Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Showdown
JAMIE
Jamie contemplated this while standing in front of her bathroom mirror looking at the bruises on her neck from where Melvyn Ott had tried to strangle the life out of her—again. She gingerly rubbed cream into the purple marks and wondered if she’d even be alive if it weren’t for Cliff.
Cliff. Heat rose to her cheeks when she thought about how he had wrestled Ott off her, risking his own life in the process.
How he held her afterward, how her heart raced when he gazed at her, how her skin grew hot at his touch, but soon that rush mixed with her guilt for accusing him.
She still wasn’t entirely sure he was innocent. But, did it matter?
Cliff was an ex-con. Master thief. Possible liar. Tardy. Those weren’t just red flags. Those were full-blown five-alarm disaster area flags. Her mother would be appalled.
Which was one point in his favor.
She thought about Cliff sitting in jail waiting for a judge to send him back to prison.
She’d tried to straighten things out, tried to explain.
But the detectives had made up their minds; he was a freshly paroled thief who was close enough to the scene of the crime to be considered guilty as charged—even though the mystery loot, whatever it was, hadn’t been recovered or even named.
The wheels were already in motion and because of Cliff’s past incarceration, his escape from the back of the police cruiser, and with the current accusations leveled against him, he had little chance of getting out.
Her thoughts wandered to visiting him and what she might say. She owed Cliff some sort of reasoning behind her behavior.
She could try to explain just how broken she was, or why she never chose to trust or rely on anyone.
How she prejudged people as a way to keep herself safe and shunted off.
She might even tell him how empty she felt all the time, how loneliness had warped her so badly that self-sabotage was now part of her makeup, like freckles or dimples or her hideous hereditary cellulite.
Jamie’s ability to destroy relationships was her toxic trait.
Though usually her actions only hurt herself, which she could live with.
But this time, Cliff was part of her collateral damage.
She could explain all that to him, if only he would hear it.
He had not reached out, the night they took him away nor since.
So, she was left to murmur her apologies into the abyss. She realized she was heartbroken.
Detective Roverson had informed her that Melvyn Ott had been placed under arrest for her attempted murder and was going back to prison for good this time. That meant Cliff was still the prime suspect in the heist of Duncan Reeves’s mystery item.
Jamie was deep in thought when she heard a knock at her front door. She looked out and saw Derick Hampton standing at her front door with a bag of groceries and fresh-cut flowers.
Dash promptly jumped from her lap and raced to the front door, all nine pounds of him unleashing a full-body barking tirade worthy of a Viking invasion.
“Oh calm down, Moppet,” Derick said as he gave Dash a Bacon Buddy dog treat and patted his head. Dash ravenously ate it and followed him into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, Jamie was sitting at her own kitchen table, wrapped in a chunky sweater over her activewear, knees up by her chin, as Derick served her a martini and three delicately air-fried Castelvetrano olives.
He sat down across from her, and Dash hopped on his lap and promptly fell asleep.
Food was the only way to Dash’s heart, though his memory didn’t last long.
Derick had to bring treats every time he came over.
Jamie took a big slurp of the martini and put her chin on her knees again.
“What if he’s in jail, singularly because of me?”
Derick delicately sipped his martini and leveled his gaze at her. “I know you want to blame yourself, but I will not have it. There’s a real chance he was behind the whole thing anyway.”
“There’s something I’m not seeing. A piece is missing. Complicated by my feelings for him,” she paused, “for the first time in a long time.”
“For a convict?”
“Ex-convict,” Jamie corrected.
“Leopards and spots and all, perhaps you dodged a bullet.” Derick then registered Jamie’s despair and changed his tune. “But yes, I know what you mean. Harder than ever to find someone with whom you find that kismet.”
“It felt different. Easier somehow.” Jamie massaged her temples. “I can’t explain it.”
“Until you fingered him for the heist and had him arrested.”
“Right,” Jamie said, completely deflated. “Up until that point, yes.”
“I’ll admit, getting thrown in the slammer by your date is a premium boner killer.” Derick took a long sip, but kept his eye on her. “But I could get over that. Maybe the right man could, too.”
“You think?” Jamie asked weakly.
