M Sellars - All acts of pleasure

“It’s a ‘I think some shit don’t add up’,” he replied and then added, “On both sides.”

“So what you’re saying is that now you’re on the fence?”

“Shit, Rowan, I was climbin’ the goddamned fence last night. Just wasn’t quite sittin’ on it yet.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Wanna know why? ‘Cause ya’ were too friggin’ busy bein’ pissed off ta’ listen to me.”

I paused for a moment to weigh what he had just said. In truth he was probably correct. Much of the previous evening was a painful blur, with even more excruciating but still out of focus highlights. I’m sure my emotional state clouded much of it just as it had been doing all along.

I finally gave him a shallow nod and replied, “Maybe so.”

“Yeah…so listen…you wanna go grab somethin’ ta’ eat this evening?”

Taking into account the events of the past day, the invitation seemed to come out of nowhere. While I was willing to make a concession about my stubborness, I was still on a roller coaster ride where my feelings about Ben were concerned. I was willing to talk, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to sit down to dinner with him. On top of that, I had more than enough to deal with at the moment.

“No offense, Ben,” I replied, begging off the invite. “But I’m not much in the mood for socializing right now. And, to be honest, I’m still not so sure about the company.”

“Yeah, well in case ya’ didn’t notice, that last part was actually kinda offensive.”

“Sorry about that. Just being honest.”

“Okay, but ya’ gotta eat.”

“Trust me, if I get hungry I’ve got food at home.”

He reached up and smoothed back his hair before dropping his hand back down. He started to say something then glanced almost furtively from side to side. I followed his gaze and noticed a fairly steady stream of people moving along the sidewalk.

Gesturing obliquely, he fixed me with an odd stare. As he spoke, he carefully enunciated the words. “Listen to me, Row. I really think you need to come to dinner with me.”

For whatever reason, I wasn’t getting his point, even with the out of character exactness of his speech. In fact, the only thing I was getting was annoyed. “Ben, I just said…”

“Fuckit,” he muttered, cutting me off as he shook his head then gave me an even more wide-eyed stare. “Listen to me very carefully, willya’?” His next sentence was slow and deliberate with heavy emphasis on each individual word. “You… Need… To… Come… To… Dinner… With… Me.”

It finally dawned on my overtaxed and under rested brain that what I was getting was not a social invitation but quite possibly an offer of information, or even help.

“Oh” was all I could think of to say.

“Yeah, oh,” he echoed. “Say around six-thirty. Meet me over at that Mexican place there in the middle of Westview Plaza?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” I said with a nod.

“Good. So, look, I gotta get back ta’ work.”

“Yeah, okay. Guess I’ll see you around six-thirty then.”

“Good.”

As he started away I called after him, “Hey, Ben, just a second…”

“Yeah?”

“Is Constance going to be there?”

He gave his head a quick shake. “Nope. Just me.”

I scrunched my brow and cocked my head to the side. Once again, without bothering to think first, I spoke. “I don’t get it then…Why the cloak and dagger? I thought you just said you weren’t worried…”

He shook his head again and looked confused. “I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Before I could say anything else, he shrugged then turned and continued on toward the police headquarters building down the street.

I looked after him for several seconds, the furrows in my forehead deepening. Still puzzling over the conversation, I gave my own head a shake then turned and stepped off the curb. After waiting for a pair of vehicles to pass, I finally managed to get into my truck without being startled and falling into the street.

I had already turned onto Market and was three blocks away when my cell phone began to ring. I extracted it from the cup holder on the center console and peered quickly at the display. The number showing on the liquid crystal was completely unfamiliar to me. I considered ignoring it but went ahead and thumbed the answer button anyway.

“Rowan Gant,” I said, trying to remain businesslike despite my mood.

“Did you take a goddamned stupid pill or somethin’ this mornin’?” Ben’s voice hissed into my ear.

“What?” I replied.

“Jeezus, I knew I shoulda just called you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’d I tell ya’ yesterday, Row?”

“I’m not sure I follow?”

“Jeezus…Constance is about half an inch from gettin’ put on administrative leave, white man.”

“Okay, so what’s that got to do with…” I stopped mid sentence as my brain caught up with what I was being told.

“I’m thinkin’ you just had an ‘oh shit’ moment, right?” Ben chided.

“So she is going to be there,” I returned.

“Ding ding,” he said. “I’d give ya’ a fuckin’ cigar, but right now it’s my turn to be pissed, so I’d probably shove it down your goddamned throat.”

“Sorry. I’m just not all here right now.”

“No shit. Jeezus! Now, keep your mouth shut and go home an’ take a friggin’ nap, willya’?”

Ben had made an excellent point, and one that I actually agreed with for a change. Sleep was something I desperately needed; the problem was I just didn’t think I had time for it.

Upon arriving home I went through the motions of everyday life, if for no other reason than to keep myself on an even keel. Things like letting the dogs out, making sure they had plenty of food and water, and carting the kitchen trash out to the waste can at the back of the house. While they were mundane activities at best, they felt very much like they were probably the sanest events in my life at the moment.

A quick listen to the answering machine revealed a fresh pair of insult barrages from Shamus, one of our ongoing mystery hang-ups, and several frantic messages from various members of our coven. I knew I needed to call all of them and fill them in, but I was tired of explaining at this point. As much as I hated to leave them hanging, they were just going to have to wait.

The final voice on the machine turned out to be calm as well as familiar. It was my mother-in-law, Maggie. While I knew she wasn’t any more a fan of mine than Shamus, I couldn’t accuse her of ever being anything but a class act. The message was concise and even apologetic to an extent, simply asking that I please call them as soon as I had any new information about what was happening. She even went so far as to offer to help in any way they could. My paranoia told me the offer was likely nothing more than a way for Shamus to try assuming control over the situation again; however, I tried not to think about that and left the statement to stand at face value.

Of note was the fact that according to the time stamps, all of the messages had been left during a relatively short period very soon after I had left the house earlier in the day. Following up by checking the caller ID, it became clear that Felicity had been on target with her comment about her mother taking care of Shamus, at least in the interim, because she had been the last caller. Out of a weird curiosity, I even picked up the handset and checked to make sure the phone hadn’t suddenly stopped operating.

There was little left for me to do now. Until Jackie called or I heard from Doctor Rieth again, I was in a kind of limbo for a few hours. I looked around the room and gave consideration to starting in on the cleanup but couldn’t muster the energy to do anything more than simply think about it. Picking my way around piles of books, I wandered over to the sofa and sat down, eventually leaning back and letting myself sink into the cushions.