Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Emmy
I quickly forgot about our unexpected dinner guest as I wrapped up and headed home to shower and collapse, too exhausted to think about anything except sleep.
I didn’t have to work again until tomorrow morning unless I was called in for an emergency.
Thank god we paid the neighbor kids to come over every day to take care of the horses.
That was why I felt disoriented when someone insistently poked my shoulder through my Hello Kitty blanket, which I’d pulled over my head at some point because I’d forgotten to close my blinds.
“Wakey wakey, Doc.”
I groaned at Lilah and pulled my pillow over my head for good measure. “Leave me alone,” I mumbled.
She persistently prodded my pillow. “Nope. Get up, shower, and get dressed. Real clothes, not sweats or PJs.”
“Why?”
Her voice came from around my bedroom door. “Jack will be here at 8:00. You have two hours.”
“Who the hell’s Jack?” I yelled from under my pillow.
“Your dinner date, girlie. Up.”
Frustration rumbled through my brain until I was awake enough to finally process what she’d said and pulled my head out from under my pillow. “My dinner date? Can’t we postpone this?”
“No,” she called from the kitchen. “Get up or I get the bucket.”
“Goddammit.” I sat up, wrapped my blanket around me, and shuffled out to the kitchen.
By bucket she meant a bucket of cold water.
Yes, she absolutely would do it. She was an annoying morning person and I… wasn’t. Even though we were speaking about a dinner date, evidently I wasn’t all that much of an evening person either.
“Why do I have to do this?” I asked, fully aware I was whining.
She pointed at the steaming mug of peppermint hot tea sitting on the counter in my favorite Hello Kitty mug.
“Because all three of us had a shitty twenty-four hours for pretty much the same reason, and we can commiserate over beef tips.” She smiled at me.
“And roasted beets, plus a Caesar salad with freshly made dressing. And you can’t have a choco-maccy cookie until after dinner. ”
I spotted the plate of freshly baked chocolate-macadamia cookies—also my favorite—on the counter and glared. “Not fair bribing me with my favorite foods.”
“Absolutely fair.”
I noticed she’d showered recently, her long, dark blonde hair still damp and piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore jeans and the long-sleeved Scooby-Doo T-shirt I’d given her last Christmas.
“I know how to play dirty. If nothing else we’re making a new friend, right? Didn’t we talk last week that we’re overdue to reach out more? Expand our social circle?”
I pulled the mug into my hands, wrapped my fingers around it, and leaned against the counter as I deeply inhaled its comforting aroma. “You suck.”
“Love you, too.”
I nudged her shoulder with my head because her hands were messy with whatever part of the meal she was now preparing before I headed back to take a wake-up shower.
She’d learned how to cook under the close tutelage of Mort and Sara and had spent countless hours doing it with them while working part-time at the restaurant.
Meanwhile, I had usually been studying. I could cook but I didn’t enjoy it the way she did, and I limited myself to basic dishes like mac and cheese, spaghetti, hamburgers.
I could grill a mean steak, though, and my meatloaf was better than hers. Even she grudgingly admitted that.
I was reasonably more awake a half-hour later when I returned to the kitchen to make myself another mug of hot tea.
I drank tons of coffee in the morning and could still fall asleep, like I’d done that morning, but no matter what shift I worked, if I drank caffeine at night, it wired me and totally fucked up my system.
Unlike Lilah, who could drink coffee 24/7 and still fall asleep at the drop of a hat.
Lucky bitch.
I’d opted for jeans and a Flintstones T-shirt. Hey, I wore what the hell I want at home. On the days I wasn’t expected to be in surgery I usually wore scrub tops featuring cartoon characters or cute animals.
The fact that I could use the excuse the kids love them was a bonus.
I figured Lilah and I didn’t have childhoods like the average person, and we have our own money, so we both wore what we liked in our free time.
She has a Stitch collection to be envied, with the occasional other cartoon character tossed in, while my tastes ranged from Hello Kitty to classic cartoon characters.
We both loved Star Trek, and our living room shelves reflected that fact via collectables we’d acquired over the years.
We’ve both joked that we couldn’t live apart because we couldn’t bear to lose any of what we’ve purchased.
Sure that makes me weird, and I’ll own it.
What I held back from Lilah was the fact that Joe had also told me that night I’d have to get rid of most of my collectibles, because he didn’t want to explain them to his family. And that Lilah wouldn’t live with us.
