“You did?”
She nods. “I may not be for adding marijuana farms within the city limits but I’m not going to try and undo a bill that’s long passed when it comes to the recreational usage.”
“Your dad voted against legalized marijuana of any kind,” I remind her and she smiles.
“I’m different. I told you.”
“And gay marriage?” I can’t help but ask, since we’re talking her politics here.
“Like I said, I’m not about trying to change what’s already decided,” Lacey replies and just as I’m starting to feel like she might not be a bad consolation prize if Woody Whitlock loses, she adds, “Although I do think we can put in some bylaws to tone down the rainbow flags and the rainbow crosswalks and all that. It’s a bit too in-your-face and Church Street still has a lot of young kids who hang around there.”
“There’s a lot of young kids who are gay,” I counter back.
Lacey freezes. “I don’t want to argue with you about my platform. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your friend.”
“He’s not a friend.”
Her mouth puckers out of agitation and she cocks a hip. “You said that. He’s not your friend. Not just a bandmate. Then what is he?”
And once again, I’m faced with the opportunity to come clean… and I don’t take it. I don’t drop all this stupid, heavy self-made baggage. “He’s nothing anymore because he thinks I had something to do with the piece. We don’t speak.”
“Chase, I’m sorry. Of course, you wouldn’t do that to someone you care about.” Lacey finally walks into my apartment, dropping the list on the kitchen island and walking over to give me a hug. I let her, but I don’t return it. She pulls away. “You are one of the kindest, most reliable friends I’ve ever had. You’re also the guy who stands up for everyone, not the guy who tears everyone down.”
“Thanks, but he doesn’t see it that way,” I say.
“You know who I think did it? Someone at that fundraiser Woody hosted at his house,” Lacey says to me. “I mean, I have no proof, I wasn’t there. But the plants were, right? So it makes sense that would be the time someone could have found them.”
“But everyone there was supporters of Woody. That was the whole reason they were…” I pause. “Except my brother. He was there because you asked him to be.”
“Your brother isn’t bright enough to think out this level of sabotage,” Lacey replies with a wry grin. “And also, the work it would take to execute it would interfere with all the time he spends hanging out in bars trying to pick up college girls or admiring himself in the mirror at home.”
I actually laugh. She joins in. “You’re not wrong about Colin. And also, he would know he’d be the prime suspect.”
Lacey lets out a sigh. “Well, maybe I’m wrong about the event. It’s just an idea.”
She walks back over to the elevator, steps inside but doesn’t hit the down button. Instead, she pokes her head back out and says, “You should tell Bowen to review the guest list.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Just before the elevator doors shut, I call out. “And you shouldn’t touch the rainbows, Lace!”
I head up to bed. Lying there staring at the ceiling I muster up the courage to message Bowen.
Chase:Hey. I think you should review the guest list at the event you guys did. Everyone there had access to the shed/plants.
I hit send. Stare at my ceiling again for a millisecond and then send him another text.
Chase:I hope you’re okay.
I watch until I see he’s looked at the messages, which takes about fifteen minutes. Then I give myself another fifteen minutes to stare at the screen before I come to terms with the fact he’s not going to message me back. So, I put the phone down and go back to staring at the ceiling.
22
BOWEN
Half an hour into my shift, everyone in the place decides to place food orders and Joss gets slammed, and Tanner asks me if I want to go help in the kitchen. I jump at the chance, even though I hate the idea of wearing a hair net. Luckily Joss lends me one of his bandanas to cover my hair instead so that’s one problem down. But he has this incredibly chaotic and intense working style that has me kind of stressed, on top of the stress I already feel because I’m terrified of disappointing him. Still, it beats working up front with customers. Since the article came out, I get a lot of stares during my shifts. From staff it’s always sympathetic, from patrons it’s a bit more of a mixed bag. Some stare at me with curiosity, some with sympathy, and some like I’m the devil incarnate. One dude even asked me if I could hook him up with cocaine. Tanner swiftly asked him to leave when he overheard.
Still, any chance to hide from all of it, I’ll take. So here I am, carefully dipping and dredging haddock filets in the batter so Joss can cook them up and make the fish and chips dish that is beyond excellent. Raw fish filets are more slippery than they look, and two almost land on the floor. Joss misses the first one but catches me fumbling the second one and his stare borders on a glare.
“Careful,” he warns gently. “Don’t want to have to toss a filet in the bin because of your butter fingers.”
