Chapter 14
HARLOW
"Toby's death was ruled accidental," Cass said, looking up from his laptop to give me an apologetic look.
"Good," Jules said, scowling at both of us over the top of his cornflakes. "They might not come after any of us."
"That's rude," Boner said, scraping a heap of peanut butter over a slice of toast. "All that effort Archer went to so they’d notice Harlow and give her a nickname, and they put it down to what? Death by sardine can?"
Archer sighed softly.
"It doesn't say," Cass said. "Just that shelves fell on him and he died. Along with a warning to make sure shelves are put up correctly."
"Good, some practical advice." Boner stabbed the knife into the toast at an angle, cutting it into two rough triangles.
"You comprehend none of that is as important as the fact they aren't looking for a murderer or two?
" Jules said. Where once he would have looked around at us in disbelief, this morning he looked resigned.
Like he was starting to understand our collective sense of humor, even when it seemed our priorities were inside out.
"That's a good thing," Archer said. He didn't seem convinced.
"We can find someone else to go after," I assured him. "There's plenty more bad apples where Toby came from."
"I know." He paused for a moment before nodding to himself. "I'll find someone. We can do it better this time. Make sure to take their heart out. Or…something."
"You definitely need an ‘or something,’" Boner said. "Otherwise they'll think it's you, not her."
"What about you?" Jules asked, pointing his spoon at Boner. "Don't you want some nickname they'll put in serial killer documentaries in a few years?"
Boner shrugged. "Of course I do. But not before Harlow gets one. She's been working her cute little ass off for years. She deserves to be recognized. And by recognized, I mean given a cute nickname. Not literally recognized."
"We figured you meant that," I told him.
"Speak for yourself," Jules said. "Who knows when it comes to this guy?" He prodded the air in Boner’s direction before finishing his cereal.
Boner made kissy faces at Jules before chomping down on his toast and chewing.
Jules responded with an eye roll.
"As much fun as this is," I said finishing the last of my coffee, "I need to get to work."
"Me too," Cass said. He closed his laptop and rose to his feet. "I wouldn't want to be late. I might get in trouble with the boss." He gave me a grin that made my stomach flip.
"Your boss might enjoy that," I teased.
He shoved hair back off his face as his cheeks turned pink. For a moment he looked like he was going to order me onto my knees and punish my mouth with his cock. Then he glanced at his watch and saw we really would be late if we didn't get out the door soon.
"Later," I told him.
I placed my cup in the dishwasher, brushed my teeth and grabbed my things. By the time I was ready to head out the door, so was everyone else, including Archer, who looked like he hadn't slept at all.
"I don't need a big escort," I told them all.
"I’m leaving now anyway," Jules said. He picked up his tools that were in a box by the door and stomped out ahead of us.
"I like escorting you," Boner said. He hooked his elbow around mine.
"Me too," Archer agreed. "It's a nice morning for a walk."
"It's raining," I pointed out.
"A little bit of moisture never hurt anyone," Boner said. "Unless it's acid. Or a bunch of other shit that actually would hurt. A whole lot of water can hurt you too." He chuckled.
Archer snagged an umbrella from the hall table and followed us out.
"You know why they say you shouldn't open those inside?" Boner asked.
"It's bad luck," Cass suggested.
"It's bad luck because you can poke someone's eye out," Boner said. He pulled out an umbrella of his own and opened it once we were out on the street, making sure half of it was covering my head.
Cass and Archer huddled under the other one.
"I love this place when it rains," Boner started to say.
He stopped when a cab flew past us, flinging up water onto the curb and drenching all down one side of him. "Did I mention I hate rain?" He shook his leg out, trying to dry it, but he was holding back a smile. It would take more than a bit of water to upset Edward Bonegard.
"Look on the bright side. You standing there kept me dry," I said with a grin.
"Of course I did," Boner sniffed. "That's why I put myself here.
What sort of gentleman would I be if I let you get wet?
" He stopped for a moment. "On the outside.
A gentleman makes absolutely sure to get his woman wet on the inside.
" He winked at me, then drew me down the street toward Angel's Rest.
"We have a new artist on display at the gallery," he said as we walked. "You should come and check it out after your lunch shift. He's very talented."
"As talented as you?" I asked.
"At art, yes," Boner said. "At other things, definitely not."
"You seem very sure of that," I pointed out.
No doubt he was right, but if we couldn't joke around with each other, where was the fun in our relationship?
