10. Leo
10
LEO
O kay, so that could have gone a million different ways. Instead, Leo just had to open his big fat mouth and apologize. And she called him on his crap.
But Leo was sorry, but more like sorry that it happened. More like an “I’m sorry I accidentally forgot to bring a side to the potluck” kind of sorry. The sorry to make the apologizer feel better. Instead, he felt worse. Much. Much worse.
So, he did what any self-respecting man would do: he dove into work with a furious passion and tried to block out any emotions trying to creep in.
He was calm. He was rational. He was detached. He was a professional and shouldn’t have his stomach in knots over this.
He apologized and that’s that. It’s up to her. It was no longer his problem. Except she was his problem. A little tricky task that was turning out to be more of an issue every day .
Leo shook his head and got to work. He’d been complacent and she was put in danger because of it. Having a job so close to home, heck, in his hometown, had made him a little lax in his normal routines with Subjects. But to be fair, this was a different type of job. As much as he liked the idea of being home and spending time with family, this might be too much. It was definitely not worth the hassle of…emotions.
One phone call and it would all be over. In retrospect, there was so much hope in that thought.
Jenson answered on the first ring. “Leo! How’s it going?”
“I’m gonna be blunt, Jenson. I can’t do this job for you.”
Jenson was notoriously no-nonsense but also fair. He might be willing to make some concessions. Maybe send out another guy. He could swap jobs with someone.
“Look,” Leo said. “I have a history with this Subject. I didn’t know it beforehand. I guess she changed her surname. It’s been years but it has been creating some issues.”
“Have you been creating the issues?”
“What? No,” Leo said. If anything, he considered himself rather gracious considering everything. He even apologized! “She’s just been emotional and difficult.”
“So, this job is too hard. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“No!” Leo said. Yes. “It’s just that I think she would be much more comfortable with someone else. Someone like Tony or something. Maybe even Lisa.”
“Comfortable?” Jenson took on a surprised tone. It made Leo worry. “If you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, you could take her to a spa. Maybe you should have joined some hospitality job if you are so concerned with making people comfortable. You want a job at a hotel, Leo?”
Leo sighed. “No Jenson, I don’t want a job at a hotel.”
Jenson laughed. “Good, because I’d hate to lose you.” He took on a more serious tone. “Look, I know this isn’t your favorite type of job. I can look into switching you with Arnaz, but his job is probably worse than what you have. He’s on the road with a scummy Politician trying to outrun some domestic violence charges.”
Leo cringed. Those jobs were the worst. Not only was it notoriously difficult to protect someone on the road, but when you were absolutely disgusted and appalled with your Subject, it was pretty hard to be willing to protect them from what they deserved. At least Sage hadn’t done anything to warrant the vandalism. Leo sighed. “Never mind. I can work through this.”
“Thought as much. Glad to hear it. I specifically put you on the job. because I knew this would take some more tech skills. Just focus on getting your job done and it’ll fly by.”
“Yes, sir.”
And that was the end of the fanciful thought of getting out of this job. Leo finished setting up the new cameras and said hello to Filbert who was busy walking in the breeze (only wearing boots).
“Howdy partner,” Filbert said. He also carried an umbrella and used it like a cane. “How goes it with our Miss Moon in there? I didn’t think she’d be taking on another job so soon. What ails you? Arthritis like George? Just plain lonely?”
Leo straightened the camera and then looked up at Filbert (working very hard to maintain solid eye contact so he wouldn’t accidentally see the dangly bits flapping in the breeze). “I’m not a patient or client or whatever. I am just here to help Miss Moon out while she gets ready for a gaming competition.”
“Pretty funny, all that stuff.”
“What’s funny?” Leo asked.
Filbert stared at a bird as it flapped by while he talked. “Miss Moon is just as much a recluse as George was. They really liked each other. They went on walks often. Never did understand why they decided to be so bundled up though. They needed to let things breathe to get the full benefits of an outdoor walk.”
“Right,” Leo said. “But what’s funny?”
“Oh, just that Miss Moon is still there. I thought George’s son would be in town to help pack things up. He always seemed like a motivated young man. Figured he’d sell it or something. He’s been eying that place for years.”
The hair on Leo’s neck stood up. “Eying it for years?”
“Fil?” someone yelled. “Fil! You out there again?”
Filbert gave Leo a lopsided grin, twirled his umbrella, and took off.
How was everyone so nonchalant about this?
Leo got a lovely view of Filbert’s backside while a new thought crept into his mind. Why hadn’t Sage mentioned George’s son before?
