Eric laughs and smacks me on the back while I cough. “Want that scotch and soda now?”
I shake my head and force out a raspy, “No, I’m good.”
He chuckles into his drink. “Sure you are, buddy.”
He’s right. I’m not good. I need to get to the bottom of whatever my mother is up to, and the thought of confronting her has me reaching for my next shot. It goes down more smoothly than the last one, and the next is even better. I signal to the bartender for another round.
Before I know what’s happening, Eric is pouring me into a cab and sending me home. The next thing I remember is stumbling into the elevator at my building and heading up to the penthouse. In my apartment, I strip, leaving a trail of discarded clothing on the way to my bedroom before dropping face-first into my bed.
I pass out to the nagging thought that there’s something else about the redheaded woman that I’m supposed to remember, but the tequila-induced blackness pulls me down before I puzzle out what it is.
Chapter 5
Investigating Santa
Phoebe
“Istillcan’tbelievehe didn’t recognize you.” Charlie sets a giant mug of steaming cappuccino on the table in front of me. After my early wake-up, caused by yet another of her failed attempts at baking, I couldn’t care less what I drink as long as it’s caffeinated. “No, wait. That’s not exactly true. I can believe that.” I give her a disbelieving look. “What? Cut that out. You know you look different from the way you did last year. What I can’t believe is that after all the trouble you went through to find him, you didn’t even introduce yourself. You should have introduced yourself, Phoebe. That’s the whole reason you were there. That’s the reason we’re in Westborough at all.”
She has a point. I used to color over my copper hair and slather makeup on to cover my freckles, and the first day I met Lincoln’s father was no different. Still, while my hair’s longer and redder, and I have a few freckles, and I’ve undoubtedly gained some weight, it’s not like I’m not completely unrecognizable. At least, I wouldn’t have thought so before last night. What I don’t understand is how he seemed on the verge of recognizing me when his girlfriend walked in.
Like he was about to figure out how he knew me.
But that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe I’m not as memorable as I thought.
“Who doesn’t recognize you?” Xena, the owner of Bump & Grind, the adorable coffee shop and bakery where Charlie works, asks while pouring a coffee for her friend, Devon.
Every time I pick Charlie up at the end of her shift, Xena and Devon have been here. Xena I can understand, considering she owns the place, but I can’t figure out why Devon is always here. He’s fun to talk to, though, so I usually sit with him for a few minutes before Charlie and I leave.
“You remember I told you Phoebe moved here to find her baby daddy? Well, she found him, but instead of talking to him and finding out anything about him, she panicked and ran away.”
“Charlie,” I huff. “That’s not what happened.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, not exactly.” I turn to Xena and explain, “His girlfriend showed up. I didn’t want to put him on the spot, so I gave him the letter and information I had prepared and left.” Okay, so maybe I left in a hurry, but to say I was running away is putting it a little too strongly. The quick-step, shuffle-walk I did could hardly be called running. Maybe one could consider it a slow jog, but even that’s pushing it.
“A girlfriend?” Xena yells, reaching under the counter and pulling out a familiar-looking sword. “Tell me where that bastard is. I do not condone cheating.”
Devon steps around the counter and, much to the surprise of the few customers waiting in line, hoists Xena with one massive arm. “That’s enough, sweetheart,” he says. “You’ve already had the cops called on you six times this month. You know how your brother gets when he has to come deal with you.”
Xena struggles in his grip, kicking her legs in the air. Devon’s well over six feet tall, an enormous beast of a man, and Xena is barely five feet, making it look like he’s carrying a squirmy kid. Her frantic energy is no match for his calm, controlled demeanor, though, so she cannot free herself. It’s ridiculous how cute they are together.
She huffs and stops wiggling, crossing her arms over her chest. “Pshh, what good is having a brother who’s a cop if he can’t take care of some of silly charges every once in a while? It’s a rubber sword, for the love of ducks. It’s not like I could do any actual damage.”
Devon sets her down and takes her sword, putting it back under the counter. “That’s not the point, Princess. You know, he has to put money in the sword jar at the precinct every time they get a call about you. He’s single-handedly funded the last five staff events because of you and your sword.”
Charlie looks over at me with wide eyes and we both burst out laughing. Imagining Xena, who looks like an innocent little pixie with her slight frame and short, messy blonde hair, threatening random people with her sword, is too hilarious.
“You guys suck,” she mumbles, moving over to help the next customer in line. “You better sleep with one eye open, Tiny Dancer,” she says to Devon. “I know where you live.”
“Looking forward to it, Princess.” He chuckles and takes a drink of his coffee. “So, tell me more about this guy. Where’d you finally find him?”
Devon and I take a seat at a nearby table and I spend the next few minutes telling him about my evening. I spare no details regarding the embarrassment of having remnants from Lincoln’s dinner all over my shirt when I finally met his dad.
“And you think you won’t be able to find him again?”
I sigh, sliding down in my seat. “What are the chances that I could find him anywhere else? The hotel has no further bookings, a fact I had to bribe a bellboy to learn, by the way, and there’s only a few days left until Christmas. The best I could hope for would be to track him down at a mall or something.”
Charlie yells from the counter, “Again, I would totally go undercover dressed as a kid and force my way to the front of every line to make things go faster.”
Xena hops up and down, an excited grin taking up half her tiny face. “Ooh, ooh. Me too! I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m also pretty short.” She stands back to back with Charlie. “Quick, Tiny Dancer. Who’s taller?”
