Chapter 11 My Case, My Rules #3
“Wow. You’re a great storyteller. And that sounds like a movie.”
“Deadass! I should take a screenwriting class.”
“Invite me to your first premiere.” He offered a shy smile. “Thanks for helping. Sorry I tied you up.”
“Listen, you can tie me up anytime,” she flirted, and then handed him her Seraphina business card.
With a friendly chortle, he headed toward the door. Damn, Wes was good at his job. But why didn’t he push harder to get Seat F’s name from the database? Why did he drop the ball?
In a few seconds, Wes would walk past her aisle on the way to the front door. Quickly, Sasha lowered the brim of her fedora and burrowed her face farther down in her trench. She tried to channel invisibility.
He’d just passed her aisle—so close, she could’ve smelled his warm, woodsy cologne if she wasn’t holding her breath in nervousness—when he spoke.
This was his real voice, deep and cocksure.
Without stopping, or even turning his head to look at her, he called out, “Meet me in the alley on Fifty-Seventh. Now.”
“S-sir, are you talking to me?” she whispered in a high-pitched voice.
“Yeah, you, Inspector Gadget. Now.”
Outside, it was hot, airless, and out of time, that late-afternoon in June feeling when half the city’s summering elsewhere, save for disparate clusters of twentysomethings negotiating their plans for the night.
Wes and Sasha weren’t twentysomethings, but they were both breathing the same air, lush with possibility.
There were a million stories in the city, theirs was just one. And it was playing out in an alley next to Seraphina.
“What the hell was that, Sasha?” Exasperated to the millionth degree, Wes ripped off his prescription-less glasses and stood in front of her, arms folded.
“Did you know I was there, the whole time?”
“The woman who looks exactly like you, dressed like Carmen Sandiego and standing like a goddamn Easter Island statue in the Shampoo aisle? No, no, you blended right in.”
“Must you speak so percussively? You can’t fault me for being curious. I had a meeting nearby and I just wanted to . . .”
“I know what you wanted to do. But I told you. I work alone. You hired me to do this job, right?”
“Of course!”
“Then let me do it!” Angrily, he thrust his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I almost flunked preschool, because I failed the skipping test. Did I know how to skip? Obviously. But when asked to do it in front of an audience, I choked.”
Sasha was so charmed by the vision of baby Wes struggling to skip, that she almost short-circuited. “Wes, what are you talking about?”
“Detective work comes naturally to me. Talking to people, gathering information, persuading, all that? It’s easy. But I can’t work when I have an audience.”
“You were doing pretty well to me. That whole bashful act? All the flirting? Wow. Interesting methods.”
“Whatever works,” responded Wes, just a tad defensively. “But listen, if you weren’t there, I’d have his name. It was in my hand. Just stay in your lane, okay? Don’t you have a commercial to cast?”
“It’s not going well. It’s going terribly, in fact.
And I don’t want to face the fact that taking a yearlong sabbatical was a mistake.
I’ve lost my touch.” And then, her thoughts took a darker turn.
“Or maybe I’m too traumatized to see people the same way.
Especially men. Maybe I see a predator behind every face.
I’m so tired of being scared, and I just want the thing with Seat F to work. I need something good.”
In an instant, Wes’s sharp edge softened. “I get it. Because finding him also proves that you can read people correctly. That you’re wrong about everyone being a predator.”
“Exactly. You understand me.”
“Yeah, I understand. Of course I do.”
Wes and Sasha stood in silence for a minute. Sasha realized that she was leaning against a city trash bin and she jerked away. The alley was disgusting.
“The good news is, he’s looking for you, too.”
“That is good news,” she said, smiling half-heartedly. “The best news.”
“Is it childish that I want to find him before he finds you?”
“Not childish. Competitive,” she articulated. “Works for me.”
“I do work for you. So, let me continue to do my job.”
“I will. And I apologize for the spy costume. I love to theme dress,” she said with a small wince of shame.
Wes eyed her for a moment, contemplating something. And then reached out with one hand, gently removing her sunglasses. He stuck them atop her head. “I need to see your eyes to say this.”
“To say what?” She peered up at him, trying not to be moved by the tenderness in his gesture.
“I’m not jealous of Seat F.”
She blinked. His words were so blunt, they knocked the wind out of her. “Of course you’re not. I don’t believe that; it was a dumb joke.”
“Jealousy is wanting what someone else has. And he doesn’t have you yet.” His eyes blazed, pinning her to the spot. “Does he?”
It wasn’t really a question, because Wes knew the answer.
And so did Sasha—a fact that knocked her on her ass and yanked her clean out of her Seat F fantasy.
Wes was right. Seat F was a vague outline of a person.
He was more of a concept than an actual guy.
How could she be devoted to an invisible man?
Wes’s words were bold, direct. A challenge. Sasha swallowed, shaking her head. She couldn’t think of a goddamned thing to say.
The air between them swelled with a question, unanswered. And the memory of a long-ago indiscretion neither wanted to face.
NON-DELIVERY REPORT
To: Sasha.C@ [disabled account]
From: Mingzhu.L@
Subject: Re: Searching for Seat F
Greetings, Sasha!
I’ve waited a few weeks to respond, because I felt so silly. But I love mystery novels and your Seat F email intrigued me. So, I did some sleuthing of my own.
Seat F is an international man. Why wouldn’t he spend some time in Hong Kong?
And if he did, he’d surely visit Ozone at the Ritz Carlton.
European businessmen love this bar. My cousin met her Italian ex-boyfriend there!
So, my girlfriend and I went there for a drink, and to ask around and see if anyone knew him.
No luck. But, at one point, my friend went to the loo, and I fell asleep on a couch. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was leaning on the shoulder of a dashing man! And we discovered we attended primary school together! We’ve been inseparable ever since.
I wish I’d found your love, but I’m happy I found mine. Good luck on your search. If you’re ever in Hong Kong, you’ve got a friend in me.
Mingzhu Lim
Seraphina Hong Kong
Director Marketing