Leo pushed down his rising frustration. The cold December air sent a chill down his spine. He looked down at his rather strange attire. A button-down shirt from last night’s Christmas Eve party, khaki slacks, and his work boots he’d stashed in his car.
Leo walked inside and pulled out his phone, checking his email for a response to the plates he’d sent in. He plopped on the soft couch, jumping back to a stand when he felt something under his bum. He pulled away the blanket, hoping he hadn’t just flattened the rodent. It was just another wadded-up blanket. How many did she have floating around this place? He was in serious danger of being suffocated every time he walked into this mini-mansion by the blankets and throws she had stashed all over the place.
He sat again and threw a blanket over his lap. Even a man got cold outside on a December afternoon and occasionally needed (he glanced at the blanket) a ladybug-patterned knit throw to keep him warm and happy.
He pulled up the email. The news was less than ideal. It was a simple rental car. He made a mental note to head over to the rental agency to try and get lucky and get a name attached to the car. Some agencies were painfully by the book and protected the privacy of their clients too well. Others would bend the rules a bit to help a woman in distress. Leo was hoping this company was the latter.
There really wasn’t much to go on with this case. Leo had to stop his train of thought and back it up. This wasn’t a case to be solved. He didn’t need to find out who was behind this. He just needed to make sure Sage Moon was safe. But the best way he could ensure her safety was to figure out who was behind this. Alright then, let the sleuthing commence. He, not for the first time since starting this job, felt a bit like Sherlock Holmes. Scratch that. He was more like a Hardy boy, stumbling upon a mystery where nothing made sense and the main character was insufferable.
Seriously. He had apologized. Why couldn’t she see that he was sorry? He needed to get a handle on the “having emotions” situation. He apologized. She refused to accept it. Time to move on.
The trees still held on to a handful of leaves, refusing to let go of the October season. He half forgot it was Christmas and expected to find jack-o-lanterns and pumpkins littering the porch.
Speaking of, the rat-dog, Pumpkin, Squash, Gourd, or whatever it was called was busy pacing the top of the stairs looking pathetic. More pathetic than usual.
It was shaking and Leo assumed the sad wheezing coming from the rat was a whine. He felt bad for the thing. Maybe it was hungry? Must be hard to eat while missing so many teeth. Leo couldn’t ignore the poor thing and stomped up the stairs to retrieve it.
The rat-dog allowed Leo to pick her up and when Leo tried to feed her some cheese from the fridge. The rat-dog couldn’t look more disinterested. Instead, it looked forlornly at the back door.
“Alright, Scruffy, I’ll take you out.”
The rat-dog bolted out the door (as much as an ancient thing could—it was more like a hobble with a tail wag) and tripped down the back steps into the yard where she quickly did her business.
“Squash!” Sage’s shriek made Leo jump .
“Good grief, woman. Your voice could cut glass!”
“Shut up!”
Leo made a show of glancing at the windows to make sure they were still in one piece. “What’s your issue? I was just letting the thing out to the bathroom.”
Sage ignored him and stumbled down the steps with as much grace as the rat-dog (which was none). She wildly flapped a blanket she had pulled from around her shoulders and waved it in the air, screeching “Shoo, shoo!”
“Is it back?” another voice asked. Of course, it was Filbert in all in finery. “See it?”
Hadn’t Leo already seen enough?
“Not yet!” Sage answered as if talking with a naked man holding an umbrella in her backyard was totally normal. “But I didn’t get a chance to look before this guy let her out!”
“Bad move, mister,” Filbert said seriously. Filbert opened the rainbow umbrella and joined Sage in flapping around in the yard. “Is she done?” Filbert asked, pointing to the rat-dog with his boot.
“I think so,” Sage said, scooping up the scruffy dog in her arms. “Thanks, Fil. Better move on before Dennis finds you. Kind of hard to miss the umbrella.”
Filbert closed the umbrella and tipped an imaginary hat at the dog and then at Sage. “Right-o!”
Sage stomped past Leo who was glued to his spot on the porch. What in the otherworldly ritual did he just witness?
“Care to explain what that song and dance was about?” Leo asked, following Sage inside .
She rounded on him and stomped her foot, which was quite the juxtaposition of her carefully petting the rat-dog between its ears. “There are hawks out there, big ones. She held her hand over the animal’s crooked ears as if to censor the next words from her dog. “Just last week the old neighbor down the street lost her cat to one of the big birds. Up and took it away. So, excuse me for caring!”
