Chapter Twenty-One
Ping.
Charlie’s cell phone chimed with a text. It was from Jules. He was impressed that she was on time.
Pineapple
Everything was okay.
In a few hours Charlie would be going back to university life.
When he’d gone to the U of C, he had rarely gone to parties.
Charlie was too self-conscious. At the time, he wasn’t much of a drinker, wasn’t much of a dancer, and wasn’t overly social.
That’s why he liked working with computers.
When you screwed up, they didn’t talk back or try to punch you.
University life would have been far easier if people just issued error messages.
Charlie sighed, then went upstairs to the apartment to figure out what he’d wear.
He stared at his clothes. All of them were pretty bland.
Then it came to him—wear what you’d wear when you go out dancing with Carrie.
She had been the one to break him out of his shell.
She’d taught him what to drink, how to have fun with people, and how to dance—sorta.
He pulled out some clothes from the armoire, put them on, then looked at himself in the mirror. Did he really ever wear this? It was all very…tight. It made his thighs look huge.
You’re not going out to pick someone up!
He chucked on a loose white shirt over his black T-shirt and a new pair of jeans. That did it. He didn’t look so…bottom-heavy. But something still didn’t work for him. Charlie ditched the white shirt, and threw on his black leather jacket instead. It would have to do. He hurried down the stairs.
On his way through Declan’s office, he paused. “Are you done making that list yet?”
“I’m working on it,” Declan said. “What time do you think you’ll get back?”
“It shouldn’t be too late. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home. What are you going to get up to?”
Declan smiled. “Mickey called. Angel’s being released from the hospital and I told him I’d pick them up in the van. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than Mickey’s rattle-trap Jeep.”
“Where’s he going to stay?” Charlie asked.
“Mickey’s going to put him up in his apartment above the bar until Angel’s ready to leave.”
“That’s nice of him.” Charlie sighed. “Well, I should go. No use putting off the fun any longer.”
Declan reached over and pulled Charlie in close. “Don’t have too much fun on your date.” Declan leaned in and gave him a kiss. “Just so you don’t forget what’s waiting at home for you when you get back.”
Charlie made his way down to the car and checked the directions to the coffee shop. It wasn’t far. He adjusted the car mirror to check himself out one more time.
I just hope I don’t look stupid.
He pulled out and aimed the car toward his destination. Traffic was light and he made it with five minutes to spare. It was time to pick up his ‘date’.
Charlie sauntered into the coffee shop and scanned the tables for Jules. She was sitting in the rear corner with her back to the wall and someone was sitting opposite her. She waved Charlie over.
“See what I did here? I’m protected,” she whispered loudly, indicating the wall behind her.
“Great,” Charlie replied without enthusiasm. He had no idea if the other person had a clue as to what they were talking about.
“This is my date for tonight,” Jules said to her. “Abela, this is Charlie.”
“Hi, Abela,” Charlie said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She took it with a firm grip. “It is nice to meet me, isn’t it?”
Abela was probably about Jules’ age. Her hair was wavy and light-brown.
Her complexion, pale. Abela’s eyelids were painted bright green and her lips were electric blue.
She raised her thick black eyebrows and looked Charlie up and down.
“Nice,” she said, nodding her head. “I’d say a step up from your usual guys. ”
“And he even has a job,” Jules said, looking at Charlie with a mischievous grin. She was trying to force him to reveal his story. Well, if she wanted a story, she was going to get one.
“Nothing too exciting. Computers…like half the people out there,” he said, keeping it as general as he could.
“AI, software engineering, networking or cybersecurity?” she quizzed.
“Software engineering mainly,” he said.
“What languages?”
She’s testing me.
“Depends on what they’re asking for on the day,” Charlie replied. “Python and JavaScript. C+ for the boring corporate jobs. This week it’s been a combination of Swift and Scala. What do you prefer?”
Jules stared at them open-mouthed.
“R and MATLAB. I work mainly on data analytics,” Abela responded.
“Cool,” was all he said before turning to Jules. “We should be heading out if we’re going to get there on time.”
“Sure.” Jules grabbed her bag. “See ya,” she said to her friend.
Abela winked. “Don’t misbehave too badly. And if Jules proves to be really boring, give me a call.”
Charlie felt his cheeks get hot. “Sure.” The attention made him feel awkward.
Once Charlie and Jules reached the parking lot, she asked, “How did you know all that computer stuff?”
“Because that’s what I studied at university.”
Jules got a sly grin on her face. “I think Abela likes you.”
“Obviously, she doesn’t know I’m your security detail.”
“I didn’t breathe a word. At least now we know you can pass as one of my boyfriends.”
Charlie wasn’t sure this was a compliment. “Here we are,” he said pointing to his bright red Dodge Challenger.
Her eyes bugged out. “This is your car?”
“Yeah.”
“I figured you’d drive an old Ford Tempo or something.”
“Oh, please,” was all he said before opening the door for her, then walking over to the driver’s side and getting in.
Jules looked at him. “You are way cooler than I thought you’d be. I can’t imagine what that hot boss of yours drives.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Now, where are we going?”
“The Den & Black at the university. You know it?”
“Yup, I know it.”
Charlie peeled out of the parking lot.
