8. Leo
8
LEO
T he party was still in full swing. Some lady his mother knew hugged him more than once and gushed over how broad-shouldered he was. His sister hid in the corner, drinking what was likely to be spiked hot chocolate. She was so dull with her answers to questions, despite her very exciting line of work, that people eventually gave up talking to her, saving her from numerous backhanded compliments. It was the smart play and Leo could only hold up his drink (apple cider, he didn’t drink) in a mock salute. She gave him a wink.
It was stuffy in the giant room. The vaulted ceilings made the chatter of the dozens of people echo around him and it all felt too sweet. Fake. Sickening. Like eating a piece of rich chocolate cake and wanting to stop because it was making you feel ill only to be force-fed the rest of the cake.
His salvation came in the form of a phone call.
“Sage?” he asked, taking the call (which had saved him from a chat with his other aunt Betty—his mom’s side this time).
“Hi,” she sniffed. “I kind of need your help but I want you to know it’s because my normal people are out of town and this is me scraping the bottom of the barrel here but…”
“But…?”
“But I’m humbling myself and need you to come get me. My car is stuck in a ditch.”
As if he needed proof, her heard a tire spinning out in what was likely six inches of mud.
“Most people, when needing a favor, phrase it like a question, not a demand.”
“You’re paid to help me.”
“To protect you.” Leo finished his cider, already gathering his keys and looking for his mother (who blended in too well with all the other fake blondes with gaudy red sweaters) to make his quick “I have a work thing” goodbye.
“Is your life in danger?” Leo asked.
“Well, it could be. I’m considering hitchhiking.”
“No one would pick you up. You’d be like a mouse on the side of the road, they’d drive right over you.”
“I don’t ever want to hear the word mouse again. Just come and get me, okay? See, that was a question.”
Leo gave up on finding his mother and instead made his way to the door. For as cheeky as Miss Moon was being, she didn’t exactly sound the surest of herself. And he didn’t like the idea of his Subject being out in the dark alone.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be with Roz?” he asked as he slid into his 4Runner. Was that snow? Were they really going to get a white Christmas? Here? In the valley? Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a white Christmas. Maybe ten years ago when they opted to spend Christmas in Switzerland.
“Roz had something come up.”
Something told Leo that if he’d been able to make eye contact with her, he’d know she was lying.
“Liar,” he said anyway without his proof.
“Do you need my address? I’m on Raven Road.”
“I’ve got it,” Leo said, pulling up her location on his phone. “I’m twelve minutes out. Are you actually safe?”
“Yes,” she mumbled. “Except for the rat in my car terrorizing me.”
“You said her name was Squash.”
“A real rat!” she yelled. “I should have called an Uber.”
Leo snorted. “Why didn’t you?” He turned on the setting which alerted him when she left the house because this was going to be a common occurrence.
There was a big pause before she mumbled, “There were none out on Christmas Eve.”
“Well, Uber Leo to the rescue. But don’t think you’re going to get out of me berating you about how you neglected to let me know where you were. I expect you to be quiet and listen to me rant for a solid two minutes.”
She hung up. The audacity. As a passenger, she is already well on her way to a two-star rating.
He saw her hazard lights in the distance and wasn’t surprised to find her car just as he imagined he would: six inches deep in mud on the side of the back road.
“How’d that happen?” he asked when he parked and stepped out next to her car. It was far enough off the road that it wouldn’t be a danger to others, other than the fact that it was a startling eyesore. Seriously. A yellow Subaru probably from the seventies simply didn’t work with the stunning wooded area around them.
“I slid out,” she mumbled, not meeting his eye and she stepped out from the car and stumbled up the small incline.
“On a straightway?”
Sage threw her hands up. “Fine! You know what? I went out for tacos because they sounded delightful and then a stupid tiny mouse that looked cute but was actually evil crawled up out of the depths of hell into my lap and so yeah. I kind of did a weird little move trying not to get my eyes scratched out. And I ended up in a ditch. And your stupid friend LaBrant didn’t help anything.”
