Hallelujah. That’s what I thought.
“Yeah. But for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is.”
“No wonder you’re driving yourself crazy,” Dylan added as he popped the cap on another bottle.
I checked my phone again, but still it was silent.
“Still nothing?”
“Not yet. Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree, but I just feel like I’m missing something.”
“And you think Skye might be able to fill in some of those blanks?”
“She’s the only one who can. At least I hope she can.” I shrugged not realizing until he’d said the words, how much I was betting on Skye holding the key I needed to unlock this mystery.
“Well, let’s hope she gets back to you soon.”
“Yeah,” I conceded, although there was a part of the story I hadn’t shared. Maybe it was the reason for the radio silence from Skye. After the way I’d acted, after what I’d said to her last time I’d seen her, I couldn’t really blame her if she ignored me. In fact, if I was in her shoes, it’s probably what I’d do. I was an ass and she didn’t owe me a damn thing.
“She live in Chicago?” he asked after a while.
“Nah. She’s gone back to her mother’s just outside of Albuquerque.”
“Well, if you need someone to come with you, you know where I am.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, and not just for the fresh beer he was handing me either.
Dylan was a great guy. A guy who I knew had my back no matter what. It’s why I’d asked him to be my best man. Over the years we’d drifted apart mainly because life had led us in different directions. Dylan to the Marines and me to the force, but whenever I needed him, I knew he’d be there. And here he was, yet again proving it. All I could hope was it wouldn’t come to this.
12
SKYE
This sucked.
Dawdling up the front path, I headed towards the front door feeling defeated. I’d spent another day pounding the pavement, resume in hand trying to convince someone to give me a job so I could move the hell out.
Since leaving Chicago, I’d tucked my tail between my legs and moved home to Albuquerque and was living with my parents. Back in the same room I’d grown up in, with the old posters ripped from magazines still stuck to the walls. I know beggars can’t be choosers and I at least had somewhere to stay, but long term, it wasn’t an option. Mom ironed my underwear. Any time I left the house, Dad wanted a full report on where I was headed, what I was doing, who I was meeting up with, and when I’d be back. It was like being a teenager again and that was one experience I wasn’t going back for seconds on.
After a few days updating my resume, I’d sent it out to anyone I could think of that might be hiring. I wasn’t sure I was looking to take a job that required living out of a suitcase and eating takeout more nights than a home cooked meal, but right now, I wouldn’t turn it down. Not for the right person.
Kicking off my heels, I straightened my black pencil skirt, smoothed out my cream silk blouse, and headed inside.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom greeted from where she was standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.
“Hi,” I replied despondently.
“Any luck today?”
“No,” I grumbled. “No one's hiring. At least no one I’d want to work for. At this rate I’ll be going back to old Mr. Fisher and asking if I can flip burgers again.” And that was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Mom replied in that encouraging tone that only mothers had.
“Let’s hope so. I’m going to go take a shower and change,” I told her as I pulled the clip from my hair letting it fall down around my shoulders and headed up the stairs.
“Don’t be too long. Dad will be home soon for dinner.”
“Don't worry about me for dinner…”