“You don’t need to be afraid, no animal would even think of eating something so diseased.”
“Go away.” Sage spun on her heel and marched to the front living room, depositing the decrepit thing on the couch while she went to light the fire. Turns out “lighting” was now a switch and she flicked on the fireplace.
“And here I thought you were going to have to work for something.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “It’s gas.”
“Well excuse you.”
“The fireplace, idiot! It’s a gas fireplace. And I do work.”
Leo walked to the kitchen, making himself right at home. He hated tea, but he thought he saw some hot chocolate packets hiding somewhere in the cabinet during his earlier raiding. He heated some water while he talked. “Sure, you work, if you call monetizing that face of yours work.”
“Here we go again.” Sage joined him in the kitchen, clearly ready for a fight. Good. He was getting antsy and was more than a little perturbed about her conveniently forgetting to mention that George had a son who wanted the house.
Sage hopped up on the counter and pointed a finger at him. “I work hard. I worked hard for George and I figured out how to get my little brand set up myself and actually make a go of it. You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous that I don’t have days to sleep away and a game to rot my brain.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the first thing about the game.”
“I’m not here to argue if Mario or Luigi is better.”
“Luigi.”
“I agree,” Leo said. He pulled a mug from the cabinet. Why did one person need so many mugs?
“And I don’t sleep the day away.” She pointed to a tin. “Pull that down, will you?”
He reached to the top shelf and pulled out the tin. It smelled of citrus and sweetness. It smelled of Sage. The person. Leo sighed. “You have slept more since I’ve taken you on as a Subject than you have been awake. And get off the counter, that’s rude.”
“So is insulting someone’s line of work.”
Was she raised in a barn or something? “It’s still bad manners,” Leo mumbled.
“So is not offering a person a cup.”
Leo rolled his eyes and pulled out another mug. Since when did he become so juvenile? He needed to be the professional here. So, like a gentleman, he mixed up his hot chocolate and sipped it loudly before asking, “Care for some hot chocolate?” He really thought he did well sounding civil.
“Tea sounds lovely,” Sage said in a tone that did not indicate that it was a lovely idea at all.
Leo stepped out of the way of the stove. “It’s all yours. Once you have your beverage, meet me in the living room. We need to have another chat.”
Sage grunted in what Leo decided to interpret as a “sure thing” and he went to wait by the fireplace, hoping her tea would cool enough not to scald him should she decide to chuck it at his face.
Eventually, she curled up on the couch next to the snoozing animal. At least Leo hoped it was sleeping, the rat-dog could very well have died and they could both be none the wiser considering how closely the animal toed the line between life and death.
“What is this about?” Sage asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me George had a son?” Leo asked.
She sipped her tea, unfazed. “George doesn’t have a son.”
“That’s not true. Filbert said?—”
“Let me stop you right there. Filbert has lost all his marbles and he spends most of his days looking for them. George doesn’t have a son. Doesn’t really have any family. He has a nephew somewhere. He was supposed to come out last year when George was going downhill but he never did. I think his name is Soto or something.”
“Could he be behind the vandalism?”
Sage shrugged.
“Very helpful,” Leo deadpanned.
“What?” Sage asked. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I doubt Soto knew much about George. They rarely talked. George had a bother but he passed away like a decade or more ago. Everyone is still in Japan. They run a glass manufacturing plant I think. I really don’t know who is behind this. I genuinely think it’s just some high school kids doing this crap on a dare or maybe they know what I do and think it’s funny to shake me up.”
Leo downed the rest of his hot chocolate. “On that note, I’ll be off. I have a car rental to track down.”
He stood and was on the verge of passing right by where she sat when a sudden urge came over him. She was nervous. Clearly not sleeping. Anxiety tinged her features.
He paused next to her and put a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Sage asked, staring at his hand.
“I am attempting some sort of reassuring gesture.”
Sage snorted. “I’m fine.”She looked up at him. It was a platonic type of touch. Less than that. And yet, she didn’t move his hand.
“You’re safe here. I have a lead with the rogue rental car, and nothing is going to happen to you.”
She blinked quickly and looked out the window. “Just let me know what you find.” This time she took his hand and pushed it from her shoulder. “Consider me reassured.”
Only now he wasn’t. Was he seriously so touch-starved that the barest skin-to-skin contact made him erupt in goosebumps?
For a moment he allowed himself to dwell on the feeling of her hand on his .