“Seth was here?” Leo asked. “I haven’t seen that guy in years. We kind of kept in touch for a while but not recently. Why didn’t you ask him for a ride home?”
Sage shook out her muddy slippers, accidentally kicking one off and she was forced to do a rather undignified hop over and slide it back on. Seriously, what was she wearing? He had gone from a Hampton-like Christmas party to a slumber party in twelve minutes.
Sage threw up her hands. “The only place he was willing to drive me was the station because he thought I was a drunk driver or reckless driver or something. I didn’t have my license on me anyway. I forgot it. I was heading home to grab my wallet so I could get those darn tacos!” She glanced at the phone. “But they’ve been closed for twenty minutes by now. ”
“Please for the love of everything good and holy, please don’t tell me you were getting Taco Bell on Christmas Eve?”
“Can I get in? It’s freezing!” She stomped past him and to the 4Runner, hopping in, getting her muddy feet everywhere.
“You were!” Someone had to be feeling low, like rock bottom, to ever crave Taco Bell, but on Christmas. That’s just…sad. “Where’s your coat?”
“At home. Now can you take me back?”
Leo didn’t need much prompting. It was cold. The wind was making the trees dance like waves on the sea and the snow bit at his face. “Taco Bell?”
“I happen to like it.” Her stomach rumbled. She reddened (which was peculiar but Leo had other things to worry about and filed that little image away for later).
“No one in their right mind likes Taco Bell. So why the pajamas and slippers?”
“It’s like nine-thirty. It’s cozy.”
Leo snorted. “That’s like your everyday uniform.”
“I do own jeans actually. And I do have a sense of style, but I wasn’t exactly planning on seeing anyone. This whole thing is a mess.”
“Like the one you’re making.” Leo pointed to her muddy feet. “Gross.”
She just groaned and turned up the heat. Leo felt a pang of guilt. No. Pang was too much. He felt the barest stirring of guilt. She had been out there cold and alone for who knows how long before she gave up and swallowed her pride enough to call him. Still, it was dumb to be out in this weather anyway .
He turned on the seat heater.
They rode the rest of the way to Sage’s house in silence and he had barely rolled to a stop when Sage jumped from the car. She slipped on the mud and fell flat on her butt.
“Watch the ground, it’s slippery.”
Sage stood and scowled at him. “Goodnight.” She stomped toward the house, stumbled on the uneven stairs, and slammed the door behind her.
Except it wasn’t. Definitely not for her. And not really for him. The idea of returning to the stuffy party made his insides churn. Going back to that party was like being a wolf stuck at a tea party.
Leo balked at himself. He actually wrinkled his nose. Did he just compare himself to a wolf? Yikes. Maybe he was still that arrogant teenager inside.
He shook his head.“Well pop a red hat on me and call me Santa,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled out of her driveway. Let Operation Save Christmas commence.
He was in and out of the store in less than thirty minutes. He must be insane. Or just desperate to escape his parents.
But he was a grown man. So, it must be the former.
He hopped out of the 4Runner and nearly face-planted in the mud. “Good lord,” he hissed, shaking the slick mud from his boots.
He didn’t bother being quiet (or knocking for that matter) and got straight to work once he washed his hands. With the sound of water running from upstairs, he assumed Sage was taking a much-needed shower.
The rat-dog did nothing to alert her of his presence .
It was another fifteen minutes before Sage came barreling down the stairs with a golf club raised over her head. Thank the heavens for the high ceilings because this crazy lady had no spatial awareness. She wore a matching pajama set of shorts and a button-down long-sleeve. It was an obnoxious purple cloud print. And slippers. This time a fuzzy pink pair. Did this woman only own slippers too? How many did a person need? Though he had to admit they were practical. He was wearing just his socks (he took his muddy boots off by the door, he wasn’t a total jerk) and his feet were beginning to feel the kiss of cold.
“What are you doing?” Sage asked once she slid around the corner to find Leo in the kitchen. She still kept the golf club raised which made Leo a tad nervous.
