“Like hell we don’t,” he laughed, letting her walk in front of him.
“We wouldn’t fight if you just agreed me with me,” she threw back over her shoulder.
“Drea, we might be the only two people who could fight over whether or not we fight.”
She loved the way he teased and the way his hand grazed her lower back as he held the door for her, searing the skin between the top of her jeans and the bottom of her blouse.She felt the callouses on his fingers, the heat from his palm, the brush of his arm along her back.It was impossible to ignore the rush of tingles in places shereallydidn’t want tingling at his touch.
If only she could fight the way he made her feel.
***
“Why is it only sandwiches for dinner?We usually have tacos on Wednesday.”
Drea rolled her eyes.“Because I start that new job tonight Mom, I told you.I don’t have time to get home, make dinner, and get back to the hotel.José let me go a couple of hours early to attend training before I start my shift.”
“When will they pay you?This Medicaid pump is too noisy.It keeps me awake.”
And the fact Medicaid provides it for free helps me sleep at night.“I don’t know, I’ll ask tonight.Look, I gotta go.I’m here.”
Drea popped the phone into her purse and walked round the back of the hotel to the employee entrance.She was met by someone from human resources who took her into a small meeting room to wait until the new-hire session started in thirty minutes.There was a sad-looking tray of cookies next to a tall black pot of coffee.Bitter without a hint of sweetnessmy ass, she thought as she poured a healthy dollop of cream in.
Her phone rang again and again.Drea looked at the screen, expecting it to be her mom, but was surprised to find a private number.
“Is this Andrea?”a male voice asked.
“Who is this?”Please don’t let it be the cable company.
“This is Gilliam.Professor Gilliam Gillespie from the University of Alberta.I was very intrigued by your email, Andrea.Has the woman been found or identified?”
“Thank you for returning my call.No, she hasn’t.Do you know who she is?”
“I didn’t recognize her from the photograph you shared, but I have sent it to a couple of people who might.Drea, you mentioned you thought she was connected to Mike.Why did you think that?”
“I found a flash drive that I think was hers.Articles, government documents, copies of emails.All about fracking.And there was a letter to someone name Walter that mentioned Mike, and was signed off L.A.”
“Mike?It mentions him by name?”Gilliam gasped.
“Yes.That’s why I contacted to you.So many of his articles cite you as a reference.And I know he… passed away, recently.”There was a long pause, accompanied by the subtle hiss and fizz of the poor connection.
“Would you be willing to send me the files?”Gilliam asked, his tone clipped.
“I would,” Drea responded, “if you can tell me if you think any of this is connected to Mike’s death.”
“I’ll know more when I read them.Oh, and Drea, for your own safety, I suggest you take the files to the police.”
Another person entered the room wearing a hotel name badge.She ended the call with Gilliam quickly, pleased with his promise to get back to her as soon as he could.
After a brief orientation session, Drea spent the rest of the night on room service shadowing June, an experienced member of the food and beverage team.By midnight, she was bored out of her mind.If June showed her one more time how to slot the receipt in the black wallet they handed a customer the bill in, she was walking out to her car and slamming her head through the windshield.
When the end of shift came, Drea almost wept with relief.If she hurried home, she might be able to get a precious few hours’ sleep.She walked to her car, dropped her purse on the hood, and looked up at the pitch-black sky.In the distance, she could hear the thump of bass from a distant nightclub, but crickets were chirping, the air smelled clean and fresh, and the water shushed gently on the other side of the hotel fence.
Rummaging through her purse for her keys, she thought about all the things she needed to do.Take the files to Carter.Catch up with Cujo.Pick up her mom’s prescription.There weren’t enough hours in the day.
She’d been crazy at seventeen to promise to look after her mom.But what were the other options?Her drifter of a dad cared more about the bottom of a JD bottle and the waitress at the local Hooters.Promises had been handed out like dollar bills at the strip club he frequented.The day he’d left them, Drea had rushed home to share the grades on her term paper to find her dad throwing garbage bags of belongings in the back of an old station wagon she’d never seen before.
Drea got in her car and headed for home.The roads were clear, making the drive less painful.She yawned, and was relieved her bed was in sight.Hopefully her mom wouldn’t wake early.She felt spiteful, wishing the sick woman would stay asleep.
Her mom wasn’t going to recover, she’d accepted that, but the bit of extra money from the hotel should make her last few months more comfortable.Perhaps she should try the bank again.They’d given her a paltry increase in her credit limit a few months ago, but if she explained how much sicker her mom was, and how she’d got a new job, wouldn’t they be a little more…charitable?Drea balked at the word.She could stress her willingness to maintain both jobs… well,after, to ensure everything was paid off.