A few days later Leo found himself in Sage’s shower (okay fine, the guest shower). He had come over early in the morning (waking Sage in the process—oops) and declared he would be cleaning out her gutters. They were expecting heavy rain and he was rather concerned the gutters full of leaves would flood and ruin the cameras. It was a decent reason. Really he was just bored out of his mind and needed a job to do but that backfired when the dilapidated gutters collapsed and he was effectively drenched in the sludge of rotting leaves. He must have looked pitiful because Sage offered him a towel and ushered him into the guest shower and only choked on her laughter twice.
His mind wandered to Sage as he showered, as it often did and he had to slap himself back to reality. She was his Subject . The Job. The thing that would get him out of dealing with nepo-baby protection jobs and into the White House. Or congress. Or wherever he wanted to be. Wherever that was.
He had a full lather of soap in his hair (and by proxy his eyes) when an ear-shattering scream pierced through the sound of the running water.
Quick as lightning, Leo sprinted out of the shower, slipped, and skidded into the doorjamb (that was going to leave a bruise) then stormed into the kitchen to find Sage bent over the kitchen sink, running water over her bloody hand.
“What happened?” Leo asked, searching for both a weapon and intruder .
“I cut myself bad!” Sage cried. She looked at him and her eyes went wider. “Why are you naked!”
He covered himself with the nearest object—her pink teapot resting on the counter. “Covered” was a generous term. He did the best he could. It was an average-sized teapot and Leo prided himself on being well above—the rest of his thought was cut off by his eyes burning as soap dripped into them. “I thought you were dying!” he said.
“I might be!” Clearly the whole naked man with soapy hair in front of her wasn’t as big of a concern as her hand. To be fair, Leo assumed she had seen quite the share of naked man in the form of Filbert. And Leo couldn’t help but be a little perturbed that Sage didn’t at least give him an ounce more attention. He was not one to compare, usually, but come on! Him versus Filbert? There was much more to appreciate and she clearly didn’t have a chance to admire his chiseled chest and toned traps.
He traded the teapot for a hand towel and peered into the sink.
“You might need a stitch or two but it’s not that bad,” Leo said. It was all talk. It was a gory mess likely in need of six or eight stitches. A slice along her pointer finger down to her palm. No need to panic her more.
She turned to Leo, face whiter than snow. “I’m going to pass out.” And then she did.
Luckily he caught her, mostly, trying to guide her to the floor, maintaining the sliver of dignity the micro towel gave him before giving up. He used it to wrap around the sliced finger. The cut was deep and went through her nail. He laid her head gently on the floor and elevated her hand, knowing she’d come to in any moment.
She did about four seconds later. “Why are you naked!?” she whisper-yelled, darting from his chest hovering over her to her hand which he also held over her.
“I was showering!” he seethed. “Which one normally does naked. Sorry my package has distracted you from the obvious issue?—”
“We don’t need to talk about your little issue right now, we have bigger problems to worry about!”
Little issue? Bigger problems? “How dare you?—”
“The blood is soaking through the towel. I’ve cut my finger off, haven’t I?” She was going ghostly white again.
“It’s still firmly attached,” Leo said, still not over the whole “little issue” comment.
“I’m going to pass out again!”
She did.
The next time she regained consciousness the scene was exactly the same, only this time Leo took control.
“Clearly you have an issue with blood.” She turned green at the word blood. “I swear on everything holy and good if you throw up on me right now I?—”
She passed out again. When she came to (seven seconds later) her eyes darted from his face (still hovering over her—his slightly above average package hidden from view at this point) and the blood-soaked towel wrapping her finger (that was still firmly attached).
“Don’t look at the blood. It’s a gnarly scratch but a few stitches and you’ll be good as new.”
She nodded and after some coaching, Leo managed to get Sage sitting up, back against the cupboard. He kept her occupied with applying pressure to her finger and he ran to the bathroom, not bothering to take a moment to find another towel to hide his backside as he sprinted from view. He could already feel the soap drying on his neck and shoulders. He rummaged around the drawers in the guest room and pulled on the first pair of jeans and tee shirt he could find and managed to even find a pair of socks. He was putting them on, bouncing on one foot when he slid back to the kitchen. “Still conscious?”
Sage nodded feebly, looking a lovely shade of green. “I don’t feel so good.”
“You don’t look so good.”
“Rude.”
He hauled her up to her feet and walked her to the door (but not before grabbing the empty teapot on the end of the counter on his way out). The ride to the ER was fairly calm considering Sage had a total meltdown.