The clown-car vagina hadn’t been the final tipping point because I’d been so stunned over that announcement that when he started planning my uterus’ future for me, I’d finally regained my voice and noped right the hell out.
Plus, Lilah would practically cut a bitch who tried to stand between us, much less our collection. It’s a concrete reminder for both of us what we lost and how far we’ve come.
And that we will never let someone have control over us. Not in ways we don’t agree to, that is.
Lilah glanced at me. “Interesting fashion choice.”
“If he can’t handle me at my Flintstone-iest, he doesn’t deserve access to the cooter.”
Lilah burst out laughing, so hard she had to lean over the counter for support while I innocently sipped my hot tea.
“Goddamn you,” she finally said, still snorting, as she returned to her prep work.
“If he’s so great why don’t you go out with him?”
She shrugged. “He’s not bad-looking but there’s something about him I suspect would conflict with my personality.”
“And he won’t with mine?”
Another shrug. “You know how some guys are put off by the gun and body armor and handcuffs, if they aren’t the ones wielding them.”
“And the fact that you don’t suffer fools lightly?”
“Well, there is that.” She glanced at me. “I mean a guy who isn’t immediately put on edge by me being… well, me.”
“And, again, why should that fill me with any kind of hope about him?”
“I mean, you know how you still have to put some male doctors in their place when you hear them being snotty to residents or female nurses?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not saying he’s like that, but I’m saying I get that kind of vibe from him about me being a female law enforcement officer. Not rude, but like he’s not used to it.” She paused. “Jeezus, I’m really fucking this up, aren’t I?”
I sipped my tea, not answering.
“Look,” she said, “he’s cute, he’s not a serial killer as far as I can tell, and he’s been out here for six years or so.”
“How do you know that?”
Her cheeks pinkened a little. “I might have talked to Rosie at dispatch about him. He’s not a manwhore, either, from what she’s heard.”
“Well, it’s great he’s got the Rosie seal of approval then,” I snarked.
“A woman with three divorces to her name and who just filed for the fourth last week is an obvious choice in matchmakers. I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t do anything beyond the basic checks for registered sex offenders and outstanding warrants? ”
“I didn’t! I just happened to… mention him to her when I stopped by the station on my way home.”
I glared at her.
“Yes, I know, but if nothing else, maybe he’ll be a good Joe rebound, right?”
“Right,” I muttered into my cup. Honestly, it took my emotional legs out from under me and struck a knock-out-worthy blow to my self-confidence that I’d missed red flags before the other night.
Then again, maybe Joe just did a great job hiding them until he thought he had me hooked.
I’d read that was a common tactic for some guys.
If it hadn’t been for that, I’d still be dating him, definitely nowhere even close to telling him I love you, much less wanting to tie myself to him with a marriage certificate.
Sure he was good in the sack and knew not only where my clitoris was but also what it was used for, and I thought we’d shared several interests.
But look how wrong I’d been.
“Seriously,” Lilah said, “no pressure. Just enjoy dinner. We all saw some shit, and if nothing else it’s a de-stressor. Okay?”
“Sure,” I said, but still not getting my hopes up.
Jack
The women lived in an older single-story ranch-style house, with maybe ten acres or so of property, and a small barn and two horses out back. Lilah’s official SUV was parked in the drive, next to a newer Toyota SUV. A Ford truck I suspected was Lilah’s personal vehicle sat parked off to the side.
I hadn’t asked what to bring and Lilah hadn’t volunteered anything, so I opted to stop by the store and bought a pre-made fruit bowl and a package of brownies. I’m not a huge drinker and usually don’t bring alcohol to a gathering unless it’s specifically mentioned.
For all the reasons, including the flashbacks I have of empty beer bottles clinking on wet pavement when the other driver staggered out of his car while my parents and sister sat dying in ours.
Whenever I went out with friends or coworkers I always volunteered to be the DD.
I had nothing against drinking in moderation, especially if it’s safely done at home or in a hotel room where no one’s driving until hours later when they’re sober. But between my own experience and the shit I’ve seen professionally over the years, it’s a vigilance I refuse to temper.
It’s also one of the things I enjoyed about Rawhide Ranch. While alcohol was allowed and served on the premises, they didn’t tolerate drunken behavior and took great pains to prevent anyone who was even slightly intoxicated from playing.