Derick fiddled with an olive and popped it into his mouth. “Tell me about work. Let’s gossip about some C-suite shitheads. Get your mind off this.”
Jamie closed her eyes hard and realized she hadn’t filled Derick in on what happened after the debacle with Duncan Reeves at the Arthur J.
She put her hand to her head. “Oh, right,” she said.
“The coaching firm politely asked me to resign after Duncan Reeves reported that I was woefully inadequate for the role. Then he threatened to buy the entire company and fire everyone if I wasn’t fired.
Also, apparently Cliff threatened to break his thumbs if he grabbed my wrist again.
My company gave me some severance, had me sign an NDA, and decommissioned my elevator card. I am, by all accounts, unemployed.”
“Reeves grabbed your wrist? And Cliff threatened him?” Derick gasped with mild delight. “How gallant.”
Jamie nodded with a tight smile. “Indeed. Cliff also covered me in the restaurant when the blast went off. And then stopped a killer from strangling me to death. Put himself between me and danger. Thrice.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I put him in jail.”
“I got that.” He put his hand over hers and sighed. Derick reached into his grocery bag and retrieved a copy of the Los Angeles Times, the physical paper, which was so Old Skool, it had become charming again. “How did Elaine Cromwell Frisco take this news?” He handed her the crossword.
Jamie took it and started folding it so she could work on it. “Haven’t had the pleasure of delivering that tidbit yet.”
“Bet she’ll love this new development.” Derick sighed and stared at the ceiling, counting off her recent disasters.
“So, to sum up, in the last two weeks, you have lost a job, sent a potential love interest to jail, were nearly murdered, and in less than a month you will lose your sizable inheritance.”
“Thanks for the positive spin on things,” Jamie said, blinked, and then collapsed into a sulk at her kitchen table.
“Just sizing up what I have to work with.” Derick looked down at the newspaper that was laying on the table. He saw something and examined the page more closely. “Did you say Duncan Reeves?”
“Yes, the evil dating app tech bro.”
Derick turned the paper around and showed it to Jamie. “Seems like Duncan is in some hot water himself.”
The headline read, Tech Mogul Implicated in Fake Bombing That Led to Citywide Lock-Down in Manhattan Beach.
Jamie stared at the headline, heart pumping, grabbed the paper, and began to read.
Duncan Reeves, founder and cocreator of the wildly popular but recently maligned TwinFlame dating app, was implicated in the intentional explosions of a series of transformers that caused an extreme power outage that plunged downtown Manhattan Beach into darkness Saturday night, leaving a large portion of the citizenry without power for hours.
Reeves made a frantic 911 call to report a theft from his residence, but upon police arrival Reeves would not divulge what was stolen.
This prompted law enforcement to further investigate his residence wherein several uncut diamonds were found, along with an unspecified amount of narcotics and an unregistered handgun.
Duncan Reeves was taken in for further questioning.
His team of lawyers arrived shortly thereafter.
He was not available for comment. This is a developing story.
Jamie and Derick looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“There’s more to this,” Jamie said. “This isn’t about some random diamonds or a little cocaine.”
“I would agree,” Derick said.
Jamie’s phone pinged and she looked at her screen. It was Holly from a group text titled “Dinner for Six.” Jamie looked at all the names. All the numbers were there, including Cliff’s.
Holly: I think I know what was stolen on our date night.
Rick: My heart? Rick added a gif of Bugs Bunny’s heart beating out of his chest.
Holly: Rick, babe, this is a group text—I’m talking about the heist.
Rick: Oh, sorry. You coming over to my place later?
Holly: Rick! Group text! I’ll text you privately after this!
Rick sent a thumbs-up emoji and a heart.
Shannon: Hey campers! I did a deep dive on Reeves. Very interesting. We should compare notes.
Kyle: Anyone up for getting together tonight to discuss?
Jamie squinted as she read the texts. But then smiled as everyone on the text thread replied.
Holly: Yes, where?
“Who is texting you and why do you look so happy about it?” Derick inquired.
“My pals from date night,” Jamie said, a small smile brimming.
“I thought you said that group blind date was an unmitigated disaster.”
