bit tipsy when Gabe dropped us off at Angels Headquarters.
But it was only me that was wildly disappointed when he didn’t kiss me on the mouth to say his goodbye, but instead he did it on my forehead, then he swung into his man-mobile and took off.
It was clear throughout brunch with how chill he was, being his normal quiet, observant but attentive (especially to me…yum), that he was in no confusion about where I was at.
So, um…
No kiss?
And, um…
It seemed he bested the challenge.
Therefore…
Now what?
I shook off that disturbing thought because, so far, it appeared Pessimism had taken a hike, and I didn’t miss her, so I didn’t want her back, therefore I shouldn’t give her an opening to come back.
I then headed into the unit.
I was surprised to see Gemma and Joey were there, because they should be on shift at The Surf Club.
I was unsurprised Raye wasn’t there.
After I entered, I noticed Luna at the pretty secretary desk in the front corner, scowling at the bank of computer screens there.
Weird.
I wondered if she was upset about the Raye and Cap news.
Not that she’d be upset upset. There was no mistaking those two were perfect for each other and this was a good thing. I knew Luna adored Cap, like we all did.
But I got it when, all around you, your girls were hooking up with good guys, and they were deliriously happy, and that didn’t seem to be on your horizon.
It stung.
Making matters worse for Luna, we all knew she had a thing for Knox, like we knew Knox had a thing for her. They’d been circling each other for forever but never went there, and I wasn’t sure why, I just knew they didn’t, and it was abundantly clear the reason they didn’t was because of Luna.
And now, Knox had given up on Luna and was seeing another woman.
That wouldn’t sting.
It would bite.
So, yeah.
I got it.
Weird again, I was rolling out of that zone.
And I was tentatively rolling toward deliriously happy.
Wild.
But wonderful.
Just as long as Gabe wasn’t one of those guys who lost interest when there was nothing left to chase.
Again, I buried that thought.
Instead, I decided to be sensitive just in case Luna (or Joey or Gemma) were feeling sensitive. I’d focus on the briefing and not share I was going to give the whole Gabe-and-me thing a shot.
This became tough when Luna’s attention drifted away from the screens to where Gabe’s Wrangler was driving away.
I braced, but she just gave me a look, ascertained by some girl bond (correctly) I hadn’t yet been laid by Gabe, and mumbled, “There went my hundred bucks.”
A hundred bucks?
No wonder people were peeved when they lost.
Outside Luna watching Gabe leave, everyone else was gabbing, so it appeared no one had noticed the drop-off and forehead kiss, except Harlow, who was aiming a blinding bright smile over the back of the couch at me.
Shanti and I rolled down the door.
“Who’s taking care of SC?” Shanti asked as she made her way to the ginormo curved red couch with black piping that sat in front of a huge desk that had nothing on it but an old-fashioned phone speaker (just to say, whoever Arthur was, he was hardcore feeling the Charlie’s Angels vibe).
“Tex didn’t want us to miss our first briefing,” Joey said. “So Nancy came in, and Dream called Louise and she’s in too.”
Dream was Luna’s sister.
Whereas Luna was the kind of girl who could be every girl’s best friend (she was just that awesome), Dream was hard to like.
We could just say that Dream was kind of a female version of Tex, but younger, with more attitude, and she wasn’t ever funny (or nice).
A few months ago, she’d started at SC part time on weekends because, in short succession, she’d popped out three kids by three different dudes, and she needed the cash.
But now, she filled in often when someone had a day off, or called in sick, or the Angels were on the move.
One thing you could say about her, it seemed she also had the capacity for growth, because when I first met her, she was a total flake and made Kevin look like an amateur in the mooch department. But now, she was dependable. Totally solid as a rock.
Oh, and she was kind of a server/bouncer. If we had a shitty customer, Dream took over, and she had a way with dealing with shitty customers. You could even say she’d made it an art.
As far as I knew, Louise, Luna and Dream’s mom, didn’t have any server experience, but fortunately serving wasn’t rocket science. Though, it wasn’t like anyone could do it in their sleep, it took skill, but no lives depended on it. So hopefully she’d be okay to fill in for a couple of hours.
I went to our glass-fronted beverage fridge and got myself a San Pelligrino. With a glance at Shanti, and her return glance, I got her one too.
Truth: We both needed to hydrate after our mimosa-without-juice-a-thon at brunch.
I settled beside Shanti on the couch.
“Raye’s not coming because she’s otherwise occupied,” Gemma said on a huge smile as Luna wandered our way.
“I can’t wait to see her ring,” Harlow gushed.
“Take a look,” Luna said, handing her phone to Harlow before she rested her ass against the desk in front of us.
