“Morning, boss. You look awful as ever,” Mandi greets cheerfully as she plops into her rolling desk chair.
“Please remind me after I’ve had a few cups of coffee why I haven’t fired you already,” I call out as I cross the room and enter my office.
Mandi follows me in with said cup of coffee and sets it on my desk. “You’re in later than usual.”
Turning on my computer, I glance up at her. “Are you tracking my time now, too?”
She makes an annoyed face. “Okay, rude ass. I was just saying.” Her lips press together before she says quietly, “I’m worried about you.”
Sitting back in my chair, I rub my hands over my mouth. “I’m sorry, Mandi. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Her eyebrows pinch. “Do you ever these days?”
Huffing out a laugh, I admit, “No, I suppose I don’t.”
“I know you don’t like talking about this, but I’m bringing this up anyway.”
I raise my eyebrows in question when she hesitates.
She continues. “Have you thought about talking to anyone?”
Scowling, I reply, “Like a therapist? Absolutely not.”
She holds up a hand. “Yes, that. But it could also be a primary care doctor. Not sleeping for years at a time can’t be good for your health. Maybe they could give you something.”
“I’m not taking drugs, Mandi,” I bite out.
She rolls her eyes and mumbles under her breath. “Like drinking liquor all night is any better…”
“What was that?”
She sits up straighter in her chair. “Nothing.”
Sighing, I shuffle through the files on my desk, knowing she comes from a place of concern for me. “Look, I recognizemy coping mechanisms haven’t been the healthiest these last couple of years. If I promise to try harder, will you lay off me a bit? Maybe cut me some slack?” I lock eyes with her. “As a friend.”
Nodding, she agrees, “Yes, I will. I’m sorry, Chris.”
I wave away her apology. “Let’s just get the day started.”
With another nod, she stands. “You have a nine o’clock with a new client.”
I’m about to ask her a question when my cell phone starts ringing. I glance down at the screen.
Carlos Martinez.
It’s never good when a detective is calling you. Even if I do consider this particular one a friend. A text is usually sufficient. We don’t generally talk on the phone very often.
Mandi looks down at my phone and lets out a purr. “Let him know I’m single again if he’s interested.”
Giving her a look of disgust, I shake my head. Mandi may work for me, but it’s been so long that she’s basically become my little sister. And I refuse to deliver that message, on principle. “Absolutely not. I’ll give you his number later, and you can tell him your damn self.”
She shrugs with a smirk. “That’ll work too.”
By the time she’s out of my office, the call goes to voicemail. Without bothering to wait for it to come through, I call him back.
It rings a couple of times before he answers. “I thought you were going to ignore me.”
“Thought about it.” I click through a few emails as I talk.
