Chapter 7 #2
“She found one of our bar napkins with my name, number, and our address. Says he’s been there according to the travel history on his car, whatever that means.
I told her to get him on the phone so I could ask him about it and she panicked.
Walked it back by saying she must have misunderstood.
That he must have had my info because of a case.
I asked her if it was Paul Granger’s and she flinched. ”
Deacon’s eyes widen. “You think he’s taking Granger’s case?”
I shrug. “No idea. But if he is, why would he be checking on me?”
Deacon walks closer to the bar then takes the stool she just vacated, whipping out his phone. “Gonna text the house group chat and ask if anyone knows him. Seen him lurking around.”
My phone vibrates in my back pocket when his text comes through. At this hour, there’s a good chance we won’t hear back from everyone until tomorrow.
I can’t stop the shiver that rolls through me. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Deacon has been here enough at closing that he helps me get everything shut down and locked up in record time. Thankfully the rain has stopped by the time we pull into the driveway at home.
When I go to open the door, I notice he doesn’t get out. “Are you not coming inside?”
He shakes his head. “Got one or two things to finish up before I’m done tonight.”
“I should be mad you left work just to bring me home, but I’m very glad you did since the weather was so awful. Very sweet of you.”
He ducks his head since he’s terrible at accepting any sort of compliment. “Lock up behind you. We’ll talk in the morning about the Bayliss woman’s visit.”
I jump out of his car and step carefully through the yard, trying to avoid the landmine of puddles.
“You’re home later than usual.”
Spinning around with my hands clutched to my chest, I spot Serenity, another one of our housemates, sitting in the dark on an old wrought iron chaise. She’s using an upside-down orange Home Depot bucket as a side table to hold her cocktail and ashtray.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I say.
She lights a joint, and the glow from the flame illuminates her face for a few seconds, long enough to see this isn’t the first one she’s smoked tonight. Her hair is a mess and her gaze unfocused.
“How long have you been sitting out here?” I ask, moving closer to her.
She raises her hand, offering me a hit, but I wave her away. It wouldn’t be the first time I smoked with her but tonight’s events have me feeling it’s important to stay sharp.
“Ever since the rain stopped. Was going crazy cooped up in the house. Shane and Eddie were working late in the garage.”
I drop down on the end of the chaise. I’m in no rush to get to my room since I’m still so keyed up from Camille’s visit. I’ll give myself a few minutes to sit in the dark while the pungent smoke floats in the air around me.
“You upset? Why?” Serenity asks. She’s squinting one eye at me as if that’s the only way she can focus.
I twist around until I’m fully facing her. “How can you tell I’m upset?”
“Your aura is dull and sad looking.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I don’t believe in all that.”
“Does it have something to do with Deacon’s text about that lawyer?”
Drawing my legs in close, I wrap my arms around them. “Kinda. Yeah.” I’m sure I’ll end up telling her the whole story at some point, but right now I don’t feel like getting into it again.
Serenity curls her lip. “Tried to hire him not long ago. Called his office and left a message. Wanted to see if he would take my case. But no one ever called me back.” Her head tilts back as she stares at the night sky.
“What case?” She had some legal issues a while back, but I didn’t know she had any active charges.
“Shoplifting.”
“Oh.” I leave it at that even though I’m kind of dying to know what she stole.
“I know that snotty wife of his, though. She’s a real piece of work,” Serenity adds.
There’s no stopping the startled cry that flies out of my mouth. “How…how do you know…her? The wife?”
“She came to my yoga class Monday night.” I wait for more. But that seems to be all she plans to say.
Was this the “research” Camille was alluding to? “How was she snotty?”
She looks at me, takes another long drag, then blows the smoke out slowly.
For a few seconds, she’s hidden behind the white cloud.
“I get a lot of women who come to my class once and never come back. Same ones who have the expensive mats and the fancy water bottles and the high-dollar yoga clothes. My classes aren’t the classes they’re looking for. ”
“What do you mean?”
“They want the yoga body but not the yoga mind.” Her eyes close and she leans her head back again, the lit joint forgotten in her hand.
It continues to burn, inching closer and closer to her fingers, so I snag it before she burns herself, then gently put it out, making sure to salvage the tiny bit that’s left.
Serenity teaches at a place called Goddess Divine, not far from the bar.
It’s an old house turned into a business that sells everything from crystals to incense to chakra beads and offers not only yoga classes but also palm reading and massages.
By the way Camille was dressed tonight, I would think she’d stick out there. Goddess Divine would not be her scene.
Don’t get me wrong, Serenity is probably an amazing teacher, but she’s unconventional.
She’s a free spirit who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks and will let you know it.
It wouldn’t surprise me if part of her class involves beating drums and writing down your intentions before lighting them on fire.
Based on my impression of Camille Bayliss, Serenity’s classes seem like they would be too hippie for someone like her, who would be dressed in head-to-toe Lululemon.
Just when I think Serenity’s completely passed out and I’ll have to wait for the rest of this story, she says, “But she came back yesterday even though I know she hated being there. It was all over her snotty face.”
There are a million questions on the tip of my tongue, but I can tell Serenity is done for the night when a quiet snore slips past her lips.
I stare at her for several minutes, trying to fit this new information into what I learned.
Ben Bayliss had my personal information on a bar napkin and his wife is searching for answers despite being terrified he’ll find out.
She said he’s been here. At our house.
Even if all this is about Paul in some way, Ben Bayliss should never have come here.