"A guy has to be confident about some things," Boner said. "Especially if he's going to go by the nickname of Boner. That leaves me a lot to live up to, wouldn't you say? Besides, I know you enjoy yourself. Cass too."
I glanced back at Cass. His head was tilted at an angle, trying to stay under the other umbrella. At the same time he was trying to walk at the same speed as Archer, who seemed in a hurry this morning.
"I don't think Cass is complaining either," I agreed, giving him a soft smile.
"Only about the rain," Cass said. "I'm used to it where I come from."
"Funny," Boner smirked. "I was going to say the same thing. You know what they say about rainy old London."
"What is it they say?" I asked.
He grinned. "That it's rainy and old."
I snorted a laugh. "Yeah, that is what people say, isn't it?" I'd never been there so I couldn't say if it was true or not. I guessed it was, since people said it often enough.
"Have you ever thought about living somewhere it doesn't rain all the time?" I asked.
"Like the desert? Hell no," he said. "The last thing I want is sandy balls. Between you and me, I'm not a big fan of beaches either, for the same reason. No one likes a sandy asscrack."
He nodded at a couple of older women who walked by as he said that. They looked at him like he was out of his mind, and hurried on.
"They must be new to the city," he remarked, watching them for a moment before turning back the way we were headed.
"If you shocked them, they're definitely in for an interesting time,” I said.
"Right?" He smiled slowly. "I'm not that shocking." His blue eyes shined and he held back a grin.
"You're very shocking but it's one of the things I love about you," I told him. "You always keep things interesting around here."
"Thank fuuuck for that," he drawled. "I'd hate if you were bored with me around. Life is way too short to be bored." After a beat, he added, "Depending on the circumstances. Sometimes a little bit of boredom is required. Right, Hardy?
"Hardwick," Archer responded. "But yes, sometimes, boredom has to happen. I prefer to think of it as patience."
"You make a good point," Boner said. "There is a fine line between boredom and patience. Especially in our line of work. And by work I mean..." He trailed off and glanced around.
"We know what you mean," I said quickly. "I'm sure you're never bored at the gallery."
"I’m usually too busy to be bored," he agreed. "Like you at the restaurant. There's always something going on. Something that needs doing. Something that needs to be cleaned up off the floor. Did I tell you about the time someone dropped a squid on the floor?"
"A squid?" I asked. Maybe I shouldn't take the bait, but he had me curious. I mean, what was a squid doing in a gallery?
"An actual squid," Boner said. "It wasn't alive. The guy thought it could be a new type of art installation. You know, place it on the floor. Position its tentacles and voila, art."
"You didn't agree?" I asked.
"Oh no, I agreed," Boner said. "It looked amazing, but it smelt like shit. Had to ask the guy to remove it. It took some cleaning to get the smell to go away."
"What happened to the artist?" I asked.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I never heard from him again. I think he decided on another angle, something less pungent."
"Sounds like it would have worked better at my restaurant on a plate, not on the floor in the gallery," I said.
He snapped his fingers, "You're right. If I knew you then, I would have sent him to you instead. That squid would have made a nice lunch."
"You lead an interesting life," I told him. "I bet you get all sorts of strange people at the gallery."
"Some days I'm not the strangest one there," he agreed. "I bet Archer has all sorts of stories like that. Peculiar people in a theater or movie studio?"
"A few," Archer agreed. "Usually it's people telling me I should turn their life story into a screenplay."
"Have you ever done that?" I asked, trying to keep an eye on the direction we were walking while glancing over my shoulder.
"No," he said with a half-shrug. "I tell them they should write it themselves."
"Do they?" Boner asked.
"Not that I know of," Archer said. "It's possible they try, but discover, writing is harder than they think."
"Is that true, Cass?" Boner asked, another grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "How difficult is it to write fire hydrant smut?"
"Very difficult," Cass agreed. "More than I expected."
"Approximately three percent of the population ever write and complete a manuscript," Archer said. "The percentage of people who want to do it is much higher. Well done for finishing yours."
"Thank you," Cass said, looking surprised. I got the impression he'd never given it much thought beyond actually writing the story. Archer was right, though. Getting it down on paper, or on screen, was a big achievement.
"When do we get to read it then?" Boner asked. "Don't think I'm going to forget."
"I don't know," Cass said. "It’s not very good." He was visibly relieved when we arrived at the restaurant.
I unlocked the door and we hurried inside, out of the rain, the topic of fire hydrant smut forgotten for now.