“Complete catastrophe,” Jamie said as she reread the texts. “We’re getting together tonight to discuss it.” She didn’t hide her excitement as she waited to find out where they were meeting when Rick finally wrote:
“Old Tony’s. Half hour before sunset.”
The sun was descending on the cool October evening.
Jamie retrieved her bicycle out of her garage, checked the tires, and found herself full of anticipation, excited to regroup with her tattered little band of singles.
She knew they were all warped in their own way, but she felt certain that no one had lived through a date like they had.
It had a bonding effect. She also felt a quiver of hope that Cliff would somehow be there.
She was in the saddle, ready to go, when her phone rang. M.O.M. came up on the screen. Elaine Cromwell Frisco was calling. Jamie sighed. Best to get it over with.
“Hi, Mom,” Jamie said, slight trepidation in her voice.
“I trust you’ve found a suitable candidate to bring to our nuptials in Hawaii.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jamie said. “I’m thinking about bringing my friend Derick.”
There was an audible, frustrated sigh from the other end of the phone. “Fine. It’s your inheritance.”
Irked and exhausted not merely from the ridiculous circus of dating in the modern age, but from lurching toward this goal under financial threat from, of all people, her own mother, in addition to the heightened and terrifying prospect of being alone forever, especially after nearly being strangled by a deranged killer—freaking again—something in Jamie snapped.
“I tried Mom, okay? I tried. I tried online dating, I tried conventional dating, and I even tried a group blind date. It turns out that I am not fit for it. A normal relationship is just out of scope for me.”
“Nonsense,” was all she said.
“It’s not nonsense. On my last date, someone blew up Manhattan Beach, I had an AR-15 pointed at my head, my best chance at love is an ex-convict who’s headed back to prison for executing a heist of an ex-client of mine, and I was almost strangled to death.
And to add a cherry to the shitcake of my life, I am now unemployed. ”
There was a long moment of silence at the other end of the phone, and then she heard her mother clear her throat. “This may not be the best time to remind you of the bridesmaids’ dress fitting I have set up for you for tomorrow, but be that as it may, you must show up.”
Jamie scoffed. “Bridesmaids? Mom, who are you kidding? This is not your first wedding. Hell, it’s not even your third!
Who, at your age, even has bridesmaids? What is driving this bizarre behavior?
Your race to be a senator’s wife? The role you think you were meant for?
I got news for you Mom, Barry ain’t your guy.
He is likely to be indicted for some as-yet-unknown white-collar crime before he becomes a senator to try and strategically place himself in a position to commit even more crime, but crazily that alone does not prevent him from being elected.
He is not perfect by a stretch. I am not perfect, either, and guess what, Mom, you are not perfect!
” Jamie was breathless but nowhere near finished.
She heard Elaine Cromwell Frisco tut at this. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She continued on, “You know the crazy thing is, against all odds, Mom, even when I know nearly everything you say to me will be dipped in cruelty, I still love you. If that is not enough for you, then I cannot fill your cup. So, I give up. On this entire insane quest for a mate you’ve put me on.
I give up on ever expecting you to come around, to show an iota of kindness toward me.
I give up on the idea that you could love me just as I am.
I give up. I will not be at your appointed dress fitting. I may not be at your wedding.”
Jamie didn’t even realize it, but she was crying. She wiped the angry tears from her cheeks and tried to calm her breathing. Her mother remained mute, but she was still on the line. Jamie had never dared unleash a tirade like that on her mother before; she had no idea what to expect.
“Mom?”
Like the quietest bullet ever to pierce a heart, Elaine Cromwell Frisco hung up on Jamie. It was the sound of her mother plainly telling her she was not deserving of her love, her support, or even a response.
Jamie looked at the phone, which would not give her a further response. She was shaking. She threw her phone in her bag, got on her bike, and rode down to The Strand.
On the long, slow bike ride by the beach to Old Tony’s, Jamie let the wind dry the tears on her cheeks.
She took small breaths of the lightly salted air until she calmed down, and on one stretch between the sand and the sea, a lone pelican joined her and flew right alongside her, as if somehow the bird knew she needed someone by her side.
She felt heartbroken and fragile, but strangely lighter, too. Like an old wound had finally stopped bleeding, closed up, and was quickly fading to a faint scar.