“Oh my God! That’s so Raye!” Harlow exclaimed at the picture on the cell.
We passed around Luna’s phone and got a good gander at Raye’s simple, princess-cut solitaire that was not simple in heft.
Cap done good (or Shirleen did in the guidance of her son, and yeah, Shirleen was Cap’s mom, also Roam’s, both adopted—as you could see, the Nightingale/Rock Chick posse had a long and complicated, but loving, history).
I was the last to get the phone, so I passed it back to Luna, asking, “You okay?”
“Peachy,” she said breezily, looking down at the snap on her phone with a small, happy smile on her face.
Okay, so maybe I read that earlier scowl wrong.
Still.
“You were scowling at the computer screens,” I told her.
She looked at me. “That’s because Clarice said she was sending a report of what Arthur dug up on Mr. Shithead, she knew the briefing was happening now, and it hasn’t—”
“Hello, Angels,” the speaker on the desk drawled in Morgan Freeman’s voice.
We all jumped.
And then we all went still.
It wasn’t that the speaker never spoke, as in, Arthur never “talked” to us using a famous actor’s voice.
He did.
It was just that it usually only said, “Well done, Angels” at the end of a mission.
So this was new.
“Oh my God,” Gemma breathed.
“Welcome, Joey and Gemma,” the speaker, or Arthur, somewhere, live and in the flesh, said…to us.
Wow.
This was huge!
“Holy crap,” Joey whispered reverently. “So cool.”
“Let’s begin,” Arthur said.
Luna moved to and fell into the couch, her dazed eyes on the speaker.
Once she was down, a picture of Mr. Shithead came on the screen on the back wall.
Or, his mugshot.
“Duane Darin Poole, age forty-two,” Arthur told us. “Born in Detroit, Michigan. His parents moved their family to Phoenix when he was a senior in high school.”
“Bad timing,” Harlow mumbled.
“Yes,” Arthur agreed.
Annnnd…
Holy shit!
He actually was talking to us and hearing us!
Arthur kept going.
“But Duane was engaged in petty criminal activity before the move, and after. Nothing substantial. Fighting. Shoplifting. Vandalism. He continued on that bent through adulthood. Not ambitious enough to commit any serious crime, not a strong enough moral compass to stay out of trouble.”
“Right,” Luna said when Arthur paused.
“However, he’s kept his nose clean for the last five years since he’s been employed as the night manager at the Sun Valley Motor Lodge,” Arthur shared.
“Is his family still in Phoenix?” Jess asked.
“Mother, deceased. Diabetes. Two years ago. Father lives in Apache Junction. They rarely see each other. Younger sister married, had children, divorced, remarried and lives in Oregon. They don’t speak either, except on holidays. Even so, these conversations don’t last long.”
“So sad,” Harlow, our heart-of-pure-24-carat-gold girl, observed.
“Are they all the petty-criminal-do-just-the-amount-you-can-to-get-by type like our Duane here?” Shanti inquired.
“Father has had a lifelong struggle with his addiction to gambling. He lives in a mobile home community. There’s a possibility Duane’s mother would still be alive if she went to the doctor and saw to herself.
She didn’t. The sister has had recurring issues with drug addiction, this the cause of her divorce.
She lost her children and never bothered to try to get them back. ”
Yuck.
It was a huge drag to know all of this about Mr. Shithead.
And it gave some understanding of why he acted like a shithead.
On the bright side, as ever, Arthur sure didn’t leave any stones unturned when he did his research.
“Uh, sir, has Duane been married?” Gemma asked timidly.
Luna, Jess, Harlow, Shanti and I grinned at each other at the “sir.”
“You may call me Arthur, Gemma,” Arthur said.
“All right,” Gemma mumbled.
“And no. Duane has never been married, no children, and he’s never cohabitated.”
No wonder Duane had a thing for porn.
Jess agreed with me.
“Sounds like we not only need to get Duane out of the porn, just because it’s gross, or at least the amount he consumes is, but also into hugging a tree or something. His life is super narrow,” she remarked.
The picture of Duane changed to the picture of a relatively attractive brunette, probably in her early forties.
“Examination of Duane’s phone records shows frequent contact with this woman.
Amy Small. Grocery clerk at the Food City where Duane does his grocery shopping,” Arthur said.
“As I mentioned, this contact is frequent and includes phone calls that last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, but also texts.” A pause, then, “Amy has not been to work for the last six days, no call, no show. She’s missed four scheduled shifts. ”
“Fuck,” Jess bit off.
“What you got on her, Artie?” Luna asked.
For a second, we all sat in suspended silence to see how Arthur would respond to this nickname.