“So…about your boss,” Jules said. “I’m a pretty good judge of people—”
“That’s not the impression your dad’s emails gave me.”
Jules frowned. “Oh, I know all about the people I hang out with. Daddy just doesn’t like the same type of people I like. Now, getting back to Declan Hunt…and you. There’s more there than a business partnership, isn’t there?”
“That is none of your business.”
“So, I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Charlie said.
“Sure.” Jules continued talking nonstop about her friend Abela, who it turned out was from Iceland. “Right about now, she’ll be talking to all of our friends about my date for the night. I’ll get bonus points if I hook up with you later.”
“Did you tell her that you’re paying for me?” Charlie asked.
“No, but imagine what Abela would think about both of us if I did tell her my daddy bought your services?”
They both laughed.
Charlie pulled into a parking lot near the Den & Black. It was a quarter-to-nine—fashionably late. Normally the place closed down by eight, but this was a special event.
As they walked in, Charlie felt a bit queasy. He was a little out of his comfort zone. Okay, a lot out of his comfort zone. He snapped himself out of it by remembering why he was here—to protect Jules.
They sat at a table across from the bar. “I’m going to get us drinks,” she said. “What are you having?”
“I’ll have a sparkling water, and you’re seventeen so you’ll have the same.”
“Actually, I’m nineteen, at least according to my fake driver’s license, so I’m thinking…a mojito tonight.”
She moved sinuously across the floor and soon was in deep conversation with the bartender. She directed his gaze back to Charlie then continued the conversation. A moment later she returned to the table with two drinks in hand.
“There,” she said, positioning her back to the guy at the bar.
“He gave me the drink, but in theory, you’re having the mojito and I’m having the sparkling water.
” She took a sip of the mojito. “He said you looked old enough to drink, but apparently he wasn’t overly convinced about my ID.
I forgot that I was supposed to be born in Lacombe.
At least I got the name right—Esther Rodriguez.
” She shook her mane of hair as she pronounced her new name with a bad Spanish accent.
Charlie sprayed out a partial mouthful of sparkling water. “You’re…?”
“In my mind, my parents are from Brazil,” she continued in a terrible Spanish accent.
“And you were surprised that he questioned you? And Brazil is a Portuguese-speaking country.”
“What did he expect from someone born in Lacombe? So, tell me,” she asked, leaning close to him, “what sort of things have you gotten into as a private eye?”
“Well, I once pretended to be a video game designer and got myself thrown into traffic by a mobster.”
“Oh my god!”
“Our company has had its fair share of dealing with the mob, and biker gangs.”
“Wild,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “And you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I have a friend who’s a girl, but not in the romantic sense. I always knew what I liked—”
“And you landed it. Phew, and is he hot or what?”
Charlie grinned in spite of himself.
The DJ started to play Prada.
“Oh, I love this song. Come on,” she said, dragging him up onto the dance floor.
Charlie figured that there was no harm in having fun while he was on the job.
Soon he was moving to the beat and swaying his arms in the air like a pair of drunken snakes.
It felt like dancing with Carrie…if Carrie had been seventeen and an almost-Brazilian from Lacombe. Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.
All around them, the dance floor was a sea of writhing bodies pressed against each other, grinding and rubbing. The smell of sweat permeated the air.
After dancing for several songs, Jules grabbed his hands and hauled him back to the table. They both downed what was left of their drinks. Charlie felt that it had gone right through him.
“I gotta pee,” he yelled into her ear. “Follow me.”
“You don’t have to take me to the bathroom with you. I can stay here on my own.”
“That’s not how this works,” Charlie insisted.
“If you think I’m going into the stall with you, you’re wrong.”
Charlie grabbed Jules’ hand and pulled her across the room to the gender-neutral washroom. “Stay on the other side of this door and I’ll be out in a minute. If anyone bothers you, just scream.”
“Fine,” she said in a huff.
Charlie closed the door behind him and relieved himself. He washed his hands then opened the door. When he came out, he found…no Jules. Maybe she’d had to pee.
A person came out of the entrance to the women’s washroom next door.
“Excuse me,” he yelled over the loud music, “but did you see a woman go in there? About eighteen, long blonde hair?”
The girl just shrugged and walked off.
Charlie opened the door. “Jules. Are you in here?”
When he heard nothing, he yelled again. “Jules!” Nothing. He went into the room and looked into all the stalls. One had its door locked. “Jules—you in there?”
“Listen, asshole, Jules ain’t here. And if you got a problem with that, maybe you should look in the mirror and see what she’s been putting up with!”
He ran out of the washroom and scoped the room. There were so many people…
Where the hell is Jules?
His phone. He hadn’t checked his phone. Maybe she’d called him.
Charlie reached for it. It was gone. He patted down all his pockets. Nothing. He ran back to the table and checked the pockets of his jacket. No phone. Where the hell was it? He checked his watch—nine-forty-four p.m.
The watch. It could track his phone if it was still on. He pressed the app. Nothing. “What the fuck!” he yelled.
Maybe she’d just needed to get some fresh air. He ran outside.
He couldn’t see her in the parking lot.
He checked near his car. She wasn’t there.
It was no use. Jules was gone.