I’m dishing up when Del walks out in loose sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt that slips off one shoulder. Her damp hair hangs down her back as she runs her brush through it. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you started cooking. It smells great.”
“Thanks. You want to sit at the table or on the sofa?”
“Table. I like to pretend I’m a lady, but I’m a messy eater,” she admits, making me laugh. I carry the plates to the table as she grabs us both bottles of water from the fridge. We dig in, putting the events from before behind us temporarily while we devour our food.
“God, that was good. I’m stuffed now.”
“No room for dessert?”
She sits forward. “Dessert?”
“I made an Eton mess. It’s got whipped cream, meringue, and strawberries in it.”
“There’s always room for dessert.”
I grin and take the dirty plates to the sink before grabbing the desserts from the fridge. I slide one of the filled glass dishes to Del and hand her a spoon before sitting down and digging in myself.
“Dear god, this is better than sex.”
I freeze at her words, a sense of Deja Vue washing over me as I remember a similar conversation in the clubhouse. A sense of melancholy has me blinking back tears, but I keep my head down and keep eating.
By the time I’m finished, I have composed myself. I lift my head and see Del watching me. I know she didn’t miss the change in my mood, but thankfully, she doesn’t call me on it. My feelings are a little too raw right now.
“You cooked, so I’ll wash up. You wanna find something to watch on TV?”
“Sure, I don’t mind helping, though.”
“Hush, woman. Learn to take a break when offered one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I tease before taking a seat on the sofa. I tuck my legs underneath me and flick through the channels before settling on a true crime documentary.
“Oh, I love this channel,” Del states as she plonks herself down on the other end of the sofa.
“I wonder what men would think if they knew just how much we learned from these shows.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Right? They act like we’re fragile, but they have no clue what we’re capable of.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve seen that kind of thing play out in an MC. I will say, though, that they tend to underestimate a woman only once. The smart ones do, at least.”
“Amen to that. Though being underestimated is a handy tool to have in your arsenal. When you live in a world of dicks, it’s nice to have an Uno reverse card in your back pocket.” I giggle.She’s right, but I’ve never thought about it in quite that way before.
We lose ourselves in the show, pointing out all the parts where the killer fucked up, and figuring out who the bad guy was almost immediately.
We’re so engrossed in waiting for the final reveal that I jump out of my skin when my cell phone rings. I grab it from the coffee table and frown at the screen, not recognizing the number. I almost don’t answer it, but the number is local, so I hit the green button and hold it to my ear.
“Hello, this is Officer Dewitt. I’m looking for Miss Hazel Burton.”
“Speaking.” I lean forward as Del mutes the TV.
“Miss Burton, I’d like to inform you that officers apprehended a suspect when they went to inspect your apartment.”
“Oh my god, really?”
“Yes, we are conducting interviews now, but we’d like you to come down to the station and make a formal ID.”
I swallow, looking at Del, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. “Um, yes…of course, that’s fine. I don’t drive though, so?—”
“I can arrange for a black and white to collect you. I have two in the area anyway.”
