Chapter 18
Hog
“Careful you don’t overdo it.”
I shoot Franco a glare as I fit the last of this load of boxes in my truck. Last thing I need is him babysitting me.
“Thanks, Mother, but I’ll be fine. It’s just a few boxes. I’ve got a couple of the guys helping me with the bigger stuff on Sunday.”
Besides, I should have the all clear tomorrow when I see the doctor anyway. Then I’ll be back on the next rotation, which starts on Tuesday next week. It’ll give me a couple of days to get organized while Anika is at the salon, although I’m a bit conflicted about going back. As much as I miss my work, I’m not sure I feel comfortable leaving Anika alone the nights I’ll be on shift.
Tuesday morning after the mini meltdowns—both mine and hers—we were able to salvage what was left of the morning. We narrowly made it to the Arrow’s Edge compound to meet with the insurance adjuster, who confirmed the Miata is a write-off. We bumped into Paco, Anika’s friend Lindsey’s stepfather, who’d heard about the trouble at the salon and offered to come back with us and not only install a few more cameras, but fix the door to the apartment as well.
By the time Anika’s first appointment arrived that afternoon, the additional cameras were already installed. He was still working on the doorframe when I left to sign the lease and pick up the keys from the realtor before I headed out to the farm.
That’s what I’ve been doing the past few days, dropping Anika off at the salon—where she is never alone—and driving to the farm to box up some more shit. This morning I took the old truck instead of the Suburban, because today I’m going back and forth hauling boxes, and I can fit more in the open bed of the pickup.
I stopped in at the fire station yesterday afternoon before picking up Anika to see how things were. The guys were out, but I had a good chat with the chief, who brought up a few interesting things I can’t wait to discuss with Anika once things settle down.
I was just about to leave when my crew returned from a vehicle fire just north of town, so I spent a few minutes chatting with them. When I mentioned I was moving, a few of the guys—including Bodhi—offered to help. I wasn’t going to say no to that.
My phone rings as I get behind the wheel. It’s Anika.
“Hey, Sweetheart, everything okay?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
I note she doesn’t answer my question.
“Sure, what do you need?”
“I hate to ask, but is there any chance you could pick up a few groceries? I’m running out of a few things here and at the house, and I don’t think I’ll have the energy later.”
“Still bad?”
She’s had a pretty nasty flare-up the past few days, making it difficult for her to get out of bed, but she pushes through every morning, and muscles her way through each day. I’m not sure how long she’ll be able to force herself, or if she even should. But I’ve decided to stand by and monitor instead of intervene, which I instinctively want to do.
She sets high standards for herself. Higher than for anyone else. It’s what makes her successful, but I’m afraid it’s also what eventually is going to cost her in health and, as a result, force her into a situation she has no choice in or control over.
It’s another topic on my list of things to talk about, but now’s not the time. It wouldn’t be fair to bring it up when she’s at her most vulnerable, desperately—and quite literally—trying to keep her feet under her.
“I’m okay as long as I keep moving. I stop, and everything seizes up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Meh, it is what it is,” she states matter-of-factly, clearly indicating she’s done with this topic, so I move on.
“I’m just leaving the farm with my last load of boxes. I was planning to unload them and head over to the City Market anyway. Just picking up some basics for the new place, so it’s no problem grabbing whatever you need. Shoot me a list.”
“Thank you. I’ll do it right now.”
“Okay. See you at six.”
One of the benefits of taking over the boxes bit by bit is that I can process them as I bring them in. Of course not everything, some boxes are in the appropriate room, waiting for the furniture they have to go in or on. But, for instance, I have my bathroom cupboards done, towels and sheets are in the linen closet, and my tools and sports equipment are stored in the small garage.
This last load is mostly kitchen stuff, which I’ll hopefully have time to unpack and organize in the cupboards before I have to run to the grocery store.
I didn’t bring much, mainly because I don’t really need much. I’ve left a lot for Franco, who was happy with it. Since my mother died, I thinned out a lot of stuff and furniture already, but some things felt like they belonged to the house. I left those behind.
I manage to put away all of these last boxes and cut them down, stacking them flat. I’ll bring those back on Sunday, Franco can use them for the farm.
I’m about to load the empties in the truck when Evans calls.
“I’m giving you a heads-up, and it’s up to you what you do with it.”
“That’s rather cryptic,” I point out.
“We think we may have found her. Kim Cooper,” he adds to clarify.
I knew who he was talking about, and I can also guess the news isn’t going to be good.
“Based on the state of the body, confirmation is difficult, so we have to wait for the medical examiner, hopefully tomorrow.”
Definitely not good. Jesus. Although, I don’t think it’s going to be completely unexpected, this is going to be yet another blow to Anika.
“The body was in a shallow grave only a few hundred yards up the hill from where her vehicle was parked,” he continues. “A cadaver dog team the FBI brought in found it.”
Yeah, this is going to devastate her.
“What about Cooper? Any news on him?”
Having him caught would get rid of a large portion of Anika’s stress. She’s been having nightmares every night since the piece of shit attacked her on Monday.
“We’ve got a few leads, put surveillance on his brother, but nothing so far.”
Shit.
Until Cooper is caught, I definitely don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone.
Anika
“…doesn’t listen. It drives me crazy.”
I make sympathetic noises as I continue to cut, trying to keep my focus on Diana—particularly her bob, which I’m trimming—but my mind keeps zoning out.