“I’m going to barf.”
“Here.” He thrust the teapot he had been clutching into her good hand. “Aim well.”
“This is my favorite teapot! I can’t—” Oh but she did.
She closed the lid like it was a dainty little thing once she had finished expelling her guts. “I’ll never be able to look at this the same way.” She held it at a distance as if it were going to explode.
He wanted to ask if her new aversion to that particular teapot was due to the contents it now held or the fact that it had been a poor shield to his dangly bits earlier but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Sage still looked a lot like her name, though more pale than green as the minutes ticked by. Once they arrived he got her checked in and back with a doctor in under five minutes. A bloody towel was usually a fast pass to the front of any line.
“They’re going to stab me,” Sage whispered.
“You did a great job of doing that yourself.”
“With a needle!”
“I guess you could call it that. Doctor said six stitches and you’ll be good as new. She’s even going to numb it for you. Isn’t that nice?” Leo held her arm in his more to ensure she didn’t bolt than anything else.
Sage looked ready to pass out again. “With a needle.”
He nodded. “That’s generally how it goes.”
“I hate needles,” the last word came out more like a squeak.
“I know,” Leo said. He held her good arm and stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. Were hands allowed to be this soft?
“What if I just pass out and then they do it when I’m not looking?”
“Or here’s an idea, you can just not look.”
She was a kaleidoscope of shades of green and white. Like a watermelon on shrooms.
“I can’t do this,” she said, staring at the wound and breathing fast. She was going to pass out again at this rate.
Leo cupped her face with both of his hands and pulled her face toward his. “This is going to sound absolutely crazy, but have you ever tried staring at someone for more than a minute? Not a staring contest, blink as much as you want, but truly staring at them. No broken eye contact. ”
She took a deep breath. “Why on earth would I have ever done that?”
Leo shrugged. “It was a team-building exercise thing a year or two back.” She tried to pull away and look at the finger again, but he held her face firmly in his hand. “Literally no one in the office could make it more than ten seconds without breaking down and laughing.”
“This is not a laughing matter!” she whisper-yelled. “I am about to be harpooned!”
“Like I said, you already did that to yourself.”
She shook her head. “This is different.”
“Fun fact: the detachable part of a harpoon is called a lily iron. Kinda funny right? You can tell Lily that.”
“I don’t need this right now!” She looked at her finger. “I’m dying.”
“Back to my suggestion, the staring contest is a distraction. The goal was to stare at each other for five minutes just to show that we can handle uncomfortable situations and not react. Sounds easy until you’re doing it. So that’s what we are going to do right now. The first person to break eye contact has to take the other out for breakfast for a week.”
She looked momentarily shocked before her new resolve kicked in. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Just give your hand over to the nice doctor lady and don’t you dare break eye contact with me.”
Sage gave her hand to the nice doctor lady who looked like she could do this in her sleep. She offered to count them down. “Three, two, one,” she said before getting to work, likely thinking the pair shared a single neuron between them and it had clearly taken an early vacation.
Staring at Sage was uncomfortable. It was strange. It was fun. It was beautiful. Her eyes were a dark brown so deep he struggled to find her pupils. When she furrowed her brows and looked as if she were going to break, he threatened her with “Think of breakfast” and she got serious again.
It was stupid and it was dumb and she only winced a handful of times, but Leo brought her back to reality with words of encouragement like “french toast” and “bacon” and “cinnamon rolls.”
They didn’t even make it five minutes because two minutes later the doctor said, “All done.” She left the room muttering, “Great, now I’m hungry.”
The nurse gave Sage and Leo instructions on healing and how the stitches would fall out a week or so down the road and things would all be fine.
Leo considered staying at the ER because he was anything but fine. How could he casually ask the doctor “Is it normal to get all lightheaded and stupid in the presence of a beautiful woman?” or “Is it possible to leave part of your brain behind in a dream?” because he was all floaty again.
But food beckoned them and they stopped and ate their fill of pancakes, then game-planned on how Sage would ease into playing again after the swelling in her hand went down. She spent the rest of the day chatting with Jared and Lily and planning further, but not before giving Leo a quick (but full contact) hug and a heartfelt thank you. Without breaking eye contact. Leo nodded and said, “No problem.” He watched her retreat up the stairs where she would no doubt be sequestered away in her office for the rest of the day.
Leo went to Tess’s in hopes of a nap. He needed to find the piece of his brain he must have left in a dream because his mind was definitely floating around somewhere between worlds and not at all here on Earth where it should be.