“Merry Christmas Tacos.”
“What?” She lowered the club ever so slightly, craning her neck to see what Leo was cooking on the stove. “Is that carne asada?”
“And another pan of chicken. And a pot of beans in case you’re vegetarian.”
“Wai—you made this?”
Leo nodded and started dishing up a plate. “Don’t give me too much credit?—”
“I would never.”
“Since it was pre-marinated I just had to cook it.”
All things considered, Christmas tacos turned out pretty good. He twisted off the cap of a Martinelli’s bottle and filled a mug. He gave her a mock salute. “Feliz Navidad. ”
She finally set the club aside and raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
“Because tacos sounded good.” It was a lie. He’d rather have the smoked salmon and pot roast his parents had back home. But he’d die before he admitted that he preferred her company over theirs tonight.
Sage reached for a plate and loaded up her tortillas, avoiding eye contact. Either she was really hungry, embarrassed, or saw through his lie and didn’t feel like pressing him about it. He wasn’t sure what kind of salsa she liked so he got green and red. (She preferred green—the best option.)
They ate on the couches in front of a roaring fire.
“You make that?” Leo gestured to the fireplace that looked like it belonged in some palace. An entire family could probably live in it.
Sage nodded. “I love a good fire. And tea. And now tacos.” She stuffed her face. “Thank you,” she said and quickly looked into the fire. “These are good.”
“Do you always cause trouble?”
Sage rolled her eyes, clearly relaxing a bit now that she had food in her stomach.
Mental note: keep snacks on hand so the Subject doesn’t hop on a quick trip to Crazy Town.
“I have been nothing but easy for you. This is a cushy job for you, huh.”
“I guess you’re right,” Leo admitted.
“Is that why you’re here then? Feeling guilty that your babysitting project has been too easy?”
Leo laughed. “Avoiding my parents.”
She raised her eyebrows .
Now why had he let that slip?
“What about you?” he asked. “No fun family traditions?” If he was forced to think about his parents so was she.
“Don’t know who my dad is. Mom hasn’t called in like two years now. And my brother is in prison. He’s probably having the best time out of everyone. You know the inmates do Secret Santas?”
“For real?”
Sage nodded. “I sent him a book hollowed out to fit this fancy chisel I got him.”
Leo choked on his taco.
“Kidding.” She flashed him a smile and he was surprised to find that she had a nice smile with straight teeth. It was gone just as soon as it came. “I sent him a book, no chisels or pickaxes, and some chocolates.”
“He send you anything?” Leo asked. This was either going to rub salt in the wound or make sweet memories.
“Guilt.”
Salty.
“Well, I’m no expert on family relationships, but the holidays are better spent around friends. Where are yours?” he asked.
Sage took a long time chewing her bite like she was mulling over the answers. Tension melted away and she leaned against the couch. Clearly she settled on some sort of version of the truth. It was easier to relax when you didn’t have to make up lies on the spot.
“I have a few close friends. Most are away at college or if they did come home they had things to do with their families. We had plans but they fell through and that’s okay.”
It didn’t sound okay.
“I’m dodging my parents. They are trying to set me up with every one of their friends’ daughters. Think it’ll keep me home more.”
“Sounds like a solid plan. You’d have to quit the agency though.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I’ve put in too much work to let it go now.”
“You were in the military, right?” Sage asked almost cautiously.
“Served three years before a bomb took me out. Screwed up my leg so bad they just let me out on medical discharge. I took my MCATs and stuff with the idea of applying to med school, just haven’t yet.”
“Why?” Sage asked.
Why indeed. Pressure from family? Needing an escape? Who knows.
“Don’t know,” he finally answered, which was both a lie and a truth. “But since we are interrogating each other, it’s my turn to ask some questions.”
“How was that an interrogation?”
Leo shrugged. “I just wanted a change of subject.”
“Way to be vague.”
“Hush,” Leo said, mentally opening the list of questions he’d accumulated for her over the last few weeks for her. “What’s with the rat?” Not what he meant to ask but the question burned in his mind.
