Chapter 1 Andrea #2
“Better than that awful one with the dreds.” James turned to Eliza. “What was his name? Jarod? Do you remember when he disappeared for two weeks and then said he’d been with the Hare Krishnas?”
Eliza laughed. I shot her a look.
“Funnily enough, geriatric corporate psychopaths don’t really float my boat.” I folded my arms. “And that incident wasn’t Rudy’s fault, by the way. I said he could borrow the card.”
“Mmm.” My sister was skeptical.
“I wonder where this driver’s at?” I asked, hoping to change the subject. “Can you check his location?”
“Good point.” James picked up the phone and scrutinized the screen. “Ooh. On his way. I hope he goes through with it. He can’t keep the tip if he doesn’t do the job, can he?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “I’ve never hired a delivery person to conduct surveillance before.”
Mr. Darcy wandered into the living room and attempted to jump onto the sofa, hind legs scrabbling in the air.
“Incredible animal,” mused James. “I didn’t even think they made cats with so little grace.”
“What he lacks in grace, he makes up for with personality,” I said, lifting him onto the cushion. The truth was, he was so unattractive by cat standards, he’d never have made it out of the rescue center alive. But he was cute, in his own way.
Just then, my phone flashed—a message from Baz, the driver. James tapped his hands together excitedly and pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips. “Read it,” he commanded, pointing at the phone.
With a sigh, I picked it up.
“‘Black and red motorbike and white Nissan Leaf in driveway,’” I said, reading Baz’s message out loud.
“Strike one,” said Eliza. “Not only is he home when he said he wasn’t, a Nissan Leaf is definitely a girl’s car.”
“Or maybe a grandma’s?” said James.
I continued, “‘Door opened by man with long dark hair and tattoo of a skull and a bird on his neck.’”
I felt slightly nauseous.
“Ugh, that’s him then,” said Eliza. “Honestly, Andy, even if he’s not cheating, you should dump him for the tatts alone.” She shook her head incredulously. “Who has something like that on their neck? He doesn’t even have a nice neck.”
“I know, right?” James added. “Kind of pimply. Why draw attention to it?”
“Do you remember when he flossed with his own hair at the pub that one time?” added Eliza. James shivered.
“His neck was fine,” I said, a bit too loudly. This wasn’t helping. What did his bandmate, Kai—or was it Kale?—drive? I didn’t think it was a Leaf.
“There’s another text coming through,” I said, my voice high. James filled my wine again. I stared at the three dots that indicated a message was imminent.
“‘No shirt,’” I read. “What does that mean?”
“Presumably that he wasn’t wearing a shirt?” suggested James, not even bothering to conceal his sarcasm. “Clearly in flagrante delicto with some ho.”
“It is July.” I sounded pathetic, even to myself. “Maybe he was hot?”
“It’s nine thirty at night. It’s cold, and it’s raining,” said Eliza, looking at me like there was something medically wrong with me. “Strike two.”
Another message came through. I swallowed.
“You read it.” I handed the phone to James. He paused, then started to read.
“‘Female present. Red hair. Approx. twenty-five years.’”
James started typing on the phone.
“But Rudy hated redheads,” I said to Eliza, confused. “He went on about it all the time, said he could never understand the appeal. So it can’t be someone he’s … um … seeing, right?”
I felt a weight lift. If she was a redhead, maybe it wasn’t suspicious. Maybe she was a cousin or an old school friend. Maybe his weekend away had been canceled, and he hadn’t got around to telling me. Maybe I just had trust issues, like he said.
“‘Seeing’? That’s a polite way to put it. Some men like a bit of orange roughy, you know.” James didn’t even look up from his iPhone. “Especially if it’s not their usual home-cooked fare. Exotic.”
“Orange roughy? Isn’t that a fish?” Eliza made a gagging sound.
“Baz said that?” I asked. “Jesus.”
“Wait!” shouted James, holding up a finger. “No, he didn’t, I said it. But yes, it is a fish. I’m confirming on the hair. He’s messaging now, shh! ‘Yes. Dyed red hair.’”
I blinked.
“Dyed red, like a dark pink kind of red?” The room fell silent.
“I’m checking.” James exhaled sharply. “He says, ‘Yes, like juice from a beetroot can.’”
“Strike three, he’s out.” Eliza brushed her hands together and looked at me with aggressive finality, like she expected me to defend him.
“The Banana Store ho,” said James, never one to hold back.
His words hung in the air. I didn’t know what to say. Turned out my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend was cheating on me with the puce-haired waitress—the one he always flirted with when we were there together.
Why do women do that to each other? She knows he’s cheating on me.
I wanted to feel angry and cynical, like James and Eliza, but I just felt empty.
“Sorry, Andy,” said Eliza. “That sucks. I’m getting the ice cream.”
I felt the slight sting of tears at the backs of my eyes. Why had I ignored what was right in front of my face? I hadn’t even minded about him borrowing and breaking my stuff. Intermittent texting and calling his band “a job.” I’d thought it was charming. Free-spirited.
I took a swig of my wine.
All along, I was just useful.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see the warning signs.” I dug into the tub of H?agen-Dazs, aiming for the biggest spoonful I could get.
Eliza shrugged. “When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”
I pulled the blanket over my knees. It was cold in the living room, and the ice cream wasn’t helping.
“He turned out to be a pretty good detective, old Baz,” said James, after a minute. “Detail-oriented. Quite bitchy too. I like him.” His face fell as he looked at me. “Oh, seriously, hon, fuck that guy. You were way too good for him.”