Lack of sleep, for one. Both my body and my mind are making sleep difficult, and I know from experience, pain and fatigue become like a never-ending loop.
God, even my fingers are hurting as I try to control my scissors for a straight cut.
“…think I’m overreacting? Anika?”
“What? I’m sorry,” I apologize immediately, shaking my head. “My mind was drifting. I haven’t been sleeping well,” I admit.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just rambling. It’s what Frank says, anyway, that I talk too much.”
I put a hand on Diana’s shoulder.
“You’re not talking too much. I just suck at listening today.”
I feel bad when she doesn’t even try to engage with me after that, and instead follows along with a discussion between Monique and Landon on which football player has the best ass. But it does allow me to concentrate on finishing her haircut without messing it up.
“Are you okay with Molly blow-drying your hair?” I ask when I’m done.
“Yes, of course.”
I go find Molly, who is folding towels in the supply room, and ask her to take over for me. Then I grab a water from the fridge and duck into my office.
Diana was my last client this afternoon. My twelfth today. We split Kim’s clients between us and I worked through lunch to try and accommodate them. Some customers grumbled when they had to wait a bit longer, and one person even walked out.
Opening my drawer, I take out my ibuprofen and shake two tablets in my hand. I’m running low again. At the rate I’ve been popping these, I’ll burn a hole in my stomach before long. I’ve been eating them like candy.
I can’t keep up like this. We need another hairdresser, but I don’t have the energy to go through the whole hiring process. I guess I can look at some of the old résumés from three years ago when I actually hired Kim.
“Hey, do you have a minute?” Monique asks, sticking her head around the door.
I wave her in.
“Talk to me,” she starts, taking a seat on the visitor’s chair. “Because it’s painfully clear you are not doing well.”
This is what I didn’t want, for my health to become a hindrance at the salon, which is why I’ve successfully hidden it for well over a year. If you’re not a hundred percent, people start questioning your capabilities. Clients are afraid you’ll be unreliable, and employees start worrying how long they’ll have a job.
But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should be open about my condition, start delegating some responsibilities. At least make sure someone is able to run the salon if, for whatever reason, I’m temporarily incapacitated.
Perhaps it’s time to make myself less indispensable.
“No, I’m not,” I confess.
“Trouble in paradise already?”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about me and Hog.
“God, no. Nothing like that,” I quickly correct her. “It’s a health issue that is kicking my butt right now.”
I see the question on her face and give her a condensed briefing.
“All this stuff with Kim disappearing and her husband going ballistic, trying to keep up with her clients, it’s added strain, and my body is not doing well with it.”
“What can I do?” Monique asks immediately.
“I hate even saying this, because it’s like I’m acknowledging Kim isn’t coming back, but, for starters, we need another hairdresser if we want to maintain our client base.”
“I think it was last week Landon mentioned a friend who was looking. I’ll check with him. What else?”
I could cry but I’ve been doing too much of that recently already, so I suck it up.
“Getting an extra body in here has priority because I’m seriously running out of steam.”
“Leave it to me.”
I get to my feet and approach her to give her a hug.
“Thank you. I don’t know if I tell you often enough, but I appreciate you.”
A knock has us both turn to the doorway where Hog is hovering.
“Is it safe to come in?”
“Of course,” Monique answers. “Take this woman home, I’ll close up.”
She squeezes past Hog, whose eyes stay fixed on me. The moment Monique is gone, he closes the distance between us and lifts my face for a kiss.
“Ready to get home?”
“You have no idea,” I tell him, grabbing my purse and the half-full bottle of water. Then I take his hand and follow him out the door.
This feels fantastic.
I drop my head back and let the tension slide from my body, feeling my limbs go heavy.
“Good?” I hear Hog ask.
“So good,” I mumble in response.
“Can I top you up?”
I crack one eye to find him standing in the doorway, my teapot in his hand.
“Please.”
I lift my hand from the water to hand over my mug.
When we got home earlier, we had grilled cheese sandwiches and a salad Hog threw together. After, he made me a pot of tea and drew me a bath, and I’ve been floating here, soaking, for the past little while.
He pours me some tea, sets the pot on the bathroom counter, and sits down on the edge of the tub.
“Was that my phone I heard earlier?”
He nods. “Yeah, that was Monique. She said to let you know she has someone coming in tomorrow.”
“Already? Wow.”
“Apparently, she doesn’t mess around. I talked to your mother as well. She called when I was just saying goodbye to Monique.”
“What did Mom want?”
“Sunday dinner.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course. Give a finger, lose a hand. Did you tell her we’re busy with your move on Sunday?”
He chuckles and slightly shakes his head.
“She already knew. Apparently, she talked to Bodhi this afternoon and he mentioned it.”
“Oh…don’t tell me, she offered to bring dinner to your new place, didn’t she?”
“She did.”
When nothing more is forthcoming, I prompt him.
“And? What did you tell her?”
He shrugs, a sheepish grin on his face.
“She said she’d make her samosas.”
I groan, drop my head back, and close my eyes.
“You realize we will forever be expected at Sunday dinner, right?”
“Forever?”
My eyes pop open. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes, with a smug look on his face.
But the next moment his expression turns serious, as he takes the mug from my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist.
“A day will come when you’ll wish for one more of your mom’s Sunday dinners, Sweetheart.”
That gently delivered dose of reality causes an instant shift in perspective.