Page 7 of Dancing in the Dark

“But—”

“Byeeeeeee. See you in thirteen minutes.”

4

FLETCH

I can smell her in my home sometimes, when it’s early in the morning and Mia is still asleep. When the scent of coffee hasn’t yet permeated the air, and the wafting smells of whatever my neighbors are cooking for breakfast haven’t saturated the building. When it’s just me and the darkness, and especially after falling asleep with Mia’s little whispers in my ear as she told me her beloved Miss Fifi helped unpack moving boxes on Sunday night, or how Cato took her to Sera’s apartment on Tuesday after school, or how yesterday, Wednesday, Miss Fifi just so happened to be at the same park as Mia and her elderly nanny, Penny.

More often than not, Mia tells Sera where she’ll be. Or Cato tells her. Or, hell, I tell her.

Not that she replies to my texts.

But those are the best days, I’ve found, because my baby is happy after a visit with the woman she wishes belonged to her, and I get my own reward, too, because Mia comes home smelling of Sera’s perfume.

Which means they hug during those small pockets of stolen time.

Now it’s Thursday, my new living arrangements are fan-fucking-tastic, work is going well for the first time in too damn long, and the delicious aroma of street-van burritos means Arch and I will eat like kings today.

“I’ve got it.” Before he can pull out his wallet and pay for our lunch, I step forward and hand cash to the old man whose white apron isn’t white anymore, and whose hands shake a little more each time we stop by. He accepts my money with a smile and a nod, counts out my change, then beams as I drop the lot into his tip jar.

“Look at you.” Settling back on his heels, Archer hooks his thumbs in his pockets and studies me through glittering, smug eyes. “You’re ballin’ huh? A more suspicious man might wonder if hanging with the friends you do could be a cause for concern. Ya know, since being friendly with the mob is a bad look, Detective.”

I back up and make room for the van’s next customers. “You’re the only person I hang around with willingly. The rest are foisted on me against my will. I’m an innocent bystander, and intend to say so next time IA are breathing down our necks.”

Chuckling, he follows me a full twenty feet from the truck. “Innocent, my ass. And don’t tell Cato you’re not his friend. You might hurt his feelings.”

“Unlikely. He doesn’t hang around for my exceptional personality. He’s there for my kid.”

Kinda like Sera…

“Stop bitching at me, anyway. We’re on a winning streak at work, I’m not dying of dehydration from sweating through my mattress every single night, and my daughter has a dance recital tonight.” I tip my head back and let the sun sizzle against my face. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Do you like your new place?”

“Fuck yes.” I reach back for my vibrating phone and spy the name flashing on the screen. I’m not answering it here. Not now. “The new apartment is better. Safer. And quieter, which is really fuckin’ weird, considering the bar next door.” I slide my phone away again and ignore Arch’s curious attempt to snoop. “I’m not saying I wish harm or bad health on Steve, since I like the old coot, but the longer he’s at your place, the longer I get to enjoy the new perks at mine.” I fold my arms and meet Arch’s emerald gaze. “Did I tell you my new lease basically makes me building maintenance and security?”

“Really?”

“Mm. Since I’m a cop. They said having me there was good for optics, especially since the other cop,” I hook my thumb his way, “has all but moved out. The email I got from the owner states my rent is essentially pennies on the dollar for as long as I’m managing the place in Steve’s absence, and, being available to the other tenants in case something comes up gets me a small salary on top.”

“Has something come up?”

“Detectives!” The van operator swings his arm through the window. “You’re up!”

My stomach snarls with hunger, so I take off at a trot and snag our burritos, then I spin and head back to where I started. “Mrs. Mayweather’s shower drain was all clogged up a couple of days ago, so I fixed it for her.”

“You didn’t call for a plumber?”

I peel the foil wrapping off and expose the top half of my lunch, and since we can claim we’re still working so long as we’re walking, I start along the mildly busy street and work my way toward the shady side shielded by massive multistory buildings. “Would’ve called one if I needed to, but it was an easy fix. Just a bunch of old lady hair stuck in there.”

His lips peel back with a sickly grimace.

“I unfolded an old wire clothes hanger, created a hook on the end, and snaked out the mess. Cleared it right up, and since Mia is super fuckin’ adorable and hung out with Mrs. Mayweather while I was working, we walked away with a crisp twenty stuffed in my pocket and a whole ass Tupperware container filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies.” I glance across and flash a bright grin. “Best cookies I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

He drops his gaze and focuses on his lunch, taking a large bite and swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Like I said. Ballin’.”

“Mmhm. And there’s this other chick on the third floor. Single mom with a little boy. I think she was having a tough time, because she called and begged me to go to the drugstore and get her kid some medicine for a fever.”