“I used to work at an animal shelter as my first job. She was there for as long as I was and when I quit, I took her with me. I didn’t have money for adoption papers so I just…you know…took her. No one cared. They were probably relieved.”
“Wow, your first crime was rodent robbery.”
Sage threw a piece of her tortilla at him. “Not my first crime. And no, I will not elaborate.” What a pity. “And she is a dog!” Sage yelled. “What kind? I don’t know.”
“Probably too afraid to find out and discover she’s half?—”
“Squash, attack!” Sage commanded.
The rat-dog mustered up the strength to stand from its spot beside Sage and let out a pathetic gurgle followed by the squeak of a fart. Then the poor animal promptly laid back down in the nest of blankets. (Or it simply died, Leo couldn’t be sure.)
Sage looked down at the pathetic thing. “She used to be more ferocious, back when she had all her teeth.”
“Next question,” Leo said because he was not going to dignify that ridiculous claim with a response. “How much do you make?”
“Rude. How much do you make?”
“Hey! This is actually important. I need to know if there is a monetary threat at play here.”
Sage shrugged. “I inherited the house.” Well, that was news, wasn’t he supposed to know this? Why wasn’t it in the file? “Lily pays for all the travel expenses and tech I need to go to the events they want me to. Plus, a stipend of like two grand a month. Plus, random income from streaming. I think I make a percentage of merch sales. It goes into my savings account.”
“So, you’re doing pretty well. ”
Sage nodded. “LilyTech really made the difference. I used to get paid from George but now…”
“Tell me about that. Did he leave you the house? What did you do for him? Was he your grandpa? Is that why everything in here looks…”
“Well loved?”
“I was going to say old as hell.” Because yes, things looked well-loved but the decor? The art? It reeked of museum, gothic, but then there were flashes of pink everywhere. Quite the juxtaposition. A deep maroon wallpaper with a faded floral print that served as a backdrop for old paintings and vases really clashed with the green and yellow couches covered with pink and purple throw blankets.
Sage bit her lip and stood up. She grabbed their plates and walked to the kitchen, setting them loudly in the sink. Leo followed her.
Sage climbed onto the counter with surprising grace for someone wearing what were essentially clouds on her feet. She rummaged around a cabinet. “Tea?” she asked.
“I would rather die.”
She shrugged like that wasn’t the worst thing in the world and took the whistling kettle from the stove. She used loose-leaf tea, which was a classic sign of a tea snob.
Leo rolled his eyes.
Sage rolled her eyes.
They were going to get dizzy with this form of communication.
“Any family? Other than George?” He really didn’t know much about his Subject and that was on him. He should have been creating a more complete profile instead of golfing with his dad and dodging his mom.
“No,” she said, pouring something vanilla-y into a mug. “Just George. He was an antiques dealer. Mostly paintings and pottery. He came from Japan with some incredible things and made a name for himself. George always dreamed of going back but never did. He’d been collecting and selling for years. Then he got sick and I came into his life.”
“As his nurse?”
“As his housekeeper actually. Then cook. Then his driver. Then live-in helper and friend. He was a boss who turned into a friend who turned into family.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“No. All you need to know is that he left me his home when he recently passed away.” Sage grimaced.
“I’m sorry for your loss. So you were a companion for him?”
“That makes me sound like a dog.”
Leo laughed. “You could use one of those.”
“I have one!” Sage pointed at the pattern of Squash’s face printed on her t-shirt.
It was Leo’s turn to grimace. “A real one. A guard dog.”
“I have you.” She cocked her head and opened her mouth to sassy something but then closed it. Then it looked like she lost the mental battle and said it anyway. “Bark, mister watchdog. Rollover! Down. Leave it!”
Cheeky thing. “Funny. But I don’t bark. I bite.” Now why had he said that?
Sage’s face reddened. Ah, so that’s why he said it. Still got that stupid boyish charm. Any quippy response was cut off by a loud thud and glass shattering.